As a warrior from a strong civil rights family, this moment feels very different than any previous civil rights movement. Partly because of its racially-diverse coalition of young citizens determined to bring about lasting change in the wake of Ahmad Aubrey, Breanna Taylor, George Floyd and Rayshard Brooks’ brutal deaths.
I’m excited I can now taste and feel the winds of change strongly blowing. Yet daily I’m mindful from the moment I step outside my home, the first thing seen is the color of my skin. Instantly I am judged by the color of my skin and not the content of my character. Doesn’t matter my wealth or education, I constantly experience systemic racism as a Black man in America. It is exhausting.
For far too long survival in “The South” is predicated on downplaying, settling for less or forgiving white folks for their ignorance just to be accepted and heard. Not to intimidate or make white people uncomfortable in my presence, yet in doing so sadly you deprived yourself of the best I have to offer.
As a Black gay man, there’s no real difference. To be Black and gay represents institutional racism at its best, and many of my white friends don’t even realize it. I can’t tell you the number of times, as a young entertainer, I was denied a show cast position because “there are too many Black girls,” or discouraged entrance into a gay bar because of being Black. From online dating sites — “No Blacks” — or being denied use of a credit card as payment for drinks, to being called “uppity ni**er,” I’ve faced such discrimination and racism not in some distant state, but here in my own backyard of Orlando.
Recently I’ve told many of my white friends, it’s time to have that honest one-on-one conversation about race to explain my daily challenges as a Black gay man. If change is to blossom and become infectious, its roots lie in my white friends listening and attempting to understand my truth. Such hard, passionate conversations must be had and aren’t motivated or designed to unload years of anger and oppression, but to give you the opportunity to understand me in a deeper level as a Black man and learn why we so desperately need you to carry the message if there is to be real lasting change.
Make no mistake, personal, social and racial equality must come from the hearts and minds of white people. For too long after police brutality or racial injustices occur, we Black people have marched, protested, burned and even looted amongst ourselves. Then once the dust settles, our quest for justice and equality are again relegated back into the shadows, but I’m hopeful now more than ever that, with the help of white people, real lasting change will come about.
Finally, with Black Lives Matter on the conscience of every American, I pray this movement becomes not a pop culture commercial fad, instead remains true to its core. As a Black man, American, Christian, gay, Army veteran, drag queen and activist, I firmly stand against police brutality, systemic racism and voter suppression, because ALL BLACK LIVES MATTER!!!
Darcel Stevens is the entertainment director for the Parliament House Orlando and has been a Central Florida LGBTQ and Black civil rights activists for decades.
Hear from more Black, LGBTQ voices throughout Central Florida and Tampa Bay in Watermark’s full Black Lives Matter feature.
