Erica Thurman is a writer, speaker and consultant with a focus on inclusion, intersectional and issues that impact the lives of Black girls and women. More of her work can be found at ericathurman.com.

by Benie Hallel


“The universe, which is not merely the stars and the moon and the planets, flowers, grass and trees, but other people, has evolved no terms for your existence, has made no room for you, and if love will not swing wide the gates, no other power will or can. And if one despairs-- as who has not?-- of human love, God’s love alone is left.” - James Baldwin

A gunman opened fire in a queer Orlando nightclub on Saturday evening after reportedly becoming irate at the sight of two men kissing in Miami a few months prior. The media has, of course, sensationalized this tragedy to be an act of “Islamic terrorism,” without making much mention of the sustained, engrained homophobia embraced by American culture that feeds a beast of this sort.
The bodies that were slain in that club were not just white bodies; they were queer women and men of color who were targeted for their sexual attraction. Religion alone did not do this. We did. Every word that we have spoken in hatred and condemnation of queer folks, every time that we listened as LGBTQI identities were mocked and demeaned without saying a word, has done this.
On the Sunday following the shooting, I was driving in my Boston neighborhood when I overheard the car next to me blasting Buju Banton’s “Boom Bye Bye.” Every Caribbean kid who has ever attended a cookout or endured a mass house cleaning on a Saturday morning knows this song, and we know it well. For those who don’t know, the lyrics go something like, “boom bye bye in a batty boy head, rude boy no promote no nasty man, them haffi dead.” I wondered if the people in the car next to me had heard the news, or if they cared. I wondered why our community continues to normalize messages of hating and abusing queer identities as if there are no consequences for these words. Black people, it is time we get serious about our homophobia. It is time that we address and challenge the ways that our culture, music, and conversations serve to isolate and terrorize queer and trans folks of color. This starts with us- we have a responsibility to deconstruct our own bullshit before we can even begin to challenge it in the society around us. It isn’t funny anymore. It isn’t benign. It is deadly and our brothers and sisters continue to pay with their lives.

I am a West Indian born immigrant and the daughter of a christian pastor. We immigrated to the U.S. from Dominica when I was five years old. For me, and many West Indians, black Americans, and christians alike, homophobia is cultural. I was taught very early on that same-sex attraction was a sin, and that participants would be condemned to death and hell fire if they neglected to repent for their lust. No mention was ever made of love. For a long time, I believed my parents and I believed the Bible. I mean, it’s right there in the text. Admitting that homosexuals are not mortally doomed to the flames of hell meant facing the possibility that parts, or all, of the Bible may be an inaccurate- that they are the result of subjective human bias, and not of transcendent wisdom and love. This is a conversation that most christians are not ready to have.

At the risk of sounding like a cliche coming of age novel, I began to change my opinions on homosexual partnerships when I began making gay friends. A critical step in this process was a close friendship that I formed with an openly gay male during middle and high school. We had many things in common and were able to speak openly about our attractions and romantic relationships. I like to say that this was the beginning of a budding awareness, but in retrospect, there was always a part of me (and all of us, I think) that knew better. The supposed homophobia that I had previously embraced collapsed way too quickly to have ever been real. Within seconds of forming a bond with this person, I thought “okay, there is nothing wrong with him.” It was a light-switch turned on, an understanding that attraction is attraction, feelings are feelings, love is love, and his were all very real and very valid.

The deconstruction of my homophobic feeling did not happen all at once, and learning to be aware of gay consciousness and prioritize their struggle is a process that is still ongoing for me.
It took time. It took a lot of listening to queer voices, reading queer perspectives, and seeking the Creator to provide answers that never explicitly came (I am aware that all of you may not value a spiritual connection with a deity- I am speaking only of my own journey). As a former christian and the daughter of a pastor, reconciling my acceptance of and love for queer identities with my belief in the Bible and christian dogma was difficult. God never gave me an answer on whether homosexuality was “right or wrong,” but I believe that She transformed my heart to walk a continuous path of loving better, more freely, and without judgement.

