I’m Fat. I’m Black. I’m a woman. I’m Pansexual. I love romance novels, baking, and being seen as a human being. I am adventurous and reserved, a performer, a mother, a girlfriend. I am a mix of adjectives that equal Angela. Sadly, it seems my mix of adjectives make up something wrong to many people.
It’s hard being Black in Queer spaces. I’ve been apart of organizations simply because they needed a spot of color to make them look good. Throw in being a woman and being articulate, and I am the triple threat of oppression. “Here she comes to save us from accusations of racism!! She’s a Black Cis-gendered Woman who is queer: we can’t be racist!” No one came right out and said such things, but it became glaringly obvious why I was there when I was never offered or allowed to do real work. I am more selective in which causes I become involved now. If the only value I seem to offer is to make a group look good on paper, I leave as quickly as possible.
Black women are taken less seriously than their counter parts. I’ve shared my stories of objectification, shame, abuse, and have been met with disdain. We are seen as unfeeling paragons of strength and rage. I am not allowed to feel depressed, hurt, scared, or in pain. My stories cannot be real: they go against the stereotype. Studies have even shown most people believe Black women don’t feel pain in the same way as other women or even Black men. We are over dramatic, welfare queen Medea stereotypes who thrive on drama and lies. Common sense should tell people that is not true, but we are talking about people who also think Trump would make a good president.
It’s hard being fat. Some people say I am at this weight because of my own bad choices and lack of motivation. They are partially right; some of my choices have led me to this point. Because of my weight, people assume I am lazy, eat too much, don’t care about myself, and am a burden on society. What they don’t know is my family’s medical history: the predisposition to mental and physical illnesses, the struggle to overcome those issues, and the crushing weight of their judgements. I eat healthy more often than not and take all my medications–some of which make you gain weight–and you have a recipe for disaster.
Want to know what really sucks? Dating. Dating sucks when you are fat, Black, and Pan. All three of those words seem to cause a red flag no matter which community I’m in. Emails calling me a fat Black pig, ewww you’re ugly, Black woman are gross, what does Pan even mean and etc are just the tip of the iceberg. I am currently in an open relationship with a man so add-on some erasure of my identity and every female I’m interested in assumes I’m looking for a threesome. I am not “queer” enough for the LGBT community and seen as a freak by the straight community.
I would love to be able to move through Queer spaces and feel at home; not to have my intent, feelings, experiences, and my right to belong being questioned. To have to say no longer that not only is my sexual orientation valid, but my being with a man does not negate my identity. He does not make me straight or tainted. I will continue to make my presence known. I will not be silenced. I’m a fat, mostly healthy, Black, Pansexual woman. I belong here just as much as anyone else, and no one will ever make me believe otherwise.