Okay, so hear me out.

When you’re called to be a [badd b*tch], you have no choice but to answer.

I knew from the moment when I was in the living room of my childhood home having a dance battle with the rest of my cousins, that I was destined to live a different life.

There I was, the only little boy against my fellow Black girls, bounce and breaking my back.

Pop, lock, and dropping the little booty that I thought I had. Having the crowd hype me up while I allowed the rhythm of the music to flow through every part of my body.

Sweat dripping. Out of breath.

With a smirk that read “Don’t try me”.

You can’t tell me now, and you couldn’t tell me then that I wasn’t a badd b*tch.

For those that don’t know what that term means, just take a moment to imagine. Think about the feeling that comes over you when that perfect outfit looks amazing both in your head and on your body. Or about how you feel when you’re in the shower nailing the lip sync battle that you’re having with yourself.

It’s a feeling that doesn’t just exude the confidence inside of you.

It inspires others around you as well.

At that moment, it wasn’t about me loving to dance, about the music being good, or even about fitting in the crowd. It was about me feeling something deeper inside of myself that was trying to escape. It was about me finding my own rhythm in life and making my beat look good. It was about seeing this version of myself and choosing to love every part of it.

It was the complete experience of the music unlocking a different part of my complex identity.

My Queerness.

In an article written for Mother Jones, Sam Van Pykeren chats with Queer millennials as they reminisce on the soundtracks of their coming-out experiences. Some of them mention songs such as “Teenage Dream,” by the Glee cast, “Freedom,” by Beyoncé, and “Bad Romance,” by Lady Gaga. This was because of the reassurance that the music provided them with. It allowed them to feel more connected to themselves.

To connect with the truth in their complex identity.

Their Queerness.

For me, I didn’t have just a song. I had an artist. Someone who made music so good I didn’t care what I’ve never gone through, I felt every word that they said. Someone whose voice I could not get tired of hearing no matter how long their runs were. Someone who took your mind and imagination into a different world with the story of their lyrics. Someone that gave us the visuals EVERY TIME. Someone that has been climbing the charts as one of the greatest artists and performers of all time.

It was because of the confidence that exudes from her dedicated work ethic.

It was the badd b*tch energy that she gives off that has helped me connect to mine.

It was Beyoncé that became the soundtrack to my coming-out experience.

Beyoncé — Formation (Superbowl 2016)

I won’t say too much about the Queen because her reputation speaks for itself. However, I will say that the love that she expresses amongst her fans, around the world, and through her music is one of the many reasons why the #BeyHive has such a large queer following. Her influence has been a staple within our community since my girl was rocking with Kelly and Michelle (and LeToya and LaTavia if you count them too).

Queer folks deserve music that does just that.

Make us feel good.

Not stuff that degrades our community with nudges towards harmful actions and hate speech.

This is why seeing more Black, Queer artists like Kehlani and Kevin Abstract emerge has been monumental for our history. We are finally getting the representation that is deserved. We are finally able to see people from our community win in public spaces where they have traditionally been denied access. We are finally able to enjoy music and not have to worry (as much) about if the person has degraded us or the people that we love.

If you want to explore more Black, Queer artists, check out a current playlist here.

via Spotify

For many people, the art of music and dance is a way for them to express themselves. It becomes a way for them to not only feel alive but a way to survive. It is a way for people to take what they are feeling on the inside and cultivate it into creative outlets.

Artists turn lyrics into stories.

Dances into emotions.

And Rhythms into heartbeats.

Growing up in Chicago, this was embedded into the culture. Queer or not, the concept of music and dance as an outlet has always been prevalent throughout the city. This was especially true through events such as the Bud Billiken Parade — the nation’s largest African American parade — which is held annually. It was because of moments like this that fueled me with energy during those dance battles as a child.

2019 Bud Billiken Parade | Chicago, IL

Although Chicagoans love picking their perfect spot to sit at with their fancy lawn chairs and enjoy running up the street cheering on the dance teams, it’s important to know the history around it. Even in a space dedicated to celebrating our blackness, not everyone was always welcomed.

In 1993, a gay organization applied to march in the 64th annual Bud Billiken Parade and was denied. You can only imagine the uproar that this caused in such a large city. It was moments in history like this that led us to question our worth in society. Is our visibility so threatening that our lives do not deserve to be celebrated as well? We are just as important to the Black family as cis-hetero folks are. Luckily, the pressure was put on them and 35 people marched with the group Proud Lesbians and Gays the following year.

We have to keep applying this same pressure.

Black, Queer folks should not feel that they have to fit into a certain crowd, nor minimize their experiences to be accepted. They should be encouraged to find their own beat in life. To connect with a more innate version of themselves and to love every part of it.

To my Black, Queer folks: find the soundtrack to your coming-out experience.

Regardless if it’s music or something different, find out what makes you feel like a badd b*tch and live it! Live in it. Live through it. Live with it. Live for it.

You deserve to live.

The moments when you feel confident and the spaces where you’re celebrated matter.

#YourStoryMatters