Confessions of an Angry Black Gay.

Issue 022: Straight to the point, sincerely, Toni

Rest in Peace, Nikki Giovanni

On this Lesbian Visibility Day, nearly two months since my last post, I’m hesitant to share pieces of myself again. Even with these intense emotions of fear coursing through my veins, I can’t deny the opportunity today brings. What a timely occasion to reconnect, and how riveting it feels to do something different.

I have always pushed my rage further inward rather than outward. I would find a way to justify the reason for my onset of rage, sparing what or who got me to this space, an insufferable coddling routine that has pushed beyond my once reasonable emotional threshold. I have shaped gritted teeth into a charming smile, non-alarming and content. I have swallowed screams, causing responses to come out as squeaks and even whispers. I have balled my fists while my arms sit behind my back, my head high as I face disrespect, disappointment, and devastation.

I have faced manipulation tactics: whataboutyouisms, crocodile tears, and coldness when I express boundaries, all to make me fear self-advocacy. My existence comes off as a threat, my pride in my being is a danger to those haunted by the life they won’t allow themselves to experience: a life of acceptance, trust, and self-determination. I grow more and more fulfilled because I ride for myself and I let me be me.

The one time I decided to be a bitch, it was an out-of-body experience. I was unrecognizable to myself. And the part that shook me the most was that I wasn’t even being a bitch. I refused to feel small. I refused to be engulfed by the thoughtlessness around me, which made me aggressive, pompous, unpleasant, and of course, the villain.

This is yet another term that can be directed towards me, offensive in nature, but flattering, really. If I truly was a bitch, no one would ever forget it.

In my collaboration piece, I discussed my existence as a Black lesbian woman and expressed how my queerness has manifested into a guiding light: "My development accelerated once I could feel how tapping into my queerness could liberate me and weed out those who want to get in the way of my progression." To hide yourself, to be an outcast in your personal and public life, is to know the power of making your presence felt and disrupting the flow of normalcy for others. The more I exercise this liberty, the more these terms follow me, and now feels like the perfect time to lean into it.

What exactly have I been up to these past two months? Being a bitch, I suppose. Being angry. Black. And gay.

While feeling lost isn’t something I’d consider exciting, the ways in which the universe can humble you have stayed on my mind. Understanding my place in the world lately has been a muddying experience. I’ve been oversleeping, procrastinating, and loathing everything that makes existing so hard, and so burdensome for bodies craving and deserving relief. We all should be pissed. It’s okay not to know how to move forward in times like these, but the resolution lives in boldness to an extent that astonishes.

I’m gonna close out Lesbian Visibility Week the same way that I started it, seething from wanting more. The best way to honor me is to not let anyone play with my time, energy, and well-being. And I’m not enforcing that kindly.