Thrice Silenced... Three Times the Silence

​“Privilege is when you think something is not a problem because it’s not a problem to you personally.” (David Gaider)
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During these past few days of demanding proper justice concerning the murder of George Floyd, executed by a group of Minneapolis police officers, the Black Lives Matter movement has undeniably and remarkably taken over the media. Not only has it amplified the voices of so many dedicated activist, advocates, and allies, but it has inspired many others who have never spoken out about the systematic racism and oppression Black people face in America to finally break their silence.

As a member of the Black community and a vocal supporter of the Black Lives Matter movement, although the death of George Floyd initially felt like all hope for the world had once again been killed alongside another unfortunate Black life, the clear image of unity and voices from an abundance of diverse people once again restored a light back within me as it tends to do when the world comes together to join hands when faced with grave adversity.

As I was scrolling down my twitter timeline and internally celebrating the small victories I saw being displayed through the media, it was disturbingly brought to my attention that even with all the diverse people speaking out and stepping up, it still remained evident that not everyone’s voices are effectively being heard. What made it even more troublesome to realize, was that the voices not being heard during the Black Lives Matter movement were appallingly Black voices themselves.

A video was retweeted to my twitter timeline revealing that a 21 year old Black transgender woman was attacked by a group of cisgender Black men in Minnesota. Although, at the time, there hadn’t been many facts shared with the public about the incident or the reason of disagreement, there were three evidentially undeniable aspects of the video that stood out to me. She was being attacked and assaulted by a large group of 15 to 30 men. They were yelling transphobic and homophobic slurs as they assaulted her. No one stepped into help.

As heartbreaking as that video was, what truly dimmed my light is what was said by the person who retweeted it. Isis King, also known for her role as “Marci Wise” on the Netflix series When They See Us, followed the video she shared with a tweet that stated “I want to protest FOR my Black brothers, but as a trans woman, I’m terrified to protest WITH my Black brothers. I hate that it’s that way, one fight at a time I guess.... #BlackLivesMatter but #BlackTransLivesMatter just as much.”

In that moment, especially as a Black woman, I was forced to do something that I seldom have the opportunity to do. I was forced to acknowledge the privilege that I have as a cisgender heterosexual Black woman and mandated to remember that although I am often twice silenced and two times less likely to be defended because I am not only Black, but I am also a woman, Black Trans Women, have one more hurdle to jump that I will never have to. More than just acknowledging my privilege in that very moment, I felt morally obligated to use it.

Even with a following that would probably not be considered “huge” by any social media influencer, I still felt urged to speak out to any few people who would listen. That same night and the following day, I began to intentionally post more about Black trans women. Although, I wasn’t completely new to the subject of Black trans women, I was eager to learn more and I took my determination to google and began to make myself even better aware and educated about the acts of violence that my Black trans sisters face.

I learned that Black trans women are disproportionately being murdered within the trans community and I was reminded that many of their cases remain unsolved or even unreported. It also became quite apparent that there were several names that never made it to hashtags purely because there is a lack of people outside of the trans community who actually care enough to pay attention and spread the necessary awareness.

In the midst of my self-created and assigned course, it occurred to me that just like simply knowing that cops are killing Black men and women in the streets isn’t enough for me to make a difference, simply being aware of the adversity Black trans women face would never be enough. I decided to do something I had never done. With clear intentions of creating awareness while also gaining perspective, I purposely initiated uncomfortable conversations about an issue that does not affect me personally.

After seeing the original video tolerably circulate on twitter to gain attention and support from many LGBTQ community members and some cisgender Black women who showed true concern for their trans Black sister, I began to wonder why the majority of Black men who shared their thoughts on the video found it easier to support the idea that she did something deserving enough to be assaulted by a large group of 15 to 30 men while they yelled homophobic and transphobic slurs at her, rather than to acknowledge that no one deserves to be subjected to that kind of abuse regardless of the circumstances.

