Shame, Shame, Shame

Shame, Shame, Shame

“If only for moments
Of physical bliss—
A gift I know I’ve given
A gift that you accepted”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me,”
Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance:
Selections from the Work of Richard
Bruce Nugent, by Thomas H. Wirth

Upstairs at night—in Bruce Nugent’s studio—that’s where I got to know myself—there in the Niggeratti Manor Temple—the walls lovingly painted with Harlem bad boyz in the nude—erect & stoned like I was—modeling for the Harlem Renaissance Black Michelangelo—Richard Bruce Nugent—first he’d suck you off—then he’d paint you on the walls…
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“You say my body
Is my vice and the
Vice of better men”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me,”
Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance:
Selections from the Work of Richard
Bruce Nugent, by Thomas H. Wirth



He picked me up down at a rent party one drunken night—I was dancing for a bunch of white guyz in a dumpy apartment above the Cotton Club—I was hot & I knew it—I was fresh dinge chicken meat—straight off the bus from Biloxi, Mississippi—I barely got outta town alive—the white faggot deputy & his gang of S/M queen queer thugs—were out to get me—they knew a good thing when they saw it—a well-hung black kid like me—just ripe for a lynch-job sex-party in the Dark Oaks mansion—where many young succulent studs had disappeared—they’d lynch you all right—but first came the butt-party & blowjobs—then the necktie party long & drawn-out—those Biloxi faggots took their time with uppity handsome black studs like me—it wasn’t pretty—I barely got outta town alive—ending up in Harlem…
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“Perhaps. My body
Has been misused;
Misused a 1000 times
Or more: “Misused” I
Say in deference.
Politeness to your
Phrasing. I call it not
Misuse. But then…
Let’s not quibble”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me,”
Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance:
Selections from the Work of Richard
Bruce Nugent, by Thomas H. Wirth

I was used to it—dirty white boyz & nasty white dudes—all of them dinge size queens—wanting to see me dance—at the end of a rope—but I made them pay for it—I wasn’t cheap—I was in demand at rent parties—some of them in ritzy penthouses & Fifth Avenue joints—I preferred dancing for the ladies—they were mostly urban sophisticates—more curious than anything—wanting to connect with the Harlem Thing—after a night at the Cotton Club—you could hear the jazz down below—my natural build & natural ear & natural rhythm & natural sexuality—but I was bored to death—and running scared—white people made me nervous—all they wanted was all I had—all the way drained dry to the last squirt…
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“Many is the body
I have explored
Feverishly with my
Lips and tongue
And many are the
Lips I’ve kissed.
Many the boy who,
Fever-fired, searched
With blind weapon to
Pierce me through.
And did with my
Assistance.”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me,”
Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance:
Selections from the Work of Richard
Bruce Nugent, by Thomas H. Wirth

Bruce was different—he was an artist. All I had to do was pose in the nude for him—it was easy as sweet-potato pie—I was the one that made him—I couldn’t understand somebody like him—Wallace Thurmond & him were the cool, intellectual types—they called me a child of spring—and I suppose I was naïve & all that—it was there in the Niggeratti Manor I got to meet all of them—the Harlem literati & artists—the ones with brains—the young black intelligentsia of FIRE!!!