Black. Non-binary. Lesbian.
Tags: LGBTQ, Black, BlackLivesMatter, Nonbinary, LGBT

Black. Non-binary. Lesbian.

“If you’re non binary how can you be a lesbian?”

Being a black non binary lesbian sometimes feels like an endless fight. I have to fight my own communities to say that I exist and I sometimes have to fight myself for listening to those communities. Everyday my existence is questioned, erased or torn apart by myself or outside influence. Sometimes I wonder if I rise everyday or if I’m simply reborn from the ashes of failure. Each community fails me yet I still fight for my defined self to be seen as valid. Though it’s not a fight I should be having and I wonder whether I would be having it if the desire for knowledge outweighed the desire to hate.

I am black. My ancestors were from Africa and my racial identity is black. My skin is dark brown and I’m never mistaken for being anything other than black. I am black and I am LGBT+. With my black identity I look to my community of black people who are straight, cis as well as those who are LGBT+. However, the black community struggled understand and accept LGBT+ identities. The effects of colonialism and the “civilising mission” remains strong within our community. G. G. Bolich writes “Much of this modern hostile response has been placed on the influence of European culture, both because of a colonial past and because of contemporary pressure, or the influence of foreign religions.” Much of the hatred for LGBT+ people was brought to indigenous communities through things like the church where in pre-colonial communities LGBTQ+ identities could have been accepted and loved.

Hatshepsut offering food to a God

The first documented transgender or intersex figure in history may have been the Egyptian pharaoh Hatshepsut who was often depicted with a male body. Intersex and trans figures even appear in African and Caribbean spirituality, from Osumare of the Orisha to Obatala who does not have a permanent gender. Within Haitian voodoo we are also offered protection with Erzulie Freda being the spirit of love and sexuality and Erzulie Dantor, a fierce protector of women. If we can be seen as valuable enough to have dedicated Gods or even be deities then surely we are valuable as black and LGBT+?

But, black people have a long way to go before LGBT+ people feel the acceptance, validation and love that we deserve. Many of the countries we come from still criminalise homosexuality and LGBT+ identities are often punished by state sanctioned violence. Not only does this happen within our countries, it is also recognised in the western world as black families being harsher toward LGBT+ people. On average LGBT+ people of colour come out later to their families and communities than white LGBT+ people. When my sister came out to our father he didn’t speak to her for over a year. This only made me more fearful of coming out and I’m yet to tell him my feelings about gender. Black people have all heard the term “black first” whether in the context of black womens’ rights or any other minority within our race. But how can I be black first when I’m black, non binary and a lesbian all at the same time? Especially when cis het black people are oppressing me in many of the same ways as racist white people.

Stonewall protests

I’m also a non binary lesbian. When feeling left out of the black community, you might look to the LGBT+ community for acceptance. This is not an inherently race exclusive community. We now know who’s credited for throwing the first brick at stonewall. And even if it wasn’t Marsha P Johnson, her and other, specifically black and of colour, trans people played a huge role in the Stonewall uprising of 1969. And yet the LGBT+ community is rife with racism. In 2018 Stonewall revealed that 51 per cent of BAME LGBT people reported having experienced racism in the LGBT community which rises to 61 per cent if you are black. We have all heard the stories of racism on Grindr and many of us know of a problematic white gay. Unbeknownst to many, white lesbians, just like white gays, suffer with this same unyielding racism. This is often through the form of erasure which is even a problem in fanfiction. During the 2020 surge in #BlackLivesMatter protests, we saw more people speaking out about racism within the lesbian community. Social media saw an increase in race discussions and YouTuber Jade Fox made a video about the racism that exists within the lesbian community on YouTube. Though usually less explicit than gay men on Grindr, racism exists on lesbian apps too. Earlier this year there was debate surrounding the word stud and whether white lesbians should be using it given its rising use on TikTok with young lesbians. Much of the problem here is that lesbians don’t know our history.