Although, I already had a few of my own speculations, I knew that I would always be missing a piece of puzzle if I stayed within the comfort of my own box.
I formulated the question I had in the most respectful way I could and took it to several cisgender Black men who I knew would be able to answer this question in the most honest way they knew how. Although they were all Black men and many of their answers were similar, each of them were able to give me their own unique perspective that seemed to still fit the overall puzzle.

The question I posed for these Black men who had unique aspects within their own demographics was, “As a Black man, why do you think it’s hard for so many other Black men to speak up about the specific violence that goes on against Black trans women?”

The responses were:

“Most people (Black men) are worried about what others might say or how others would view them if they speak up on something society doesn’t consider the norm.”
(Black Man, Houston, TX, Age 30)

“Honestly a lot of people are self-centered. They can see themselves being George Floyd but not ____. Also the community isn’t that helpful either because they ain’t with that ‘gay sh**’ and they’re scared of what other people may think, say, or how they’re perceived… I think it all ties to having to always prove something. Can’t be too soft, or you ain’t built for it. Can’t be too hard or you’ll get killed for it. Middle ground and it’s too neutral you better pick a side n****.”
(Chi, Virginia Beach, VA, Age 27)

“Chocolate men are supposedly the model of 'men'… You know. We’re athletic in terms of manhood. Black men are always considered to have the longest penises so like Black men are considered to be the standard for men among other race. That’s why being gay or transgender kind of goes against all those attributes which is why amongst black men there’s this code that can’t be violated. It’s complicated.”
(Michael, San Francisco, CA, Age 27)

“I wouldn’t say it’s hard to speak up but I will say personally if I’m not particularly informed correctly, I won’t speak just because I want to correctly address the issues. So, the problem at the end of the day is informing yourself about the issues of violence that goes against Black trans women.”
(Black Man, Monterrey Bay, CA, Age 21)

“In my opinion, for me, growing up… I always heard that if you are a man and like other men then that’s not normal and God didn’t create us in that way. So, I would think that many other Black men have heard the same thing and it’s almost like some men are conditioned to that. That’s all they believe which isn’t right, but as a culture with Black men, we were taught to be strong, provide, show no weakness, don’t be emotional, and if you do then you’re acting like a little girl. So when they see the violence or learn about it, they can’t speak up because they think it’s still wrong in their eyes.”
(Black Man, Los Angeles, CA, Age 25)

“Black men don’t speak about that kind of stuff because it is perceived as a ‘weakness’ and ‘suspect’ that they know one. Me, personally, I don’t know a black trans-person so I don’t know about any abuse they suffer… That’s my perspective… It is the same reason we (Black men) don’t talk about mental health and the rape of men”
(Roderick, San Antonio, TX, Age 37)

“I think that transgender is a subject that many people do not understand especially Black men because homosexuality is looked down upon in the Black community. Now, you mix homosexuality with a man that wants to be a woman and that really gets under people’s skin. It’s still not a reason to attack or inflict violence on them.”
(Black Man, Staten Island, NY, Age 24)
 
“I’ve noticed this narrative being pushed and I partially agree with it. Black people in general and actually all people place Black men and women (to a degree) on a pedestal of strength and manliness. Black women especially have been known to call a black man soft for acting a certain way (not trying to throw blame around, but I’ve experienced this myself). We’ve been pushed into a box. We’re constantly told how a man is supposed to behave and we’re supposed to have a certain level of toughness. Trans women and gay men are seen as less than that. People see it as an attack on their own personal manhood for whatever reason. I know plenty of gay and trans people who will beat the brakes off of a straight person… I think people are looking for #blacklivesmatter (including trans people), when it should go without saying. Discrimination is happening on different levels. There’s Black men who feel a way about Black women, but we’re not emphasizing that. Even though these are necessary discussions, it kind of pulls away from the overall movement and causes division. Do you feel like black lives matter should have multiple focuses and not just race? I’m all for it, but I’m also aware that multiple causes will slow down efforts… Personally, I’m not googling, ‘what Black person died today’, so I only react on what I know. I think most people function this way. There’s definitely a discomfort with people when trans folks are discussed, but I think that like a lot of White folks don’t know or understand the issues with Black people and the criminal justice system, our own community is just not aware of what’s happening to trans women. I rarely hear anything about it, and it’s not something I look for.”
(Black Man, San Antonio, TX, Age 28)

