Posts in Thoughts

#XD30 – Three – Breakfast

Two bag lunches sat on the kitchen table with a note inside each.

Tell her “Hi” – Love, Dad.

Don’t trade your sandwich for an extra pudding pack again. – Love, Dad.

Vann packed his kids lunch and made them breakfast every morning before they went to school. Vann, jr. was old enough to make his own breakfast and lunch, but Vann found joy in doing so. Vann Jr liked his eggs sunny side up with grits and a slice of wheat toast — a simple meal for a growing 12 year old. Alexander liked his eggs scrambled with cheese and toast because that’s the way they ate breakfast on The Fairy Godparents. It was hard pleasing an 8 year old.

Vann watched his kids get on the bus for school before going to work out in the wood shed. Vann Wilson was the top furniture designer in the Carolinas and business was in demand more than ever. He was pressured to sell, but that required more work and less time away from the boys. The boys already lost one parent, there was no need to have them lose another.

On the way to the shed, Vann smelled a familiar smell. A smell he smelled every morning on his way to work for the past 8 years. He closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and smiled.

“Good Morning to you too, Sarah.”


#XD30 – Two – Need

There was soft chatter throughout the house. You could hear forks scraping against plates and creaking of wood as the Wilson clan walked around and greeted those they hadn’t seen in years. “I should go check on him,” Elaine whispered to Joe. Elaine walked up the stairs slowly and with each step she whispered a prayer under her breath.

“Lord, give me the strength. Give him the strength. Give us the strength.” 

Vann was sitting on his bed, fully clothed, with a blank face. He had only showered and shaved for the first time in 8 days today to bury is wife.

“Vann, dear?”

Vann remained silent. Vann remained frozen. Vann remained numb.

Elaine sat next to him and put her arm around her first-born, and tears began to stream down his face.

“Mama, I’ve sat here for days trying to understand. I don’t do anything to hurt anyone. We go to church every Sunday. I prayed, no, I pray for her more than I pray for myself. I built this house with my bare hands for our family. I’ve never cheated. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I do everything right. I know we never know God’s plan and I know I’m supposed to trust in Him, but..Lord, I– Mama I have two little boys. They need their mama just like me and Joe, Jr. needed you.”

“Well I–”

Vann continued to speak and Elaine held her son tighter. “You know? We had plans. We were going to retire out in Charleston by the water. She loved the beach, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” as Elaine rubbed his back.

“The boys were gonna grow up and be somebody. We were gonna have another. A girl. Mama, I know– I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what, son?”

Vann stood up and began pacing with his head down. It was something his father did when he was troubled.

“I cannot go through life without my wife. I need her to survive. I ne..”

Vann fell to his knees and began to sob uncontrollably. Elaine held her baby on the floor and continued to pray with him throughout the night.


read yesterday’s post here

#XD30 – One – Birth

“That’s it honey! Push! Push! You’re doing great, honey,” Vann exclaimed to his wife Sarah. He coached his wife through their first pregnancy and passed with flying colors so this was a no brainer. Beads of sweat rolled down Sarah’s brow as she gave one final push.

“Ahhh,” Sarah screamed with the power of a thousand suns and her beautiful brown son was announced to the world.

Alexander James Wilson, 8lbs, 7oz. Black hair. Brown eyes. 10 fingers. 10 toes. 5:40am September 23rd, 1986.

It was the last time Sarah and Alexander saw one another.

Sarah Evelyn Wilson. Time of Death 5:58am.

The Xavier D’Leau 2017 Summer Writing Challenge


about five years ago, I set out to get my creative juices flowing. I tried to figure out a cool way to do it, so I decided to start a writing challenge. For one month, I was to blog everyday. There was no rhyme or reason, but I decided to craft a short story. You can hear an iteration of it over at Jade+XD. A lot of folks followed suit and it was a really great project and community we developed. A bunch of time has passed since the last and I’d like to get that ol’ thang byke. We’ll start June 1st and the guidelines are below. I look forward to reading all your posts!

