Black and Not So Proud

I’m going to discuss my observations about queer black women in media (specifically in the USA). I will also abuse parentheses; you have been warned.

Regardless of what anyone thinks, you can’t deny that there is some sort of strange relationship between sexual identity and race—not in the “people of this race aren’t gay” sort of way, but in the “famous people of this race tend to not be out if they’re gay” as often as famous people of other races sort of way. And things like that can lead to all sorts of foolishness. Anyone remember when some guy wrote a book and sent it to Uganda and how that inspired the Anti-Gay bill they were trying to pass a few years ago? Rachel Maddow going to town on the author of a "cure gayness" book.

And it would be easier disprove idiotic statements such as “race effects whether or not you’re gay” if there were more people of influence that were the physical manifestation of a counterargument. However, that is not the case. I don’t know whether or not that’s the fault of the not-so-good background race has within US history (yes, I’m talking about the US, specifically), or if there’s some cultural incidence of shame and fear within communities of color/the black community. What is it about black “pride” that makes it so difficult?

So, besides debunking the myth of “blacks aren’t LGBT identified, ever”, why else would we need out, black people of influence?

Well, this may or may not sound ridiculous, but some of us (read: all of us, whether you believe it or not) look to the media as an example in many different aspects of our lives. And while stereotypes are awful, I kind of think they have their uses. One way the media helps is by giving us “not so obvious” LGBT individuals ways to drop visual cues on our somewhat unobtrusive sexualities. Being (what I can only simplify to) bi has its troubles. How can one find a middle ground between attracting heterosexual/bi men and homosexual/bi women? …If you find an answer to that, let me know, because apparently I’m not doing it right (read: I get asked to dinner by men and called straight when I go to gay clubs. Yes, that's happened on two separate occasions). In this situation, many people turn to the media for help.

Let’s go for the simple, common example: the (often times symbolic) cutting of hair. A lot of white/Asian/non-black queer women cut their hair to shorter, “more masculine” lengths. As MUCH as I’d love to cut my hair to reflect my inner queerness that won’t do (and please, don’t preach to me about stereotypes—you know when you see a woman who’s under 30 with short hair you probably add “queer” to your mental list of possible classifications… vegetarian too, am I right? :P) Unfortunately, black woman + short hair does NOT = queer.

So, after that realization, I decided to do some research. It was like a math problem. Black woman + x = queer black woman (with x defined as a visual/physical cue).

And by research, I really mean research. While I could name a BUNCH of non-black queer women in the media, I really couldn’t do so much for black queer women. My train of thought was something like this:

“Um… let’s see… Wanda Sykes? And… um… Queen Latifah. Wait, she doesn’t really count, because we’re still a bit unsure… well… I got nothing. OH WAIT, Nicki Minaj… but, isn’t she denying it now? …Why can’t Ellen just be black? Or better yet, why can’t Oprah just be a lesbian?”

And then a dead end. Eventually, after many unsuccessful google searches, I was given this video by a friend. Essentially, this list contains a lot of women you wouldn’t hear of unless you were into politics and reading; writers, activists, poets (though, in retrospect, I DID know a few more than Wanda, which made me happy).

Anyway, to wrap this up, the main point of this is essentially that American media is telling the world that black queer women are rare/don't exist (which can’t be the case). But then again, allowing the media to define and represent the world is a bad idea. “Dark skinned” black women, myself included, wouldn’t exist at all if left up to the media because I’ve observed it is usually only “safely ethnic” black women who get screen time/get to represent all black women on TV and in movies. (Support for this observation: here and here, with pictures). But that’s enough digression.

Side note: Dreads for me, yes or no? No? Yeah, whatever, I kind of want to do this anyway, but maybe shorter.

Side side note: I'm obviously not being serious about my first side note, in case you were wondering.