There was a lot to digest with every response I was given to the question being posed. I, myself, have always known about the many stigmas that the Black community faces, especially Black men. When it comes to the idea of vulnerability in any sense, whether it be mentally, emotionally, or physically, many Black men have either been shamed and/ or taught to shame vulnerability amongst other Black men. It is also clear that due to this shame that has come from both men and women within the Black community, amongst many Black men (and probably black women as well) there is not only a disinterest in learning about their trans sisters and brothers, but there is almost a fear that accompanies acknowledging their right to exist or being associated with them.

After processing all of the honest and slightly uncomfortable conversations that I had with several Black men who were all unique to their own demographic and experiences, I reanalyzed my speculations and realized that I was merely only swimming on the surface. I originally tried to sum up my answer into two words. The first word being “ego” and the second being “unawareness”. I’ve now just come to realize, that summing such a complex issue up into two words does absolutely nothing for the change that we, as black people, need to see within our own community. At the end of the day, there is no justifiable excuse for violating and abusing our trans family, however, it seems like the only way to truly get this to stop is by asking every man and woman within the community to dive deeper within themselves.

“Healing can be our protest, too.” (Joel Leon)

We, as a Black community have pushed stigmas, pain, and violence onto one another and have ultimately furthered our own issues within our community that are being intentionally ignored as if the ignorance of other people’s pain isn’t a historical avenue to destruction. We owe it to ourselves and each other to heal. Without this healing, we are doomed to repeat toxic cycles of harming our own and the whole community will ultimately feel the division.

As read in a response, I was asked by one of the Black men I had this conversation with “Do you feel like Black lives matter should have multiple focuses and not just race?” My answer to that is yes, but the truth is many of these issues can’t be fixed by white people or the government because they are not the primary oppressors. Yes, this might add an extra challenge to the ultimate movement known as Black Lives Matter, but to those members of the black community who fear that “multiple causes will slow down efforts,” I ask you to consider that, we as black people have been fighting this fight for over 400 years and have a long way to go. We can’t keep seeing the oppression and violence within our own community and saying “we got you next” because unfortunately, we don’t know when that day will come and how hypocritical would it be to tell someone else who is not only being served the same challenges as us on a plate, but also has their very own side dish of oppression that we will never have to consume, to wait their turn in line.

Yes, this may cause for folks within our community to have to face their own past traumas and fear of vulnerability but as seen in the past few days, division in community may be the greatest weakness known to man and Unity is our greatest strength. There is a power in numbers and every human life accounts for one of those numbers regardless of their race, sexuality, or gender identity. We, as the Black community, are obligated to our movement to make sure that all black lives are being fought for just as much as the next.
 
Just as we urge non-Black and White communities to educate themselves on systematic oppression and racism that we, as Black people face, I urge everyone to not remain trapped in the comfort of their own bubbles. Initiate and take part in hard conversations. Research and learn about issues that may not affect you personally. Watch documentaries on Netflix such as, “the Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson” or shows such as “Pose”. Google the statistics of black trans deaths and cases such as Nina Pop’s. Understand our Black trans brothers and sisters own unique systematic oppression within the justice system. Expand your knowledge so that you can help condense the issues. There isn’t many situations where a Black man and Black woman are given the opportunity to acknowledge their own privilege in society, but when these rare moments do occur, we have the power to spark a positive change in somebody else’s life and that is always worth leaving our comfort zone.

"We’re all ignorant to someone else’s struggle. 
I should be better, so I’ll be better."
(Black Man, San Antonio,TX, Age 28)