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Black HistoryCultureLifestyleNewsOpinion

The Sexualization of Afrikan Girls

by Nyomi Henderson 03/06/2024
written by Nyomi Henderson

Because we are simultaneously Afrikan and woman, we have become accustomed to our natural bodies being oversexualized in society. Since the beginning of institutionalized racism and the colonial empire’s enslavement regime, Afrikan women’s bodies have always been associated with the idea of a promiscuity that was foreign and erotic. Institutionalized racism is defined as: the perpetuation of discrimination based on “race” by political, economic, or legal institutions and systems like education and the legal system. Now, some could argue that as a woman “lucky” enough to be living in a society with things like the #MeToo Movement and Title XI, the treatment of “colored” women has come a long way. I beg to differ…

While I want to acknowledge the work of Faye Wattleton, Elaine Brown, and so many others who were pioneers of social justice and advocates for the reproductive rights of Afrikan women, it doesn’t erase the violence we have endured. There will never be a justification for forced reproduction for profit and pleasure or the immoral study of the female anatomy through dissection and nude physical auctions.

To ground our discussion on the sexualization of Afrikan women, I want to remind of us Sarah Baartman and how her body, to this day, is still fetishized and sexualized. The constant violation of her rights and autonomy throughout history challenges us to consider how sexual violence is used as a tool of colonial power, intimidation, and dehumanization. In an opinion column done by Hope Moses titled “Oversexualization of Black Girls and Women Must Stop,” they hit the nail on the head by mentioning how:

A 2017 Georgetown University study discovered that Black girls as young as 5 years old are already seen as less innocent and in need of less support than white girls of the same age. This presumption leads teachers and other authority figures to treat Black girls as older than they are and more harshly than white female students, with the disparity being vast for 10- to 14-year-olds.

Focus on the phrase “less innocent.” Most people tend to associate that phrase with immorality, or the quality of being impure and sinful. Through this language, we begin to understand how sexualization functions to erase and delegitimize the innocence of Afrikan girls—the very same innocence our white peers gain by simply being alive. In a theory I heard from one of my favorite video essayists, Tee Noir, called the “Pink Nipple Theory”, she discusses the difference in how white womanhood is received in comparison to Afrikan femininity. In essence, white women expressing sexuality and sensuality is deemed acceptable, as their sexuality is understood as separate from their identity. This wildly contradicts the rhetoric formed around Afrikan expressions of sexuality, which is seen as less of an act and more of an identity. This creates a world in which Afrikan women’s bodies are weaponized against them through institutions of white supremacy. We are hypersexualized as a condition of the violence used to justify and aid in institutionalized racism.

So when we start to think about the adultification of Afrikan women at a young age, it’s easy to see how girls as young as 5 years old are being dress-coded and sent back home for not wearing “appropriate attire.” These institutions of racial violence cause young Afrikan women to experience a different childhood than their peers, lacking the freedom that comes with acting their age, without hyperawareness of their sexualization.

Our families can also function as institutions of violence because they foster our primary socialization. This is important because our parents can indirectly and directly internalize adultification, whether it’s by punishing us or by making side comments about our bodies and our intentions, on the basis that we should “know better” or just want to “act grown.” Even the textbooks we read in school fail to mention the historical menticide and generational traumas that have impacted the way that we see our bodies. As a result, structural violence against Afrikan women has become the status quo.

I couldn’t relate more to the feeling of being seen through someone else’s eyes. This is why in the Afrikan community it’s so important to challenge the normalization of sexual violence in our society and investigate how impunity is often grated to perpetrators of violence against women, men, and nonbinary people. It can happen to anyone, at any time, yet the punishment and repercussions are low. As more and more of us realize our autonomy, we recognize that this has to change as we, in our essence, are inherently valuable.

