The past 3-4 months have been…interesting…to say the least. Perhaps we should have known that 2020 was going to challenge us when memes about World War 3 dominated social media in January. I spent the month of February preparing for my public history project on my winter trip to West Africa. Then, COVID-19 hit us in March. I, like many of you, had to cope with the deep disappointments of having projects, work opportunities, and life plans derailed because of this virus. Once I realized that March and April were going to be spent inside, I remember staring at my barely used planner, wondering if I would be able to pull things together by the end of summer. I gave myself time to mourn the year I thought I would have. Then I stocked up on non-perishables, made masks from cloth I purchased overseas, and re-commenced my regimen of vitamins and yoga. I bounced between feelings of joy about not having to deal with rush hour traffic and anxiety about inhaling this invisible killer every time I stepped outside to take a walk.
The month of May felt like some sort of twisted new normal. I had a lot of time for self-reflection as I settled into a modified work routine. Then, the week of Memorial Day, news hit of George Floyd being killed by police in Minneapolis. This came after quieter rumblings about the killing of Breonna Taylor in March. Since the last week of May, it seems that time has been moving in spurts of unbelievable speed and torturous dormancy. We stumbled into June riding a wave of public health crises, state violence, and economic instability. In my righteous fury, I signed petitions, protested, sent donations, and ranted online. But I noticed that, as #BlackLivesMatter became more prevalent in the news cycle, some people tried to silence conversations about the difficulties the Black LGBTQ+ community faced. Too many people don’t know or don’t care that from the beginning, the Black Lives Matter movement has centered LGBTQ+ individuals. I wanted to use my small platform as a historian to challenge this.
We do ourselves a disservice when we act as if police brutality and systemic discrimination do not touch the lives of Black LGBTQ+ people. For the month of June, I created a mini-lesson on Black LGBTQ+ history. (You can also scroll through my Instagram & Facebook accounts for the individual blurbs for the mini-lesson.) What began as a simple educational intervention became a necessary personal meditation on history and marginalization in our society. Many people are familiar with James Baldwin and Alvin Ailey. But researching the contributions of Ernestine Eckstein, Willi Ninja, and Alain Locke gave me hope in an otherwise dark, frightening month. They used their gifts in service of their community, which is the least we all can do. They danced, they wrote literature, they organized. As I always say, our forebears left us blueprints for navigating times like this. It is up to us to honor them and use those tools to keep moving forward.
Although 2020 has taken on a lugubrious tone, I call upon us all to listen to the past for guidance, joy, and innovation. Learning more about our distant and recent LGBTQ+ ancestors for Pride Month 2020 has given me a deeper appreciation for the work of today’s activists. Black Lives Matter is not about trendy social media posts. It is about framing our lives in a way that embraces and uplifts all of our community members. Are we living in shaky, frustrating times? Yes. But we do not give up. Indeed, #ALLBlackLivesMatter.