Love is a word that our society throws around loosely. Let me be perfectly clear as to what I mean by love; when you love a population that is oppressed, targeted, and terrorized, you love by accepting them. You love by reminding them that they are whole, okay, and that there is nothing wrong with them. You love by using your privilege as a heterosexual, cis gendered person to make space for them. As in usual tragedy form, I see a lot of people “praying for Orlando.” I urge you also to pray for yourselves, your families, your friends, and your communities. I urge you to ask whichever God you believe in to touch your heart and reveal all fear and loathing of difference that lies there. I am praying for a love that will swing wide the gates of hatred, connecting us to a world where LGBTQI identities are safe, seen, and valued just as they are.


Photo: iStockPhoto


Benie Hallel is a Master's student in English Literature at Carnegie Mellon where she studies postcolonial literature and intersectional identities. She is a freelance journalist, radical black feminist and superhero.

by Anna Gibson

I’ve always considered myself “woke.” I’m an avid reader of history and because of this, I became aware of the forces that oppress black and brown people at a very young age. My parents introduced me to books like Introduction to African Civilization by John J. Jackson and From Babylon to Timbuktu by Rudolph R. Windsor when I was just ten years old. I thrived on the information I found in these books. However, at some point, I lost my way, and I can’t say that life in my teens and early 20’s was a reflection of the ideas I learned back then.


I decided to dive back into what it truly means to be conscious in the past six months. I’ve devoured books like When the World Was Black by Dr. Supreme Understanding and Maat: Guided Principles to Moral Living by KMT University Press. It’s like I’m a kid again. I can’t stop reading about my history and speaking to people of like minds who are interested in eradicating racism and all its subsequent effects on our people and our communities.

However, I was hurt by what I found in many of the major texts of the conscious community. Much of the community didn’t seem to accept me as a lesbian woman and would regulate my black womanhood to a secondary role within the movement. Many men in the “conscious” BLM community are masterful at hiding deep-seated homophobia and misogyny behind their “concern for the state of the black family,” avoidance of the “effeminization of the black man,” and protecting their “Queens” at all costs.

On the contrary, what I’ve found is that men in the BLM movement only define me as a queen when I fit into their narrow idea of femininity. They only find me respectable if I maintain a standard they can control. I’ve found myself in a number of perplexing situations. One brother practiced polygamy, but the moment one of his wives decided to get another lover she was a whore, simply for doing the same thing he did. I’ve been told I needed “correction,” as though I were a child who is disgraceful and completely out of line because I’m attracted to women. I’ve been dismissed, disregarded, and held in contempt. I’ve been judged and told I need to repent by the same individuals who claim that black and brown people need to throw off the religion of their slave masters and embrace who they truly are.

As this clip from Umar Johnson demonstrates, many of the foremost leaders of the black community would attempt to prove that we (women and the LGBTQIA community) hate the opposite sex for being who we are. Johnson often speaks about “treating” people in the LGBTQIA community as if we have a disease. He also makes hateful comments toward single black mothers, saying that they “castrate black boys and wonder why they grow into gay men.”

However, despite his rampant homophobia and misogyny he claims to love all African American people. This fear lies in the inability to understand the contributions that LGBTQIA people and black women have made to the civil rights and black power movements.

An interesting dynamic reveals the origins of misogyny and homophobia in the community. It illuminates a deep-seated fear of black men in the “conscious” community. I think Dr. Umar’s comments against single mothers and lesbians reflect a question that seems to be implied in black male anger against black women: What about me?

You see this question in many forms in the black conscious community, whether you hear about black men disparaging trans women, black men condemning lesbians, or black men hating gay men. A man is hated if he “behaves like a woman,” on one hand, but if a woman isn’t “his” it also becomes a serious problem. This is an issue of ownership and contempt, both of which serve as the foundation for misogyny, and the rejection of the LGBTQIA conscious community. This hatred is what’s REALLY meant in some of this discourse when we hear “Black women NEED black men,” and why men feel rejected enough to feel castrated when they aren’t involved.

If you need an example of this misogyny all you need to do check out articles on For Harriet’s comment threads, specifically the ones about LGBTQIA issues and love. You’ll see that while many men are completely silent about articles on the deaths of black women, they will come up at arms when conversations around LGBTQIA love and identity are centered and the discussion isn’t about them.

