Claiming boyhood, staring down sexual abuse. © Brian Dennis 2019
Physical culture is beleaguered by its association with vanity. That is a scapegoat used by those invested in atrophy. The argument is to cave into deterioration, rather than commit a sin. It’s an extension of comfort culture, the hard sell of convenience. Cultivating your physical presence has more rewards than your reflection. That’s just a... Continue Reading →
Here, on a crowded beach, is where I met the man who kidnapped me in 1974. Decades later, I stand for a moment of reflection. On this quiet morning, an advertisement grabbed my attention. It’s a PSA for the National Human Trafficking Hotline. The bright message sparked a revelation. What would have once triggered anger... Continue Reading →
On the 52nd anniversary of being kidnapped, I was surprised by how muscular I had become. I took a photo, thinking of writing on Facebook about survival and strength. But decided I didn’t want to do a public thing this year. I used the photo, but only discussed training. A man commented, “Visually, there is... Continue Reading →
This photo shouldn’t surprise me, but that is the point. Admittedly, I have not crafted a spectacular physique. But what I have built is far beyond my mental picture of myself. Our identities are very deeply ingrained. I was raised to project humility, weakness, and submission. And though I was never that person, I accepted... Continue Reading →
In 2014, I started working with a personal trainer. I am still with him. He sent a link to my old interview for his blog. I got highly emotional remembering what it was like to DARE believe I belonged in his world. My entire life, speaking to a straight man was forbidden. My gayness didn't... Continue Reading →
My corpse won’t be poisoned with my personality
There was a time seeing a father/son bodybuilding duo would have destroyed me. I would have been plunged into a toxic stew of jealousy and shame spiced with a vile dose of self hatred. My father and I weren’t close. I grew up with an aching yearning for a man’s attention and affection. That deep... Continue Reading →
…he untied my hands and told me to have sex with the other bound boy. I ran off and locked myself in another room… That’s the story of a selfish coward. It’s a telling of a pathetic person who scurried off. It is also only loosely based on what happened: …he untied my hands. He... Continue Reading →
One night, I tossed from one sad memory to another. I almost canceled my morning workout. But went out of habit. One memory in particular brought tears to my eyes: 9th grade, after school I got high. Wasted and wasting time I roamed around the school. I saw lights on in the gym. The boys... Continue Reading →
I know what-ifs are a trap. But I couldn’t get away from the memories of what a mess I was. I couldn’t function in high school. But I got even worse when I quit at 18. I am pretty sure I had a breakdown. But I was already so fucked up no one could tell.... Continue Reading →
Another day, same haunts I recall as a child being alone in the bathroom. I wanting to flex my arm like a “muscle man “, but couldn’t allow myself to. Asserting my boyhood felt forbidden and dirty. I couldn’t believe I was lesser than the other boys, because even that lowly distinction included me as... Continue Reading →
The first person to see this photo called me "masculine". I am savoring his words. Ever since I was assaulted at 5 I have struggled with belonging to my gender, within myself as as a member of a larger group. Yes, I love this photo. Not because I am something I am not. But because... Continue Reading →
Owning It 