At 19 years old, Jalil Muntaqim (Anthony Bottom) became a political prisoner within the United States “justice” system after being charged and convicted for the killing of two police officers in New York. As a member of the Black Panther Party and the Black Liberation Army, Muntaqim was a target of COINTELPRO. He has been in prison for 46 years.
On May 13, 1985, Philadelphia city leadership and the Philadelphia Police Department carried out an attack on a group of Black radical individuals and families, bombing and killing 11 people – including 5 children. The group was the MOVE organization, founded by John Africa and emphasizes family and our life’s connection to nature – the attack was carried out after years of mounting tensions between the police and MOVE.
By Dominique Hazzard
I am a queer black woman. By this I mean that the words to describe my sexuality exist outside the margins, between the approved boundaries, beyond the limits of most imaginations. A queer thing is a thing that existing words cannot yet adequately describe, a thing that our language and our boxes have not yet evolved to capture. And what does “queering” something mean? To me it means turning the thing on its head: questioning its assumed narratives, reworking its categories, and upending its status quo.
Let’s queer black history.
Lifting Up the Stories of Black LGBTQ People
Queering black history means lifting up the stories of black LGBTQ people. It means resolving that not one more child (or adult) learns about the “I Have a Dream” speech without learning about Bayard Rustin, the man who led the planning of the March on Washington- at least not on our watch. It means really learning about him- knowing his contributions to the Civil Rights Movements, reading Time On Two Crosses right next to The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, having discussions in our classrooms and on our Facebook pages about Letters from the Birmingham Jail while also discussing why Bayard Rustin too was arrested, how he was relegated to the background by his peers, and what we must do to prevent that from ever again happening in the black freedom movement.
Queering black history means canonizing Marsha P. Johnson as a matriarch of black America. Putting her face on those calendars and poster collages right next to Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Coretta Scott King, and Michelle Obama. It means studying her ACT-UP campaigns in high school classrooms. It means mourning her too-early death just as we mourn deaths of cisgender men like Malcom and Medgar. It means examining why it took 20 years for the NYPD to investigate that death as a murder, and having conversations about the role of the black freedom movement in bringing about trans liberation today.
Complicating the Stories of The Historical Figures We Know
Queering black history goes wider and deeper than the inclusion and recentering of queer folks. Remember that “queering” also means re-working. We must rework and complicate the stories we tell about the black figures we are familiar with.
Rosa Parks, for example, was not only told to get to the back of the bus. She was also told by an NAACP supervisor, for whom she later worked as a secretary, that women should stay in the kitchen. As we study her resistance against both attacks on her black womanhood, a queering of black history requires us to ask why we leave that piece out of the story, and how we can ensure that our contemporary movements are safe spaces for people living at the intersections.
Billie Holiday was a prolific jazz singer. She was also a heroin addict and the first major target of the federal government’s war on drugs. Henry Anslinger, virulent racist and first head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, intentionally turned a blind eye to the addictions of prominent white entertainers while obsessing over Holiday and his dream of bringing the full force of the federal government down upon her head. She died shackled to a hospital bed, denied appropriate treatment by the federal government, with police officers in her door. Billie Holiday has an important place not only in the history of black music, but in the history of black people, the police, and resistance.
Seeking Out New Stories
But if we are to queer black history then we must dig deeper, do more than adding nuance to the narratives of those we already know and love. We also have to study and celebrate the black people who have been erased, hidden from our collective memories. We have to move beyond the shiny negroes- the astronauts, entrepreneurs, athletes, entertainers, and organizers who have been deemed respectable enough to be worthy of our memory. We have to look between the cracks and find our incarcerated heroes, our undocumented leaders, our luminary sex workers, the people that systems of oppression most desperately want us to forget. And we have to teach those stories to each other.
We have to do the work of intentionally remembering people like Carol Crooks. I just learned her name while doing research for this post. She doesn’t have a Wikipedia page. But she is worth remembering. Carol Crooks was a woman who became an organizer while incarcerated at Bedford Hills, a maximum security prison in New York.
In February of 1974, Carol Crooks had a severe migraine and asked to be taken to see the prison nurse. When her guard denied her request, she tried to push past her and get to the nurse anyway. In response to this incident, Crooks was beaten, stripped naked, and placed for into a solitary confinement cell for three days. Crooks later filed a lawsuit challenging the practice of sentencing inmates to solitary confinement with no trial or formal charges. She won her case, and the warden was found guilty of unconstitutional treatment of a prisoner.
That August, Crooks was returned to solitary with no formal charges. The next morning, a group of women went to the warden and demanded Crooks’ release, alleging that the solitary confinement of Crooks was retaliatory. The women were ignored and told to go to bed 3 hours earlier than usual. They refused to comply. The guards began to assault the women in response to the insubordination. The women seized the guards’ weapons and fought back. They took over the prison, in what is now known as the August Rebellion, until state troopers subdued them about 4 hours later.
Carol Crooks is part of a queered black history.
