“But I’m not just Black… I’m Queer too”

“But I’m not just Black… I’m Queer too”

The complexities of Black spaces within University. 

by Travis Alabanza

I remember the first day of university clearly. The expected mixture of excitement, nerves, hesitation, questions and the fresh feeling that only arises when these cliché ‘new beginnings’ are approaching. I also remember clearly the feeling that is added to this when entering a Russell Group university whilst Black. The added questions of “will I see anyone that looks like me?”, “will I be taught my professors that understand my culture, let alone look like me?”, “will students be respectful of me?”- ultimately: will anyone see me.  

It is undeniable with the demanding presence of systematic racism both in and outside universities walls that these questions are well justified. With King’s being in line with other Russell Group universities in having a low amount of Black students and staff, a curriculum rooted in whiteness and colonised history, as well as an attainment gap showing that Black students are less likely to achieve a 2:1 than their white counterparts, it is no surprise these questions and nerves were arising in my head. This is why having a prominent ACS (African and Caribbean Society) is not only important but also a needed aspect to university life. A place where African and Caribbean culture is focussed, where Black students are the majority, and where Black culture is celebrated and explored. As a lonely Black fresher in a suffocating sea of whiteness: ACS would no doubt be a place of refuge from that clouding discomfort… if I was just Black. If I could, at the door, leave behind the intersections of my identity, leave behind the glitter encrusted on my Black skin, the queerness in my melanin, and the femmeness in the curls of my afro: then maybe I could. But I will be explicit, the current state of most Black spaces within our university is not safe for ALL Black lives. As a queer, femme, genderqueer Black person- my experience at our general Black spaces within university is not one of safety, it is one of worry. Worry that my Blackness will be questioned, my identities will be erased, my pronouns not used and my humanity not fully seen. It is with this that I am pushing the need for Black spaces within our ACS to become intersectional in the way they work, in order to encompass the true cohort of our diverse and rich Black community. I want to note that most, if not all, spaces that are non-queer specific are lacking in safety for Queer and Trans students- yet I am writing from the perspective of when being Black and Queer, it is crucial that we as a community work to create a safer refuge for non-straight/cis Black students. 

I remember being invited last year to be on the panel for an ACS event ‘taboo’. Taboo was an event discussing topics in the Black community that was often hidden. Already by the name, I felt challenged. I was invited as the Person of Colour officer for the LGBT society at the time, to speak on (I assume) LGBTQ+ issues within the PoC community. The night was challenging, varied, difficult and emotionally exhausting. There were many questions of insensitivity, difficult moments of unsafe language, and a clear picture of just how much work needs to be done within communities for folks to feel safe. I also remember the first welcome event of the year. Sitting in the room nervously during a game of “I have never”. The dreaded statement arose… “I have never kissed a boy”. I watched as a room of fellow members laugh, jeer, and joke. How was I expected to stand up there? To declare that yes, I had kissed a boy, and yes I deserved to be in this space. I remember thinking throughout the event of the painful irony present. So many Black folks will # BlackLivesMatter, will talk about BlackLivesMatter, will (rightfully) scream that BlackLivesMatter- but will be unaware of its roots. Black Lives Matter, as a movement, was started unapologetically by three Black Queer Women. Three Women who hold their womanhood and queerness at the centre of their Blackness. It is with this note that I find it disastrous that the same folks who use their #, will not be ready to elevate, listen to and respect queer members of our community- particularly queer woman. As a Black community fighting for liberation and freedom, it is our responsibility to ensure no one is left behind in our movement- especially those in our community that are historically and presently more vulnerable. It is our role to not just # solidarity, but to show it in our actions. With this in mind, I thought of what it would look like for a new year of Black activism and events to be more inclusive of Queerness and other intersections. 

1. Black history month is not the only month Blackness is present in. During Black history month our university events calendar is flooded with events centring Blackness. ACS held numerous successful events during this month, and importantly contributed to a month that helped raise our voices and presence on campus. However, could I look to ACS during LGBT history month to also hold events? I believe as someone from the African Diaspora, looking to ACS as a place I can find safety, it is important that I see them standing in solidarity and raising the voices of Blackness within other liberation months too. It is hard to feel heard and recognised by a community, if during a month that I (and other Black non-straight folk) feel a part of, is not being seen as important to that society. It tells me that my Blackness is divided from my queerness, and that it cannot be looked at holistically. A society that is caring for ALL it’s members would hold LGBT related events for those members that are non-straight. It tells these members that they are recognised, heard and equally important.
   

2. Being explicit in the safety of events and what your society will not tolerant.  “This is a space that is actively working against all oppressions. We will not tolerate queerphobia, transphobia, sexism, misogyny, ableism and other forms of oppression” – I think seeing this would have made a difference to the nervous Queer Black fresher last year. I think seeing that a society recognises that even inside “safe spaces”, oppression is still working and effecting its members. I think seeing that a society explicitly will not tolerate queerphobia and other forms of oppression makes a difference. It means that the other Queer Black freshers reading their event will feel welcome, it means that if an act of queerphobic abuse played out; they would know the society will not tolerate it. Create a safe space for all of our Black students here at King’s is paramount to have events that truly reflect the diversity of our community. 
   

3. Listening, learning and raising the voices of other members in our community.  Above all of this, I think in order to hold a thriving community of Black students on campus, we need to be ready to learn from all our members. This means we need to be ready to listen to how Black women are effected by misogyny in our community, or how Black queer folk feel isolated and hurt within Black spaces, or how trans Black siblings need to be heard and valued. In order for our community to be truly inclusive, we cannot just #BlackLivesMatter, but truly do the critical work to evaluate if we are showing outwardly that all Black lives matter. This does equal putting in the work. This means taking the time to read the works of Black queer people, listen to them speak about how they feel in the community, and then put in the work to better the community you stand within. Lastly, I think it is crucial to raise the voices of those most marginalized within our community. When there are Black queer people, particularly women, running for political positions in our student body, or running events, or sharing their words- support them. When you are planning events with speakers and guests, ensure there is a diverse and inclusive range of voices. Not every Black voice needs to be straight, or a man, or cisgender- we need to raise the voices of those historically silenced. 

 This is definitely not an exhaustive list. This is also definitely not a piece that is not noting the wonderful things ACS communities do for Black folks on campus. Nor is this piece claiming that it is only spaces in ACS that are queerphobic, trasnsphobic, or sexist-  all spaces are. Yet, this is a piece saying that despite this, we should as a Black community work harder to deconstruct this. This is a piece that is calling for more self-critical reflection. This is a piece calling out of frustration that Black spaces on campus have not been safe for ALL of our students. This is a piece calling for us to do better in creating a Black student experience that gives a place of community for all our members.