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The Front Porch takes place on the first Thursday of every month at 8 p.m. at
Mocha Lounge, 944 Florida Ave., NW. For details, visit www.reddirt.biz. |
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HOME > ENTERTAINMENT > FEATURE
By: KIM KRISBERG COMMENTS
THE “VIRGIN” steps onto the stage with poem in hand, putting her lips
to the mic and pausing for a moment before she lifts her head toward the audience.
Then, she slowly unleashes an arsenal of metaphors and similes to let the onlookers
know, in no mincing words, that the smell of her lover is no ordinary scent. It’s
a fierce grip that captures her heart.
When she’s done, the audience claps with enthusiasm, a few letting out
a holler that signifies they’ve been there, too.
It was her first time performing at the Front Porch, a relatively new venue
in D.C. where spoken-word artists can display their skills on the first Thursday
of each month, and no one looks prouder than the show’s emcee and founder,
Tim’m West. He’s sitting next to the stage, smiling as the virgin
steps down. As the clock approaches midnight, the intimate back room of D.C.’s
Mocha Lounge is standing room only for this monthly spoken word/poetry/music/hip-hop
event.
West’s Front Porch is a beckoning affair and its performers are opening
every closet in the house.
“No matter the story, someone’s going to connect,” he says.
“People can come and be bare and vulnerable.”
The Front Porch’s artistic mix is a reflection of 32-year-old West himself,
an accomplished author, poet, actor, musician, spoken-word and hip-hop artist.
He founded Front Porch in December, shortly after moving from California to
the District, where he also works coordinating outreach and prevention for the
D.C. CARE Consortium, an umbrella group for local organizations in the HIV/AIDS
arena.
West began realizing his artistic talents long before building the Front Porch.
HE GREW UP in a rural township outside Taylor, Ark. “[It was] so tiny,
it didn’t have a name,” he says.
West and his seven siblings lived in a three-bedroom house with one room for
the girls, one for the boys and one for his mom. They had no running water in
the bathroom and still used an outhouse.
Before settling in Arkansas, West recalls being about 3 and roaming the streets
of south Dallas with his mother, who asked a stranger for shelter for her and
her children. He said that’s when he realized the family was homeless.
“We lived this experience that I don’t think most of America is
aware of,” West says. “Urban poverty is centralized, but rural poverty
is more invisible.”
His mom had done well in high school and then married his father, “this
sort of Malcolm X character without the polish,” West says. He describes
his father as a storefront preacher whose congregation was mostly his own family.
His father, in and out of the family, was the musician. His mother, the singer.
And the front porch was where everyone came together to dance, sing and perform.
Years later, West’s father eventually came to terms with having a gay
son, but at first was confused that Tim’m could be a such a “man’s
man” and still like men — that he was a “gay man of the ESPN
variety,” West says.
By the time he understood the concepts of relationships and marriage, West
knew he wanted to be with a man. He remembers watching “Good Times”
and “What’s Happening,” waiting for the gay character to be
introduced.
But being in Taylor, he says it was hard to imagine a world where people could
be themselves. When West left for college at Duke University, he finally began
meeting more people like himself, although he was still a bit shocked. Before
leaving, he had only seen the stereotypes of gay culture — the white leather
men and drag queens — “so to see normal black, gay college kids,
I was like ‘somebody’s been lyin’.’”
But more than just meeting other gay people, West more fully realized the extreme
poverty he grew up in. His first time back in Taylor after starting college,
“I had become this iconic symbol of hope … there’s a lot of
pressure to fill the promise of a community,” he says.
“We had air conditioned dorm rooms and my family was home with hand fans,”
he recalls. “I almost had a sense of guilt that I had made it out.”
While at Duke, West earned a bachelor’s degree in philosophy with an
emphasis in women’s studies and continued with ...
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