His Pen...UNTAMED.

a blog of raw truth, liberating insight and unbridled expression composed by revolutionary, recording artist, and poet, CHRISTIAN AXAVIER LOVEHALL...

[mrchristianaxavier]

Love Ain’t Love If You Gotta Shrink Me to Receive It

Comedian KevOnStage recently went viral for stating that he leads with love when it comes to LGBTQ+ people. A lot of people clapped that up. Said it was kind. Said it was balanced. Said it was what the Church needs.

But I’m sitting with it differently.

Because as a Black Trans man, I know what that kind of “love” feels like in real life. And I’m not confused about it.

If you believe my existence is rooted in sin, then what you’re offering me is not love. It’s tolerance dressed up nice. It’s distance with a smile. It’s “I care about you, but I don’t respect who you are.” And that’s not something I’m interested in receiving.

You don’t get to love me and deny me at the same time.

That’s not love. That’s control.

Let’s be real. A lot of this conversation is rooted in interpretations of the Bible that haven’t always been honest or complete. The word “homosexual” didn’t even show up in the Bible until 1946. That’s not ancient truth - that’s a modern insertion shaped by politics, power, and fear.

And when it comes to being Trans? The Bible doesn’t even speak to gender identity the way we understand it today. Not directly. What it does show us is a God who creates with diversity, not limitation.

We see eunuchs - people who lived outside traditional gender and reproductive roles - not being rejected, but included. Welcomed. Trusted.

We see a Christ who transcends gender expectations, who moves beyond rigid roles, who centers spirit over structure.

So let’s not pretend the Bible is as narrow as people make it.

And let’s definitely not pretend that people have always believed in these rigid binaries.

Before colonization, many African societies recognized that gender wasn’t just one thing. There were people who lived, moved, and existed outside of what we now call “male” and “female.” And they weren’t pushed out - they were often respected.

The Chibados in Angola. The Mudoko Dako in Uganda. These weren’t mistakes. These were people with roles, purpose, and in many cases, spiritual significance.

That history is real. That history matters.

Because what we’re dealing with now - the rigidness, the shame, the policing of identity - that didn’t come from us. That was imposed. And some of us have been protecting it ever since like it’s holy.

It’s not.

So when someone says they “lead with love” but still believes my life is inherently wrong, I’m not moved. I’m not comforted. I’m not grateful.

I’m clear.

I don’t need halfway love. I don’t need conditional care. I don’t need to be someone’s “struggle” while they figure out how to treat me like a full human being.

I need honesty. I need respect. I need people who understand that my existence is not up for debate.

Love should not require me to shrink, explain, or defend my right to be here.

And if your version of love asks me to do that?

You can keep it.

Respectfully.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Remembering What We Were Before the World Told Us Who to Be

There are many reasons why I have always felt like I didn't belong. My upbringing, my spirit, my interests, the way I moved in the world...none of it ever seemed to line up with what people expected from me. I’ve always carried what some would call a young heart and an old soul. That’s still true today.

As I got older, I noticed something missing in a lot of the adults around me. There was a hardness, a kind of emotional numbness. A disconnection from the small, sacred things in life. They had forgotten how to laugh from the gut. They’d stopped letting tears come without shame.

Some might call that the loss of childhood innocence. But that word never fit for me. I’ve never believed innocence was about being pure or perfect. None of us are. What we lose when we grow-up is not innocence. It’s the ability to stay close to the Divine. It’s the loss of our connection to being children of God.

And for me, as a Black Trans man, that disconnection came layered with even more weight.

I didn’t just watch people grow cold. I had to fight to stay soft in a world that told me I shouldn’t exist. I’ve had to reclaim myself in pieces. Had to return to who I’ve always been, not who others decided I should be.

The world tried to tell me that being a man meant being hardened. That manhood was about dominance, suppression, silence. But I knew deep in my spirit that wasn’t the kind of man I came here to be. I didn’t come to perform masculinity. I came to embody wholeness.

As a Trans man, my existence confuses some and threatens others. But to me, it is proof of God's creative brilliance. My identity didn’t pull me away from God. It brought me closer. It reminded me that I, too, am divinely made. That my manhood is not up for debate. That softness and strength can live in the same body.

I still smile at the moon. I still speak to the sun like it knows my name. I still get moved to tears by music, by beauty, by small gestures of care. That’s not weakness. That’s remembrance.

I remember who I was before the world told me I needed fixing. Before it told me I had to choose between being accepted and being free.

Being Trans in this world often means being misunderstood. Being Black and Trans, doubly so. But I carry the wisdom of those who came before me. Our ancestors weren’t limited by the binary or colonial definitions of gender. Many African cultures had language for those who lived outside the lines. Gender expansiveness wasn’t seen as unnatural. It was sacred.

