All Boys Aren't Blue summary

In 2021, All Boys Aren’t Blue was one of the most banned books in the US. It was censored or removed from school libraries across the country.

Why was it so controversial? Well, it’s because the author, George M. Johnson, goes into detail about their first sexual experiences – including how they lost their virginity, twice.

But Johnson isn’t oversharing for the sake of it. Their aim is to help young people – queer teens in particular.

Johnson, who grew up in New Jersey and Virginia, is Black and queer. They know what it’s like to have conflicting identities, and to discover your sexuality in the dark.

Their writing is inspired by a quote from Toni Morrison, which they now have tattooed on their arm: “If there’s a book you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”

So Johnson wrote it – an honest exploration of Black queer identity, including their sexual journey.  

And yes, that means this Blink includes some sexual content.

First, though, let’s meet Johnson as a child, living in New Jersey in the 1990s.

Johnson knows they had it easier than many other young people. But still, it was tough growing up Black and queer.

Johnson often felt conflicted. They wanted to fully embrace their Black identity, but that meant “acting straight,” and being more conventionally “masculine” – or so they thought.

At the same time, they couldn’t deny that they were different – queer. They had crushes on boys. 

There was one boy in particular in school – a friend named Zamis. Johnson got butterflies around Zamis. They couldn’t ignore their crush. But they couldn’t act on it either – even though they sensed that Zamis was like them.

One day, chatting on AOL messenger, Zamis asked Johnson the question they always dreaded: “Are you gay?”

Instantly, Johnson felt a hot rush through their body. But they answered the same way they always answered. 

“No, I’m not gay,” they typed back. “Are you?”

“No,” Zamis replied.

After school they lost touch. And when they bumped into each other again, years later, it was in a gay club, during gay pride weekend in Washington D.C.

Now, looking back, Johnson wonders what might have been. They and Zamis could have got together – they could have been prom kings… 

But Johnson wasn’t ready to come out back then – not even to themselves.

In fact, while Johnson knew they were attracted to boys, they couldn’t allow themselves to be fully queer even in their fantasies. They would dream about having sex with boys, but as a girl.

For Johnson, the idea of anything else was unthinkable. 

At the time, there wasn’t much queer representation in the mainstream media. Also, at the Catholic school Johnson attended, sex education was mostly about abstinence. And of course, the idea that two men could have sex wasn’t even acknowledged.

Although Johnson’s family was accepting, as we’ve mentioned before, the teenager still wasn’t ready to come out, let alone ask questions about queer love and sex.

And when Johnson had their first sexual experience, it had to stay a secret.

They were about 13 years old. Their cousin was older – around 17 or 18. One night, the two of them were sharing a bed, whispering and giggling … and touching each other.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone,” said the cousin. He was the one who’d started it, despite having a girlfriend, and being Johnson’s relative.

Johnson knew it was wrong – they were family, crossing a line that should never be crossed. 

But then the cousin took things further, initiating oral sex. Johnson didn’t know what to feel. There was guilt, of course, and confusion, but euphoria, too.

That night left Johnson with the sense that their feelings were something to be kept secret, suppressed.

Now that they’re older, they realize how wrong it was. What happened was abuse.

Johnson can’t confront their cousin, who’s now dead.

But if he was still alive, Johnson would ask him about it. They would ask, “Did someone hurt you? Who taught you about sex?”

Because there’s something in Johnson’s gut – something that tells them that their cousin was a victim, too. All too often, abuse and violence become a cycle.

Still, although Johnson has reached a place where they’re able to have empathy for their cousin, they want to reiterate – it was abuse. And finding empathy for an abuser is not a requirement.

Instead, our priority should be holding abusers accountable.

By sharing their story, Johnson hopes to help someone – any other victims who might be holding onto guilt.

Telling the truth can be freeing. No more shame, no more secrecy. 

By the time Johnson graduated high school, they still hadn’t come out. And technically, they were still a virgin.

But as they got ready for college they were optimistic. They were excited for a new beginning – a fresh start at a historically Black college in Virginia.

And there, away from their family, they could come out at last, living like a character from Queer as Folk.

Unfortunately though, the reality was somewhat different. There was nothing magical about the air in Virginia – nothing that gave Johnson the courage to come out. 

They began to feel depressed. Every morning, they woke up knowing that they still hadn’t become the person they longed to be.

But as Johnson made more friends, and became more integrated into college life, they discovered a new opportunity – another way to find a sense of identity. Not through their sexuality, but through their masculinity.

Johnson decided to join a fraternity on campus – Alpha Phi Alpha. 

“Why?” you may ask. Well, to Johnson it represented belonging. It was a community based on masculine ideals and brotherhood, and this was something they also craved. They even saw it as a kind of self-love, embracing part of their own identity.

In this new brotherhood, Johnson thrived. They formed close, lasting friendships with other Black men. They became more secure in themselves, and their own masculinity.

Gradually, as Johnson grew in confidence, they realized that they were ready to define their identity. They could be queer, Black, and masculine – they didn’t have to choose or compromise.

Around this time, Johnson started to talk more openly about their sexuality. Not with their family – not yet – but with their brothers in the fraternity who were also gay.

Their confidence was bolstered not only by their friendships, but by their sexual relationships. You see, at long last, Johnson had lost their virginity. Not once, but twice.

The first time was in junior year. During the date, Johnson realized that the boy expected them to be the dominant one. And although they were nervous, they went for it. 

For Johnson, it felt glorious – at last, they’d had kind, passionate sex with a man on their own terms. 

But this was just the beginning of their sexual exploration. For one thing, Johnson wasn’t sure they wanted to be the dominant one in the bedroom. “Topping” had been fun, sure, but did they have to stick to that role?

There was only one way to find out. The next semester, they used an online app called Black Gay Chat, and met up with a boy who went to the same college. 

At the apartment, things started to heat up. The boy told Johnson to lie down on the bed and turn over.

Drunk and nervous, Johnson didn’t know what to expect. But they’d watched porn, and knew that anal sex could be painful.

Which it was. Maybe the worst pain Johnson had ever experienced. And although they enjoyed it, in a way, they were also relieved when it was over.

The next morning, Johnson met up with their line brothers from the fraternity, as they were driving to Jersey together that day. 

When Johnson told their friends what had happened the night before, the guys were proud and supportive. Before hitting the road, they bought Johnson a pack of painkillers. 

“It’ll take time to get used to it,” they said.

Years later, reflecting on these experiences, Johnson wonders how things might have been different. 

What if they’d had proper sex education beforehand? What if they’d been prepared? Sex is meant to be pleasurable, but Johnson was in pain for three weeks afterwards. And they sometimes ended up in risky situations out of ignorance.

This is one of the reasons Johnson feels so passionate about sharing their story – so other young queer people can learn from these mistakes.

Just consider the statistics: Queer people tend to have a higher risk of contracting sexually transmitted diseases. According to the CDC, 50% of Black men who have sex with men get HIV at some point in their lives.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. Young people should have proper sex education, and have access to the resources they need.

Johnson knows that this part of their story is going to get pushback. And yes, it’s a little embarrassing sharing such intimate stories.

But if it helps queer teens navigate their own experiences, it’s absolutely worth it. Johnson has no regrets.