Many Black women are raised to give our apparent struggles the stiff upper lip. We’re taught to be loud, and proud, and bigger than the world sees us. And at the end of all of that effort, in my most private and intimate moments, I wish to lay my burdens down. Ain’t I a bottom?
In my own struggle to get sober, I would spend days telling myself that my bottoms were “not that bad.” That the next day I would drink lighter, drink less, have water between glasses. For black gay addicts, we’re pressured at both ends. One of the reasons I’m sober today is because people around me talked about it, they extended their hands and hearts to me without knowing it.
A queer celebration of Black History Month.
There is sufficient evidence, both from Lorraine Hansberry’s own hand and from those with whom she interacted socially, that she was a lesbian. But the how of it all — that we have to piece together in fragments.
I believe that these eight wonderful poets are the face of reviving the genre. I always want to push poems on people, so I’m also presenting you with some of their recent or upcoming works. Head to your favorite, local, indie bookstore and pick up a few of their collections before Black History Month is over!
I’m pairing Audre Lorde’s 1984 conversation with James Baldwin and arguably her best-known speech, “The Masters Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House” in hopes of exploring how our power and freedom lie in embracing our differences as the source of our strength.
When BLK first published, it was a 16 page black-and-white newsletter with a circulation of roughly 5,000. By the time it ended its publication it had grown into a 40 page magazine with full color covers, a paid subscriber base and global distribution reaching 37,000 people. It told our stories. Today, we say thanks.
Four years ago I did the switch from wanting “good hair” to wanting “healthy hair” and went completely natural. This photoessay is a ride of twists and bumped bangs, but I promise it’s a good one. And before you ask: No, I am not tenderheaded.
We want this year’s Black History Month to be serious. But also – sexy, fun, JOYful. We want to reflect the multiple ways that black people see ourselves and walk through our world. And so, we begin here. By writing ourselves back into our own history.
I’m ready to kiss the last hours of the longest 28 days on record away with a f*cking party and a playlist full of bangers!
People don’t realize how damaging it is to only acknowledge a part of someone instead of their entire being. I’m black and queer and fat and a woman. Yes, I love cosplay but please — don’t forget my “and.”
What if “Coming To America” starred Lena Waithe instead of Eddie Murphy? What if Sanaa Lathan and Gabrielle Union made out with each other at the end of “Love & Basketball”? What if black lesbians finally got to get the girl on the big screen? I’m buying the popcorn. You coming with?
In 1974 it felt like every American was watching President Nixon’s impeachment hearings. With a single speech, a black lesbian changed the opinion of a nation. She was only getting started.
Honey, these glorious embodiments of black femme magic are about to sweep you off your feet.
Maybe Josephine Baker and Frida Kahlo were actually lovers? Maybe they weren’t. What always mattered most was the idea that they even could.
“I am deliberate and afraid of nothing.” – Audre Lorde
“Close your eyes and imagine for one moment a world where little black girls spend their entire childhoods seeing women like the ones they will become in just as many books, television shows, awards ceremonies, universities, political offices, magazines, advertisements and leadership positions as their white peers do. Really picture it, and then ask yourself: what would that future look like?”
In the second and final part of our Black History Month Roundtable series, we’re ready to look forward. We’re asking, what are our hopes for black queer futures?
“For me, queering Black History Month is about making sure that future generations don’t feel the same pressure to choose between their blackness and their sexuality that I once did. It’s about leaving space to be all of yourself, at once.”
Black queer musicians today are some of our strongest advocates, and they’re leading the revolution with singing and dancing.