Liberation Cannot Be Selective
- Imani Ahiro

- 1 hour ago
- 4 min read
Letting Go and Letting It Out
they threw rocks and i held them
they pierced through my skin
they called the way
i love a sin
someone today
called being gay
'ungodly'
and it stayed with me
longer than i wanted it to
i carried it with me
this pain
that my existence was a sin
it reminded me of a story my grandad had told to me
two guys are walking
on their way home, someone
throws some stones
one guy holds the stones
the other cast them aside
i held the stone
in writing this piece
i hope to release
put down
the stone
that was cast onto me
i will be here, i will be queer
i will be seen, i will be the version of me
that my younger self
needs
when i was younger
i would
search
the internet
for black queer
icons
constanly
googling
Is Queen Latifah gay?
Girls kissing?
How to know if gay?
then frantically searching how
to delete searh history
for me
to say out loud
i am gay
its a mantra
a reminder
permision
to myself
i am gay
i am gay
i am gay
and thats okay
i was born this way
i love women
my soul
fits into theirs
like a glove
i was made
for their mold
i love women
i am gay
and i keep telling myself
thats okay
cast ur judgement throw ur shade
i know
my god
made me this way
i thank her
everyday
mothergod
you are sweet
i see the shape of you
in my dreams
i know
i long to be
wrapped up with thee
mortal
men
dress me in sin
say i dont belong
even though
we have the same skin
blood and bone
they tell me
they are on
the thrown
mother god
they turn
your love
to hate
twist ur words
it begins
to make me irate
mothergod
they call ur name in vain
they use ur
name to spread hate
mothergod
why do they move
this way
There is something deeply contradictory about demanding Black liberation while policing Black identity.
In one breath, we speak of freedom.
In the next, we dictate who qualifies for it.
Homophobia inside the Black community does not exist in isolation. It mirrors the same rigid hierarchies imposed by white supremacy: patriarchy, gender control, religious domination, and the elevation of a singular “acceptable” identity — usually heterosexual, cisgender, male.
White supremacy did not only enslave Black bodies.
It exported moral codes.
It imposed Victorian sexual norms.
It criminalised queerness.
It weaponised religion.
And many of us inherited those frameworks without interrogating them.
We started calling them tradition.
Homophobia within the Black community does not come from African tradition.
It is deeply entangled with colonial Christianity, Victorian morality, and white supremacist gender control.
Before colonisation, many African societies recognised diverse gender roles and same-sex relationships. Queerness is not foreign to Africa. Criminalisation is.
European empires exported anti-sodomy laws across Africa and the Caribbean.
They criminalised intimacy.
They imposed rigid binaries.
They weaponised religion.
And we inherited those frameworks.
Sexual violence and humiliation were used against
Black men,
Black Women,
Black Children,
Under slavery to degrade, emasculated, we were…we are treated as subhuman.
We were cannibalised, we have begun devouring ourselves.
Tearing into each other's skin.
That trauma is real.
I want to make something clear this was not an expression of queer identity.
This was
this is
sexual violence done onto black bodies.
This was
this is
an abuse of power.
They didn't
they don’t
See us as human.
And now we don't see each other as humans.
queerness is not humiliation.
Queerness is not domination.
Queerness is not a colonial punishment.
It is simply existence.
When we call Black queer people “ungodly,” we are not defending tradition.
We are defending colonial theology.
When we cast out Black trans youth, we are not protecting the community.
We are replicating exclusion.
You cannot fight white supremacy while upholding the same structures of patriarchy and moral policing that it created.
Liberation that excludes Black women is incomplete.
Liberation that excludes Black queer people is dishonest.
Liberation that excludes Black trans people is fragile.
If you refuse to see the humanity of every Black body, you are not fighting oppression.
You are fighting for control.
I am Black.
I am gay.
Neither cancels the other.
Neither is unethical.
Neither is colonial.
Both are mine.
And any theology that demands I amputate myself to belong is not liberation
It is spiritual violence.
If your God teaches you to despise your own people, then perhaps it is not God speaking
But your own fear.
True freedom requires all of us.
I used to be silent.
I refuse to be quiet about our liberation.
Because I love my people deeply —
even when they struggle to love all of me.
I will be seen.
I will be heard.
I will speak.
We do not move forward by shrinking.
We do not heal by pretending.
We do not transform anger by swallowing it whole.
Silence has never saved us.
Ignoring ignorance does not dissolve it.
Appeasing bigotry does not educate it.
This is my portion.
This is my piece.
I am angry
And I am free.

i lay the stone
thrown
it was never mine
to hold



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