Dr. Umar Johnson’s misogyny and homophobia isn’t an isolated case. The issue is much bigger than him. The truth is, you can’t be concerned with the freedom of our people from oppression while excluding a large portion of our people. Black Lives Matter explicitly means that ALL black lives matter. If you throw out any portion of our people based on fear and ignorance, YOU don’t belong in the movement. For years LGBTQIA people have fought for have our freedom from the labyrinth of structural racism, and we will continue to do so because people of the Black diaspora need us.

Because of the ignorance outlined above, it’s understandable that many LGBTQIA people and women (God forbid if you’re both) may enter the Black Lives Matter movement and feel attacked on all sides. This is incredibly damaging, because quite frankly, we love our people and want to make sure they know who they are and how much of a powerful impact they can have on the world. I know how easy it is to become discouraged. You shouldn’t internalize misogyny or homophobia. Instead we should take time out to understand the common arguments against women and LGBTQIA community as well as further outline the origins of homophobia and misogyny within the movement.

People in BLM claim that the LGBTQIA conscious community are a “danger to BLM” and promote “black genocide.” On the contrary, I would posit that our unity can only be a danger the very establishment that oppresses us. The civil rights and black power movements didn’t collapse just because they gave LGBTQIA people a platform. LGBTQIA inclusion actually strengthened us. This can be proven by taking a look at some of the elders that helped place black liberation at the forefront of America’s consciousness.

Bayard Rustin was a prominent organizer that helped organize many of the events that made Dr. King’s platform possible. He was the mind behind the March on Washington and many of the sit-ins that occurred in the 1960’s civil rights movement. He wasn’t in the closet either. In an era that openly criminalized the LGBTQIA community and shunned women, he openly advocated for the rights of both. That level of fearlessness and tenacity in the face of adversity is exactly what we need in the BLM movement.

Alice Walker is another prominent writer. Her seminal work the Color Purple centered on such issues as bisexuality, domestic violence and revolution. Walker was also known for participating in the March on Washington and makes it a point to put out the inequities experienced by black community in her poetry and public speeches. Should her work be thrown away because of who she loves?

Some would claim that others would have come along and done the same thing if these powerful men and women didn’t, but this is a logical fallacy. We can’t deal with what could have been, since it didn’t happen. It can’t be denied that the elders I just mentioned—and many others—made extensive contributions to the movement, and we wouldn’t be where we are without their influence. If we’d rejected them on the basis of sexual orientation, identity, or gender, we would be missing out on a huge aspect of the liberation of our people.


Our ancestor Huey Newton, co-founder of the Black Panther Party, offers us insight into the primary insecurities that drive most “conscious men”. In his speech, “A Letter to the Revolutionary Brothers and Sisters About The Women’s Liberation and Gay Liberation Movements,” he states:

We should try to unite with them in a revolutionary fashion, whatever your insecurities are. I say ‘whatever your insecurities are’ because as we very well know, sometimes our first instinct is to want to hit a homosexual in the mouth, and want a woman to be quiet. We want to hit a homosexual in the mouth because we are afraid that we might be homosexual; and we want to hit the woman or shut her up because we are afraid that she might castrate us, or take the nuts that we might not have to start with. 

We must gain security in ourselves and therefore have respect and feelings for all oppressed people. We must not use the racist attitude that the White racists use against our people because they are Black and poor.

Newton was one of the few people in the Black Power Movement that openly reflected on its homophobia and misogyny. He even went as far as recognizing his own bias in the same speech and recognizing that rejecting us will do more harm than good.

In short, I would urge many members of the BLM movement to take an honest appraisal as to why they feel so threatened by the LGBTQIA and feminist communities, as Newton did. You aren’t protecting the conscious community. Instead, you’re wasting valuable time and energy rejecting a part of our people who contribute gems to black liberation and perpetuating the same cycles of oppression that holds us back as a people.

