As I watch Pose – a dazzling and gritty drama that details the lives of queer Black and Latinx people of the 1980s – and see scenes of discrimination from white gay men towards Black queer and Trans women, I can’t help but notice the parallels between fiction and fact.
A particularly poignant scene shows Blanca – a Black Trans woman – met by a sea of hostile faces when attempting to drink at one of Manhattan’s proudest, busiest gay bars. With unwavering determination, Blanca returns to the unwelcoming bar time after time, despite being met consistently with verbal abuse and being violently exiled.
Although a fictional depiction, discrimination is still a reality for Black LGBTQ people. Often the LGBTQ community is praised as a bastion of progressiveness, however, Black LGBTQ people are marginalised and are often victims of racism within the community.
Research by Stonewall and YouGov highlighted that 51% of Black, Asian, and minority ethnic (BAME) people said they experienced racism from the LGBTQ community. This figure rises to 61% when looking specifically at Black LGBTQ people. On one end of the spectrum, racial discrimination is often justified as “preference” in dating.
On the other end, Black and Brown LGBTQ people are often fetishised by white LGBTQ people. Drag culture has been brought into the mainstream of LGBTQ culture and wider society but there is minimal acknowledgement of the Black, queer people who pioneered and popularised it.
When speaking to other Black LGBTQ people and LGBTQ people of colour (POC), I find a common denominator among us – we have all experienced some form of marginalisation and/or discrimination within LGBTQ spaces. Navigating life at the intersection of two protected characteristics, Black LGBTQ people and LGBTQ POC struggle to find safe spaces to exist freely.
Black communities and other communities of colour can be homophobic and transphobic leading many LGBTQ POC to distance themselves for their own wellbeing. This is why it is so painful for Black LGBTQ people and LGBTQ POC to then face discrimination within a community that prides itself on openness. This community has served as a safe space for many who were pushed away by their families, but for the LGBTQ community to be truly inclusive, we need to address the racist elephant in the room.
As a Black Lesbian, I have felt alienated within the LGBTQ community; I have faced racism on numerous occasions in spaces where I go to celebrate my queer identity. In the last year, I chose to withdraw from mainstream LGBTQ nightlife after being called “sassy” or “fierce” one too many times by white, gay men.
I’ve shared annoyance with a close friend of mine (who is also a Black lesbian) that white LGBTQ club-goers think it’s appropriate to run their hands through our afros and braids. Leaving a LGBTQ club in Leeds a few months ago, my friend had a white, gay man spit in her hair and upon confronting him, he simply laughed in her face. How can a community heralded as inclusive have racist instances like this happen?
“As the world makes a commitment to be actively anti-racist, LGBTQ people need to ensure this community is a safe space for all who need it.”
Mainstream LGBTQ nightlife and even events like Pride in London used to be so liberating for me as a teenager first coming out. As I became more secure in my intersecting identity, I began to notice that these spaces were predominantly white and catered to white clientele. Until I began to connect with more Queer, Trans, and Intersex People of Colour (QTIPOC) and engaging in spaces where these two identities were recognised and celebrated, I had not realised what was missing. At events like UK Black Pride and QTIPOC specific club nights, I felt so much more represented and understood. These spaces are so crucial and need to be uplifted, especially as we reignite the conversations around Black Lives Matter.
Coming out in the social media age meant I was able to tune into lesbian representation; I was watching Orange is the New Black and following GirlsLikeGirls Twitter and Tumblr pages from the age of 15. It was affirming to see women loving women (wlw) on TV shows, YouTube, and social media – however, I rarely saw any Black wlw. Although we are beginning to see more representation, Black Lesbian and wlw visibility still remains incredibly tokenistic in mainstream LGBTQ media, and very colourist towards darker skinned women.
As we enter and celebrate Pride month at the apex of a renewed focus on anti-Black racism, it is imperative for LGBTQ people to look inward and address this problem in the community itself. When we think of Stonewall, we need to pay homage to queer and Trans women of colour like Stormé DeLarverie, Marsha P. Johnson, and Sylvia Rivera – without whom, we may not have had the rights we hold today. As the world makes a commitment to be actively anti-racist, LGBTQ people need to ensure this community is a safe space for all who need it.
It is the responsibility of white LGBTQ people to read up on the influence of Black people and POC in queer history, challenge racism in all its forms, ask questions like ‘Why did Grindr have a race filter in the first place?’, and truly stand up for your Black and Brown LGBTQ siblings.
Olivia Andrews is an activist and writer working in fundraising.