Preserving History: Photo Exhibit To Display Early 2000s Atlanta Black LGBTQ Activism
 

Anthony Antoine (Center) - Archival image from Anthony Antoine of the Stand Up and Represent March (2001)

Being queer is a significant historical fact and it must be preserved.
— Rev. Duncan E. Teague

Tucked away in several boxes inside a Midtown Atlanta condo are photographs filled with stories of Black queer Atlanta in the early 2000s. It’s a makeshift time capsule of a vibrant, organized, and politically engaged community from an era that continues to hold significance for those who experienced it, but runs the risk of being forgotten by future generations. Long time Atlanta LGBTQ+ activist and recording artist Anthony Antoine is partnering with CNP to ensure the events and images that helped shape the Black LGBTQ+ equality movement in Atlanta are never erased—specifically, Antoine’s 2001 inaugural Stand Up & Represent March, which saw hundreds of Black LGBTQ+ people and their allies march through historically Black neighborhoods in Southwest Atlanta for three years consecutively.

The March, which initially began at the State Capitol and ended at The King Center—and eventually transitioned to Atlanta’s West End—is a move that Antoine says was intentional. 

“We wanted to walk through Black neighborhoods and represent so that we could be seen by our community,” Antoine says. 

In what Antoine says started as a dream, the Stand Up and Represent March eventually morphed into an event attracting over 400 participants. 

Jimmie Scott (Left) and Walter Vinson (Right) - Archival image from Anthony Antoine of the Stand Up and Represent March

“The dream was just us marching down the street—out, proud, we're here, we’re queer, get used to it, motivational kind of thing. But more Black and more about us, and we made it happen,” he says. 

Antoine tells The Reckoning that he shared his dream with fellow Atlanta activists Malik M.L. Williams and the late Jimmie Scott, who would become co-organizers and an integral piece to bringing his dream into fruition. 

“In between the three of us, they were saying, ‘Well, it doesn't have to be a dream. We could make it happen,” he recalls. 

“Between Jimmie Scott, Malik Williams, Nikki Young, Shane Johnson, and Darlene Hudson, they would always ensure so many of the details of our march,” Antoine says. “You want to do a march, you have a dream... but let’s dream with intention and let’s ensure that it's also attached to the politics of the community at the time,” he recalls of the advice he received from co-organizers.

It was an ambitious undertaking that Antoine and fellow activists felt compelled to execute. But would openly LGBTQ+ marchers be welcomed by residents of the historically Black West End neighborhood? 

I knew I would find a community that loved and supported me exactly as I am, and that I would be able to pour in that as well. It had to be Atlanta for me.
— Anthony Antoine

“We knew we’d probably get a couple of stares, but we didn't feel like we would get assaulted. We felt like we would, if anything, just raise an eyebrow and raise awareness of the issues and the reasons why we were marching. I believe if there was any concern, we faced that fear and were met more with people embracing us,” Antoine says. 

“I didn't know that we’d be met with so much of that. And that energized me. We might've had that concern, but there are people in the community ready to embrace us,” he says. 

By 2003, the Stand Up and Represent March had attracted former Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin and the late U.S. Congressman and civil rights activist John Lewis. It also attracted media attention, which provided an opportunity for Antoine’s life as an openly gay Black man, activist, and father to take center stage. 

Anthony Antoine and daughter Vogue - Archival image from Anthony Antoine of the Stand Up and Represent March

‘Daddy, Are You Gay?’ 

Antoine recalls the moment a local television reporter placed a microphone in front of Vogue, his then 11-year-old daughter, to ask her how she felt about having a gay dad as she marched alongside him. 

“She didn't respond disrespectfully, but it was just her matter-of-factness,” he says. “What do you mean? That's my dad, I love him,” Antoine recalls of his daughter’s response. “That came out so clearly and so matter of fact, that I couldn't have been more proud of.”

Antoine tells The Reckoning the pride he experienced in his daughter’s response came on the heels of conversations with his mother and Vogue’s mother about the “appropriate time to tell her,” and after other adults with ill intentions told her first. 

“I wanted it to be a healthy conversation, but she overheard someone talking about me and heard that I was gay,” he says. “She called me while I was at work. I was in California and she asked me, 'Daddy, are you gay?'” 

“And the way it landed, it was like it was a bad thing. I was furious. I'm having these conversations about wanting to share sexuality with her and then she happens to hear it off to the side in this unhealthy way. From that point on, I never waited for anyone else to guide the conversation about how I handle sexuality with Vogue. I knew I had to take a leap and be intentional about communicating and having her actively involved in my life,” he says. 

For Antoine, the honest and loving relationship he’s developed with his daughter is a part of his activism and the Black gay representation that is often invisible or misrepresented in media. 

My activism is simply being willing to be front and center when oftentimes, many of us are not. How do we fault our misrepresentation if we are not willing to represent ourselves?
— Anthony Antoine

“My activism is simply being willing to be front and center when oftentimes, many of us are not,” Antoine says.  

“How do we fault our misrepresentation if we are not willing to represent ourselves? Oftentimes when we see representation in the media, on television, there are people that complain, yet you're not out. You're not out to your mom. You're not out at church. You're not out to your family. So how are you complaining about the representation that is there when you're not even doing the work yourself? And so for me, that's what activism has meant to me—that I have to show up for myself and be that representation and hope that it shines a little light so that those that are coming behind me, see the way to go.”

Unity Fellowship Church of Atlanta - Archival image from Anthony Antoine of the Stand Up and Represent March

Atlanta is a major player in the photographs and events Antoine has experienced over the past 20 years. Besides being the city he calls home, Atlanta is the co-star in the successful run of the Stand Up and Represent March, which officially ended in 2015. For Antoine, no other city comes close. 

“I needed to be in Atlanta because I knew there were many Black gay men I could reach out to, and that could help support me in my journey,” Antoine says. “My first time landing in Atlanta, I was like, this is it. This is home. This is what I need. I knew I would find the Duncan Teague’s, Craig Washington’s, and the Charles Stephens.’ I knew I would find a community that loved and supported me exactly as I am, and that I would be able to pour in that as well. It had to be Atlanta for me.” 

Editor’s Note: Anthony Antoine’s photo collection will be available for viewing on the CNP website and Instagram from October 18th - 22nd, 2021.