Southern Trees

By Marxavian Deville

Southern Trees shines light to the lives of four very different men, growing up in the Mississippi South. This tale gives the reader a front seat into the minds of each character by offering first person details of each series of events. A story of love, hate, identity and ambivalence, is shared as these men learn the many complexities of the word"manhood". Be prepared to embark upon a journey filled with youth and innocence, as we explore family dynamics, drugs, sexuality, and stigma and observe each character navigate life their own special way; hoping to discover true understanding and acceptance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387617357

Book preview

Southern Trees

SOUTHERN TREES

Marxavian Deville

Copyright © 2017 Marxavian Jones

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-387-61735-7

Dedication

ALMA, may your legacy live through me

The truth is Southern Trees isn’t a new story. It speaks to the lives of sexual minority youth and the obstacles we sometimes face with tears or even silence. This work isn’t an attempt to tell my story, the story of a friend or a loved one, or any individual’s story, but the goal is to present a narrative that may go unnoticed, undiscussed, and may be considered irrelevant. I have seen countless times the world scrutinize and harass same gender-loving individuals, diminishing our lives down to nothing but a sexual act. The reality is, there are an array of things that make us unique. We are all molded by our experiences and I want to encourage the world to look deeper into individuals, and not get stuck on what meets the eye. Sometimes it’s what is underneath, for example the roots of a tree, that truly illustrates true strength and beauty!

Remember, don’t taunt what you don’t want! Imagine the number of LGBT stories and songs that may never be heard because stigma has people too afraid to speak. We must create more safe spaces for those stories to be shared and embraced. LGBT artist unite!

About the Author

Marxavian Deville, 30 was born in Jackson, MS. He grew up in a small town called Yazoo City, MS, the gateway to the Mississippi Delta. He completed studies at Yazoo City High School, graduating valedictorian of his high school class. From there he pursued studies at Jackson State University, and graduated with a Bachelor’s of Finance degree in 2009.

Growing up in MS presented a clear illustration of the impact of an array of social determinants of health. He was convinced that his community was being negatively impacted by health disparities and inequalities. As a response, he has been an advocate for social justice and the end of discrimination against marginalized populations, such as people of color and the LGBT community, for numerous years.

He discovered that he possessed a keen interest in the public sector and healthcare/public administration, which inspired him to obtain a Master’s of Public Administration degree with a concentration in Healthcare Administration from Auburn University. He currently resides in Atlanta, GA.

He aspires to continuously share his light with his community and assist in the fight against stigma, epidemics, internalized negative perceptions of self, poverty, raise awareness around the importance of addressing trauma and attending to mental health. He will continue to spread messaging of acceptance of all people, improve capacity building and literacy among marginalized populations, and continue building young black leaders across the globe.

<3 <3 <3 Always remember, love rules the world <3 <3 <3

Chapter 1: Mama’s Boy:

Edgar

Have you ever woken up and had the feeling that some unforeseen circumstance was lurking in the near distance? Whether bad or good, sometimes you have that intuitive feeling in your gut that something outside of the normal is going to take place over the course of that day. That is how I woke up feeling. It was as if I had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed; or Mercury was in retrograde. I have even heard that it is our subconscious, replaying a fear from our childhood, but to be honest, I have no clue what it means. Whatever the reason was, my intuition just kept screaming Edgar! Something isn’t right. With my luck, or lack of luck shall I say, I prepared myself for the worst.

I woke up exhausted, mainly because I had barely gotten any rest the night before. I rolled around in my bed, tossing and turning for what seemed to be hours. I was praying to be greeted by REM, but for some reason I could not get settled into a deep sleep.  I ended up getting out of the bed around three o'clock in the morning to fix a light breakfast; pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, cut fruit, some oatmeal and washed it all down with some good ole’ pulp-free orange juice splashed with a shot of tequila. I would always add the shot, or sometimes a little champagne, to give me that extra boost I would need. I know it may sound like a whole lot of food to some, but what can I say? I have always had a strong passion for cooking. I decided to eat it all because I knew I would not eat it later. Moreover, I would not want all the food to go to waste. I washed my dishes and headed upstairs in an attempt to return to bed and finally get some rest, but when I laid down, I still could not sleep. I ended up rising right back out of my bed, took a trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and sat on the couch and watched TV until it was time to head to the park for my morning walk. It was still early so nothing entertaining was on TV. I laughed to myself and thought, damn, these boring ass infomercials cannot even put me back to bed. I shrugged and counted it a loss. Soon it would be time for my morning walk anyways.

My morning walk was the time for me to think about the most complex yet simplistic things, like what to look forward to at work for the day, what to eat for lunch, what not to look forward to when I return home, or when would the aliens on earth reveal themselves. I also used the walk as a good opportunity for me to shed a few pounds. I decided that I was really going to focus on living a healthier lifestyle. I loved my curves, but I knew I had some room for improvement so I dedicated myself to my morning walk. Finally, it was time to go but I noticed that I could not find my keys, typical of me. I frantically perused my townhome with every hope that I did not leave the damn keys upstairs because I did not want to walk all the way back up just for my keys. To save some time, I grabbed my spare keys from the kitchen drawer and headed out the door trying to make sure that I would not be late for work. 

