Is Hooking Up For Black Queer Men Still Necessary?
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Why are Black queer men still deeply invested in casual sex and hooking up?
Black queer sex may be more accessible, but it doesn't absolve us of hang-ups and preferences resulting in internal conflicts similar to other groups. It can be easier to go for what we desire in sexual situations involving two men, knowing how we are sexually wired. As a Black queer person, I've easily cultivated a consensual and fulfilling sex life. I started dating men at age eighteen and came out of my glass closet a year later.
I fear the years without the right to marry or love publicly and safely have indirectly caused some Black queer men to be blind to the value of commitment. How we navigated sex before the dawn of the internet, in dimly lit public spaces, backrooms, and parks, has permeated queer culture, often at the expense of our physical safety and freedom. This reality, compounded with the HIV epidemic and the loss of thousands of lives, has changed how we view sex. The degrees of compartmentalization we navigate still haunt us to this day.
The years of religious shame and political legislation meant to erase and demonize us openly have led many to believe the goal for human contact is "discreet hookups" instead of an emotional and physical connection that does not return void. Historically, The U.S. government did not federally recognize marriage rights for LGBTQ couples until 2015. Recently, Congress has moved to codify marriage equality after the failure to protect Roe V Wade.
Fast forward to today, with successful antiretroviral therapy, HIV has become a chronic manageable condition for most people living with the virus. PrEP—the preventative HIV drug, the internet, dating apps, and competent healthcare providers has ushered in a new sexual renaissance for Black queer men. Being diagnosed with HIV fifteen years ago presented a world where I feared for my safety and being outed. I always disclosed, even if it led to rejection. Most times, I would have to educate my partners while still trying to get laid, which was sobering but the right thing for me to do. Over the years, most men didn't care about my status, and they were glad I told them, which caused them to do their own inventory. Nowadays, expressing this part of my identity publicly and sexually is safer.
Yet, anonymous hookups remain a risk. Still, people have found new ways to engage by using social media to discuss our sexual desires and lessons learned at length. I hope we can have a more organic and natural dating experience regardless of where we live. I reside in Brooklyn, New York. Meeting men on the street is common. I'd love for men who live outside of the progressive bastion of New York to consistently have the same access and comfortability to approach or be approached by another man openly.
“How we navigated sex before the dawn of the internet, in dimly lit public spaces, backrooms, and parks, has permeated queer culture, often at the expense of our physical safety and freedom.”
Suppose you believe easy access to a plethora of dating options or casual sex fits squarely into your sexual wheelhouse or are symptoms of a more significant problem. In that case, it's hard to deny the apparent disconnect between the lives many Black men claim we want versus what we opt to pursue. I will say that every experience I've had has not been kind. You will encounter men who are so detached mentally that they are only able to engage sexually. The disconnection can be alarming to people who want a deeper connection.
The stunting of our emotional intelligence as Black men who are not afforded the space to grow or fully explore our sexual desires continues to manifest in our interactions with each other in unhealthy ways. Gender boundaries, internalized homophobia, and femme-phobia have aided in our stunting long before we realized the truth about our orientations. One of the goals of adult Black queer men should be to unlearn many of these behaviors.
If you can access therapy, whether or not you have obvious trauma to unpack, you should. It may be why you cannot form deeper connections with men outside of sex. We are in our sexual renaissance but also our infancy. We have slowly earned more acceptance and freedom to love each other openly while trying to establish connections to meet our sexual needs. I don't believe sex will ever not be a major component of our identity. I also think attempting to normalize our identity for the heterosexual gaze will do us more harm than good. It's also imperative that we forge the romantic and sexual relationships that work best for us without being subjected to archaic Judeo-Christian values in modern society.
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I have seen the needle move romantically with the legalization of marriage equality. Many Black queer men are now visualizing their happy endings. It's almost impossible to scroll through any social media newsfeed and not see weddings or Black queer couples displaying their love, regardless of how forced or inauthentic some perceive it. We are evolving, and I love to see it. Hooking up and casual sex is essential to the Black queer experience, and it isn't going anywhere soon. But understand that while you can navigate your love life how you see fit, communicating the truth about who you are and your intentions should be a low bar everyone can meet.
Our life choices are never going to be perfect. We are in our infancy, still learning and unlearning what works for each of us regarding sex and love. The palpable fear and shame people have associated with our identities have caused us not to live the best version of our lives, but rest assured, the world is changing. In the interim, I suggest therapy to clear your mind and heart. Find ways to explore your sexuality safely and focus on the things you love. Because when love shows up, and it will, you want to have the emotional tools to rewrite the narrative.
Henry Philyaw is a freelance writer from the Washington, D.C., Metro area. His work focuses on sex positivity and education, particularly around LGBTQIA issues. He is a frequent contributor to the HIV web platform The Body. He is also a sex-positive public speaker and co-host of the KRKARADIO podcast. He currently resides in Brooklyn, N.Y.