In this raw and lyrical memoir as rich and insightful as How to Say Babylon and as vulnerable and provocative as Heavy, an Emmy Award-winning director chronicles his struggle to break free from--and live outside of--the prescribed paradigms of Blackness and masculinity that shaped him.
Long before every moment of our lives was tracked by technology, Phill Branch was under surveillance. His father was a football-playing, weed-smoking, Army vet--the guy men wanted to be around, and women loved. Phill was different. His father treated him as if he were defective and continually searched for proof to support this belief. Phill paid greatly for his failures at boyhood, especially when he was caught playing jump rope with girls. This taught him there were standards to be met, codes that were not to be violated, and strict punishment for any deviation from a Black man's assigned position in the world.
In this poignant, illuminating personal narrative, Branch reckons with the patriarchy and tradition of these social structures in Black America, their legacy, and how they molded and silenced him. Taking us from Newark, New Jersey, to Los Angeles, California, Branch writes unflinchingly about growing up as the queer black son of a complicated and often absent father with rigid ideas of masculinity. From early inappropriate relationships with men twice his age, to his successful rebranding at Hampton University, to the dichotomy of Hollywood--living in a world of wealthy celebrities while struggling to survive as a writer--Branch navigates his complex emotions surrounding success, perceptions of manhood, and ultimately his father.
The Double Dutch Fuss recounts growing up under the heavy burden of expectation--to be a boy, to be Black, and to be queer in ways that conform to rigid, often unforgiving norms. It is about the knotted path of becoming, while navigating the always-present fear of emotional and physical violence, and the threat of isolation for simply being who you are. Branch explores the cosmic pull between fathers and sons, and how healing wounds can open a pathway toward freedom and wholeness. His is an insightful and surprisingly humorous reflection on identity, masculinity, and the quiet, radical act of choosing to exist on your own terms.
