TRIPLE THREAT: Living Young, Gay, and Black in Cincinnati

In America, there are segments of our population that have been discriminated against just because of who we are. More specifically, because we are young, gay, and black. If you are a member of any one of these groups, you have a very unique story to tell. But how is it when you are a member of all three? This past summer, social media once again usurped traditional media outlets and served as first notice to the murders of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, two black men fatally shot by police officers. It was on July 5 when the former of the two was shot several times at close range while held down on the ground by two white Baton Rouge Police Officers. The next day, the latter was fatally shot by a police officer in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. The posts on social media documented, in real time, how a chance encounter with a police officer could end a life. Would this have happened if the two men were white? The question is an echo of the words of Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton. He asked a very similar question at a news conference the day following Castile’s murder. Spurring from those events, what began as a peaceful protest in Dallas, ended with a lone sniper wounding seven innocent protesters and killing five police officers, who were only there to afford those protesters the freedom to speak their minds. To many, it’s still hard to imagine how these three occurrences of gun violence could happen in a country that has come so far. Did we not learn our lesson with Rodney King? King was violently beaten by Los Angeles Police officers following a high-speed car chase on March 3, 1991. Despite the incident being filmed, showing the brutal beating, three of the four officers involved were acquitted of all charges, serving as a catalyst for the 1992 Los Angeles Riots, in which 55 people were killed and over 2,000 were injured.

The recent shootings of black men at the hands of police officers seem to be a part of some gruesome loop of law enforcement gone amok. For the black community, even after the Rodney King incident, the threat of police abuse has simply become a part of life; a life lesson reserved for Black males only. Yet this grievous reality reared its venomous head again to become a national issue with the 2014 killing of Michael Brown, an unarmed black teenager, by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri.

Cincinnati has its own tale to tell as well.

Harken back to Cincinnati’s very own civil unrest which snapped up the nation’s attention in 2001. This was the year when the 15th young black man, since 1995 was gunned down by Cincinnati police officers. Quickly after the civil unrest subsided, the Cincinnati Police Department (CPD), prompted by a lawsuit by the ACLU, adopted a Collaborative Agreement which spelled out how the CPD should follow a community-focused approach towards policing; dramatically changing past policies and how new recruits are trained.

Fast forward to 2015 where University of Cincinnati Police Officer Ray Tensing fatally shot Sam DuBose, a black motorist during a July 19, off-campus traffic stop because of a missing license tag. The officer claimed he was forced to fire his weapon after almost being run over by DuBose’s car but due to body camera video contradicting the officer’s report, Tensing was indicted on murder and voluntary manslaughter charges, which ended with a hung jury. And with this past summer's shootings, we find ourselves, once again, trying to understand how misconceptions and misunderstandings could lead to multiple deaths and a nation saddled with grief. The Washington Post's database that tracks the number of individuals killed by police officers, just in 2016, shows that Philando Castile, the individual who was shot while reaching for his registration to carry a firearm as instructed by the arresting officer, at the time was one of at least 505 people who have been shot and killed by an on-duty police officer. Police officers are the backbone of our community and there is no doubt that those who serve in this role have an exceedingly difficult and highly honorable job. Their split-second decisions could dictate whether a woman isn't murdered, a child isn't abducted, an elderly resident’s property isn't vandalized, or a lone gunman isn't allowed to commits mass murder. We want police officers in our society and we want them to protect and serve. But because of the aforementioned and the fact that we grant these officers the right to ‘Protect and Serve’, it's very rare for police officers to be held accountable in a court of law when they abuse our trust. According to the same Washington Post database, of the thousands of cases brought against police officers since 2005, only 54 officers have been criminally charged.

And every time a police officer shoots a person, especially a black male, we still face the possibility of falling into the same cycle we have seen over the last few months; additional senseless killings, mass community outpouring of love, and a resurgence of community dialogue.

The sad truth is that, the black community has long since pointed out the presence of police brutality and the fact that wide sweeping reform was needed. Another truth is that reform will not actually happen on a large scale until the ugliness of police brutality hits America in the heart. Right now, to most of America, police brutality is still seen as a “Your Problem” issue. We have to call it what it actually is….an “Our Problem” issue. And we need to make sure that America realizes this before a white suburbanite is mistakenly killed…for that seems to be the only thing that will grab the nation’s attention and bring an end to police brutality. After the publishing of a 2012 Gallup study, where it was found that 4.6 percent of black Americans identified as being gay, which is higher than the rates of whites (3.2), Latinos (4.0), and Asians (4.3), it's apparent that an honest conversation among the Black community regarding sexual orientation is needed.

In early 2010, Stop AIDS, a former Cincinnati non-profit organization, hosted ‘The Reggie Williams Exhibit’, a multimedia exhibit honoring the life and legacy of World AIDS activist, and Cincinnati native, Reggie Williams who was the co-founder and executive director of the National Task Force on AIDS Prevention. Williams passed away in 1999 from complications of AIDS, but his memory lives on through his exhibit. As part of the event, a showing of Marlon Riggs' film, Tongues Untied was presented and discussed.

In the film, Riggs depicts the black male image as varied, defying the static definition that had permeated American society. His examination of black manhood in America was one of the first examples of black male homosexuality in academia, setting a standard for its study.

When it originally aired in 1985 Tongues Untied was controversial, and because it aired on PBS, it garnered additional criticism for how public and charitable funds were used in the broadcast.

It wasn't just the depiction of black men loving one another that made this film controversial, but the fact that it had never been portrayed in such a candid and honest way.

When the film was released, the nation was just beginning to discuss homosexuality candidly amid the AIDS epidemic gripping the county. So when this film portrayed the hyper-masculine Black male image through a gay-tinted lens, the wholesome American psyche went into anaphylactic shock; the true Black gay male image being so far displaced from the gay White culture which America still had yet to understand. Not only did this documentary cause a fold in the way that America viewed homosexuality, it also helped Black men, who identified as being gay, cope with their own societal displacement. Not being able to completely integrate into the Black community due to their homosexuality and not being able to completely assimilate into the gay society because of its White construct.

The fact that the black male here in the United States has been subjected to racism, classism, and oppression only serves up evidence that the gay Black male is a new form of segregate. In 2008, President Obama called out the omnipotence of homophobia in the black community by saying, “If we are honest with ourselves, we’ll acknowledge that our own community has not always been as true to the King’s vision of a beloved community. We have scorned our gay brothers and sisters instead of embracing them.” More evidence can be found when CNN anchor, Don Lemon, publicly announced his homosexuality in the book Transparent and said, “It’s quite different for an African-American male. Being gay is about the worst thing you can be in black culture.”

“For me," says Jonah, a young man I interviewed for this article, "Being a young, gay, Black man in Cincinnati has been an interesting journey to say the least. The LGBT community has its standards concerning what's acceptable for a gay male. The Black community has its standards concerning what's acceptable and expected of a Black man. But being both, I've often come to realize there are conflicting unwritten rules. Over time, I thought I had found a happy medium that keeps unsolicited opinions and hurtful criticism at bay while still being true enough to who I am so that I didn't feel like I was compromising my individuality. Though still very discreet and sometimes closeted, I found an appropriate balance that I and most others around me seemed to be comfortable with." As Jonah explains, this dichotomy and the isolative nature of being gay AND Black gives more evidence to the fact that the Black gay male experience is one that is very unique.