You are more than your body and what you “bring to the table.” You are whole and flooded with adoration. You are someone worth getting to know, not because of how you look externally but because of the traits and quirks you have that you think no one else sees. If this message triggered anyone, I would like to drop some resources such as the National Sexual Assault Hotline, which is available 24 hours at 1-800-656-4673. I also encourage mental health practices, such as journaling, community circles, and therapy.

You are more than your story, you are more than your abuse, you are loved.

03/06/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCultureLifestyleOpinion

The Negro Is Still in Vogue

by Xavier Adams 03/06/2024
written by Xavier Adams

“The 1920s were the years of Manhatten’s black Renaissance,” writes Langston Hughes in his memoir The Big Sea, recalling the time “when the Negro was in vogue:” A time of “Countee Cullen, Ethel Water, Claude McKay, Duke Ellington, Bojangles, and Alain Locke,” of those “New Negros,” and of great strides for the Afrikan body: “They thought that the race problem had been solved through Art.”

Of course, the period of great progress was permeated with irony: consuming the performance and entertainment from Afrikan bodies while simultaneously degrading said bodies through strict segregation policies. As Hughes recalls, “Some of the owners of Harlem clubs, delighted at the flood of white patronage, made the grievous error of barring their own race, after the manner of the famous Cotton Club.” The Afrikan body undoubtedly occupies a zone of commodification.

But, what is equally concerning is the fascination with the Afrikan body, a provocation to speak about it: the increasing amount of Afrikan plays performed, books published by Afrikan authors, and, importantly, “the white writers [who] wrote about Negros more successfully (commercially speaking) than Negros did about themselves”.

Here, one is drawn back to Hughes’s remark about the great progress of the black Renaissance: “I don’t know what made any Negros think that–except that they were mostly intellectuals doing the thinker. The ordinary Negroes hadn’t heard of the Negro Renaissance.” This knowledge of the Afrikan body, and its prominence in media, far from reflecting the experience of the ordinary Afrikan body, was created by the white imagination.

It would be a mistake to place degradation in contrast to fascination: they stem from the same history casting the Afrikan body into a commodity. In the latter case, the Afrikan body as an object of fascination functions not merely to perform and entertain, but more so as a blank canvas whose history becomes implanted according to the white imagination: the great “Negro Renaissance” which cements itself a rendezvous of cultural identification and pride.

A fundamental link therefore emerges between the Afrikan body, media presence, and the white imagination, a link that functions to further regard the Afrikan body as a commodity.

Upon reflection, Hughes implies that that time has passed, peaking “…just before the crash of 1929, the crash that sent Negros, white folks, and all rolling down the hill toward the Work Progress Administration.” Whether Hughes was mistaken in suggesting the end of the vogue or not is irrelevant, for today, the Afrikan body in popular media continues to function as a commodity of fascination placed within the white imagination in the guise of progress. Today, fascination with the Afrikan body often manifests as an uncritical narrative of equality that equates representation to progress: great strides in movies, shows, and advertisements as if “…the race problem had been solved through Art.” In the final analysis, the negro is still in vogue.

03/06/2024 0 comments
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LifestyleOpinionU.S.

The Good, The Bad, and The White Moderate

by Bionca Benard 02/04/2022
written by Bionca Benard

Martin Luther King Jr. Day has just recently passed and it is my least favorite thing in the world to see white people post these pretty quotes: 

“Darkness can not drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.

I hate all of these quotes, no matter how inspiring they all, no matter how thoughtful they may be. Think of these posts like the black squares everyone was posting during the summer of 2020. They gave us nothing and did nothing. But still, they reposted, with the hashtags on their blacked-out posts. So many in fact, that they began to drown out the actual informative posts that were telling protestors about resources and updates on the Black Lives Matter movement. The MLK Jr. quotes and the Black-Out Tuesday posts were like the participation trophies they give to the bench players. They did nothing, but here they are expecting something.

“Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.”

Oh, brother…

The only quote I enjoyed to see from Dr. King was this one: “I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice” (Brown). 

