Disguised Unacceptance
As I navigate my Blackness and sexuality, I think about the things that make me who I am and the journey that got me where I am today. Oftentimes, when I reflect on that journey, I think about the people who have been in my corner and those who have not. Then, I think about my community, specifically the LGBTQ+ communityuq and how I fit in.
Every time I think about my fellow LGBTQ+ peeps, I always envision them as Black, not white, Hispanic, or any other race. “Well, it’s ‘cause you're Black,” is probably what you’re saying to yourself, and you may or may not be correct, but I don’t think so. I’m surrounded by all kinds of proud queer people. The majority of them do not look like me, and being around them can be quite exhausting.
After thinking about it, I kept asking myself this one question. Then, I wondered if other Black LGBTQ+ folks felt the same. So, I asked …
“Do we feel accepted, safe, or seen in the mainstream LGBTQ+ community?”
I’ve asked this question mainly online. Even though I didn’t get many responses, all but one answer was the same and similar to my own: No. Now, why is that?
I got the most responses on Tumblr and Discord. Lots of people said no without an explanation. One person simply responded to my post with a red X. One person stated, “No, I think specifically trans masc spaces are so dominated by white men that most of the time my Blackness seems to automatically cancel out the possibility of me being trans. People are genuinely surprised every time because the image of a trans man is always a white one.”
White dude wearing black shades who pulls them down and blinks a few times in surprise!
Huh! Interesting! This was also an eye-opener because I don’t think I have a specific image of a trans-masc person. I think my brain actually goes to someone I know versus what I think one should look like. That’s just me, though.
Another person said, “I haven't interacted enough in normal LGBT+ spaces to actually know if I am.” Neither have I, but I’ve been around enough to know I’m not actually welcomed.
Fun facts!
A study conducted in 2022 from May 16–22 by the William Institute reported that 62% of Black gay, lesbian, and bisexual people feel part of the larger LGBTQ+ community while only 29% of Black transgender people feel part of the larger community.
Quick story.
Once upon a time, before I got my own place, I lived with this gay couple. One white and one biracial (black and white). They’d always have company and little parties downstairs or outside when it was nice. I never joined them because I was an aspiring recluse, but one night, I said, “What the hell!” and joined them and their friends outside on our small patio.
I grabbed a beer, the only alcohol available to this wine-drinker, and plopped down into a seat.
My white roommate — I’ll call him Greg — looked around and said, “Oh my gosh! We finally have more Black people than white people!” He clapped his hands and raised them in the air as if praising the Jesus he does not worship.
His friends also cheered and raised their bottles in excitement.
I just sat there and thought to myself, “Okay, whatever, nigga,” because it’s such a stupid thing to acknowledge out loud. Also, why did he care? So, I listened carefully to the conversations around me.
Lots of it was inside stuff, like, “Johnny looked a hot mess,” or “Did you see Carla the other day?” type of talk. (I’m just making up names, obviously.) Then, a Black gay man in the group started talking about Kim Kardashian and the braids she wore that one time. I don’t know this chick or how many times she’s actually worn braids, but I know she’s an appropriator and knew which instance he was referring to. I expressed that she was appropriating the fuck out of us and has been for years.
“Well, they were wearing braids back in Egyptian times, so [the braid style] doesn’t actually stem from us.”
He said that with a straight face.
That’s when I realized several things: 1) I am in the wrong crowd right now, 2) does he not think we (Black people) existed in Egypt?!, 3) this man knows absolutely nothing about the history of braids and where the style came from, and 4) he has been brainwashed by these white people!
I just rolled my eyes, finished my nasty beer, and told them I would lie down because I was tired. Tired of the bullshit, that is, but they didn’t need to know that. After I got away, I didn’t think much of that night until much later. When I finally reflected on that night, I started thinking, “What besides the obvious made that gathering so uncomfortable?”
It took me a minute to figure it out, but when I did, I noticed something. They had an overwhelming need to feel present and accepted among Black LGBTQ+ people but did not feel the need to extend the same courtesy to us. Yeah, it was cool to have “more Black people than white people” hanging out, but “make sure you tone down that nigger shit over here” was unquestionably the vibe that night.
I couldn’t voice my opinions or jump into a conversation without being criticized or judged. My only undisclosed purpose was to be seen and not heard so they could seem inclusive and cool because, let’s face it … I am cool as fuck, as are many other Black people, and they wish they could be, too.
One person in my Black LGBTQ+ Tumblr group made an excellent point! He stated, after answering my question, “White people also tend to employ black behaviors as a shorthand for their queerness. For some, being LGBTQ+ is their greatest level of oppression, and (especially in younger spaces) they refuse to acknowledge the importance of intersectionality and the racism in their own spaces.”
It's precisely what happened to me that night. Also, I want to expand on his point of why I think white LGBTQ+ people employ these Black behaviors. I believe they do that because they see us at the bottom of the social totem pole and the most discriminated against worldwide. They acknowledge this in their mind but won’t say or admit it out loud. If they do, they are liable to be held accountable for their actions by those they discriminate against. So, instead, they try to use some of our behaviors because they feel it’ll make them seem more victimized and oppressed and possibly give them a greater platform to be heard. After all, they do have white skin and will be heard more than Black people.
LET’S BE REAL ABOUT THAT!
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard a gay white man say he needs to get in touch with his “inner Black woman” as if he has her tucked away in his back pocket or attempts to mimic a Black woman’s behavior. I’ve also lost count of how many times a white person, whether they’re straight or queer, says that they’re not racist because they date Black people or have Black friends. As if that makes them impervious to racism! And this happens in mainstream LGBTQ+ spaces all the time. They just refuse to acknowledge and address it.
Sure, I’m always invited, but I’m always expected to stand on the sidelines looking crazy while all the non-Black people, especially white people, have a good time. Kind of like how slaves silently had to pour drinks and clear plates during dinner time for their masters; this imagery pops into my mind whenever I think about this. However, this is not 1706, and I am not a slave. I am a real human being — not just 3/5 of a human — who has feelings, thoughts, goals, dreams, and deserves respect, and has rights.
So, yeah, I always envision LGBTQ+ people as Black because they don’t make me feel unsafe. They don’t make me feel stupid for expressing myself, and they don’t look down on me because I’m Black while trying to take and use my Blackness as their own. Thus, the Black LGBTQ+ space, as of right now, is the safest place for me.
