My Apologies, Queer Black Folks
An open letter from an imperfect ally.
Dear Queer Black folks who have been targeted, hurt, and isolated within our Diaspora, I am sorry. I’m sorry that so many of us don’t see your blackness and queerness in harmony within you.
I’m sorry that some of us dissect you and make your body our business. That when it comes to your body parts — we make decisions regarding their worthiness of being accepted and protected. That when it comes to your body’s intimate involvement in any way, we decide that it is relevant to who you are as a whole and that it’s up for discussion among us non-intimate non-partners. I’m sorry we can misunderstand and abuse you within the Black community, compounding the wide world’s anti-Blackness with our anti-Gayness. That has got to hurt.
I’m sorry that we tend to silence and grandstand when it comes to you sharing your hurt around being unsafe, unprotected, unheard, and not believed. As a Black woman, I imagine that has got to be hard to face. Yet, there you are, still facing it, and still Black.
As I work to be a less confused about you all, I realize how misguided our hetero-focus on your queerness tends to be. That any one of us concern ourselves with the kind of sex you have while not in a sexual relationship with you — is completely bizarre! It reminds me of sexual harassment. And I know your queer identity could very well be bigger than your sex life — so I’ll keep on working on myself and listen to my circle! It’s just so unfortunately automatic. I am working on how this thinking and behavior runs in me, so that I show up for you with clarity. I am challenging my own “straight” and narrow thinking because you are undoubtedly worth the effort, and we are worth reclaiming our humanity.
I’m working on the consideration that being queer on the “inside” while simultaneously being Black on the “outside” can be an equally heavy burden to bare. Simply understanding the array of pain that comes with our Blackness in an anti-Black world helps me to conceive of the potential for pain being both Black and Queer. There is the matter of being a Black person, and additionally, the matter of constantly weighing the decision of whether to hide or to share yourself. Yet another decision around keeping something about yourself a secret, or allowing yourself to be “exposed” and vulnerable. We know all too well in the Black community that sharing a widely unacceptable reality of yourself can commonly be a matter of life and death.
There is so much more for me to question, consider, and shed to truly ally with you, but I am committed. I optimistically envision a day when we collectively hold folks accountable to their impact, and not their identity politics. And we as fellow Black people can think well about you, accepting you just for who you are, on GP.
With all my love,
Your imperfect, committed ally.