It seems even Dr. King recognized the white moderate will always be a hindrance than an ally to Black people in America. The understanding that actual allyship involves more than just posts and not saying the n-word around their Black friends can take white people a long way. (If they’re actually willing of course.) If you consider yourself white and moderate, consider the following: 

  1. Don’t be moderate: There is no neutrality in the face of racism. You are on one side or you’re not. You either stand against the hatred or watch it unfold from the safety of your privilege. You can not be a bystander to the vicious onslaught your Black peers face if you are indeed anti-racist. 

Think of neutrality in the terms of war to make it easier (that’s something white people know well). WWI saw the US take a neutral stance during the feuding years. Woodrow Wilson believed in following the strict foreign policy: no alliances with foreign countries. This was, you know, a good idea, but not actually easy to execute because of the US alliances with Britain and France. 

Where’s the neutrality? You’re still friends with racists even if you’re not doing the racist deeds. White moderates are choosing to live in a bubble of security at the expense of Black people’s lives. The white flag you raise is covered in blood… 

The good, the bad, and white moderate… As a white person, where do you actually want to stand?  

02/04/2022 0 comments
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Russel Westbrook poses in a cream sweater, long white skirt and black boots.
Arts & EntertainmentCultureLGBTQ+

Black Male Femininity

by Zenia Davis 11/01/2021
written by Zenia Davis

On September 11th, Russell Westbrook posted a picture of himself dressed in a cream cardigan and a matching white skirt, provoking an uproar about his lack of masculine expression. The comments under the post are mainly reassertions that a man, especially one idolized by young Black boys, shouldn’t be expressing traits of femininity, therefore, his marriage with Nina Earl was questioned and his role as a father. 

The negativity towards Westbrook reveals hatred for Black male femininity because of the belief that Black men shouldn’t have qualities of being “gentle,” “soft,” or “overly emotional.” This prejudice intersects with misogyny as feminine expression is associated with women and characterized at times as being undesirable and too weak (to survive in society.)  Therefore, it’s preferred for black men to deny themselves of fully exploring their identity to enact the “masculine role.” 

Black children are often raised into the ideology that certain concepts are meant for either girls or for boys. That dolls are for girls, cars are for boys. Using curly hair products are for girls, but not for boys. Maintaining extensive hygiene routines are for girls, but not necessary for boys. In this, there’s failure to apprehend that biological sex is a fact of body while gender is a societal perception that are norms of culture often taught in childhood. 

@mukasakakonge  Photographed By: David Urbanke on Instagram

@rickeythompson on Instagram

Why are inanimate objects advertised categorically by gender specificities? 

For generations, black boys are told they’ll grow up to be the head of the family, therefore, they cannot afford to lose their masculine image. According to Loren Harris, “Rigid masculine ideals limit conceptions of opportunity and expose many young men to stigmatization, abuse, and violence because they’re neither attainable nor sustainable over time.” Masculine ideals are often interpreted by not showing feelings, never backing down, being dominant, and always meeting confrontation with force. These boys are encouraged to be athletic figures to exploit the ability of their physical bodies, but not often taught the importance of academic achievement, leading them to the inability to expand their knowledge. Street life is often preached to them, which has real consequences as society and police authorities begin stereotyping and profiling before they even turn three. They’re taught to reassert their straight sexualities’ before they can fully grasp what the word means nor are they given opportunities to discuss how they’re affected mentally by their traumas.

These standards are performative and cannot reach the internal self of a Black boy, and instead it asks that they ignore it. Masculine expectation of Black males can oppress them from their own understanding of self. The demand to hinder traits categorized as feminine engages the fear of being labeled as “gay” which femininity doesn’t always equate to.

@worsst Photographed by @beezshotme on Instagram

These childhood implications go into adulthood where Black Men interpret it in the form of using women as an achievement or a goal to be reached. They’re painted as the background of the woman who’s supposed to be the presentable wife supported by the ‘Strong Black Man.’ They’re suggested to integrate their life with women for sexual achievement, to make a family line, but the framing of the relationship is often devalued. They’re told to apply the requirements of the women they involve themselves with rather than hold that intimacy. “Movies, TV, and videos offer few affirming images of Young Black men in terms of relationships, intimacy, or sexuality. Black men are often presented as devoid of depth of love, and as of little importance beyond aggression or prowess with women,” states Harris. 

