Finding Community as a Free-Thinking Black Woman is not Easy
But I am Doing It Anyway
It really bums me out when black women judge me for being gender-critical. Especially black sapphic women.
Given the times, it’s inevitable. But it’s still such a damn shame when I am outcasted as a backward-thinking bigot for not believing in gender religion.
I feel the sting of alienation when I visit black lesbian forums, only to witness someone complaining about her friend’s “transphobic” rant, admonishing “TERF-y” women, or policing everyone to clarify what we really mean with terms like “cis-het” and other ugly neo-colonial language that diminishes our intelligence.
The hard part is, that on some profound level, these are the women I can relate to the most, because of our unique social positioning. Because we’re already marginalized in society, we’re often yearning for more connection and visibility.
Gender ideology has trickled down from white liberal spheres, infiltrating our community, thus burdening us with even more unnecessary separation.
It’s as if we’re trying to hug each other through the bars of a jail cell.
This is why I often keep to myself, because I don’t want to be welcomed anywhere under false pretenses.
But there have been times when I still make an effort to connect with black women who don’t think like me, because I genuinely want and need to be in community with women who share my background.
Some part of me is willing to momentarily set our differences aside, to honor the other valuable ways we can connect. The problem is that their politics do not prescribe them any room to do the same for me.
I’ve come to realize, that trying to connect with women who reject any part the truth I stand in, will only end in more pain and suffering for me.
Maybe the differences I am so willing to set aside, are more profound than I think.
Perhaps keeping one foot in the spaces where I can’t be my full self, where my light is stifled, and where I will never truly be celebrated—is just me grasping the last vestiges of my own fears and insecurities.
I know that my personal growth requires me to let go of these people and places, to allow others to judge me if that’s what they so choose, and step into my own freedom.
This is the only way I will ever form real community where I am valued and respected.
This is the only way I will ever love and be loved just as I am.
…
In light of this, I’m excited to share that I will be hosting two virtual community spaces for my black women readers in November.
The first event, on November 9 @ 12pmEST, will be a private gathering for us to meet, chat, and connect.
The second event, on November 16 @ 12pmEST, will be a community discussion of the various themes explored in my essay, Janelle Monae’s “Nonbinary Freedom” & Self Love Journey.
Both of these events are free for participants. The discussion on Janelle Monae will be video-recorded and shared with all participants, as well as all paid subscribers.
I’d also like to host a little wellness-oriented gathering in Philly! 🧘🏾♀️
If you are interested in participating in these events, or if you’d like to participate in any of the affinity spaces I create in the future, please fill out the interest form here.
Once you complete the interest form, I will reach out to you via email with more info. If you completed the interest form over the summer expressing interest in one of these events, I’ve already sent you an email. ;-)
I look forward to sharing space with you all, and I hope to see you there.
Thanks for all of your beautiful support. 🌺
I soooo feel this hard!!!! I have many other reasons to feel alienated from black women-only spaces, especially lesbian/"queer." But for a spell, I'd be able to briefly connect, albeit superficially. Now...dear God now....it's a fucking wrap! I cannot deal!
I'm getting old and set in my ways. Perhaps realizing more and more the fragility of mortality is stripping me of my abilities to gaf. "I's tired boss..." LOL
“ Perhaps keeping one foot in the spaces where I can’t be my full self, where my light is stifled, and where I will never truly be celebrated—is just me grasping the last vestiges of my own fears and insecurities. “
I resonated with this quote a lot, when I read it.
Back in March, I was going through some of my old belongings and thinking about some massive parts of my life from when I was younger that since had completely dropped out of my life. Then suddenly my brain did this leap and it was like within 2 weeks, I spontaneously regained a huge part of myself and old hobbies/activities/interests that I liked doing. Suddenly it was like I had only been 30% of myself for many years, and I was a way different person.
My spouse didn’t really like this. Our entire relationship had been based on us being able to tell each other ANYTHING, but after this happened it was like this previously missing 70% of me was something that they really couldn’t handle being told about, at all. We had months where the best conversations that we had, were me talking about how they had hurt me after a bad situation had happened. I ultimately ended up moving out. I was genuinely worried about becoming a widower two separate times because my spouse’s mental health was way worse than I thought and despite all of this, they pinned their full self worth on me. It was and still is all pretty wild.
At my new home, I have a new partner where I can unabashedly share whatever about myself and my thoughts again. I still go to visit my spouse sometimes and I found that living with them was the BIGGEST problem … being in a space all the time where I couldn’t do basic Me Things was terribly stifling, but visiting them in the same way you visit A Friend You Only Do Certain Things With is fine. But it’s totally obvious now — when I hang out with them in their apartment: I’m thinking on-and-off, there are so many things I could never do with them. And when I hang out with them in my own home: they are sometimes completely disarmed and bewildered at how to respond to me. (Down to bare bones, even some of the basic ways I emote makes them uncomfortable now apparently.)
And I’m like, man . . . I may still come over to visit to do hobby stuff; I may still care for them enough to take care of them and stay over for a full week+ when they have their tonsillectomy in December; I may still call them up when I buy groceries to ask if they want anything and I can pick it up on a separate bill to drop it off to them; but I should never move back in with them. It’d be so bad for me.
I had actually stayed a few consecutive nights over at their apartment the morning that I was reading your article, and I had experienced the previous day kind of settling back into old habits of: irritated thoughts of, “well if I don’t feel valued for doing the housework tasks I do, then I’m just going to mentally pretend I live alone and that I’m doing it only for me and not incorporate this person at all into my mental reward system.” I had to slow myself down and remember that my situation is substantially different now, despite doing something that was such a complete old muscle memory. But it was very odd. I was like, “why do they deserve these things from me in their life, anyway? Which, I don’t know, really? It’s awkward when my “I do this thing because it makes me happy and feel enriched” activity is cleaning because, “well I don’t want to refuse to do things that do make me happy out of spite, or whatever”. Or I’m still not sure why I haven’t started visiting my other local friends more often and why I still visit the spouse so disproportionately frequently compared to said friends. Maybe it’s habit; maybe I’m subconsciously still apprehensive at losing my medical coverage if we just fell out completely and divorced; maybe opening all of these old boxes is just exhausting sometimes despite the experiences I had before opening the boxes being practically Black and White to what I experience now.
Whatever it is, life’s an adventure.