8 minute read
Community “Representation is powerful but it’s not enough”
Photo by Rudy Loewe Photo by Iesha Palmer Photo by Dille Doodle
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Words by MARTINE AAMODT HESS
Ariana Debose made history at the 2022 Academy Awards, becoming the first openly queer woman of colour to take home an Oscar. In light of this achievement, what better time to reflect on the meaning of representation? FRUITY asked three young and vocal creatives - who find themselves at the intersection of Black and queer - to share their experience and take on representation.
RUDY LOEWE
@rudyloewe They/them. 32. Visual artist, archivist and educator.
Touch on your ‘coming out’.
Why representation? Describe the lack of visibility of Black queer experiences. Which changes do you hope to see in the future?
“In the media ‘coming out’ is often spoken about in a linear way. But this hasn’t been my experience as a Black queer trans person. I’m constantly negotiating coming out depending on where I am or who I’m with. I am very open about my gender and sexuality generally. But there are still lots of ways that this can be disrupted.”
“Representation can be validating and educational - letting people who have never seen themselves reflected know that others like them exist. But representation alone is never enough. Representation is not the end goal, it’s a tool on the way to achieving autonomy and liberation. Representation can be a way to have much needed deeper conversations, highlighting lived experiences and histories that are being actively suppressed. But as a concept just on its own, it makes it possible, for example, for the Conservatives to platform that they are the only political party in England to have had two women Prime Ministers, without having to address the harm caused by those women in power. And equally, having Black queer representation is meaningless if its used to uphold the same systems of power dominating Black queer people’s lives.”
“There are more examples than ever of Black queer characters in mainstream media. Unfortunately, these characters are still used as two-dimensional plot devices that propel other characters’ development. There is a lack of examples of Black queer experience speaking on behalf of itself and I think that the reason is that people in positions of power (editors, directors, funders, etc.) who would need to give up that power to let someone else come in, and they don’t want to do that. Instead, Black queer people are invited in temporarily (if at all), to create something tokenistically.”
“I would like to see more resources and funding being given to Black queer organisers, spaces, cultural producers and activists. Material resources are needed for real change to happen. And this would need to happen without stipulations - no expectations of something owed because of this. In order for real change to happen there needs to be a massive shift in who has power. One of the most important questions over the last decade for my artistic practice has been ‘Who is it for?’ I think of this as a central question for so many things. Who is this visibility for and who does it serve? If Black queer visibility isn’t nourishing the lives of Black queer people, then it isn’t working.”
Rudy centres their art around the lives of Black, queer and trans people.
Photo by Lo River Lööf
COMMUNITY IESHA PALMER
@blvk.velvet They/them. 27. Campaigns Officer at Mermaids.
Touch on your ‘coming out’.
“Coming out isn’t this one event you experience and you’re done, it’s a journey. I continually experience coming out or as Tanya so rightly put it ‘allowing people in’. My first real experience was with myself, after years of denial. I didn’t know what the other side would hold, how people (my family in particular) would respond. What I did know was where I was, wasn’t where I wanted to be. It was difficult. For such a long time I thought embracing who I was meant letting go of all that I knew. In choosing to live my truth there were some things and people I lost, but there’s been so much more that I’ve gained. My family struggled and still does, there are some family members who I’ve chosen not to share with and that doesn’t make me any less proud. I’m learning that being proud doesn’t always equate to being loud, it’s always about being true to the one person who matters most, and that you as the individual.”
“The Black queer experience not being so visible, I don’t think is always a lack, maybe sometimes it’s out of preservation. Visibility without protection or context often just leaves us vulnerable. You think of all the culture vultures - people and brands that have exploited and profited from Black queer culture while those within the community still struggle to be seen and treated as equal. We have seen the fruits of Black queer people over and over again but the lack of acknowledgement or credit is why we aren’t able to recognise it.”
Which changes do you hope to see in the future?
“What needs to happen first and foremost has to begin within the education system. There continues to be an erasure of Black queer experiences. There needs to be a proactive approach to creating that are inclusive based on race, sexuality and gender identity in curriculum, classrooms and education in general. And on a more general level, there needs to be acknowledgement and credit given where due. From music to fashion, to science Black queer people have been trailblazers and credit must be given.”
Iesha works a UK-based charity supporting transgender, non-binary and gender-diverse people.
Photo by Iesha Palmer
Why representation?
“Representation is powerful and it’s crucial but we must acknowledge representation alone is not enough. We live in a society that is diverse in experiences, identity groups and culture. It’s important to amplify different voices and share their stories. Representation ignites the possibility of a thing: it’s possible for a trans woman to be elected, it’s possible for someone who is disabled to be a model. And on a more micro level, it’s possible to experience joy and love, grow old and be happy. Representation is the beginning. It’s the steps taken to challenge culture, fight against discrimination and create opportunities - that’s what really matters. But if the representation doesn’t lead to change, what’s the point?”
DILLIE DOODLE
@candyfae.luv They/them. Fae/faer. 23. Influencer and visual arts freelancer.
Touch on your ‘coming out’.
“I’m a firstborn Congolese-American AFAB raised as a conservative Christian. I’ve always had pressure to be a perfect role model by not dishonouring our family name or deviating from the structures in place. Queerness, let alone transness, are not welcome in either of the cultural or religious spaces I’d grown up in. I came out to my parents about my romantic and sexual orientation in 2017. Things were said to me that I wouldn’t repeat to anyone and they even took the liberty to out me to their friends. I was seen and treated differently for a few years. I regretted coming out until 2020, not-so-surprisingly sometime after I wasn’t being so ostracised. Internal conflict and external judgement go hand-in-hand. Aside from supportive siblings and cousins, none of my other family members knows I’m queer and genderfluid and I have no intention of mentioning it. I don’t regret anything though. The shock of being nothing like they wanted me to be really freed me from the shackles that had been placed around my ankles at birth. I’m free as a dove.”
Why representation?
“Everybody deserves to feel seen and heard, especially those of marginalised groups. We all deserve to see ourselves represented somewhere, be it in movies, TV shows, commercials, or ads in newspapers. It’s important to see BIPOCs as the queer star-crossed lovers as a happy healthy family. The neurodivergent lead in a show that’s not centred around stigma and trauma, as the jetsetter living luxuriously. We deserve to be seen and heard everywhere because we are everywhere. And when we are seen we deserve to be depicted in a non-racist, non-stereotypical way.”
“Eurocentric features being viewed as favourable pushes queer BIPOCs to the back and queer white people to the forefront. When you think of the LGBTQ+ community, one of the first things that come to many people’s minds is a cisgender white man in drag. The more Eurocentric features, the more likely you are to be listened to, placed in the spotlight, and given access to resources - because our society views said criteria as the best model. If you have multiple marginalised intersections at play, you’ll be given less representation and visibility.”
Which changes do you hope to see in the future?
“We have to abolish our current system. You really can’t “reform” a Eurocentric (and therefore racist) and misogynistic system that’s built on gentrification, stolen land, and the centuries of enslavement. You have to acknowledge that the system isn’t working for the people it claims to serve, dismantle it, rectify it - by giving BIPOC’s a platform to be listened to, reparations, wealth redistribution, land back, et cetera. Then work together to create and uphold a system that’s, in essence, almost the complete opposite of its predecessor.”
Dille use social media to document their vibrant style as well as art.
Photo by Dillie Doodle
