Episode 3: Bah, bah, Black Sheep
Image of exactly how I feel. Credit: Toni D
I struggled to create this episode because I had no ideas, no motivation, and no energy. So, I’m really glad I was able to come up with something I feel comfortable putting out into the world. I hope you guys enjoy it!
In this episode, I just needed to get some things off my chest because I've been feeling like a pariah and standing out more than usual, and I don't even know why. I'm just being me.
Transcription below the podcast player.
Hey, it's me, Toni D, and I'm the Black Quirky Queer. Thank you so much for tuning into another episode. This is episode 3. Wow! And oh, boy, let me tell you! I've been struggling to come up with ideas for this damn episode because I just haven't had much inspiration. I've been knee-deep in family shit, so that took away my attention. But hey! Look at me—or rather—listen to me about to talk your ears off on this lovely Tuesday, Wednesday, whatever day I decide to publish this. Sorry, consistency is not my middle name.
Uh, anyways, as you know, there was no episode in March due to circumstances mentioned. However, I am back on track, or at least I feel like I'm back on track. You know what? I feel like I keep saying that, and that's when things go to shit. So, maybe I should stop saying that. Whelp! Before I get into the episode updates! The latest blog post is available now, so go to blackquirkyqueer.com/blog and give it a read, and then you can sign up for the newsletter. So, you always stay in the know and never miss a blog post or an episode, or any updates.
Okay, now that I got that outta the way, lately I've been feeling frustrated. It's coming from all directions and it's been piling up. Just one thing after another, and one of the things that's been getting to me is how I'm being perceived and treated afterward. Just a few examples, just to give you guys an idea of what I'm talking about.
One day, I was standing at the bus stop waiting to go home, and this dude decided he wanted to hit on me, and I'm just like, “Fuck! I don't wanna deal with this!” Um, Black dude, and he was just like, Hey, you know, whatever. He said … I don't even remember. And I told him that I was q ueer, which is true. I just didn't say that I liked men, which I don't know either way. I told him I was queer to like try to deter him from talking to me ‘cause sometimes that doesn't work. But when I told him that, his whole demeanor changed, like he was all smiley and stuff. But when I told him that, he instantly like frowned and turned his nose up at me and like walked away. I've never had a guy do that to me or anybody that's hit on me do that to me before, like he was just totally disgusted by me being gay as fuck.
Then, this past weekend, I spent time with the family and my grandma was talking about her gay hairstylist, and she called him…. Mm! I don't—well, I won't say what she called him. It wasn't very nice, and I had to correct her. I was just like, “You know, he's gay. He's not,” whatever she just said. I was like, “That's, it's actually kind of rude, Grandma. You can't…you can't talk about gay people like that. You shouldn't say that.” And she was like, “I don't say that to his face.” I was like, “But that's—that's still disrespectful. You shouldn't do it.”
And you know. Just doing that, even though I know my grandma loves me, she like how I am perceived now by her. I—I don't even know what she thinks. She's still gonna love me regardless, but like, just having to just step in and correct her after fucking 90 years of life.
And, this happens all the time too. You know, I'll be walking down the sidewalk and I'll be walking by a couple and, um, the—in particular, these are white people I'm talking about. I'll be walking by like a white couple and the guy will pull his woman closer to him as if I'm gonna reach out and grab her or something. Like, I don't want that white bitch. I don't date white women. So, you can keep her. Or, you know, I'll be walking by someone holding a bag. Doesn't matter what gender, they'll just clutch it a little more. Or they'll walk to the other side of the street as if I'm gonna do something.
Um, ooh! Yesterday, this just happened to me. This white guy, I was walking behind him, headed wherever. And he looked back, noticed I was behind him, and he stepped off to the side and just looked at me like I was following him or something, or offended him. But then he decided to walk behind me as if he needed to keep an eye on me, as if I was gonna do something to him. Like, like, Ooh, I need to keep an eye on this nigger. Make sure she's not doing anything, you know, nefarious.
First off, I'm only 5’1”, which people would consider itty bitty or fun size. And this nigga had to be like, six foot. What am I gonna do to you, sir? What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do? And I just looked behind me and gave him like a look. And I stopped walking, and he stopped walking, and I waited until he kept walking I—no! That's—that doesn't make me feel any better. You're being creepy as fuck. No, I'm not gonna have you walking behind me doing whatever. Like, no. That's okay. You can go ahead. Walk far enough ahead so I don't have to see your racist fucking ass. The list, it—it goes on, and I could go on for days, I just won't.
People see a black woman, and instantly, I'm whatever they think a Black woman is in their mind, whatever that—that could be anything. And apparently, I'm a thief or aggressive, I guess, 'cause that's how I'm treated most times when I'm out in public. Um, especially by white people, or people discover I am queer, which means I'm diseased or sick, and they must get the hell away from me as soon as possible because they might catch it.
I experienced that, particularly in high school and college. All of the girls except for a handful, stayed the hell away from me as much as they could. My college roommate, who didn't even know I was queer, would talk about being scared of gay people, and her boyfriend and I would just laugh behind her back because boy, if she knew! If she only knew she was rooming with, at the time I was bi, a bi person, she would've lost her fucking mind.
