Scan barcode
A review by gabsalott13
Invisible Life by E. Lynn Harris
2.0
I think this is a 2.5-star review. This book is really sweet in many ways, and really dated in others.
Invisible Life would function well in a time capsule of 90s to early aughts pop culture. It’s the “other side of the story” to match the DL hysteria you see on that Oprah/Terry McMillan interview, or in many sitcoms of the time. I imagine this book meant a lot to Black bisexual men who, during this time period, were frequently represented without any compassion or concern by mainstream Black media.
I should note that this is not entirely resolved today, by any means. However, by the time I was growing up (late aughts and early 2010s), my family members were frequently upset about how “I see that gay mess every time I change the channel.” With this increase in screen time, there has been at least some modicum of empathy for the DL phenomenon, and I did find this to be helpful growing up. While I did not find many (any?) affirming messages about queerness from people around me, I think I internalized many of the sympathetic media messages that were transmitted via Glee, Project Runway, Scandal, and my other middle school staples. I think this contributed to my (relatively) lower levels of shame and internalized homophobia, compared to Black queer church kids of earlier generations.
On that note about shame—many of the conclusions Ray makes about the “best path forward in his life” fall strikingly short of the standards many Black queer people have set for ourselves in 2020. But, it would be false to assume that many of the issues Ray encounters (lack of acceptance of bisexuality in the queer community, staunch homophobia of cishet Black women, etc.) aren’t still major factors that motivate many people in this decade to be DL.
In summary, I am surprised but not necessarily disappointed that this book was recommended to me. It is a helpful reminder of the changes since 1994 in a year that often feels like there is no progress that will last.
Invisible Life would function well in a time capsule of 90s to early aughts pop culture. It’s the “other side of the story” to match the DL hysteria you see on that Oprah/Terry McMillan interview, or in many sitcoms of the time. I imagine this book meant a lot to Black bisexual men who, during this time period, were frequently represented without any compassion or concern by mainstream Black media.
I should note that this is not entirely resolved today, by any means. However, by the time I was growing up (late aughts and early 2010s), my family members were frequently upset about how “I see that gay mess every time I change the channel.” With this increase in screen time, there has been at least some modicum of empathy for the DL phenomenon, and I did find this to be helpful growing up. While I did not find many (any?) affirming messages about queerness from people around me, I think I internalized many of the sympathetic media messages that were transmitted via Glee, Project Runway, Scandal, and my other middle school staples. I think this contributed to my (relatively) lower levels of shame and internalized homophobia, compared to Black queer church kids of earlier generations.
On that note about shame—many of the conclusions Ray makes about the “best path forward in his life” fall strikingly short of the standards many Black queer people have set for ourselves in 2020. But, it would be false to assume that many of the issues Ray encounters (lack of acceptance of bisexuality in the queer community, staunch homophobia of cishet Black women, etc.) aren’t still major factors that motivate many people in this decade to be DL.
In summary, I am surprised but not necessarily disappointed that this book was recommended to me. It is a helpful reminder of the changes since 1994 in a year that often feels like there is no progress that will last.