To commemorate Black history month, Lesbian Herstory spoke to T.S. from Black Lesbian Herstory about the joys, challenges, and importance of holding space to research, archive and curate the lives of Black lesbians from history.
LH: What do you most enjoy about researching and curating Black lesbian herstory (or lesbian herstory in general)?
TS: For me, learning about the Black lesbians of our past is most rewarding. I’m constantly amazed at how much they were able to accomplish in the face of racism and homophobia, and without the established resources or social acceptance that some of us have today. I see it as a challenge in “The Age of Information and Technology” to rely less on representation or virtual trends and more on what we can tangibly create together. I also feel validated and inspired by the sense of community continued by Black lesbians living in their purpose. Some lesbians (like Bev Ditsie and Audre Lorde) were liaisons, connecting us to each other and to larger society at their own risk; while others were beloved protectors (like Stormé DeLarverie and Ruth Ellis) who not only stood for lesbians but for the entire LGBT community. Their selflessness in creating hotlines, or inviting what would otherwise be complete strangers into their homes, is practically unheard of today! There were archivists and artists: writers, photographers, and playwrights who not only preserved our collective image and voices but painted possibilities for our future…It’s also refreshing to remember Black lesbians on the outskirts of politics and academia—comedians and entertainers like Wanda Sykes, Gladys Bentley, “Moms” Mabley—some of whom had deeply troubled pasts and relationships with their sexuality but turned their pain into communal relief. Of course, many women were activists: some out and proud while others wouldn’t or couldn’t be; some transforming The System and some challenging us to envision something more. The list goes on…I think it’s assuring to realize that every Black lesbian plays a part in our collective history, often in our mere existence.
LH: What obstacles do you find when finding Black lesbian herstory? Are there specific challenges you’ve come across?
TS: A challenge often arises around the word “lesbian” in general. There were some women who never called themselves lesbians or chose not to mention their sexuality publicly, and that’s one thing…but more frustratingly, I’ve read articles reflecting on some of these women where their sexuality seems purposefully left out or reinterpreted for them. Some well-meaning people assert that what we call ourselves shouldn’t matter, and that we “always manage to find each other” regardless. While this may be true, I’ve maintained the label “lesbian” as a requirement for this account because it’s distinct from more obscure (and arguably more controversial) labels like “queer” that lump all women who aren’t straight together. This is usually done in disregard as to whether or not a woman has ever referred to herself that way, and it still leaves one to question if she is a lesbian specifically. Although there is some overlap, being a lesbian is a unique experience compared to being a woman of any other sexuality; and while some women in the past took pride in coming out as lesbian, others (like Lorraine Hansberry or Ernestine Eckstein) were suppressed from openly calling themselves one. I don’t think it does them any favors to continue this suppression in the name of politic or convenience; and it certainly doesn’t make archiving them into lesbian history any easier. The second challenge has been finding suitable photos of often lesser-known Black lesbians, which should prompt us (including me, a fairly private person) to record and document our lives as much as possible. And lastly, the biggest obstacle has been my own fluctuating attitude towards existing as a Black lesbian and being involved with today’s “community.” Truthfully, I’ve distanced myself from the Black and LGBT communities at large, for multiple reasons. At times, this curation can feel painful or isolating; but what drives me to continue is the feeling that the purpose behind what I’m doing is bigger than my experiences alone. I’ve received a few messages from people thanking me for this kind of representation (thank you everyone!). The account serves as a reminder to myself and to others that Black lesbians have been and always will be important.
LH: Who is your favourite Black lesbian from herstory? Why?
TS: I’m still learning about so many Black lesbians that I try not to play favorites. Still, I would be remiss if I didn’t thank Pippa Fleming for her support in my idea to create this page. I also think Stormé DeLarverie is important to me because her relation to the Stonewall Uprising was the first time I witnessed the way Black lesbians (and lesbians as a whole, but also butch lesbians particularly) were being rewritten or completely erased from recordings of history. This account is one of my more productive responses to that. Lastly, I have a favorite quote by Anita Cornwell (from her book “Black Lesbian in White America”) that I think is worth sharing here: “The thing I find most disturbing regarding womyn in general is the seeming impossibility of their thinking clearly when it comes time to deal with men. Womyn with advanced university degrees often seem utterly unable to dot an i when they are confronted with the realities of man’s barbaric treatment of womyn. To put it bluntly, I find it absolutely terrifying to see just how effective men have been in eradicating womyn’s sense of self, a condition that seems to prevail in at least 90 percent of all womyn all over this male-infected globe.”
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