Keynaya Thompson
Managing Editor
As February 2024 brings forth Black History Month and its commemoration of African Americans and their roles in U.S. history, there are still some who ask what Black History Month is and why we celebrate it. Typically, the answer is for the purpose of unearthing the unique struggles, triumphs and experiences that have made the black community what it is today. This answer, while truthful does not live up to its full potential. In the month’s quest to honor the legacy of black history, there is a striking omission—an echoing silence of the voices of black queer trailblazers, visionaries, and leaders whose contributions have been sidelined and overlooked in the grand scheme of things. It is time to open the history books and write the unacknowledged chapters of black queer history and honor the impact they have cemented into the cultural landscape, leaving behind a cycle of erasure, whitewashing and invisibility. Moving forward, we must move toward solidarity, and inclusive celebration, recognizing black queer contributions to African American’s collective history.
The inclusion of black queer history can remedy many issues that plague the intersectionality of both African Americans and members of the LGBTQ+ community. One of the most prominent issues is the whitewashing of black queer culture and narrative. The biggest commercialized celebration of the queer community is Pride month. Pride, a celebration of gay liberation and culture came from the Stonewall riots, started through the brave activism of Marsha P. Johnson— a black transgender woman. Pride has now largely been absorbed and whitewashed since the Stonewall riots of the 1960s, many years after Johnson’s death (her body was found floating in the Hudson River in 1992, symbolizing the crass amount of unprotested violence against transwomen of color). Johnson is barely acknowledged much less celebrated at the center of mainstream Pride parades.
Mass media and historians often fail to acknowledge the pivotal role that the black queer community has contributed to not only the fight for LGBTQ+ rights, but to mainstream culture, instead shifting the narrative to one that is predominantly white and cisgender. Madonna’s 1989 hit “Vogue,” largely inspired by the late 80’s underground ballroom scene in New York City— a space occupied by black and Latino gay and trans individuals, exemplifies this. The song and its iconic music video see no acknowledgment of the community where voguing originated from. Madonna, a cis-het white woman, would become the poster girl for the dance fad, erasing the ballroom community that was the source of the dance. Furthermore, when given the opportunity on the over five-minute track to acknowledge ballroom legends and icons that created the culture being appropriated such as Willi Ninja, Octavia St. Laurent, Crystal LaBeija, Tracey Africa, and Hector Xtravangza, she gleefully acknowledged her white cis-het predecessors such as Grace Kelly, Fred Astaire and Bette Davis—who have no ties to voguing or ballroom culture outside of the song.
The same case can be made for RuPaul’s drag race, which adapts the architecture of ballroom culture and gives a predominately white gay audience access to culture that is then wrongfully credited to the drag queens featured on the show. Even further is the dilution of house music, which was created by Frankie Knuckles, a gay black man, into electronic dance music that is now largely occupied by producers who are cis-het and white. With no larger community to speak up, acknowledge or celebrate these various contributions to the pop-culture sphere, black queer cultural significance is essentially erased in mainstream history. The integration of black queer history into general black history can reclaim these narratives and platform these contributions.
From the Harlem Renaissance to contemporary movements in art, fashion, literature, music and activism, black queer leaders and creators have been at the center of cultural advancements and social justice. Important figures such as Josephine Baker, Langston Hughes, Audre Lorde and James Baldwin have contributed greatly to their respective fields of literature, music, art and social activism, yet their identity as queer individuals are often debated, downplayed or overall erased in historical narrative. By acknowledging them as members of both communities while highlighting their contributions, we recognize this intersectionality and consider how their unique identities provided a different perspective on art and thought that would change the trajectory of contemporary society.
Moreover, and most importantly, the isolation of black queer history within the black community itself is harmful and keeps the cycle of oppression spinning. Black queer people must deal with discrimination not just from society but within their own community. By ignoring the contributions of the black queer community, we further marginalize them and contribute to feelings of invisibly and alienation. Black queer youth, most importantly, must see themselves and those they identity with the most represented and celebrated in history to create a sense of pride and community. real acts of oppression in their community. Not teaching the full scope of inequality is as if we are suppressing our past. And suppression is one step closer to oppression.