Black, gay and proud: the beauty of my intersectionality
By: Kayus Fernander
Tags: BlackLivesMatter, LGBT, Intersectionality, Black Queer, Self Love

Photo by lloyd jr on Unsplash

Intersectionality. “What does that even mean?”, I recently asked a group of friends. “You’re it”, they replied. As a black, gay man from the Caribbean, I had to admit, they were on to something. It’s an idea that’s very current, this intersectionality (even if it’s been around for a long time). But there’s something striking about having 2 (even 3, if you count my nationality) very complex elements of my identity neatly packaged into a concept that I don’t fully understand myself. On the face of it, interrogating what it means to be both black and gay seems almost as curious as asking what it means to be both white and female or Buddhist and middle-class. It just is. But I’m not so naive that I don’t recognise the identity politics that both of these labels carry, and the fact that they mean so much to so many.

At the risk of stating the obvious, it’s not easy being black and gay. What I mean is, the attempt to live in the full realities of both identities, at the same time…the struggle is, as they say, real. For no other reason that both identities have been at odds in interesting ways, over the course of my life. In the Caribbean, as one would imagine, where most populations are predominantly of black African heritage, masculinity and male power are valued. There’s no ambiguity about the fact that ‘men being men’ forms the basis for the running of countries, raising families, getting ahead in life, for social inclusion itself. Any other form of sexual or gender identity was not congruent with our culture, or so I was led to believe from childhood. The confusion of not understanding one’s feelings as a young man was compounded by the sure knowledge that your life would be that much more unpleasant if it were discovered that you liked other boys.

And then I crossed the treacherous landscape of coming out to myself, my family and friends over the course of the past 15 years to find myself in London, which I gravitated towards in search of a safe place, to be open and nourished and supported and accepted. And all those expectations have been met and exceed in the majority of cases. Yet, I have to say that I’ve become more aware of the fact that mainstream gay culture (yes, there is such a thing) seems to represent a reality that doesn’t really look like mine….and that has its own set of challenges and opportunities. It’s just that I now know that being gay along doesn’t guarantee inclusion, acceptance and a sense of truly belonging. To put it bluntly, there is very much a white gay culture and a black gay culture (not to mention all the other “groups within a group”) — crude descriptions, yes, but representative of a reality that I and many of my friends encounter.

So where is that intersection of black and gay? Does it only exist in the minds and spaces where people who share both identities choose to create opportunities for coming together? I suppose my question really is, “is there room in both worlds for the other?” In the ‘black community’, the lack of acceptance has been frustratingly slow (and in some places, enshrined in law and upheld in civil society). The statistics and anecdotes paint a clear picture of a community that generally treats homosexuality with disdain and in too many cases, violence. Is it any wonder we have very few black gay role models? Families? Business, political and civic leaders? And in the gay community, there are clear differences in terms of representation, socioeconomic circumstances, even access to healthcare, which arguably have some basis in ethnicity.

However, I will state what is probably not so obvious: it’s fantastic being black and gay. it is an oh-so wonderful blessing to be black and gay. To be at the intersection of such rich cultures, such powerful histories of struggle and triumph, such creativity and contribution to civilization. From the legacies of Bayard Rustin, Langston Hughes and the incredible James Baldwin, to the infiltration of modern-day popular vernacular by black queer parlance (#slay #serve #yasssssss #shade #werk……the list is endless), I revel in the unique perspective, the exceptionally interesting prism through which to view and experience the world, that my intersectionality affords me.

One of the spaces that I have decided to deliberately occupy with by blackness and gayness is my work, which is for a global financial services firm in London. Yeah, that’s like 2 doses of conservative culture. And before joining this world, I would have expected that such a traditionally conservative culturue would prove a challenging environment for someone occupying the overlaopping circles of the LGBT/Black Venn diagram, as I do. Some might even call it courageous to be out while dealing with continually evolving attitudes toward ethnic diversity. I’ve been encouraged by the changes that I’m witnessing and that I’m allowed to be a part of. The conversations that are being had, despite the uneasiness they might cause. People are actually saying the words and committing to taking actions to address inequalities. And while I certainly feel comfortable in this space, my intersectionality makes me acutely aware of the real bravery and courage of people living in conditions of dehumanising inequality around the world, all because of their race, sexual orientation or both.

But my thoughts on the topic amount to a recognition that the underlying concepts are not as binary as we’d like them to be, in fact, there is a real fluidity to the layers. I am, as are the readers of this article, made up of a variety of intricate identities that bleed into each other. Race, sexual orientation, age, gender, beliefs, capabilities — these attributes come together to make us all beautifully complex, interesting and intersectional human beings.