Being Black, Being Nonbinary, Being a Lesbian
Six months in, readers. That means we’re in June; and what a month to be in! With brands juggling their rainbow capitalism with the loads of Father’s Day and U.S specific companies dutifully trying to somehow make Juneteenth about consuming products, there’s so much to talk about with you. But I value your time, so let’s narrow it down to a topic that can hopefully touch a little on all these topics. This June, readers, let’s have a conversation about pride.
I, like many other people out there, found solace in TikTok during the pandemic! And I’m so deeply glad that I did. I’ve been able to connect with and actually see people like myself just… living. Being themselves, and unapologetically so. It genuinely made me more confident in my own self, and now more than ever, I’m proud to carry so many intersecting identities. But with every up, readers, there is a down.
I’m a black nonbinary lesbian — an identity I’ve carried with me for about six years now, and an identity many have trouble wrapping their heads around. Most of it comes in that nonbinary label — many people are surprised to learn I’m nonbinary! Even more people are surprised to learn that I’m a lesbian! ‘You just don’t look like a lesbian,’ is something I’ve heard so. Many. Times. Most notably at a pride party, right after kissing a girl! I’d always been insecure about my appearance; broad shoulders and a wide frame will have people questioning your gender, doesn’t matter if you’re just an eight year old trying to make it through the school day or if you’re a twenty-one year old just trying to make it through a day at theatre auditions. But I’d never been insecure about my sexuality until that statement. If I didn’t look gay enough, how would any other women know I’m gay?
The answer, it turns out, is that they’ll know. They can see the rainbow pin on your bag, and the rainbow bracelet on your wrist, and they can clearly see you at advocacy meetings, and pride marches, and, and, and. And they’ll almost always have the exact experience as you. When you’re not a light skinned, skinny, 3B curl type femme-presenting person, you tend not to get the public’s approval of your identity. It puts black lesbians like myself in that weird limbo of uncertainty, wondering if we even deserve the labels we give ourselves. In fact, looping back to the impact TikTok has made on me these last few months, I’ve come to realize that the lesbians that look like me are often power driven into nonbinary identities due to the public’s tendency to masculinize black women.
As a child, I would always avoid myself in the mirror. I’d start crying if anyone dared to call me ‘gorgeous’ or ‘pretty’ because all I’d see in my reflection or hear behind those words were the taunts of ‘why don’t you look like a girl’’, ‘you’re not pretty enough to be a girl’, ‘stop pretending to be a girl, we know you’re a boy’. It made me sympathize with the trans community before I even knew what being trans was — I was somehow being misgendered while being cis. It gave me gender dysphoria that I still suffer with to this day. Every time I have to get documentation done, I have to make myself look as feminine as possible lest I have the workers put male on my documents, even if it clearly says female on my national ID. (True story!) Those experiences led me to my nonbinary identity, an identity that I’m finally comfortable with, but one that I’m still at odds with. It’s a frustrating back-and-forth between wanting to be free of all the confines of the gender binary while also yearning for cisgender praise. I can’t sit here and tell you that I don’t feel a sense of warmth rush through me when I’m referred to as “ma’am” by a stranger.
There’s so much to unpack in regards to the white male gaze still dominating LGBT spaces, black trans lesbian voices like my own being drowned out despite us being the backbone of the community, and I know I’m not the only one who’s going to unpack it. But if you’re cisgender, heterosexual, or even a fellow lesbian that’s unknowingly fed into the “you don’t look gay” stereotype, I hope that my rant-disguised-in-an-article opened your eyes a bit more into the nonbinary lesbian world, and the struggles we go through. Maybe give your local NB lesbian a hug!
(Just get vaccinated first.)
Happy pride, readers!
