Living In Black and White

Well, this has been a week for me to reflect on my people and my orientation simultaneously.

I have been reading the Washington Blade’s series on perceptions of gays among members of African-American communities. Apparently, a survey says African-Americans are by far the least tolerant racial group when it comes to homosexuality.

I also heard the feedback of a good reporter friend who attended last week’s UNITY, a national gathering of minority journalists that was in Chicago. Apparently, the National Association of Black Journalists, which largely started up UNITY, scuttled an attempt yet again to allow entrance to the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. Apparently UNITY is only for ethnic and racial minorities, not sexual ones.

First, let me get the disclaimer out of the way. Every perceivable group of people has members who are anti-gay. Homophobia, just like the DL, is not an exclusively Black thing. And I sympathized with a Blade letter to the editor from a Black reader who felt the whole series magnified a generalization that most Blacks are provincial bigots while every other race else has “progressed” and is cool with Will as it is with Grace.

But let’s also get a little real here. Stereotypes have at least a grain of truth and there’s no exception here. As someone who has befriended, dated, and worked with people of every imaginable ethnicity, race, color, and creed, I do have to say that my own people seem disproportionately opposed to, or at least uncomfortable with, homosexuality.

One episode that leaps to mind happened at an African-American Student Union meeting I attended as a college freshman. Following a rash of hate calls and other incidents, students from a gay group visited to see if they could join up with AASU and other groups of color to do something, assuming one minority group sympathized with another. Well, it degenerated into name-calling (one Black student actually used the words “fags” and “dykes”) and repudiation from a student’s mother, declaring the gays should be ashamed for their audacity. A near–unanimous vote shut the door on any alliance.

But perhaps more often – and I feel this acutely with some of my family – there is a code of silence. There’s no obvious vitriol but an unwillingness to ever bring it up. I’ve seen how family members ask straight relatives who they are dating, etc., but there’s stony silence with me. They’d rather not know. And few are willing to debate or discuss things like gay marriage. It’s like, “By the way, how about those Lakers?”

My theory: Much of it likely comes from the role the church has played in many of our lives. Like I explained to my partner recently, the Black Church has been a cornerstone of community and way of life – not just something done for a few hours every Sunday. The civil rights movement sprung from the church, as well as many of our recent leaders and spokespeople. There is a rich and impressive history. But that same church (I mean some people, not God or Jesus) casts a long shadow. Even if someone these days isn’t a regular church-goer, the lessons and the culture shape his or her attitude on issues.

And unfortunately, a disdain of homosexuals has been a lesson that has been pushed in many of our pews. In my old church, gays were “sick” and needed prayer, help, and/or the Holy Spirit. The pastor would sometimes express these notions when they weren’t germane to the sermon, as if the congregation needed a refresher course on Moral Majority 101. Many other Black friends and relatives have reported the same things even, as we all laughingly point out, many of our churches had musical directors and/or choir members who were very much “family.” Few of my friends of other races, even coming from conservative congregations, have heard anti-gay rhetoric coming from the pulpit.

I wish I had a dollar for those, even non-regular churchgoers, cling to homophobia because they were taught homosexuality was wrong and, well, you know what the Bible says. God isn’t a refuge but a cover for moral indignation and bigotry. And that bleeds into a sense of internalized homophobia and self-hatred I see among many non-straight brothers. And that in turn affects the quality of relationships, our treatment of each other, and our self-worth. Being out and proud seems to be an affront to our elders and culture, so being closeted is easier and safer. But that just lets outsiders define us and devalue our relationships, continuing the cycle of dysfunction.

Will new generations turn the tide in perception of gays? I hope so, as I see a lot fewer people younger than me shaped by the attitudes of old. We need to go forward. I’m tired of looking back.