It was just funny to me, but it was—it was also hurtful because we were … we got along just fine. We were good—we were good together. We requested each other as roommate, so we wouldn't get stuck with whatever dumb ass, but … and just to think if she knew that one little tidbit about me, she would have lost her mind, probably moved out or something and would've just been talking shit about me. But since she didn't know, she thought I was just a pretty good person. That just blows my mind. Like you just—and I was closeted, so of course I didn't speak up for myself or say anything.
FYI, he didn't stay with her long for very obvious reasons. I think I would've judged him, too, but he was just obviously completely fine with me being queer, and he didn't say anything to her, which I am grateful for.
But yeah, people love treating me like other than human. But then when I call them out on it, they either give an insincere apology or make all kinds of excuses, and I'm like, no, you meant to do that, you. You're not a nice person. You tapped into your privilege, fear, whatever the fuck that was, you meant everything you just said. Period.
And they get super defensive after that because they feel singled out and embarrassed. Good! Carry that with you and do better next time. How about that? Like, I'm gonna give a fuck how you feel.
And I can be different and still have a good life and be a good person. I don't need to fit in, follow societal norms, to be whatever … I—I don't even know what they want me to be. And you know, for what? Why would I do that? If everyone was the same, we'd be boring as fuck. Life would be fucking terrible. Life isn't one-size-fits-all. And I can't be something I'm not. Trust me! I've tried, and the shit didn't work. But people in 2026 still try to force their beliefs, ideas or whatever bullshit onto me. And everyone else for that matter 'cause I know some of y'all are going through that or have people close to you that do that often.
If I wanna cut my sandwich down the middle and not diagonally, that's what I'm gonna fucking do, Martha. If I wanna do sock-shoe, sock-shoe, that's what I'm gonna fucking do, Todd. Don't tell me how to put my goddamn socks and shoes on. I don't do that, by the way. 'cause I think that's like wild as—well! It's not wild. I take that back. I just don't do that. If you're listening to this and you put on your sock, then shoe, then you put your other sock on and the other shoe on, that's completely fine. It's what you wanna do. I just, um, I just don't do that.
Quick story. I remember telling this girl about my haircare routine and describing it as a ritual because I have to prepare for it, quite honestly. If I don't, I'm gonna forget something or half ass it. It's nothing major. I usually just pick out a playlist I can listen to, ' cause it takes a minute to do the shit, lay out the combs and brushes, whatever products I need, you know, for wash day and then just get to washing, get to doing my hair.
And I only have to do it once a week or so. So, it's not like a big deal to me. I'm so used to it. and this girl, this white woman, that I was talking to about my haircare routine, she goes, "You only shower once a week?!" I was like, “What? No bitch. I bathe every day. I'm talking about my goddamn hair. I'm not talking about bathing my ass!”
And, she just couldn't understand how I could bathe every day but not wash my hair every day. How is that a hard concept to grasp? Bitch, get a fucking grip! I ended up getting frustrated at her and I, um, I guess one could say lashed out, but I didn't care because she just treated me like I was a fucking disgusting piece of shit.
FYI, non-black people listening, it is normal for us not to wash our hair every day. In fact, if I wash my hair every day, it would probably dry the fuck out and start breaking off. That's not something I can do, wash my hair every day. That's like … that just doesn't work for me, and I can only speak for myself. I'm not the spokesperson of the Black community. So don't assume every Black person has the same routine as I do, but just know when Black people talk about not washing their hair every day, they are bathing every day.
I just don't get it. Just like every day, it seems like I'm running into people like that. I'm running into people that are treating me like I'm not even worthy or a monster or something. They're not always using their words either. Sometimes it's just a look or a thing that they do that can just make me feel less than, and I'm just trying to deal with that, and yeah! It's just been really hard.
Basically, what I'm getting at is that I'm different, so I'm treated differently. Well, I don't think I'm all that different. I honestly don't. I work, sleep, do it all over again, just like anyone else trying to feed themselves and have some kind of life. You know what I mean? But I guess because outwardly I look different, they just believe I'm different. And yeah, we all have our differences, all that shit, but we're all human beings at the end of the day. I have feelings. I deserve to be treated with respect. I deserve to be able to walk down the street without some creepy ass, six-foot white nigga trying to racially profile me like I … I am human. Please treat me as such.
It's okay to not be like you. It's okay not to fit in. It's okay to be me. This ain't the Hershey bar factory line where they're making the same goddamn chocolate bar over and over again. I can be me, I can be Toni D. That is completely fine. It's not hurting anyone or anything. I'm not breaking any rules. I'm just being myself and existing. Well, you know what? Maybe that's it. They don't want me to even exist, but since they can't get rid of me, they try to make me something I'm not. But what the fuck do I know? I don't know shit.
Whelp! That's all I've got for you guys. That's all I wanted to say. Episode is real short this month. Make sure to like, subscribe, leave five stars, pretty please. Then, follow me on Tumblr, BlueSky, and Instagram at blackquirkyqueer, all lowercase, and YouTube at theblackquirkyqueer. If you have any questions you want answered on the pod, email me at heytoni@blackquirkyqueer.com. Or if you just have any feedback, let me know what you think or if you have any ideas of what you want me to talk about next month, just let me know. And, uh, that's it. Until next time, peace, love, and happiness y'all.
