Ericka Hart

“Do I like girls? Do I want to have sex with them?” Ericka thought. “Lesbian didn’t quite fit. ‘I’m bisexual,’ I said. ‘Or am I pansexual?’ There were too many labels, so I decided to stick with queer,” Ericka determined. Ericka had always been very flirtatious and vocal when it came to matters of sexuality. While attending prep school in Puerto Rico, Ericka exclaimed, “We need to talk about sex and pregnancy.” Later on, Ericka attended UMiami

Florida, a predominantly white institution, where she was able to explore her own sexual identity, especially in regards to women. Previously, Ericka had only dated cis men. She had met her first boyfriend in an AOL chatroom using ASL in Baltimore. Unlike today, they were not many “coming out” stories. Ellen was the most wellknown, but younger, queer people of color were not visible in mainstream media. Many people were “out” but

still in secret in college. Social media did not really exist yet except for Facebook, which was majorly used by college students. On Facebook, the option was given to define who you were interested in, and that’s when it all started. Now you see it! Throughout Ericka’s life, they have had the opportunity to experience a personal awakening, in which they have explored their blackness, sexuality, and gender identity.

Living in the suburbs was something new for both of Ericka’s

parents. Both had lived in the city of Baltimore before moving to a predominantly white neighborhood. Working three jobs between the two of them, their choice was rooted in escaping the inner city, which aligned with anti-black and classist viewpoints. Along with her younger brother, there were few black people in total. Ericka soon realized that others were confused by her blackness but did not quite understand why. They would ask questions about her hair, skin, and appearance. With all the con-

sistent questioning, Ericka began to doubt herself. “Perhaps something is wrong with me,” she thought.

At home, conversations surrounding blackness were present. Her father was always talking about civil right figures like Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. He very much believed in supporting kunte cloth, afros, and black culture. Ericka still remembers the time when her father told her that the barbie doll’s hair was made with “white people hair.” It had caught her off guard and made her upset. At the time, she had not realized that she had misplaced her anger onto her father instead of Mattel for their lack of diversity, but his comment had made her feel that the barbie was not meant for her. When it came to Ericka’s hair, her parents fought. Placing the hot comb on the stove, Ericka’s mom would press her hair in the mornings, which her dad would argue against. However, Ericka would best describe her father as a pro-black assimilationist in contrast to her mother who was like “fuck white people.” With her mom, Ericka talked about her body. She’d say, “I’m fat.” And her mom would retort, “Well, you’re never gonna be skinny.” At age 13, Ericka lost her mother to breast cancer. Diagnosed in her early 30’s, Ericka’s mom had still continued to work full-time. Before passing, Ericka’s mom taught her breast self-exams. Losing her mother to breast cancer was the hardest experience of her life.

Ericka’s father had soon decided

to relocate the family to Puerto Rico. Having the opportunity to attend an English-speaking prep school, Ericka found herself in a similar space regarding her blackness. At her prep school, students removed their involvement from public schools, which darker-skinned Puerto Ricans attended. Puerto Rican rock replaced Reggaeton, bachata, and salsa, further reaffirming anti-black pursuits. Questioning her desirability and placed in similar questioning, Ericka, again, found herself in self-doubt.

Moving from one predominantly white space to another, after graduating college, Ericka had decided to join the Peace Corps as an HIV/AIDS volunteer in Ethiopia. Ericka took the opportunity to go back to her roots in hopes of finding their blackness but ended up discovering their queerness instead. “You have to pick and choose what you celebrate and explore,” Ericka said. While working in sex education, Ericka had fallen in love with a white person on the continent of Africa. Ericka laughs. “I’m not African. To my core, I’m black.” Living in Ethiopia, Ericka did not fully understand the culture but saw similarities. Walking down the street, you always greeted people. The connection to music, rhythm, and beats were oblivious.