I am trans*. My lesbian identity alongside my black and trans* identity comes with just as much confusion and betrayal. Many of the LGB+ community (including all the myriads of ways sexuality appear) exhibit transphobia. Whether it’s an argument over if refusing to date trans people is transphobic or simply distancing themselves from the trans* community, it’s all rooted in transphobia. Given the violent transphobia directed at transwomen, the LGB+ community needs to address our issues with transphobia. Sitting at the intersection of misogyny, racism and transphobia, black transwomen are being killed at extremely high rates. Yet, cis lesbians are often identified as TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Perhaps it’s an attempt for them to escape the perception of all lesbians as feminists who are butch with unshaven armpits or perhaps it’s some outdated perception of lesbian as a purely biological term. Whatever it is, transphobia undoubtedly exists within the cis lesbian community.

“[TERFs] believe that all women who have sex with men are at best victims of Stockholm Syndrome and at worse quislings; that bisexual women are particularly reprehensible because they could choose to sleep only with women” writes Roz Kaveney, highlighting more of the problems that exist with TERFs. And if lesbians are transphobic, what does that mean for my trans* lesbian identity? LGBT+ history is steeped in trans history — especially lesbian — as shown explicitly in the novel Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg and in fact Leslies own life. In interview Leslie stated “I am a butch lesbian, a transgender lesbian.” Leslie is one of the most influential people in LGBT+ history so why don’t people know of Leslies identity as a trans lesbian? There is a reason we are all placed together in the acronym (LGBT+). Gender and sexuality are inextricably linked in society today creating the need for a distinction between my non binary identity and my sexuality.

Progressive pride flag

In an ideal world I wouldn’t need any of these labels and I could experience freedom as a black genderfluid lesbian. But we live in a society and that society is saturated with unknown history. Years of colonial erasure, anti-LGBT+ laws and societal misogyny has left our history a mess. Black, trans* and lesbian history has been systemically erased to the extent that we’ll probably never know all of it. Most of what we know is the result of people probing into history in search of us. As language has changed and gender norms have changed its hard to tell where we may have fit in ancient times – but we would have fit. We existed throughout history and we still exist now. We just haven’t been taught enough about our existence, and neither have most people. As a history graduate in the UK I never encountered myself in history and when I did it was through small pieces or I was perceived negatively. I was the slave girl, or the bra burning dyke. I was never the black non binary lesbian who did great things (although surviving slavery and protesting misogny are great things).

“If you’re non binary how can you be a lesbian?” is the question I was asked that triggered this article. I realised it could be asked for any of my identities. If I’m black how can I be LGBT+? If I’m a trans* how can I be black? It’s a question rooted in lack of historical knowledge and discrimination. If I’m alive how can I not be who I am? To begin to answer the question about non binary lesbians, “lesbian” is the only word that describes my experience in relation to dating, sex and relationships. But for a complete answer you’d need to study and understand the myriads of identities that can exist. You would need history to see all the black non binary lesbians and why identity could not be limited. You’d need to see them and understand them. The language may be different but the people are the same. If they managed to find cis-het white men in ancient history, they can definitely find some black LGBT+ people.

I’m glad to see many others who share similar identities to me rising in the media and showing that we can and do exist. Because it’s hard to stand on shoulders you never knew existed. This was hard to write because it’s so hard to separate each community for me. Each community has needed another and at some point and each community has people who are members of each. To me, they are all inextricably linked. I used “trans*” as an umbrella term to acknowledge all trans* identity. I used “LGBT+” as it was the shortest and least offensive acronym that embraces all identity that is not cis and het. And I used “black” to encompass everyone from the African diaspora. All of these communities are linked and no one is free until the most oppressed is free. I say all of this to say that black non binary lesbians and anyone else who is considered different, we are valid. We exist. In times of doubt I ask who I would’ve been if hatred never took over? And the answer is always the same. Who I am is not up for debate.