To my LGBTQIA brothers and sisters, let the track records of our elders speak for themselves and empower you to further action. You have a place in the BLM movement, even if you’re ridiculed for being who you are and loving who you love. Continue to lead our people to liberation and serve as an example to our brothers and sisters in the movement. Let it be known that unity is the key to success, and division will only lead to failure in the struggle against white supremacy.

Photo: Shutterstock

Anna Gibson is a student at Wayne State University who’s currently immersed in African Studies. You can catch up with her on Twitter @TheRealSankofa or on Facebook where she’s hiding in plain sight.

It’s a well-documented fact that shared oppression does not always foster a supportive and united front. Black women are super aware of the ways in which Black men—despite our joint experiences under racism—are often all too quick to step on us; perpetuate and dismiss our experiences of misogynoir; and gloss over our specific problems under white supremacist, capitalist patriarchy. This can be viewed in a nutshell by the current swathes of classist misogynoir being directed at Amber Rose by her ex-boyfriend, Kanye West, who has previously been vocal on issues of white supremacy both through his work and his words. Whilst the hate thrown at us by Black men is straight up abominable and is rightly a source of much frustration for Black women, we must remember that those of us who are cisgender and/or straight are not exempt from the ability to step on, degrade and oppress those who are meant to be our kinfolk, just like Black men do to us. That is, queer Black women are routinely let down by our heterosexual and/or cis sisters who are meant to have our backs.

by Brittany Dawson


Azealia Banks recently argued in an exclusive interview on Sirius XM’s OUTQ radio, a channel centered on exploring topics of LGBTQ interest, that the public is misinterpreting her use of the insufferable homophobic slur f*ggot.

I recall a protest I recently went to during downtown Detroit’s annual Noel Night, a Christmas themed celebratory event hosted by the Detroit Institute of Arts. It’s huge—most residents from across the Detroit metro area attend it. Unlike the hundreds that milled around outside the DIA however, I was one of a hundred or so others lying on the ground looking at the stars.

by Brittany Dawson

As an aspiring educator, it was recommended that I watch a few episodes of A&E TV’s reality series, Beyond Scared Straight. According to my mentor, this exercise would help me understand external factors that contribute to how students form negative associations towards education. Beyond Scared Straight targets troubled and at-risk teens who have criminal records, lag behind academically, and come from “shattered” homes. County-based youth outreach and prevention programs send unruly teens to an overnight or full-day prison visit, showcasing the reality of falling victim to the monstrous claws of an ominous, unforgiving criminal justice system. Inmates emotionally and verbally brutalize teens, puncturing their ostensibly unconquerable egos, and leaving many deflated. These uncensored stories give teens a chance to take responsibility for their actions and choose life over vice.

This weekend Roy Hibbert of the Indiana Pacers used the phrase "no homo," along with some other colorful language, during a post-game press conference. Hibbert's words immediately stirred both debate and controversy and resulted in Hibbert receiving a $75,000 fine from the NBA.

by Evan Seymour

Brittney Griner is a beast. Yes, I called a woman a beast. As a fellow black female, I feel I am at liberty to do so. The 6’8 center towers above most of her competition. She is a force to be reckoned with. Griner is the first player in NCAA history, male or female, to score 2000 points and block 500 shots. She’s the hottest new player in the WNBA and a breath of fresh air in women’s sports. Griner also happens to be gay.

A Response from ‘The Ignant Intellectual’

Dear Mister Cee,

I won’t pretend to ‘feel where you’re coming from’. I won’t pretend to ‘get it’ as both would be lies, but I am writing in hopes of translating to you the message of love—more specifically, self-love—more specific than that, radical self-love. I, like you, am a black person living in America. Those two identities alone send many to an early grave. But something I am not is a black male-bodied person living in America so I won’t pretend to ‘understand’.

by Nana Brantuo

“Is that a man or a woman?”
“She looks like a man.”
“Are you a man or woman?”

I’ve heard these questions countless times. I’ve heard them whispered at the lowest of volumes and had them blatantly asked to my face. Comments and questions, stares and snickers escaping from lips of Black faces. This harassment comes from both men and women of all different ages and after years of dealing with this constant badgering, you’d think I’d be used to it. I’m not.