Black lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people exist. Black same-gender couples exist. Black heterosexual and cisgender allies to the LGBT community exist. However, the way that race and sexual orientation, race and gender identity, race and bi/homophobia, and race and transphobia are talked about, it almost seems as if LGBT and Black are mutually exclusive. And, to be more specific, they are at odds with one another.
Black people who are homo/bi/transphobic exist, too. But, somehow, the US seems fixated on the anti-LGBT prejudice harbored by Black communities as if such sentiments exist in a vacuum. That is, we discuss “black homophobia” as a social problem, while, of course, acknowledging “homophobia” as a social problem. Notice here that we do not hear of explicit concern about “white homophobia.” Why?
An Example: Prop 8 In California, 2008
Let’s take an example. Prop 8. In 2008, the state of California successfully passed an amendment to ban the legal recognition of same-sex marriage. While the entire nation witnessed history with the election of the first (half-)Black president, the US also took one step back by stripping one of the few states with marriage equality of legal same-sex marriage. Now, over three years later, legal challenges to Prop 8 are working their way up the judicial branch.
Immediately following the passage of Prop 8, many in LGBT communities, the media, politicians, and others engaged in a blame-game, pointing a finger squarely at Black Californians for the amendment’s success. Initially, results from the California exist polls suggested that a larger proportion of Black voters voted in favor of banning same-sex marriage relative to voters of other races. Corrected analyses were released later, indicating that Black voters were no more likely than any other racial or ethnic group to vote in favor of Prop 8. More importantly, Blacks only represented 6 percent of all voters in California in 2008; even if every Black voter voted in favor of the ban, that 6 percent cannot be fairly held accountable for the entire 51 percent that voted in favor of Prop 8. But, despite what the numbers say, some were quite hostile toward Blacks in the US, even resorting to racist assaults.
A Double Standard For Prejudice?
Why was it so easy to blame a fraction of the population for the majority’s decision to deny marriage equality in California? Why did our attention focus on homophobia in Black communities, while failing to ask about homophobia in the US and, more specifically, homophobia in white communities? And, why were we so angry with Black homophobes (and, at times, all Black people), but not so much white homophobes?
I argue that the answer is a double standard for homophobia. At the root of the angry reaction toward Black voters who favored the passage of Prop 8 is confusion. We are confused by what seems to be an oxymoron: a prejudiced minority, the oppressive oppressed, and so on. We cannot seem to understand how one group, still facing the contemporary remnants of a history of enslavement, exclusion, discrimination, and violence, can harbor prejudice and discrimination against another, marginalized group. The logic would seem that, given Blacks’ own experiences with prejudice, discrimination, and violence, they should be empathetic toward the plight of LGBT communities due to their exposure with prejudice, discrimination, and violence.
While the logic of empathy makes sense on the surface, it creates five problems (of likely a few others):
- It makes invisible the anti-LGBT prejudice, discrimination, and violence of whites. Though we single-out Blacks when we express our concern about homophobia in Black communities, whites are invisible as a specific racial group in larger discussions of homophobia. And, it begs the question, should we expect whites to be homo/bi/transphobic?
- It holds Blacks to a different standard than whites. Thus, LGBT- and non-LGBT people alike scrutinize the positions and actions of Black communities and organizations regarding gender and sexuality. In the aftermath of Prop 8, LGBT and cisgender heterosexuals criticized Blacks in California for their contribution to the passage of Prop 8.
- It leads us to overlook the alliances between Black and LGBT communities and organizations, and the positive steps that Black people have taken to fight for the equal rights of LGBT people.
- It keeps invisible Black LGBT people. In discussing whether Blacks are homophobic, we fail to acknowledge that some Black people are LGBT, have friends who are LGBT, and who have relatives who are LGBT. Unfortunately, predominantly-heterosexual Black communities, predominantly-white LGBT communities, and society in general are responsible for maintaining an image of Black as straight and gay as white.
- It fails to ask about racism in LGBT communities. Even with some obviously racially motivated anger directed at Black communities by LGBT people following Prop 8, there was little explicit discussion about the racist prejudice, discrimination, and violence perpetrated by LGBT people.
Let’s Look More Broadly
Frankly, the social science research on racial and ethnic differences in attitudes toward LGBT people, same-gender relationships, and homo/bisexuality is mixed; but, the tendency seems to be, once you have accounted for racial differences in religiosity and education, you see little racial difference in these attitudes and, for some matters (e.g., LGBT rights), you actually see more favorable attitudes among Blacks compared to whites. But, that is missed in a narrow focus on homophobia among Blacks. The larger point that is missed is that Blacks, like whites, are socialized in a society that stigmatizes LGBT people. Period. Thus, all people, regardless of race and ethnicity, are implicated in the maintenance or elimination of homo/bi/transphobia. Though one might be sympathetic, or even empathetic, to the plight of other marginalized groups, one’s own marginalized status does not make one automatically an ally.
Another point that is often overlooked is the sneaky (and not-so-sneaky) efforts of white, cisgender, heterosexual men to pit Black and LGBT communities against one another. A recent example of such “divide and conquer” strategizing is not as subtle as other conservative politicians and religious leaders’ efforts:
Edwin O’Brien, Baltimore’s soon-to-be Cardinal, used a speech this week to denounce marriage rights for Maryland’s gay and lesbian couples. He angrily attacked the pending passage of marriage bills in the House and Senate. Maryland’s Governor, Martin O’Malley, is a strong supporter of marriage equality and he helped to introduce the bills this past Tuesday. On Wednesday, O’Brien put his own spin on one of the most heinous arguments put forth by social and religious conservatives — that gay people’s civil rights are an affront to black people and the rights of black people.
For all of these reasons, it is important that we regularly acknowledge the intersections among race, ethnicity, gender, and sexuality. What are the unique experiences of individuals who are marginalized on more than one of these axes? Where are opportunities for coalition-building across marginalized and privileged communities? And, as my last point suggested, how the intersections of these systems manipulated for gain? Obviously, these are difficult questions, but important nonetheless.