Dear Syd the Kyd,
Let me begin by commending on you for speaking openly and honestly about your experiences as a Black gay woman. I would also like to commend you for pursuing a path that has been difficult for gender non-conforming women like yourself. Unfortunately, there aren’t many prominent Black gay women who are singing and DJ’n, so that deserves credit unto itself. I truly welcome your entrance into the mainstream, but I do have some reservations.
Earlier this week, I came across an interview you did with the LA Weekly Blog, and I have to admit that I was disappointed by many of your views. I am not one to deny one of their opinions, as everyone has the right to one, but I was disappointed with the reasoning in which you constructed those opinions. As a Black gay man, I share your frustration with the lack of role models Black gay youth are afforded, but I think that is a separate issue from what you conveyed in your interview.
I understand that there are certain stereotypes that we use to determine someone’s sexual orientation, and usually masculinity in a woman is one of those things, but I think we do ourselves, as Black gays, a disservice when we try to force others out of the closet, or suggest that someone is a certain sexual orientation based solely on their gender expression. Yes, it is highly possible that Alicia Keys, Missy Elliott, and Queen Latifah are gay women, but they could also be bisexual women. You fail to challenge the heterosexist thinking that sexuality is either straight or gay. Sexuality is more than the dichotomy that such thinking relies upon.
In a society that promotes heterosexuality at every turn, being comfortable with a sexual orientation that goes against that will be a work in progress. Would I love for all gay, bisexual, and pansexual people who are in the closet, to come out and live their lives openly, honestly, and free from shame? Yes, but that is easier said than done when people are being shamed and attacked for being who they are. As a Black gay, I would expect you to be sensitive to this fact.
During the interview, you stated, “Do I look straight to you?” in response to a question on your sexual orientation. While I understand what you are trying to convey in your response, I think it is dangerous to suggest that sexual orientation has “a look.” Stereotypical thinking suggests that there are certain behaviors or looks that reveal a person’s sexual orientation, but this is simply not true, and if it is it certainly isn’t true for all cases. There are “masculine” women who are heterosexual, bisexual and homosexual; just as there are “feminine” women who are heterosexual, bisexual, and homosexual. There is more to sexual orientation than how we look and act.
I will continue to watch your career, and I wish you the best in your efforts. This letter, if it finds you, isn’t about attacking you, but rather understanding where you are coming from, and hopefully helping you navigate the often difficult road of being a Black gay person in the mainstream media. Your experiences are valuable, and I would never try to deny you of them, but I would like to challenge you to be mindful of the language that you use, and the ramifications of that language. As a Black gay who is gaining in prominence, you have a responsibility to challenge conventional thinking, but also be mindful of the ways that your words can support it. I wish you the best in your personal and professional pursuits.
Vernacular: The commonly spoken language or dialect of a particular people or place.
I begin this essay with the full understanding that definitions do not tell the whole story. I chose to define vernacular because I feel it offers an entry-level understanding of what I mean when I talk about the language of Black gay people. There is much more to the languages spoken by Black gays, but I do think the definition is a useful starting point.
I believe that I have always known of Black Gay Vernacular, to some extent, but my full awareness of, and entrance into, the language came when I created an account on a site titled Black Gay Chat. This site, populated mostly by Black gay men, provided me with an entrance into Black gay culture. It was in the forums of this site that I began to dialogue with Black gay people from all over the world. Reading the profiles of members, conversing with members in chat rooms, and reading message boards, were some of the ways that I began to access a language that I would come to learn and love. I would begin to learn all about “the tea,” and “shade,” on this site, but it would take another experience to truly familiarize with Black Gay Vernacular.
Growing up in a small, predominately White, town did not provide me with much access to Black gay life. The only openly gay person that I knew of in my immediate surrounding was a drag queen named “Punk Jerry.” I always found Punk Jerry to be thrillingly entertaining, if not a little misguided and the subject of constant taunting, but he carried himself with a confidence that anyone could appreciate. As far as small town life goes, Punk Jerry was a Polar Bear in a desert, but insisting on his right to exist there, none the less.
So, in the fall of 2006 I entered college as a freshmen student at Florida A&M University. It would be in this environment that I would come to fully integrate myself into Black Gay Vernacular. In college, I came into contact with a host of words and expressions that I had never heard of. The Black gays in this college town had a language all their own, one separate from the language used by the heterosexual environment of my youth. In the settings I found myself in college, “shade” “the tea,” “miss girl,” “yes ma’am,” “stud,” “femme,” “paid it,”, “kiki,” “read,” “Alice,” “sick’ning,” “trade,” and “late” were the words commonly and affectionately used. Learning this language was like learning any other language, it took work and familiarity with those who spoke it. I would become familiar with this language by my continued embracing of the Black gay culture of Tallahassee.
I’d like to share some examples of Black Gay Vernacular in action. If you’re not familiar with Black gay culture, you likely won’t understand a word of what I am saying, but for those who are familiar it will be like talking to an old friend.
“The real T is that mama couldn’t get her coins up so she boosted that store and trade called Alice.”
“That performance last night was sick’ning. He cleared it, and the late kids couldn’t take.”
“The kids are going to gag when I tip through the bar.”
“Shade comes from reading.” – Dorian Corey (Got to know my history)
“That gave me my life.”
“The kids cleared it, last night. They did not have it!”
These are but a few examples of Black Gay Vernacular, in action, and I could honestly go on all day with colorful examples of the language. I could explain what it all means, but I think an understanding of the language should come with access to the group that uses the language. As the saying goes, to know there you have to go there.
The conditions that make a Black gay vernacular necessary are the same as those that underlie the development of all languages. There has been, and remains, a need for Black gay people to communicate with each other, removed from the gaze of heterosexual gaze. The vernacular employed by Black gays does not need to be validated by outsiders because our participation in it, and continued invention of it, is all the validation that is needed.
Like all languages, there are certain issues that pop up in Black Gay Vernacular. There are many within the Black Gay Community who rightfully contest the usage of certain words and expressions, I being one such person. I have called into question the use of popular word “fish,” and many others take issue with the use of “girl.” I do, however, feel that these words can be used among familiars, such as a group of friends, but the issue comes into play when people use the word with those they are not familiar with.
In my opinion, the future of Black Gay Vernacular is bright. New words, phrases, and expressions are being created every day. Somewhere, a creative young gay is crafting term to express themselves and their friends, and this act represents the vitality of language.
Toni Morrison once wrote, “We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.” The language of the Black gay community remains one of the greatest measures of our lives, a reminder of our creativity, our insistence on expressing ourselves in a racist and homophobic society.
Many have contributed to the creation of a Black gay vernacular, but I would like to close by paying homage to one of the legendary queens of the Black gay community– Dorian Corey, of Paris Is Burning fame. I’ll never forget Dorian Corey sharing the etymology of the term “shade.” I celebrate you Dorian as I celebrate the Black Gay Vernacular that I so love.