Queering the Narrative: Memoir, Fiction, and Manifesto in Black LGBTQIA+ Literature

Bailey DeSimone

One of the joys of reading is the possibility of gaining new perceptions of a shared world. With an increase of queer literature in the publishing market, the diversity of experiences across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum are becoming more accessible. As early as 2011, queer YA author Malinda Lo tracked the emergence of queer YA literature, identifying a significant increase, despite the amount of queer YA protagonists counting for less than 1% of the total.

A misconception that many of us subconsciously experience is that media must be “for us” in order for us to enjoy it; however, in order to de-center ourselves with the goal of becoming better activists, those of us in positions of privilege and power must do what we can to uplift and support creatives from all corners of our communities.

"As a Black queer person, I've died hundreds of times. Will likely die hundreds more times before my physical death. That is the lesson of death, thought - from death comes rebirth. A rebirth in thinking, in processing, in living." -George M. Johnson, All Boys Aren’t Blue, 2020.

George M. Johnson, author of All Boys Aren’t Blue, defines their 2020 work as a “memoir-manifesto.” Written to the queer, Black youth of today and tomorrow, Johnson lays bare the truth of their experiences, his words flowing with ease like a conversation. Spanning pivotal moments throughout their childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood, Johnson reconciles the different parts of themself that make them who they are today, showing us how love and tragedy shape us with equal strength.

Many literary enthusiasts have no doubt recognized the title, or the book’s pink-and-blue cover, the decorative flower crown adorning the Black man’s head as he gazes out from the page. All Boys Aren’t Blue has been, and is still, subject to vicious censorship attacks across the United States. This book has been enthusiastically (and wrongly) banned by many libraries, institutions (including schools), and communities due to its content. However, Black gay youth already experience less overall media representation, not to mention disparate access to mental health care and other support services. While the events Johnson navigates in their memoir are often complex and painful to reckon with, the truth is that plenty of Black gay youth, and surely folks of all identities, also experience similar traumas and are deserving of knowing that they are not alone, that they are in community, and that there is safety for them. In this way, the memoir manifests itself as a legacy for queer Black youth.

Rasheed Newson also reinvents the memoir as activism in his debut novel, My Government Means to Kill Me. The title frames the cover image, a profile of a young Black man against a rainbow gradient, in bold, pink letters. In a seamless blend of informative footnotes and appearances from historical figures including gay and civil rights leader Bayard Rustin, Act Up founder  Larry Kramer, and civil rights activist Dorothy Cotton, the fictional main character Earl “Trey” Singleton III’s narrative makes the history of 1980s New York City all the more palpable for those of us who did not experience firsthand the AIDS crisis. Stylized as a series of lessons that the now-grown Trey recollects in the stories of his life, Newson leaves us with powerful reflections on growth, empowerment, and the changing landscape of activism. How do we grapple with conflicting needs within our community? What does intersectionality mean, for Bayard Rustin’s generation, for Trey’s, for our own?

In light of the ongoing censorship of LGBTQIA+ and Black stories,  creative expressions around our histories are some of the most important tools we have to make change. Sharing these experiences with others reminds us that there is power in community, so buy books. Check them out at your local library when available. Read with your friends, or attend a book club. Write a review on StoryGraph, with open conversation about trigger warnings and how those do indeed help to prepare future readers for the content they will engage with.

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