Disrupting the Centralized, Charismatic Leader Narrative
Next we must question the very ideal of black history through the lens of the individual. We must ask ourselves: why does the history we choose to remember so often come in the form of charismatic and solitary pioneers, centralized leadership, the folks out front?
Queering black history means remembering everyday people, the struggles they faced, and the work they did. It means recognizing the extraordinary in the ordinary black people who were told their lives didn’t matter, but still contained a fierce will to live, and love, and fight for freedom. It means valuing all different types of black leadership- the folks who were behind the scenes, who were quiet, who were less than charming, who didn’t win but set the stage for those who later would, who rose to the occasion because they had to and then when back to their regularly scheduled lives. It means celebrating collectives, and group efforts, and conglomerations of movers, shakers, and neighbors whose names we won’t ever know.
I want us to upend the status quo by including the Contract Buyers League of the South Side of Chicago in our Civil Rights Movement narrative. The Contract Buyers League was a group of over 500 people living on the Southside of Chicago in the 1970s who had bought their homes through predatory loans after being shut out of the mainstream home loan market by racist laws. They banded together, filed suit against the speculators who were cheating them, and demanded their money back. They lost. But the Contract Buyers League is part of a queered black history.
I want us to queer black history by teaching about the residents of the Arthur Capper Public Housing community in Washington, D.C. These residents saw businesses, and particularly grocery stores, disinvest from their Southeast community in the 1970s. They decided to take matters into their own hands. As the mythology of entitled black welfare queens and lazy project thugs was gaining steam across the country, the residents worked together to start a community owned small business. They built the Martin Luther King Food Co-Op and harnessed the power of cooperative economics to nourish a black community trying to survive in a hostile white world. We don’t know the names of everyone who accomplished this feat, but the residents of the now-demolished Arthur Capper Public Housing project are part of a queered black history.
Acknowledging Our Dirt, Holding Our Pain
A queered black history cannot be sanitized. Filing down black history’s sharp edges would make sense if the only point of studying it was to make ourselves feel good. Sweeping the flaws of our black icons under the rug would be reasonable if the goal of black history was to convince a white society that black people are good and smart, that we can be honorable too, that our lives matter. But I don’t believe that either of these goals are what black history is about.
I believe that we learn black history because doing so will help us to get free. And in order to accomplish this goal, to be able to learn from the fullness of our past, we have to approach it with a queer lens. We have to bring to black history a quality that the black queer community embodies at its best- the unconditional acceptance of people’s full and real selves.
Our history is what it is. Sometimes we didn’t overcome. Sometimes our faves were misogynists. Sometimes our idols were reckless and led movements into the ground. Sometimes effective and powerful black leaders were on crack. Sometimes our stories are not glistening stories of hope and triumph and movin’ on up, but stories of mistakes made. Sometimes they are stories of pain and loss, death, and things being taken from us. But they are stories that have something to teach us nonetheless.
Let’s queer black history. Let’s reimagine it as an opportunity to celebrate black heroes, leaders, and everyday people. Let’s use it to remember and mourn the black lives that white supremacy has ripped from our arms. Let’s use it as a chance to learn from the lives of black people at all different intersections, black people whose sweat and tears, laughter and joy, victories and mistakes have brought to where we are today. Let’s make learning black history about getting free.
Parents and students at Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science (MS)², a charter school located on the campus of the historic HBCU, say that the principal fired teachers for teaching black history. Today middle school students held a protest to demand changes to the curriculum.
Registration is now open for the “Freedom Dreams…Freedom Now” event in Chicago! The event will commemorate the 50th anniversary of the historic summer of 1964, often referenced as Freedom Summer.
Woody Allen’s “Bullets Over Broadway” opens Thursday night in New York City. The musical is based on the Cotton Club, a New York nightclub based in Harlem back in the early 20th century.
Despite the club being rooted in African American history, Allen hired no black actors for the production.
This month, a few new biographies of famous black thinkers and doers will hit bookstore shelves. The books are geared towards children, and come complete with flaws and all.
On Saturday thousands marched to the Martin Luther King memorial and down the National Mall to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the historic March on Washington.
But it was more than a trip down memory lane; the event was also meant to galvanize a new generation to take action to make a better world for all marginalized and oppressed communities.
Remarks from Rep. John Lewis – a featured speaker at the original March on Washington – spoke directly to this continued struggled for justice and equality.
Russell Simmons has apologized again for releasing a skit centered around the creation of a Harriet Tubman sex tape.
His outrageously poor judgement in allowing the skit to be released through his YouTube channel has ignited a firestorm of controversy.
In an interview with YouTube show BRKDWN, Simmons expressed remorse for the video, and later tweeted that he’d been in touch with Harriet Tubman’s descendants.
Lee Daniel’s highly-anticipated new film “The Butler,” opens this Friday.
But not everyone is excited about it. The film tells the story of a butler who spent decades in the White House, serving President after President.
In a Shadow and Act interview with actor Harry Lennix, Lennix pulls zero punches; blasting media depictions of black men, and specifically Daniel’s script for “The Butler.”