@shaunross on Instagram

Looking at the representation of films, Black communities are raised with films that use men dressed as women as the comedy punch line: Tyler Perry as Madea throughout the Madea series, Marlon Wayans and Shawn Wayans in White Chicks, Martin Lawrence as Big Momma from Big Momma’s House. Is Black male femininity only a comical matter; something that can only exist in a fictional narrative, or can it exist at all? 

We often accept the White man who expresses masculine and feminine characteristics, but why can’t we accept the Black ones?

11/01/2021 0 comments
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Black HistoryCultureLifestyle

Meet Syvila Weatherford: Black Professional Profile

by Leilani Fu’Qua 10/23/2021
written by Leilani Fu’Qua

One of college student’s biggest concerns is the ability to find a job in their field after graduation. These students fail to realize the freedom that comes with education, and the ability to redirect life at any moment. Syvila Weatherford is a testament to a life of change. She has been a computer engineer, patent lawyer, author, as well as a community leader. Weatherford, who received her education from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the University of Southern California, recalls her experience navigating higher education and her career as a Black woman. 

Weatherford’s first year at MIT commenced with massive culture shock. Due to recent Affirmative Action policies, her class of fifty Black students was considered large at the time. She says the administration was supportive of Black students, yet the campus lacked outlets for cultural expression. By the end of Weatherford’s undergraduate experience, those 50 students formed a Black Student Union that provided a community space, safe from friction and prejudice from white students. They protested for time on MIT’s campus radio station, and fundraised to bring Black speakers to campus. Weatherford’s experience in MIT’s BSU and Black studies courses shaped her in many ways. She says, “When my parents put me on the plane, I left with straightened hair, curls, capris, and a pink top. When I came home that first Christmas I had an afro, a dashiki and sandals, and I even carried a cane with me like traditional African leaders. My father said, “Where’s MY daughter?” 

After MIT, Weatherford moved back to Los Angeles and took up a job with Hughes Aircraft in Culver City where she started working on satellites. Hughes gave Weatherford a fellowship to study engineering at USC. Despite both campuses being predominantly white, she says USC and MIT were two different worlds. USC’s culture was less pro-Black, the students were not trying to ‘make waves,’  and there was no cohort of Black student representatives. After graduation, Weatherford became the Vice President for USC’s Black Alumni Association. 

She received her degree in patent law from Western State School of Law. Weatherford describes law school as “an unforgiving lover; it does not want to see you with anyone else.” She says law school completely rerouted her years of formulaic thinking and reoriented her mind to think like an attorney. With her new credentials as a patent attorney, Weatherford practiced patent law for aerospace engineers and the federal government for 10 years. 

This year, Weatherford published her first book, Blessings from the Four Winds, a Western romance novel inspired by her great grandfather’s life. Weatherford says, “I had no plans to be an author,” but was inspired by a family trip to Oklahoma in 1985, where her father began sharing stories about his grandfather who participated in the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889. She started writing outlines for chapters and jotting down ideas in the 1990’s, but didn’t start writing and editing until March 2020, when the coronavirus lockdown occurred. Weatherford says she felt extremely connected to her ancestral lineage during the books’ creation, and felt that her writing came from a place of ancestral connection and guidance. It is this special sentiment that permeates through the novel and makes each chapter so personal and thrilling. 

Weatherford encourages Black undergrads to be problem solvers and continue being thoughtful, both academically and socially. She says her experience taught her the importance of having fun, and hopes Black students find the balance between work and play. From engineer to lawyer to author, Weatherford exemplifies independence and excellence. 

Visit her website to learn more about herself and her book, Blessings from the Four Winds. 

