The first time I saw Marlon Riggs's film, Tongues Untied, I remember being gripped and overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—I was simultaneously happy, sad, angry, thrilled, and amazed at having seen my experience as a black gay man flash before me on the theater screen. I have seen the film twice since then, and although my initial sense of wonderment has lessened, and I am now able to view it more critically, it still has the power to move me emotionally as no other film has moved me. Visibility means survival and self-affirmation. Invisibility means that you don't exist. For black gay men there has long been a dearth of artistic material that reflects our reality. There is very little literature or art and, until recently, no film at all. Tongues Untied was an attempt to fill that void by giving people a glimpse into the reality of black gay men in America. The reason I experienced such conflicting emotion when I saw Tongues Untied was that I hadn't realized just how starved I was for some validation and affirmation of my existence until I saw this film. Like many black gay men, I have become disillusioned and frustrated by the absence of anything black in the gay media and arts. I have searched endlessly through gay newspapers, magazines, and films and never seen myself. In desperation, I turned to the writing of black lesbians like Audre Lorde, Jewelle Gomez, and June Jordan to get any acknowledgment of my existence. Except for In the Life, an anthology of writing by black gay men edited by the late Joseph Beam, and the poetry of men like Essex Hemphill and Alan Miller, there really wasn't much writing by black gay men available. And film images of black gay men were, and mostly still are, negligible or nonexistent. That's why a film like Tongues Untied is so important to black gay men. It affords us our first opportunity to have our existence affirmed and validated. Finally, we get a chance to see the broad spectrum of our experience and the myriad reflections of our lives, and it is an incredibly powerful encounter. It made me happy because I was finally able to see, feel, and understand that I am not the only black gay man to feel the way I do. It made me sad and angry because it opened up wounds that I thought were closed or healed and caused me to experience all over again the pain of being a black gay men in the United States. I was thrilled (as well as a little amazed) that a film about black gay men had been made and that I was actually watching it in a movie theater. I also feel that this film is important for the gay community in general. When it comes to consciousness-raising and education about minority issues in the gay community, it usually falls to people of color to do the consciousness-raising and education. This can be very tiring for us and often leads to much resentment, anger, and frustration. This film is a great consciousness-raising experience. For anyone who has ever been curious about or tried to understand what the black gay male experience is, this film will answer many of your questions (and probably leave you with several more). It is truly an enlightening and thought-provoking experience—one that everyone should have. (K.K.)
