~H1~

I am an avid fan of the ABC hit series How to Get Away with Murder. I watch every single episode when it airs on Thursday nights, live tweeting and texting my friends so fast that sometimes I miss what happens on screen. I haven’t always been a fan, but this season I began watching the show for one simple reason. On Twitter, during this season’s premiere, I saw someone tweet that Annalise had a female former lover, Eve. I was immediately intrigued. Annalise? Queer?? I decided to start watching just so I could see their relationship unfold.

At the time that the second season of How to Get Away with Murder premiered it had been about three months since I came out. I was still in the process of becoming more comfortable with my sexuality and I hadn’t really found a physical community of Black queer women with whom I could fellowship. I longed for some sense of affirmation. Since I wasn’t in connection with Black queer women where I lived, I began a process of seeking out positive and nuanced representations of Black queer women in the media. I wanted to know that I wasn’t alone.

Finding a Black queer female character on prime time TV was rare, so I went to YouTube instead. I started watching vlogs of Black lesbian couples to see a glimpse of what their lives are like. When I was a kid I had dreams of having a successful career, marriage, and kids. I had trouble figuring out how that would change for me once I came out and decided to live openly as a lesbian. Through those vlogs, I realized that things didn’t have to be different at all. I didn’t have to change my dreams, all I had to do was be myself. That was a vital lesson for me to learn.

I started to seek the stories of Black queer women in written form as well. Reading articles about the perspectives of lesbian and bisexual Black women and their life experiences, commenting on those posts along with other readers, and being apart of tweet-ups on Black LGBTQ issues made me feel apart of a larger community. I saw the similarities that we as Black queer people share but also how we are not monolithic; we are just as vast and diverse as any other population. By reading the stories of others I gained a greater understanding and appreciation for my own identity.

Even though I wasn’t in a relationship, I tried to immerse myself in Black queer culture as much as I could. I stumbled upon several Black women who sing about their love for other women in their songs. The Internet’s latest album “Ego Death” became one of my favorites to listen to because I enjoyed hearing Syd sing about her dating and love experiences with other women. Kelela’s song “Cut 4 Me” took on a special meaning for me because it was both refreshing and exciting to hear a sexy, candid song about totally consuming desire for another woman. Recently a friend introduced me to Tiffany Gouche’s music, and the way that she sings about loving other women so easily and unapologetically has reminded me that, as the common LGBTQ mantra says, love is love.

Finding community, support, and affirmation is essential after coming out. As a Black queer woman I craved images of people like me, and I am thankful that I have found them in easily accessible avenues. I hope that there will continue to be more Annalises, Syds, and vlogging couples in the media that live proudly and openly as LGBTQ, so that anyone who needs to remind themselves that they are not alone will be able to do so just by turning on the TV, putting in headphones, or opening their laptops.