10/23/2021 0 comments
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Protester holding a sign. Sign reads "Black Lesbian Feminist"
CultureLGBTQ+LifestyleOpinionWorld

The Black Sapphic

by Leilani Fu’Qua 04/26/2021
written by Leilani Fu’Qua

Women are traditionally and fundamentally underrepresented, underappreciated, and devalued in societal relationships. For Black women, this is amplified with Black men’s allegiance to heterosexism, misogynoir, and any claim to the privileges of the patriarchy they cling to, adding another level to the subordination of Black women. Lesbianism, and Black lesbianism specifically, has operated as a silent phenomenon within the Black community, out of fear of threatening Black nationhood and unity. The surge in women’s public allegiance to protecting, supporting and loving Black women has created a new phenomenon which serves a function of modern social identity as we move towards dismantling male supremacy. 

Sapphism, otherwise known as lesbianism, refers to the romantic and sexual attraction between women. While traditionally used only in reference to romantic relationships, I will use the term “Black sapphic” and “Black sapphism” to refer to a Black woman who divests from their allegiances to patriarchy, heterosexism, misogyny, and men to create meaningful, mutual, and reciprocal relationships with women through familial, romantic and/or platonic relationships with each other. When we view our relationships with Black women as active efforts to appreciate, protect, support and love them, we actively resist the constraints placed upon women by patriarchal societal structures and male-serving institutions. 

The Black community traditionally operates under a silent matriarchy: a network of women-bonded women and lesbian women providing support and sustaining the Black family structure from “behind the scenes.” Black women as mothers, aunties, friendly neighbors, lovers, and caregivers actively support each other by providing caregiving assistance, protection from violence caused by men, emotional labor, and social education for their community. A lot of Black youth are raised “by the village,” but rarely reflect on and appreciate the impact of Black women-bonded women. We rely on these women for emotional stability, sustenance, care and expect them to shape our perceptions of femininity and womanhood. The absence of a mother figure is controversial in our community, but their presence is rarely celebrated and even overlooked as standard. As the Black family structure changes and divests from the nuclear, heteronormative family, Black sapphism challenges the dependency on patriarchy as the basis of familial relationships. When the opioid/heroin epidemic ravaged through Black, low-income communities, Black grandmothers became the most likely demographic to raise their grandchildren, despite the lack of resources available to them from government entities. In instances like this, we turn to our village. We ask for support, love, and caregiving assistance from the women around us. Unfortunately, regardless of the monumental impact Black women have on our communities, our allegiance to upholding patriarchal values alters the experiences of Black womanhood. Often out of fear, isolation, and instability, we view women-bonded relationships and lesbianism as a threat to Black nationhood (which rests on upholding the institution of patriarchy and heterosexism), as mentioned in Audre Lorde’s “Sister Outsider.” As modern Black women reshape our ideas of liberation, family, and choice, we adopt the ethic and efforts of women-bonded women before us and take further steps to cherish their work. 

The platonic social network of Black women is an oasis for Black sapphism. Aside from romantically, communities of Black women rely on each other to discuss the nuanced experiences of their identity that only other Black women can relate to. Additionally, these experiences overlap as these cohorts serve as support groups for family struggles, career difficulties or accomplishments, relationship advice and social relief. Nonetheless, being in the physical presence of women can birthe a sense of belonging, comfort, and familiarity that allows women to prosper with each other. The love we elicit from platonic relationships can be as influential and cathartic as familial or romantic love, especially if the romantic and familial relationships are a point of concern or unease in a person’s life. Black sapphism allows for mutual, meaningful, and reciprocal allegiances to women to occur even non-romantically. Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider describes this active effort to decenter men as a reorganization of social relationships, which traditionally places men above women. Lorde states, “Women identified women who are no longer dependent upon men for their self-definition may well reorder our whole concept of social relationships.” When women divest from their own subjugation through the commitment to placing themselves and other women above the interests of men, they divest from heteronormative and male-serving social scripts. In her essay Lesbianism as Resistance, Black lesbian feminist author Cheryl Clarke states, “If radical lesbian-feminism purports an anti-racist, anti-classist, anti-woman hating vision of bonding as mutual, reciprocal, as infinetely negotiable, as freedom from antiquated gender prescriptions, then all people struggling to transform the character of relationships in this culture have something to learn from lesbians.” 

