I remember Brian as a laughing man: a man with a head of silver coins, as I joked with him about his head of curly silver-gray hair. He loved laughing and laughter; though it is often said of the dead even when untrue, he truly did love life, and exemplified that love in his formidable bravery where sexuality matters were concerned. He was not afraid to open and operate, from the late 1990s until only a few years ago, the gay and lesbian dance club Entourage, right in his home at 3A Haughton Avenue, New Kingston.

Entourage, a place where so many of us gays, lesbians, and bisexuals could go to dance, laugh, flirt, party, and share time with friends and loved ones ' a place where we could breathe freely and openly, delivered for a few hours from Jamaica's otherwise repressive, hateful anti-gay environment. At Entourage and in other places, Brian was not afraid to challenge the police, fiercely, when they attempted to harass him. He was not afraid to represent J-FLAG on the radio, using his own name, and to appear on television representing the organisation, showing his face. He did it all with great humour and generosity, and lived, until last week, to tell about it. In that regard, he was truly an example to all of us who are gay, lesbian, or bisexual ' an example of just what bravery and risk can accomplish.

It remains to be seen whether Brian was murdered specifically because he was gay, although, given the crimes extremely violent nature (stabbing with a knife or knives, chopping with a machete) and his being so widely known as an outspoken gay man, even the most obtuse intellect unwilling to engage honestly Jamaica's hatred of gay and lesbian people would have to wonder. These are hard times for all Jamaicans living on the island, but they're especially hard for men who love and are attracted to other men ' for any man who either consciously names himself as gay or bisexual as well as those who ' married, otherwise involved with women, or even confirmed men of the cloth -- insist that they are not that way but seek out other men whenever possible, whenever and wherever imaginable.

Many men who desire other men in Jamaica continue to live with an enormous amount of anxiety, shame, and fear. Such is also the case for women who love other women.

Those of us who are men, particularly after an incident such as that which took Brian's life, return to that gnawing fear: will someone strike us down anytime soon because we are battymen? How will it happen? With fire? ' gasoline tossed over us as we sleep, assisted by a well-tossed lit match? The stench of our burning flesh, and the sound of our screams, bringing sleep-smiles to the sleepers and dreamers who, even at rest, continue to hate us? Will it happen with machetes aimed to rip apart our softest parts? Or with pickaxes, hammers, guns? Knives, or simple strangling? Or will it be just a beating? Or a good old-fashioned stoning? Will our father do it to us, or a neighbour? A boyfriend of ours, or a co-worker? Will everyone in our community turn on us? Will it happen in the cool, quieter hours of the night, or beneath the suns blazing afternoon ' or just before mornings first shy streaks, on its reliable way in from the East? Will people laugh after our death, as they did after Brians, or will some cry for us, as many did for Brian? Will people tell each other after our murder that we deserved it', or were asking for it? Will people in our families be so ashamed of us, and so embarrassed, that theyll refuse to speak about us to anyone, especially when it comes to the men we loved?

Will self-hating gay men say vicious things about us ' that we were nothing more than a sketel, nothing more than a butu, so what could anyone expect?

If anything, Brian's death should teach us all to do all these things even better.

But it should teach us something else, even more important: it should teach us that we, and no one else, will have to make the kind of world we want our children to live in. If one of our children turns out to be gay ' and I mean the children of any Jamaican, any person, heterosexual or homosexual, since we, too, produce and care for children ' are we prepared to send them out into a world that might chop them up, burn them, dash acid on them, or burn down their house? Or stone them? Or cause them to flee Jamaica, terrorized, into exile? Or cause them to grow up lying about themselves? Lying to their parents, to spouses, children, friends, family ' to everyone? What are we all really doing right now, nearly one week after a brave mans death, to protect our children from that world? From that world which is, still, so unfortunately, this one? 

Brian featured on the bottom of his outgoing emails a quote from Gandhi: We must become the change we wish to see in the world. The idea is useful, but the achievement of its sublime essence requires a tremendous amount of human bravery: brave heart, brave mind and soul, and the courage to expand the mind beyond the prejudices that make us feel happy, comfortable, superior. Are we prepared to try and live this way, if only to keep other people from being killed as Brian was killed, and to save ourselves from such a (literal and spiritual) death as well?

Light a candle, then, for this man who was loved ' for Brian Williamson. Light many candles, and remember his name. Recall his laughter and his head of silver coins. Remember the shine of his eyeglasses and the shape of his everlastingly, incorrigibly round belly. Remember how much he loved other men, and how very much he wanted them ' yearned for them -- to love him in return. Remember how much he loved his cat Jonathan and his dog Tessa ' poor Tessa, who was there, at home, on the morning of his death. Remember how Brian loved his garden, especially the trailing yellow allamanda flowers on his front lawns overhead trellis. Say a prayer for him, and say another ' yes, try, we must somehow try -- for those terribly lost, terribly maimed people who killed him. Remember how much power, love, and life he brought us in Jamaica. Remember how much braver he made so many of us. Remember how he expanded our entire country.

You will not be forgotten, Brian. You will be remembered, held deeply in our hearts, and very, very loved.

End

Photo: The Jamaican Gleaner-

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3.20 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."