This is the third TNG submission from J. Clarence Flanders.

One of the criticisms often levied against the queer community today is that it has failed to represent all people that compose it, particularly on the national level. Instead, it has perpetuated a very narrow classification of what it means to be queer. The people that fall outside of this classification include ethnic minorities, women, the uneducated, people from the lower end of the socio-economic spectrum, and others. These people and their backgrounds largely have been absent from the cultural dialog we have had over the years about what it means to be queer in America.

As a result, our collective perception of what it means to be queer today is very different from reality. Social-conservatives often exploit this quagmire to depict queer people as privileged elitists, rather than everyday people who, unfortunately, still live as second-class citizens in our democracy.

This fact most poignantly came home to roost last year during the Proposition 8 campaign. In a frantic search to explain why the proposition passed, we looked at early exit poll data that appeared to show an overwhelming majority, some seventy percent, of California’s black voters supported the measure. Several prominent voices in the queer community were in an uproar, such as Dan Savage of Slate Magazine, who accused the black community as being unequivocally homophobic.  (He has since walked back on that statement, sort of.)

In the immediate weeks after Proposition 8 passed, tensions were high on both sides. Many in the queer community, who were understandably frustrated and upset, focused their frustration on the black community, which placed the black community on the defensive. In the midst of this, the “us versus them” ideology reared it’s ugly head. Were queer people of color were being pressured, more than usual, to pick a side?

The reactionary response from the queer community to Prop 8 and the measure’s support from people of color highlighted the failure to use proactive steps during the campaign to prevent the measure’s passage in the first place. The opposition failed to reach out appropriately and actively work with communities of color to combat the proponents, who were actively working within communities of color and their places of worship.

Looking back on the campaign against Proposition 8, we see a largely White-led effort for what many see as a White cause: queer rights. Our failure to educate the general public, and ourselves, to the diversity of the queer community has led to a disconnect within many communities. Queerty was right when it said in recent article that, “we’ve trained the media to think we’re rich and white.”  There is hope, though. Thanks to Dick Cheney of all people, we know that having some relationship to the queer community, whether having a queer family member or being in a community with a larger queer presence, has an effect on someone’s view of homosexuality and queer rights.

Unfortunately, it is painstakingly clear that the conservative-religious hold in the African-American community contributes greatly to the sizable percentage of disapproval of same-sex marriage within the community. Yet, hope is not lost. In recent years, we have seen several prominent voices in the African-American community speak out passionately for queer rights, such as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, NAACP, the Congressional Black Caucus, CBC, and some religious leaders. And we have seen the Queer community begin to reach out through various venues.

However, there is a chance that the nation’s capital might provide the greatest leap forwarding in changing the face of the queer rights movement. Beyond the monuments and buildings that decorate the National Mall, the District is in many ways unique because ethnic minorities make the majority of the city. As a result, any effort undertaken by the city to affect its residents requires active minority voices on both sides.

In April, the District voted to recognize out-of-state marriage licenses of same-sex couples from around the country. This set off the flurry of debate and protest from conservative religious groups, which we have become accustomed to seeing these days. However, we also saw African-Americans leading the charge against the conservative protesters.

This unique dynamic has changed the conventional rules of engagement, and, as Adam Serwer points out in his piece for The American Prospect, “Where Blacks Lead the Fight for Gay Rights,” the demographic composition of the city has removed race and ethnicity as a a factor to be exploited by conservative organizations.

“The face of LGBT leadership in D.C. is often black. Nationally, anti-gay-rights activists have had a great deal of success in encouraging black voters to oppose gay rights, partially because LGBT rights are seen — incorrectly — as a “white issue.” But in Washington, D.C., the diverse composition of the marriage-equality movement means that marriage-equality activists don’t have to “reach out” to the black community, because they’re already part of it. That doesn’t mean marriage-equality activists don’t face serious obstacles in garnering support among African Americans, but it makes racial divisions harder to exploit. The lesson is clear — when the marriage-equality movement is integrated, outreach becomes less of an issue.”

The battle being waged in D.C. could have an insignificant ripple effect throughout the Queer Rights movement. Currently, whenever we discuss the role, or lack thereof, of minorities in the movement, we tend to split into two polarized camps. One group asserts the assumption that minorities feel as if they have less of a voice due to their lack of initiative or drive. The other argues that queer people of color do, in fact, do a lot of things already (and would like to do more) but lack the resources, such as funding, labor, and the ability to network, compared to the established the queer movement.

The District provides observers with a unique case-study where blacks, one example of a minority that has often felt excluded from the nation-wide establishment, are an integral part of the District’s queer population and activist movement. It makes it clear to critics of the black community that it is a not a community composed solely of men on the “down low” and homophobic religious people, but (also) queers and allies that take the fight for equality as seriously and passionately as the predominately white establishment in New York City or San Francisco.

The way forward for the Queer Rights movement is simple. It can no longer risk appearing as a whites-only political and cultural movement and still expect progress. Instead, it should continue to work closely with the organizations and people within the communities of color who are actively fighting the good fight, too often in the shadow.

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