Challenge Guidelines:

  1. There’s no rules, no word counts, no themes. Whatever inspires you, just write daily for the entire month of June.
  2. You can write whatever you’d like: prose, a series, a story –whatever you’d like!
  3. You are not allowed to pre-write your stories. You are to craft your piece once you sit down to begin to write.
  4. All of the titles must look like this #XD30 [Day(how ever you’d like to number the posts)] [title of your chapter/post] . Example: #XD30 – One – Show Me Your Love
  5. You may use whatever platform you’d like, but it must be shareable with the tag #XD30 via Twitter and/or Facebook.
  6. Have FUN!

Being Okay with Being “Okay”

I’m often surrounded by messages, or I find myself in spaces of “self-empowerment.” There’s always a brother or sister circle advertised to uplift, encourage, and inspire. It’s often filled with phrases like “live or walk in your truth” or something that is meaningful to that group regardless of how hokey it may sound.

But… idk.

I often wonder if the question of knowing our self worth is a bit lofty. What if, even for some of us, our self worth is to be low? I often think about science and how it applies to regular-degular life — and natural selection comes up. This idea of “survival of the fittest!” Maybe everyone isn’t meant to be a star or important. This isn’t to be confused with the idea that everyone should feel validated, because that’s a thing and should continue to be. However, just maybe, some of us are just meant to be in the bleachers while the rest of us are out there going for gold.

This comes on the heels of a thought I have about relationships — a common theme: good enough to fuck, but not good enough in which to be in a relationship with. What is it about someone that makes them only good to fuck, but not good enough to cultivate a relationship? What is it that makes the folks who are sitting in the proverbial bleachers stay this way? How did it come to be? What is it about the proverbial players who are going for the gold that makes them stand out? Stellar? I’m learning that there are roles that we all play in life. Some of us are good and comfortable being in the bleachers. Some of us are good and content on winning that gold medal.  Some of us fall in between.

Just some thoughts. Discuss below.

Podcasting 101: The Beginning

This is the beginning of my podcasting series. Here you can learn all there is to know about getting your podcast up and running with ease.

You can listen to my podcast at

email me if you have any questions!


Here’s the links I mentioned in the video:



Blue Mic Snowball:

Amazon ($49):

Blue YETI mic (used for 2 Guys And a Girl podcast):

Amazon ($124):




Adobe Tutorial:

I’m Lonely And You Probably Are Too

I haven’t been able to put in words what I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. You know when you have something to say, but aren’t sure how or what to say but you HAVE to get it out? On a train ride with a friend, she pieced it all together for me, and I came I had a bitter realization about myself and…the rest of the world. Let me explain.

I often see complaints about people’s dating lives. So many people I follow on social media lament over their dating woes and lack of love lives. Most of the complaints aren’t serious and rather trivial ranging from sexual positions or if the person has reliable transportation. I find myself thinking about these things, too and often times making mountains out of mole hills.

I also log on to Facebook and bitch and moan about another FB friend getting engaged or having a baby. It’s like, why on earth would I be upset about that? Those are joyous occasions and should be celebrated by everyone. And even if they’re ugly, at least you’d have something to laugh at, right?

So it’s like…what is wrong with me?

No one ever likes to admit that they’re lonely, but I guess I’ll set myself out there and truthfully admit that I am lonely. There’s power and freedom in pulling back the layers of what’s bothering us to get to the root of the issue. I find myself scoffing at happy couples, and where I publicly say that those things aren’t bothersome for me and that I mind my own business and all that jazz. In reality, as you get older, companionship–intimate companionship is the grand prize. Going through life alone is one of the worst things on the planet when the whole entire world hates you. I’m Black, gay, opinionated, with a platform–the world hates that. The world already marginalizes me, and that’s fine. But there’s a different type of sting when your heart is marginalized, too.

I’d even further venture to say that a lot of those people who do the same thing I do are just as lonely. I’m not sure how to “cure” this, but admitting it might be the first step.


Or maybe it’s just the lonely talking.

Grace and Mercy

My mother used to own a Pontiac. I can’t remember if it was a Thunderbird, but I remember it being a coupe and it was grey. It looked like a DeLorean and albeit small, it was always able to handle a 6ft Douglas Fir Christmas tree attached to the roof via twine. Around the holidays, Sis (my mother, see previous posts) and I would sing carols at the top of our lungs with all the riffs and runs that our Black, beautiful hearts could muster. My favorite was “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” I sang it and my mother always would reach and hug, or hold my hand when it came to the lyric “you can plan on me.”  That memory played out in my head as I handed in my resignation letter about 3 weeks ago.