Romantic relationships between women, and especially Black women, get little to no screen time in modern media. However, the romantic aspect of women bonded relationships adds an additional dimension to the commitment to decenter men and divest from the patriarchy. Clarke states, “The Black woman, having neither maleness or whiteness, has always had her heterosexuality, which white men and black men have manipulated by force and at will,” emphasizing the act of resistance that is being a Black lesbian (sexually and romantically). The commitment to loving women is not out of spite for men, but for the improvement of women’s lives in all aspects. Lesbianism allows for compassion to understand the nuances of femininity in addition to actively resisting misogynist, capitalist, and male-supremacist social constructions. Clarke describes this as a “potential for mutuality” in her relationship, as the lesbian has decolonized her body and rejected servitude to men. For Black women, romantic relationships with each other allows for gender and cultural mutuality. A lover who understands and resonates with the extent of your oppression, oppression that is triple-bound to sexuality, gender, and race, is a lover who can care for and empathize with these struggles as she faces them herself. The subtleties of the Black experience, like hair care, colloquialisms, cultural recipes, political opinions, fashion and music are shared phenomena for Black lesbians: rather than existing as teachable moments, these subtleties exist as commonplace. With partners of any cultural background, lesbian relationships encapsulate platonic, maternal, romantic and sexual energy that contributes to the liberation of women from male-centered structures and institutions. 

Black sapphism is an occurrence of the modern Black identity. Black women around the globe continue to struggle for their freedom and turn to each other for solace, collaboration, and love. As we combat sexual slavery, child labor, lynchings of Black transwomen, violence against women, misogyny, male-supremacy, capitalism, and imperialism, the works and writings of Black women guide the rest of the world to a clearer vision of liberation. When we work together, celebrate together, fight together, and love together, dreams of progress move towards visions of reality. 

04/26/2021 0 comments
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Black HistoryCultureLGBTQ+LifestyleNewsWorld

Happy International Transgender Day of Visibility from Nommo

by Leilani Fu’Qua 03/31/2021
written by Leilani Fu’Qua

On this Trans Visibility Day, Nommo would like to celebrate the beauty and resilience of Black transgender individuals. Black trans activists have been at the center of the fight towards liberation, on the axes of race, gender identity, and sexuality. However, prioritizing the health and safety of Black trans people remains an issue across the globe. Illuminated by healthcare disparities, inequitable housing and employment practices, transphobia and targeted violence, Black trans folk face illuminated struggles as their intersectional Black/queer identities interact with the white heteropatriarchy. Since the Stonewall uprising, we have seen an upwards mobility and visibility for trans folk, which has equally exposed the community to increased hatred and violence. We stand in solidarity and honor the lives of Black trans people lost to transphobic violence, and encourage our readership to support transgender individuals. 

We also celebrate the greatness and brilliance of Black transness! By embracing Black Trans life and prosperity, we build community, share support, and honor Black trans life in spite of adversity. Happy Trans Day of Visibility! 

