Advertisement

Why Gay Men Should Feel Seen in a Black Woman President 

And how a Black female president breaks the glass ceiling for gay men, too 

Jamie Valentino

I didn’t make my first Black friend until eighth grade — a girl named Danisha Melendez, who sat in front of me in Language Arts. We constantly cracked each other up with inside jokes, often with me borrowing her slang and culture, if not outright imitating it.

“It’s because I’m Black!” she’d quip when she failed an exam or was told to quiet down when we were both laughing.

Of course, sometimes it felt more relevant than others, but I failed to understand the lived experiences behind her jest, especially as the only Black person in our class. Every day at lunch, the cafeteria was visibly divided, with all the Black kids sitting together in one section, an unspoken yet normalized high school clique, at least in Miami. Danisha was among them, and our closeness felt like a secret, even when we said hi in passing.



Danisha was one of the people I hugged the hardest on the last day of school, and I think she felt it too. We most likely wouldn’t see each other again, as if there was nothing we could do about it. Ironically, I had mostly female friends, but the difference in our skin color made it feel like we belonged to different worlds — ones that peddled equality but couldn’t figure out how to materialize the vocabulary into action. The ripple effects of systemic racism were tough to swim against when many people, including me, were oblivious to how we conformed to it or contributed. 

Growing up as a light-skinned Latin person in Miami’s suburbs made it easy to escape my marginalization. Coming out as gay at 20 in New York City gifted me that same privilege again. However, a decade later, I’m grateful to understand that Kamala Harris isn’t just breaking the presidential glass ceiling for Black women but also for all the queer people they’ve uplifted along the way. I don’t think people should vote for Harris because she’s a Black woman, but it should make it that much sweeter for anyone who’s ever faced oppression, especially considering so much of gay culture was built off Black culture. 

As an adult, my Black female friends have inspired me to stand up for myself, throw shade when it’s due, and be unapologetic. “Boys Come First author Aaron Foley shares with me a similar experience growing up in Detroit: “Black women have always had to assert themselves, to remind the people around them, whether white people, Black men or even their peers, that they are human. That they are somebody, right? No nonsense about it.”

He adds that there’s a “hereditary self-confidence and self-awareness” that is aspirational for many marginalized people. So why is that bravery lost for many cis white gay men when it’s our turn to stand up for them and see ourselves in their struggle, despite the nuance? “Someone had to open that door and launch a different way of being in the highest office,” says Foley. “So when the Harris campaign and Kamala HQ are doing all the queer outreach, it’s affirming and validating of that [mutual allyship].”

Now, it’s a Black woman tapping into gay culture to propel her highly qualified candidacy forward while choosing a vice president who has dedicated part of his career to advocating for LGBTQ+ people. The Democratic Party, for the first time in a long while, has understood the assignment. The question is, will the gays?

It’s true, for a cis hetero woman, Kamala Harris has the gayest presidential campaign in history, at least online. I can’t help but imagine a bunch of twinks in suits typing away in her office. It’s an ironic flip of the script, considering that only a decade ago TIME magazine was publishing headlines like “Dear White Gays: Stop Stealing Black Female Culture” and “Dear Black Women: White Gays Are Your Allies, So Don’t Push Us Away.”

Beyond influencing modern drag, ballroom and gay slang, Foley says Black women have served as pioneers for the queer community in Hollywood. Diana Ross incorporated drag into her work long before Chappell Roan (Ross’ hit “I'm Coming Out” was inspired by a tribute from local drag queens), Patti LaBelle promoted AIDS awareness during the 1980s and bisexual cabaret icon Josephine Baker's worked as a spy for the French government to defeat the Nazis (who also persecuted queer people) during World War II. Though sometimes tokenized, Marsha P. Johnson might be the name most associated with gay rights, but the movement hasn’t credited all the Blackness it stands on. 

Now, it’s a Black woman tapping into gay culture to propel her highly qualified candidacy forward while choosing a vice president who has dedicated part of his career to advocating for LGBTQ+ people. The Democratic Party, for the first time in a long while, has understood the assignment. The question is, will the gays?

Filmmaker Michael Rice amplifies the most marginalized and vulnerable voices in America with the power of filmmaking. He has produced documentaries such as “Black As U R,” which highlights the lack of attention paid to crimes against the Black queer community, and “ParTy Boi: Black Diamonds in Ice Castles,” urging the silent crisis of meth use and addiction within queer communities of color. He tells me that Black women are second only to Black trans people at the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to visibility and being heard. Still, he adds that Black women have often served as peace-line barriers, bridging the gap between Black and white queer people and the Black hetero world, especially during eras like the Harlem Renaissance and in conservative spaces and within their own families. 

The documentarian says Black women's blood, sweat and tears run deep in the U.S. “They have been the country's backbone since its conception,” says Rice. “Black women made up the majority of indentured and enslaved labor. They were forced to breastfeed their masters' children while unable to breastfeed their own.”

Rice believes gay culture borrowing from Black culture without solidarity is cosplaying at best and supporting inequality at worst. “[White cis gay men] go to drag shows. They'll try to read people. They'll snap their fingers and do all the things you'd recognize as traits of a sassy Black girl, but then they’re still dwelling in white privilege or white supremacy,” he says.  

Throughout history, Black women have always been at the forefront of LGBTQ+ rights, Rice explains. Their national impact is invaluable, and yet it has mostly gone thankless.  “You fight inequality through reflective moments and small actions — by recognizing when an injustice is happening or when there's an opportunity to give credit where it's due. That's how you rectify the situation," says Rice. 

The opportunity has finally presented itself for gay men to fight for Black women, many of them our queer sisters, like they’ve fought for us. Speaking with Foley and Rice inspired me to track down Danisha after 17 years, who, thankfully, remembers our friendship as fondly as I do. 

On a phone call, I apologized to her.

“We were definitely problematic,” she responds, laughing. “But we were just kids, and I knew the difference between you trying to find a genuine connection and someone who was just a racist asshole.”

Danisha coincidentally came out as bisexual around the same time I came out as gay, and she says she always had a feeling about me but kept silent out of respect. Maybe that’s why I used her as a safe space to escape the persona I had created and become someone else — even if it was a Black woman.

In regards to gay allyship of Blackness, she says white gays need to do more, and society needs to stop being afraid of holding them accountable. “Just because someone is gay doesn’t mean they don’t have racism instilled within them, and they don’t benefit from the system,” says Danisha. “They might even get away with microaggressions more than white straight men.”

On the topic of the upcoming election, Kamala Harris has propelled the opposing side to use the phrase “It’s because she’s Black” more often than not to explain why people are voting for her. Speaking with all the parties above made me realize it’s partly true, as it’s because she’s a Black woman that she works twice as hard, understands the issues of everyday Americans, and effortlessly stands up to a lawless predator who threatens democracy or demonstrates lunacy with nearly every speech. It’s why Trump has tried so hard to discredit her identity. 

In one way or another, I’d venture to say nearly every person in America has benefited from the fingerprints of a Black woman, so it’s about time their handshake becomes presidential. 



Advertisement
Advertisement

From the Pride Source Marketplace

Go to the Marketplace
Directory default
Woman-owned, Fully licensed, Bonded and Insured
Learn More
Directory default
Detroit Regional LGBT Chamber of Commerce MemberTax Preparation - 30 Years ExperienceIndividuals -…
Learn More
Advertisement