Words by Eric Ford

As the Revolution continues to be televised, I cannot help but wonder once all is over will my community finally see unity among those that look like us, but do not accept us. As a black queer young adult man living in New York City, the understanding of my queerness has expounded to a new level of passion, creativity, and resilience. 

I have had the opportunity to be among other queer folks with similar characteristics that have inspired and molded myself into magic like no other. The communion of an array of experiences floating in a mist of uniqueness, transformation, and at times shade. It’s refreshing because I was able to fellowship with people that look like me, that identify like me, and that love like me.

It hurts that with all this glowing light at times becomes evanescent to the overarching survival of black lives. We tend to be excluded, forgotten, and ultimately erased from the stories of the black community due to homophobia, transphobia, and hetero misogyny. 

It’s terrifying that even in these difficult times that we still find ourselves on the opposite side of the line in the sand from our hetero black brothers and sisters as we fight the threat of white supremacy and police brutality. Recently I witnessed amongst the many viral videos and posts of police attacking peaceful protestors, disturbing clips, and tweets of homophobia and transphobia flooding my twitter timeline.

Yes, of all the things that we should be worried about, hate speech from black hetero people giving unsolicited advice to black queer people on how “you are black before you are gay,” started to become a common thread. 

A woman known by the social media handle @thehoodhealer a couple of days ago posted a similar tweet regarding the same sentiments. Of course, as she was greeted with many followers that agreed, the black queer community (including myself) did what we do best, and read her down till she eventually deactivated her page.

Many came to her defense oh how she was not homophobic, and that her words were taken out of context. Minutes later, a video clip surfaced of @thehoodhealer from a recent Instagram Live as she described queer folks as mentally ill. 

Their claims and excuses became null void as the evidence continues to spew the very hate we knew all along was there. These types of people mask their homophobia and transphobia with alluding words, and empty apologies, but in reality, secretly hate our existence, because of the belief that it threatens the fight for black people in general.

Take @tariqnasheed for example, a black man whose mission is to keep his disdain for queer black lives in his mouth. Among the comments on his social platforms, Nasheed continues to push the narrative that black people that identify as queer are puppets for division within the black community sent by white people. In a recent tweet, he uses the video of Billy Porter, who outlines the tragic relationship between queer and heterosexual black people. Nasheed refers to Porter as  “The White LGBT community mascot.”  

He continues to compare Porter to Candance Owen, a black woman who supports Trump. Porter’s direct outtake on cis-hetero black people is that they are - in fact - the “white supremacist” of the black community.  As comments flooded the post with antidotes on how “the LGBTQ community have more rights than black people”, and “LGBTQ are purposely trying to change the subject.”

The belief that LGBTQIA+ Black folks are derailing the conversation from the black community is the pure indicator on how cis-hetero black people continuously separate the experiences and lives that we live every day. 

Our queerness is not respected and erased from the black experience. This behavior leads to the deaths and violence against queer black people alongside police brutality. The recent recording on the black trans woman, Iyanna Dior, where 15-20 mostly black straight men in Minnesota were seen attacking Dior collectively.

Images like this break my heart, which eventually turns into rage. How can we fight white supremacy as we continue to fight our own community for existence? 

The same people that march with us, chanted with us, turn around and beat us, degrade us, and kill us. How do you expect us to continue to fight for black lives when our black lives do matter to you, a black person? Even during a protest the names of Tony McDade & Nina Pop continue to be silent among the other black bodies that have lost their lives to law enforcement. Why are our names not chanted to the heavens, as much as others who are non-queer? 

I write all of this to express that homophobia and transphobia are the division between queer and the non-queer black community. We are not pawns in a game of which black lives or issues are more important to tackle. Our lives are not one or the other, but they accompany each other like a bowl of gumbo. 

Understanding Intersectionality is the key to realizing that if we don’t fight for all black lives, then this movement stands on the very foundation that white supremacy stands on. Equality for some, and not for all. To be a black person in a rich and vibrant community is to know we are not monolithic, the shades of our complexions are never-ending, our experiences are vast and beyond your imagination. 

There will be no #BlackLivesMatter if it was not for queer black folks taking the charge to protect all our lives. We deserve that respect, we demand it. Our Queerness is Our Blackness. How we visualize, demonstrate, and live at the intersection of both identities is our experience within the community.

 It is what makes being black so special. How everyone’s blackness is a form of personality, character, and strength. We all experience this community and culture differently, and our heritage ties us together. This bond cannot be broken, and its time cis-hetero black folks fall in line. Or I will be forced to cyberbully. I love to cyberbully!

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