The election of Donald Trump last November may have caught some Americans by surprise, but for many people of color it was just a reminder of the country in which we are living — a country that has validated white supremacy since its inception, and one that continues to do so in both insidious and overt ways.
In the already marginalized LGBTQ community, white supremacy exists by default — as if whiteness is an aegis against that marginalization, cherished and rested on like ill-gotten laurels by those who possess it; sought after and exalted by those who don’t. But whiteness is an illusion, because race is an illusion. Race doesn’t determine who you are or what you’re capable of; those are simply products of the perception of race. So racism, is, at best, an excuse, and a lazy one, to question and diminish the humanity of other people.
Among gay men, race is often used as a qualifier, or disqualifier, as much as body type, height, or hair color. For men of color seeking companionship, these biases are not merely obstacles but often complete deterrents, a betrayal of the supposed community we share as LGBTQ people, and a source of intense animosity cum hatred for those who perpetuate and justify these so-called preferences.
Everyday this week we'll be rolling out an essay in our series "Love in Black and White," wherein five queer writers of color share their experiences and perspectives on dating, race, and their contentious relationship to whiteness:
Part 3: Boycotting White D
Part 4: Loving Myself Was a Radical Act
Part 5: We Are More Than Our Bodies
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