It took E. Patrick Johnson, chair of the department of performance studies and professor in African American Studies at Northwestern University, more than three years to interview 77 men in 15 southern states to form the basis for his book Sweet Tea: Black Gay Men of the South. He needed just over an hour to bring their stories to life through performance art for a packed Billings North Lounge on Nov. 3 at the Burack President's Distinguished Lecture.

Johnson assumed the persona of six of the men during his performance of "Pouring Tea: Black Gay Men of the South Tell Their Tales" using their unique voices and mannerisms to express their views on religion, sex, love, class age, transgenderism, family and growing up gay in the south. The responses of the men, who ranged in age from 19 to 93, offered insight into how gay, black men navigate their way through life in a southern culture that Johnson maintains is less backward and more accepting than it is often given credit.

"These men have gone through some struggles, but have proven to be resilient," said Johnson. "You may not be from the south, gay or black, but something in these narratives touches you. We all have something we need to come out with."

Johnson entered Billings like a preacher on a Sunday morning in the south as he sang gospel music and shook hands with members of his congregation. When he reached his pulpit — a chair on a makeshift stage next to a table and a glass of sweet tea — Johnson played a snippet of an interview with a man named "Freddie" from Madison, Ga., who represented "early childhood." He did this for each man before completing the rest of the interview in character. "If it wasn't for you, my life would have been wonderful," he said in the voice of Freddie, recalling the painful words of his mother who was given away by her own parents as a child. "Well, at least I didn't give you away," she would offer as consolation to Freddie.

Johnson channeled "Michael" of Raleigh, N.C., to describe what it's like to "come out" as a young, gay, black man in the south. Described as a diminutive man who carries himself in grand fashion, Michael recalls his father chasing him with a pair of hedge clippers in an attempt to cut the hair he just had permed. "Michael, some fag is on the phone for you," his siblings would say when a friend called. In time, he became known to his parents as just their son, "not their gay son."

"R. Dioneaux," who grew up in the Florida panhandle and would eventually earn a Ph.D in African American Studies, helped students with their homework and tests so they wouldn't pick on him in high school. "All roads to a diploma led through me," he said with his trademark deep laugh. In regard to sexual preference, Dioneaux used peach pie to represent heterosexuals and apple pie for homosexuals to illustrate his theory. "A lot of people eat peach pie to be socially acceptable," he said. "But they're really dreaming about eating apple pie."

Religion was a dominant theme for all the men. "C.C." of Greenville, Miss., said he found it hard to find Jesus in churches where preachers denounced homosexuals, but that he eventually learned to look past the negative talk. "You just have to know Jesus for yourself and make peace with that," he said, adding that most gay men never forgive themselves for being gay. They tolerate gay bashing in church because they think "God might still think they're bad in some way."

During the question and answer session after the performance, Johnson, who also interviewed renowned Atlanta AIDS activist Duncan Teague, said that his favorite interview was with a 93-year-od man named "Countess Vivian," who survived Hurricane Katrina. He grew up during prohibition and recalls gay bars for whites and blacks being on separate sides of town. The only time he recalls seeing gay white men was when they came over to his side of town to spend their time and money on black "trannies."

"I am black, I am gay, I am the south — Miss South," said Countess Vivian in closing.