Are Black communities homophobic due to conservative Christian values?
First, it’s important to note that the obsession with Black homophobia is misdirection. This obsession disproportionately blames black people for the barriers and threats that LGBTQ folks face and often casts “black culture” as primitive relative to “enlightened” white liberal culture. Black American homophobia is shaped by all of the same institutional forces that shape homophobia nationwide: discriminatory laws that target LGBTQ people, a history of medical stigma attached to gay people and gay sex, and many of the patriarchal institutions that shape our social lives, including religious institutions.
Having said all that, what comes through in my book from the people I spoke with is that they understand the homophobia they experience as largely driven by their experiences as part of black religious communities – the churches and families they were raised in – rather than the other forces I mentioned. This does not mean that black churches are more homophobic or conservative than other religious establishments. Data from the Pew Research Center, for example, suggests that white Evangelical churches are less welcoming spaces for LGBTQ people than black churches. But the people in my book suggest that black churches play a major role in the cultural transmission of homophobia and queer shaming.
Emmy-winning actor Billy Porter represents an aspect of black queer culture often referred to as “fly and fabulous.” Why is it just as important to represent “quiet” Black queer pride and contentedness?
It’s important because this is how the people in my book often describe themselves. It’s also important to highlight the diversity of black queer experiences, moods, and identities. Doing so affirms the truth that there is no single way to be black, queer, or black and queer.
Another issue that I address in the book is that white pop cultural celebration of fabulousness often erases the distinctly black cultural history of fabulousness and queer pride. Porter is a great example in that he refuses to apologize for his blackness and repeatedly discusses the ways racism has impeded his career. But media outlets do not always amplify the statements he makes about blackness and/or racism.
Finally, fabulousness fetishizes a type of visibility that is not always desired or valued by queer black folks. C. Riley Snorton and several other scholars have challenged the notion that traditional notions of highly visible out-ness are the best ways to think about black queer pride and safety.
Despite sharing many concerns, priorities and delights with straight college students of all races, Black LGBTQ+ students face particular challenges. What are some of those challenges and how can LGBTQ+ students find spaces on campus where they can be themselves and feel safe?
Queer black students told me they often take on the primary responsibility for making spaces and educating their campuses about LGTBQ+ issues, including health, politics, terminology, and more. I believe that faculty and student affairs staff should be taking the lead on many of these fronts, rather than following student leaders and organizations.
Another challenge is that queer student organizations are not always welcoming, and black student organizations are not always welcoming either.
A third issue is that queer black students do not express great confidence in the health care they will receive on campus. They worry that they will not be understood or they will be shamed, which is not surprising given the history of medical treatment received by black folk, queer folk, and queer black folk in the United States.
Finally, the students in my book do not feel they have an adequate variety of visible mentors among the faculty and staff who share their life experiences as queer black people.
You’re a Black, straight, cisgender author with a PhD from Harvard who is Dean of Academic Affairs at Wellesley College. How can someone in your position effect change and provide a welcoming environment for queer students?
As administrators, faculty, and staff, we have to listen to our students’ concerns. This doesn’t mean we can meet every request, but we have to have open lines of communication with student organizations and with individual students.
We have to emphasize professional development when it comes to teaching in order to create inclusive classrooms. Do not single students out and expect them to speak for their entire identity group. Give students the chance to use whatever pronouns and names they wish. Design assignments and in class exercises that allow all students to feel empowered.
We also have to teach gender and sexuality studies in our curricula, and understand that it is a dynamic field that changes. This is an area that continues to draw great interest, and these are topics that can be approached from a wide array of disciplinary perspectives. We should prioritize this field of study like we would any other field that captures students’imagination.
Lastly, we must remain committed to excellence and diversity in all its forms when it comes to recruiting faculty, staff, and students.
What factors do Black LGBTQ+ students consider when deciding whether to attend an HBCU or a PWI (predominantly white institution)?
Cost, geography, and prestige are the major factors. Campus climate is certainly another, but I would say the major differences that jumped out when students talked about choosing HBCUs were the black diversity they saw on campus and the sense of family they felt when they got there. These factors did not necessarily override cost, geography, and prestige, but they did not pop up in the same way in my conversations with students at PWIs.
Do Black LGBTQ+ students at HBCUs have to downplay their queerness to be embraced by members of their own race?
As a rule, no, but it depends on which specific social circles they want to be accepted into.
What are some of the challenges for Black queer students when entering white queer spaces and socializing with their white gay peers?
Very simply: white racism. This can play out in a number of ways, for example, black students told me they often have different hobbies and cultural interests than their white peers. They also told me that they are not often viewed as desirable partners by their white peers, and when they are, they are fetishized for their “dangerous” black sexuality. In addition, they told me about instances where they were tokenized — they felt they were included in queer white social spaces so that white students could feel good about their own politics, but not because black students were truly valued or viewed as folks who might set the agenda of those queer, primarily white organizations.
Why are friendship networks so vital to Black LGBTQ+ students?
Friendship is vital because of the beauty of mirroring, mutual recognition, affirmation, and love. These feelings of safety and connection bond the students to each other and to their colleges.
Another piece of this is that there is often an ongoing and gradual process of being welcomed, or “called in” to queer black communities, rather than dealing with the pressure of coming out, a paradigm that has never really applied to queer black people. This isn’t just a one-time announcement, it’s often a series of steps and experiences that lead students to realize their own strength and the strength they have in numbers.
Why, despite their personal pain and the troubling political climate, do many Black queer students feel hopeful about ongoing gains in social acceptance and legal protections?
Honestly, I think there is a real mix here. As a whole, the students in my book are not wildly optimistic about their future. I interviewed them during the Trump era, so it was not a hopeful time. But for the students who remain hopeful and optimistic, they see a few things:
First, and this might be one of the most important pieces of the book: when they prove to themselves that they can be successful and happy in college, it gives them great confidence that they can stay on a roll going forward. These are students who have had a million small and large triumphs — founding a student organization, getting a scholarship, making great friends, falling in love, discovering poetry, joining student government — these are huge victories that fill them with pride and hope.
Second, students see the success of proud and visible queer black people, including celebrities, as something they aspire to. They know it can be done.
Third, they understand themselves as part of a lineage of queer black survivors, innovators, and leaders, and they are excited to live out and pass on that legacy.
And finally, some, though not all, believe the future is limitless, and already think in terms well beyond the constraints we have for our everyday lives: money, status, laws; these are all just temporary ideas in the history of humanity, and we can imagine things so much better than what we have.
Michael P. Jeffries is Dean of Academic Affairs, Class of 1949 Professor in Ethics, and Professor of American Studies at Wellesley College. He is the author of Behind the Laughs: Community and Inequality in Comedy, Paint the White House Black: Barack Obama and the Meaning of Race in America, and Thug Life: Race, Gender, and the Meaning of Hip-Hop. Read more from Michael Jeffries in Black and Queer on Campus