We Cannot Do This Alone
- 11 hours ago
- 3 min read
An open letter to Black gay and queer men in Sacramento, California
To my brothers in the 916 —
I came to Sacramento carrying the muscle memory of community. Through Icon City, I've helped build spaces where Black gay and queer men could gather, exhale, and recognize themselves in each other — in Palm Springs, in Philadelphia, in Atlanta.
I arrived here expecting to find something already in motion.
What I found was harder to name.
Black gay men are here in Sacramento. I know that. But there is a particular kind of invisibility that comes not from being unseen, but from declining to be seen — by each other. What I will say plainly is this: I have encountered internalized anti-Blackness and internalized anti-queerness living quietly side by side in too many of the men I've met, unexamined, unspoken, shaping the distance between us. That is not a character flaw. It is the residue of a world that has told us, from both sides, that who we are is a problem. We do not have to carry it forward.
Joy As The Goal
"Joy — open, unguarded pride in being Black and gay — is not the reward for doing this work. It is the point."
There is also the reality of who we are across the diaspora. The Black queer community in Sacramento holds multitudes: those whose lineage runs deep through American soil, and those who arrived more recently, carrying other histories, other relationships to Blackness and to queerness. Shared skin tone does not automatically mean shared experience, and pretending otherwise only creates more silence. Real community has to be wide enough to hold that conversation — not erase it.
I'll tell you what brought me to write this now. I was talking with a friend — a good man, a Black gay man here in Sacramento — who was still asking me to explore what's possible. I didn't meet his hope the way it deserved. I gave him my doubts more freely than my vision. I watched his excitement go quiet. That moment has stayed with me. When someone is still willing to believe, the least we owe them is honesty about what we're actually afraid of — not a performance of defeat dressed up as realism.
What I'm afraid of, if I'm honest, is building toward people who don't yet know they want it. But I think the more truthful question is: have Black gay men in Sacramento ever been given a real chance to want it? Has anyone built the room and left the door open long enough to find out?
"I am not asking anyone to lead who isn't ready. I am asking you to consider that your longing is itself a qualification."
Icon City's experience in Black queer community development is available to Sacramento. What we can offer is infrastructure, co-production, and the hard-won knowledge of what it takes to build something that lasts. What this moment needs are two or three people willing to be the daily voice and visible face — the reason someone shows up the second time.
If you are a Black gay or Black queer man in Sacramento who has felt the specific loneliness of this city — who has looked around and done the quiet math and come up short — your wanting is not weakness. It is the beginning. Joy is possible here. Pride in being Black and gay is possible here. Not as something we perform, but as something we build together, deliberately, for each other.
Come find us. Let's see what we can make.
An Example What This Could Look Like
A Queer Music Showcase, A Speed Dating Event (maybe with with Dr. Brinkley), or a Monthly Discussion Group.
Connect with Icon City In Sacramento
To connect, collaborate, or start a conversation about Black queer community in Sacramento — reach out at IconCity.org or find us on Instagram @iconcityorg |
Comments