Demetrius Freeman for The New York Times

Support Black Trans Life

  1. Donate to Black trans people’s GoFundMe’s for housing stability, food insecurity, gender-affirming health treatment, mental health services, or any form of financial support. Black trans folk face medical racism, employment discrimination, and have higher rates of depression, anxiety, and suicide due to the anti-Black transphobia they experience. If you have the capacity to provide financial support, please donate! Black trans folk deserve housing, healthcare, and stability. 
  1. Spread information on anti-trans legislation, and encourage others to advocate for the rewriting or dissolution of harmful, anti-trans legislation in over half of the United States. 27 states have proposed legislation to stop trans-girls from playing sports and states like Arkansas and Tennessee actively have restrictions on trans people’s ability to receive gender-affirming healthcare. Join or support the American Civil Liberties Union in their efforts to combat transphobic laws here.
  1. Read some Black Trans history in C. Riley Snorton’s “Black on Both Sides: A Racial History of Trans Identity,” where Snorton traces the intersections of Blackness and transness from the mid-nineteenth century to present day, following the influences of slavery and various archived materials. (Available on JSTOR through the UCLA Library). 
  1. Donate to the HRT Care Fund hosted by Trans Lifeline and FOLX Health, which reserves 75% of its funding to cover access to HRT (hormone replacement therapy) care for BIPOC trans, nonbinary, and intersex people. Visit bit.ly/hrtfund to donate or apply for an HRT microgrant through FOLX Health. Applications reopen June 1st.  
  1. Understand that transphobia has no place in the world, and actively practice anti-racism and gender inclusivity at work, school, and home. We must actively make efforts to ensure that Black transgender individuals feel comfort, safety, and respect in cis-dominated spaces, and even more so our responsibility to advocate for the liberation of Black trans people. We must decolonize our stigmatized understandings of gender and work against the bigotry, homophobia, and transphobia perpetuated within our clubs, groups, friends, and the Black community as a whole. By respecting pronouns, name changes, and being compassionate to the struggles of our peers, we are better able to build an inclusive and honorable community space. 
  1. ThemsHealth has compiled a list of national and international resources for transgender individuals. Here are some National and West Coast based resources for Black trans folk. (Courtesy of ThemsHealth)

NATIONAL QUEER & TRANS THERAPISTS OF COLOR NETWORK

National Queer and Trans Therapists of Color Network (NQTTCN) is a healing justice organization committed to transforming mental health for queer and trans people of color (QTPoC).

BINDER DRIVE

Binder Drive provides free binders to Black trans & non-binary people in the United States

THE OKRA PROJECT

The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them.     

THE MARSHA P. JOHNSON INSTITUTE

The Marsha P. Johnson Institute (MPJI) protects and defends the human rights of BLACK transgender people. We do this by organizing, advocating, creating an intentional community to heal, developing transformative leadership, and promoting our collective power.

BLACK TRANS FEMMES IN THE ARTS COLLECTIVE

Black Trans Femmes in the Arts Collective (BTFA) is a community-based arts organization that builds community and mobilizes resources to support Black trans femme artists (artists who were assigned male-at-birth and now identify somewhere underneath the femme umbrella).

BLACK AND PINK

Black and Pink was founded in 2005 and is a national prison abolitionist organization dedicated to abolishing the criminal punishment system and liberating LGBTQIA2S+ people and people living with HIV/AIDS who are affected by that system through advocacy, support, and organizing.  

TRANS WOMEN OF COLOR COLLECTIVE

Trans Women of Color Collective (TWOCC) seeks to shift the narrative of surviving to thriving in our communities. They strive to build economic empowerment and global networks that connect rural communities with suburban enclaves, inner city youth with elders, donors with Black trans entrepreneurs, healers with those seeking to be whole and collaborators with agitators.

(SAN FRANCISCO, CA) THE TRANSGENDER DISTRICT

Founded by three black trans women in 2017 as Compton’s Transgender Cultural District, The Transgender District is the first legally recognized transgender district in the world.

(LOS ANGELES, CA) PROJECT Q

ProjectQ Community Center is a non-profit organization that provides safe space for LGBTQIA+ youth. 

(LOS ANGELES, CA) APLA HEALTH TRANS CONNECTIONS

Trans Connections is an HIV prevention program for trans people of color, ages 18-29. We offer incentivized testing, linkage to care for those who are newly or previously diagnosed with HIV, fun events, and more!