“I was never questioned about my blackness. When I talked, people would then ask, where I’m from. I’d respond, ‘America.’ And they would ask, ‘But where are you really from’, and I couldn’t answer,” Ericka

described. In Ethiopia, racism did not exist like it did in America. It took the form of colorism and sexism. With their partner, Ericka never spoke about racism. When the two returned to the U.S., it became very challenging. Ericka felt that they had cast aside their blackness for their partner. It had taken more than five years and walking down the aisle to realize that they were seeking validation. Because this person had seen them as beautiful, perhaps it was true. Such thought centered whiteness and was not what Ericka had wanted.

At age 28, Ericka Hart had been diagnosed with bilateral breast cancer in May 2014. One breast was HER2-positive Stage 0 while the other was triple-negative Stage 2. By doctor’s recommendation, Ericka had gone through a double mastectomy and a year of chemotherapy. During this process, Ericka said, “You sit a lot and then you think. My mind was everywhere. I began to question how I related to the world.” Being in a medical institution, it was clear to her that they did not care about black people, yet these are the same institutions that are supposed to support and cure us.

All of this helped to develop Ericka’s career as a sex educator in New York City along with her Master’s of Education in Human Sexuality from Widener University. Ericka very much enjoys academia and gets excited for calling out racism in such institutions. Curious and always questioning, Ericka asks why has she

taught at only predominantly black schools. “Why in my ten years have I not taught more than ten white students?” Ericka debates that due to the segregation in school systems, because black schools have been scrutinized, the freedom to explore gender and sexuality are not present. “Why don’t we talk about race, desire, and pleasure?” Ericka believes that such will not be afforded unless we stop centering whiteness. While also being a professor at Columbia University at the School for Social Work, Ericka’s pedagogical approach centers those oppressed as a function of getting free from power structures. Her courses, Human Sexuality and Dismantling Gender Binary, centers black sexuality and questions institutions and binaries with “How can we decolonize…?” Social workers are needed due to systems of oppressions, but Ericka challenges her students to think of how might we dismantle such systems.

Aside from academia, Ericka is a model, an influencer, and a human being. Learning and exploration is her form of self-care. She also loves music and singing, which sometimes reminds her of her mother and places her in a vulnerable position. She adores nesting and plants. With generations of mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers with green thumbs, Ericka also enjoys her hands deep in the soil. Her dream is to have a baby in a garden with her partner, Ebony. The two run a podcast, “Hoodrats to Headwraps,”

named by a close friend of theirs. The conversations decolonize and dissect anything mainstream from a queer and trans intersectional perspective. Also, it allows them to archive their thoughts and provide a meaningful resource to others.

As for being in the public gaze, “It’s fucking hard,” Ericka says. People put you in a box. It’s challenging. Ericka says no to a lot of things realizing that people just want to use her and seem radical. Ericka is not sure if they are comfortable with their own erotic expression. They use it as a way to shut down their own thoughts of erotic shame. “When I’m topless and naked, I cannot hide with any of that. I’m connected to something bigger than myself. Bodies get affirmed.” Recently, Ericka walked in NYFW Chromat Fall 2018 show. However, on an everyday basis, Ericka interrupts respectability politics by wearing what she wants as how she dresses should not have an affect on

her credentials and performance.

“Resting. I’m looking forward to resting and taking care of my body,” Ericka responded. Post-treatment effects include fatigue and swelling, and sometimes Ericka does not feel like she is taking care of her body, but with winter coming up, she will finally get a chance to hibernate. Ericka is in the process of putting together a book. For the future, she is excited to see black liberation and the end of racism because the end of racism means the end of many things. And with that hope in mind, she is able to rise every morning.

Ericka is a self-proclaimed kinky, poly, cancer-warrior, activist, sexuality educator, and performer. Ericka is also a nonbinary femme who uses she/they pronouns. If you’d like to know more about Ericka Hart, please follow them on Instagram @ihartericka or visit www.ihartericka.com