I jetted out of the house. It is a good thing that I left at a decent time because traffic was extra heavy. I nervously held my breath as cars weaved in and out in a frantic rush to various destinations. I was not in the mood to get involved in a fender bender so I decided to take my time and proceed with caution. Amid the vehicles accompanying me on the interstate I felt myself getting lost in my own thoughts. I will tell you this, I always have a thousand and one things going through my head; boys, my curvaceous figure, boys, fine dining, boys, my stressful ass job; did I mention boys? It is safe to say that my mind functions at a speed of about one thousand miles per second. Is that faster than the speed of light?  I’m not for certain, but it sure as hell sounds fast to me.

My thirty-second daydream was abruptly disrupted by the piercing ring of braking tires and the smell of burnt rubber as I witnessed the car in front of me collide into another car ahead. Traffic here would just stop out of nowhere! I spun my wheel to the right to avoid what was sure to be a multiple car pile-up. I dodged it just in time and could get away with nothing but heavy breathing and a mild heart attack.  It was as if the great almighty swooped in and grabbed my wheel. YES! Jesus took the wheel and I thought to myself, wow today must be my lucky day! Then again, as we see my thoughts also have the potential to become the death of me. Nonetheless, I made it to the park and off them dangerous streets, and not a second too soon. I was in no mood for any narrower escapes.

The reason why I enjoyed my morning walk so much was because it was the only time I could process the multitude of thoughts floating around in my head.  I have always jumbled up multiple thoughts in my head. I try to stay positive in my thoughts but there were quite a few times in life that I found it extremely tough. It all started back when I was just a young lad growing up; Picture it, Sicily nineteen eighty-nine. No, I’m kidding. I grew up in the south. That is a Golden Girl’s reference. Look it up.

I had what was considered a large family size. I was the youngest of five brothers, a house full of knuckleheads, as my mom would say. We were raised in a stable two-parent household and lived on the outskirts of the city. We had what most would consider a standard and traditional upbringing, meaning my dad did not mind whooping our ass and keeping us in check. My mom ensured that good manners were instilled in us and that we were responsible. We did household chores every Saturday and had to be in church every Sunday. There would be several times that I would not want to do either, but it was non-negotiable. The standard was set, and they had no plans on lowering their expectations.

Of all my brothers, I was different. I was always the one that they would call mama’s boy. I always wanted to be around my mom. I always looked around the house to find her just to see what she was doing. She was my hero and my friend, and I admired everything about her. I sat around gazing at her every move and always attempted to find ways to help her around the house. Growing up in a house full of men, I figured she could use a little help, so I became mama’s protégée. I loved it! Everyone else seemed to have a problem with it. My father always had the biggest issue with the relationship between my mom and me. He would yell, Fae you better stop carrying that boy up yo’ ass, you already know what that do to kids. She would reply Oh Frank shut up that boy is fine, that’s my last-born baby boy and you just mad because he and I are closer than we are. It was always a nasty push and pull; I would always just stay quiet and let mama handle it.

My brothers most often sided with dad.  They always taunted me chanting, Hey Dough Boy, go bake something, or Only women cook all the time… and my personal favorite, in the infamous words of my oldest brother Randi, Aye man I love you and all but you gotta stop all that cooking, I can’t be brothers with a punk. I was tormented so much, being called Miss Piggy and Fruity Booty, that I just accepted it. If I did try to fight back or defend myself, I knew they would jump on me and beat me up. I was never in the mood to be thrashed so I learned to just shut my mouth and take it because If I did not they would wait until my mama and dad were gone and do all kinds of unthinkable things to me. I would be terrified anytime I watched the car back out of the driveway. I never knew what to expect, and that was the worst feeling imaginable.

One time when I was about eleven years old, my brothers locked me in the trunk of Randi’s car. They told me that they locked me in the trunk because I ate all the cookies that mom had baked earlier that day. I mean, I had eaten about three, but my other brother Dwan ate about five and no one had anything to say to him. I literally thought I was going to die in that trunk, locked away in the dark, suffocating. I could not breathe and I began to have a panic attack. As I kicked, screamed, and banged on the trunk, the only response I heard was their laughter. They left me in the trunk, sweating, for three hours. They let me out right before our parents returned. They threatened that if I told mom or dad what had happened that they would make me regret it. They had nothing to worry about; I was certainty going to keep my mouth closed.

I look back on all the things that I went through growing up and I laugh. I am thankful for those experiences because they helped mold me into the tough-skinned person I am today; Skin tougher than a leather clutch baby, a very fashionable leather clutch, bedazzled for the Gods.

Chapter 2: Man, of the House

Emmanuel

I am usually the type of dude that would wake up wondering, What am I going to do today? The answer was always simple; 1.) Fix breakfast, which was usually a good bowl of cereal and some ice-cold milk. Every now and again, I would toast a pop tart or something. I found myself falling in love with Greek yogurt too. At first, I didn’t even know what it was, and it kind of reminded me of cottage cheese, but I like it. 2.) Find something good to watch on this God-awful cable. I would always miss the shows and be mad because it takes the On Demand a damn week to update. I never understood how someone could pay so much money for some cable that never had anything interesting on.  3.) Roll up me a fatty, you know one of the finest, for my wake and bake session. 4.) Surf the web.