(LOS ANGELES, CA) TRANSGENDER ECONOMIC EMPOWERMENT PROJECT

The LA LGBT Center’s Transgender Economic Empowerment Project (TEEP) offers a wide range of services to help gender-diverse people reach economic stability, including job readiness, career development services, and connection with inclusive employers. 

(CALIFORNIA) TGI JUSTICE PROJECT

TGI Justice Project is a group of transgender, gender variant and intersex people–inside and outside of California prisons, jails and detention centers–creating a united family in the struggle for survival and freedom.

03/31/2021 0 comments
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CultureLifestyleOpinion

Offended By My Sex Appeal

by Kamea Taylor 03/17/2021
written by Kamea Taylor

For generations, the conversation of sex within the Black community has become uncomfortable or overwhelmed with misconceptions and misinformation. The most sensitive subject within such dialogue is often the sexual experiences and sexual health of Black women. From sex work to romantic partners, Black women’s bodies are seen as commodities to be consumed yet are simultaneously devalued and shamed for hypersexuality and sexual expressiveness. The perspective of Black sexuality is seen through the lens of heterosexual cis-gendered men, explaining the over-sexualization and deprivation of Black women for having the same sexual desires that they are excused for. 

Research also contributes to the portrayal of Black women as sexually available or engaging in sexual risk-taking behaviors rather than sexually autonomous or sexually responsible. Instead of educating women about their bodies, Black women are overwhelmed with the emphasis on prevention instead of pleasure. An example of this is the plethora of sexual research about Black women and their sexual health. These statistics that often show consistently high rates of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and unintended pregnancy, yet not enough conversation about the healthy aspects of sex, let alone sex health concerning the female genitalia. Such dedication to this kind of research discourages Black women. It makes them more sexually conscious of those risks, health disparities between Black and white women, and the types of sexual behaviors they engage in. Because of this, Black women do not have a healthy relationship with sex or healthy sexual relationships. The constant exposure to the negative consequences of sex overflows with stigma, stereotypes, and bias towards sex health that follows Black women throughout their lives. Such an approach not only makes Black women more closed off to sexual promiscuity but also affects how they view themselves and relationships, causing many to feel ashamed of their natural sexual identity and behaviors. 

Even in their youth, peers constantly monitor the sexual maturity of Black women. From parents to complete strangers, they are overwhelmed with preventative measures or encouraged to practice celibacy. Yet, when compared to the sexual maturity of men, Black men are commonly sexually active by the age of fifteen, showing the lowest median within Dawn Upchurch’s research article. In their adolescence, they are encouraged to partake in sex at a very young age, yet women are suppressed from exploring their sexual urges. Within these findings, there are blatant contradictions between the opinions of Black men concerning promiscuity and the slut-shaming of Black women versus their actions. This sex-negative culture that projects the unwritten rules and expectations on how a Black woman should behave sexually, of course, affects sexual freedoms but alienates them as well. The more aggravating aspect of this is the awfully high rates of Black women that are sexually abused by the age of eighteen (one in four), as seen in the Ujima Community’s research, as well as the common adult-ification and grooming of young Black girls, as well as the entitlement to their bodies, that excuses those perverted behaviors (they do not in any situation). Black women are hypervisible when they exude the same sex appeal that men forbade but are somehow invisible when they are physically or verbally assaulted for simply existing. 

As Black women grow more progressive and embrace their sex appeal with the aid of artists like Megan Thee Stallion and other public figures, they gradually redefine the terms “slut,” “whore,” and other terminology that is used to demean their sexual provocation. Such sex positivity and sexual autonomy through their quote-on-quote “oversexualized” music only further proves the double standard that men enforced within society. Regardless of what women wear, what they listen to, or how many sexual partners they have, there is no justification for the policing of Black women’s sexual expression. Yet despite these barriers, Black women continue to embody the enviable power over the compiling opinions of the patriarchy. Instead of allowing themselves to be defined by the stereotypical images projected by men, Black women are viewed through their own lens.

03/17/2021 0 comments
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