In a post on my social work blog , I talk about the things leading up to me leaving. And where I have spoken about being too old to not do things that make you happy and the like, I think one of the lessons I’ve been needing to hear through this “journey to 30” is that having people in your corner that love you unconditionally is God’s grace and mercy smack dab in your face.

I think for a good portion of my life, I felt like I had to do everything alone. That’s commonplace for Black gay men–this idea that no one will understand us sans subjugation, ridicule, or sheer hate. We become hardened and cold because of it, impacting us almost at a cellular level as this idea of thinking impacts every facet of who we are and what we become. And….it doesn’t have to be this way. God, or whomever or whatever  you believe, fashions people to be in our lives to make it through–to survive. Through journey to 30 and the lessons that come with it, I can surely attest to the power of friendship, family, companionship, unwavering and unconditional love from a support system that’s divinely ordered.


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When I first started this blog, it was for me to sort a bunch of these growing pains out. Tying loose ends, and trying to make sense of what my life has been and will be. I figured writing through it would help me, and perhaps those who read this site, help others too.

Let’s back track. I have a confession. I’m obsessed with working.

My mother always worked, and she still does. She works for a major retailer that’s in and out of hot water. It was her first and only job out of high school. It was always just she and I, and her rationale for anything and everything was “I have to work.” I find myself doing the same thing. Work is a mode of survival for most of us. It’s a source of fiscal support, and working gives you purpose…it also gives you an ego boost when you do a good job at something–a self esteem boost.

Over the last few months I realized that work, whether it was my full time job or doing ‘XD’ stuff, was an escape to not have to deal with real issues or people or things that I’m just afraid of doing for whatever reason. My obsession with work caused me to miss out on a bunch. So, I scaled back. That’s why I haven’t written much.

When Adele announced ’25,’ she explained that she had to live a little. I did too. Me not focusing on helping others, branding, or whatever and doing the things that make me happy and not worry about reproach was necessary. And honestly, that’s probably one of the hugest lessons I can take from this journey. I am too old to let life pass me by and not do things that make me happy. I am deserving of a happy life that is stress free, balanced, honest, and fun.

I spoke to my mother a few nights ago. She was just getting off work. I asked her for some money because, hell I live in New York City and shit is expensive. She obliged and she said to me that she would put it in my account when she got off of work the next day. She said jokingly, “You’ll take care of me soon, right?” She laughed.


“I will, once I figure this all out.”


“You will. Work through it.”



I Don’t Want Kids

I have a niece. Her name is Noah. You’ve probably seen her around on instagram and such. She’s not my biological niece, but she calls me “Unkoh” and that’s just fine. We take selfies together with our tongues sticking out and we watch Elmo and “Spyman” (Spiderman) on occasion. My mother buys things for her, although they’ve never met. Noah’s mother, Jade, said to me recently that my mother buys things for Noah because she knows she’s not going to get any grandchildren.

When I was a kid, I always declared that I didn’t want children. I always jokingly told my parents that I didn’t want children because I didn’t want to be responsible for their hours and hours of therapy. When I came out to my mother, her immediate thought was grandchildren. I was her only “miracle” child as she was told she couldn’t have any before I was born. She figured I would get married and have children one day, eventually.

Going back to Jade’s words, I felt guilty. I’ve been wrestling with this guilt for the past couple of weeks and I don’t know how to process it. I guess a great part of getting older is this tussle between doing what’s right for you vs appeasing your parents. I don’t see children for me. My personality doesn’t welcome children in my life aside from the ones I can drop off to their parents house after a few hours. I know I can’t have kids to make my mother happy, but I want to make my mother happy. Does that make sense?

What’s interesting is that not wanting children (or marriage, we’ll get to that later) is that is has become a deal breaker in some of the men I have entertained as of late. I’m running into a lot more men who desire heteronormative romantic archetypes. In other words, I’m finding a lot of gay men who want to a lot of straight shit. And sure, having children isn’t necessarily a “straight” thing…but then…maybe it is?

I’m still figuring this all out, and I guess that’s what turning 30 is all about.


Anyone out there with me?