Interracial Lesbian Relationships: A Swell Endeavor

Hey yall! I'm Veronica Ray, the newest addition to the roster of bloggers at Our Lives. I play rugby, do HIV counseling and aspire to be a power lesbian when I grow up. My future posts will probably deal with race, economics, business, international news, fashion and art.

“Wouldn’t it be cool to have interracial friendship cards? Like a little white girl kissing a little black girl on the cheek and inside it says something like “Thanks for being such a great friend!” ?

Race is a popular topic at Duke. I feel like any post about race can quickly fall into the trap of rehashing the same ideas and grievances without really getting anywhere. With that disclaimer I hope I can begin an article that offers a personal perspective on my experience with race in the gay community.

My preference for black women has become a running joke with my friends both in and outside of the center. If I innocently tell a friend that I met a cool girl named Chantel, chances are she’ll reply “Oh….you WOULD be friends with a girl named Chantel.” If I tell you I’ve met a girl “of the hue that I seek” it means I’ve met a special African-American and I won’t be surprised if you joke that I’m mess for getting so worked-up. Though I am currently flamboyant about my love of black women, I didn’t acknowledge my preference till after I graduated from high school. I never wanted my interest in black women to be simply “jungle fever”- objectifying women as exotic objects who I thought fulfilled certain sexual stereotypes.

The first time I told someone that I was interested in black girls she replied “Hmm…I can’t exactly agree…black girls are so ghetto.” I found this comment strange because I have always been interested in educated, accomplished women regardless of their ethnicity. Where I grew up many people, including me, were mired in ignorance of the black community. Some friends in high school would throw around the N word in an attempt taunt my best friend, who is part black. After she went off on me for asking what part black she was when we were 14 I considered race an off limits topic. I secretly looked down on her for not fighting back against racist comments. I felt like I could tell her anything about my sexuality and I hoped she wasn’t keeping any of her thoughts from me. I realized after telling my best friend about my preferences that race was never an off limits topic for us. When I described race relations at Duke to her, she revealed that she identified with white culture. It was then I realized that our whole life I had put her in a box she never felt comfortable in.

Though I had “come-out” to myself about my preferences, I was still intimidated by the prospect of approaching an actual black woman. Before I left for college a friend scared the shit out of me by saying that she didn’t think black lesbians dated white lesbians. It seems ridiculous now, but I spent a lot of time finding examples of interracial lesbian relationships to prove my friend wrong. I thought no black girl I met would want to date me. I now know that some people are equally worried that I wouldn’t be interested in them because of their race! The many revelations I’ve experienced are a testament to how naïve I was when I entered Duke. Even after growing up among Mexican Catholics and with a family full of different ethnicities black America was still a dark continent. After being at Duke for a few months my interest in black woman remained theoretical. It wasn’t until I started telling the queer black women I met that I was interested in black women that I started getting the attention I was looking for. It was not as difficult as my friends back home led me to believe! I don’t think indicating my preferences was necessary, but it took away the lack of confidence and tension I felt due to the myths I heard growing up.

I am still sometimes amazed at my own ignorance. I read the book Hair Story at my girlfriend’s recommendation and afterwards we watched the hilarious Chris Rock documentary Good Hair. When it comes to black hair, instead of a dark continent I now see a dimly lit path. I don’t need to be a black hair expert to know that doing my girlfriend’s hair is bonding time that I look forward to each week. It’s not like my girlfriend and I talk about race all the time (though we might talk more than usual due to my academic interest in ethnic conflict, international relations, and urban studies); she just can’t help noticing things that I don’t. We joke about how a PDA-loving interracial lesbian couple is a unique sight on Duke’s campus and a rare one in the media. In addition to making interracial friendship cards, I’ll expand my business to interracial relationship cards. A simple drawing of a short white girl kissing a tall black girl is all I need. So I can say “Look! That’s us!” and mean it. As I like to say: when it comes to people, ghosts, chocolate, clothing and tea, black makes everything better. The only thing that black doesn’t improve is tenting.