The West may try to erase that truth, but I embody it. I carry it in my walk, in my words, in my spirit.

When I say I’m a child of God, I don’t mean it in a religious sense. I mean I am connected to Source, to the earth, to something ancient and true. I mean I still see wonder in the rain. I still believe in joy without condition. I still think love is our native language and that we only forget it when we start chasing the false gods of this world: power, fame, money, ego.

I see how adults stop protecting one another. How they stop protecting themselves. But I believe we would all move differently if we returned to that childlike place within. Not childish...but child-like. Honest. Soft. Open. Connected.

When people say children don’t see color, they miss the point. Children do see color, but they haven’t yet been taught to fear it or weaponize it. Children of God see each other and reflect love. That’s what we’re meant to do.

I’m still a child of God. Still that child of God who saw the world with wide eyes and felt everything deeply. I didn’t lose that. I chose to protect it. Even when it hurt. Even when the world told me to become numb or toughen up. Even when I wanted to.

If more of us found our way back to softness, to joy, to Spirit, we might remember who we are. And if we remembered, we might finally start to treat each other like we matter. We might honor the God in one another.

I am a Black Trans man, and I still cry. I still pray. I still smile. I still dream. I still believe.

Because I haven’t forgotten what we were before the world told us who to be.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Stop Playing With Our Ancestors’ Names: A Call to Mazzoni and Every Nonprofit That Exploits Black Trans Legacy

Let me be clear from the start: without Charlene Arcila, there would be no Philly Trans Wellness Conference. Charlene was a spiritually centered, powerful, and deeply rooted Black Trans woman, who helped lay the foundation for what would become the largest Trans conference in the country. Her vision was to create a space where all Trans people, especially low-income Black and Brown Trans people, could find information, healing, community, and care.

I knew Charlene personally. She was my friend, my mentor, and one of the most committed people I’ve ever known when it came to making sure Black Trans people had access to what they needed to live and thrive. The Conference as we know it exists because of her fight, her labor, and her love.

And now, Mazzoni, an organization that repeatedly failed to truly honor her while she was alive, is naming their new year-round programming the Charlene Arcila Trans Wellness Collective. Let that sink in. They’re using her name. Again. For programming that, just last year, erased the POC track from the Conference entirely.

Last year’s conference was a slap in the face to many of the Black and Brown Trans people who attended, including myself. It was so white, so uncomfortable, so out of touch that Black Trans advocates like AJ Scruggs and Kim Watson were compelled to pull together a healing space on the fly just so we could talk about how painful it felt to be there. And now, Mazzoni has the audacity to name this new shift after Charlene, a Black Trans woman who fought endlessly for equity and inclusion? That’s not just disrespectful - it’s disgusting.

Here's some truth:

Charlene applied to be the Conference Coordinator - a role she helped shape through years of service. She was passed over.

She led the Planning Committee and the POC Working Group. Her labor, like that of so many Black Trans women, was used but never properly compensated.

Mazzoni did not truly value her while she was alive.

And now? They’re using her name again - without accountability - as a gaslighting tactic seemingly used to distract the community from all that they’ve taken and erased.

Let me be clear again: this is exploitation.

Too many nonprofits use the names, faces, and legacies of Black Trans folks after we’re gone - never centering us while we’re living. They take our brilliance, our words, our sweat and our stories and turn them into branding tools, grant language, campaigns, awards, and PR material.

At the end of the day, this is ancestor abuse.

Charlene deserves better. Her name should not be used by any institution that does not center the real needs of Black Trans people. Her name should never be stamped on programming that is not grounded in the unapologetic Black Trans community she belonged to.

And to every nonprofit who does this - who lifts up our names for clout, for funding, for appearances - know this:

You will not go unchallenged. You will be remembered. And your name will not be held in the same sacred light as those you exploit.

To all institutions - stop playing with our ancestors.

If you truly want to honor Charlene Arcila:

Center Black Trans leadership.

Pay Black Trans people equitably to build and lead programs.

Restore the POC track (and evolve it).

Apologize publicly for how you treated her while she was alive.

Stop using her name unless you’ve earned the right.

This moment calls for truth. For fire. For protection of legacy.

Our ancestors’ names are more than hashtags and headlines. They were people. They were leaders. They were ours.

Rest in power, Charlene. I write this truth because I will not let them rewrite your legacy. Not now. Not ever.

[mrchristianaxavier]

When Representation Isn't Enough: Exposing Anti-Blackness in City Politics

In a city like Philadelphia, where Black folks have been the backbone of resistance, survival, and progress, we know too well that performative allyship is not enough. Representation alone does not equal liberation. Just because someone shows up at a rally, takes pictures with local Queer organizations, or waves a rainbow flag does not mean they stand for justice - especially not for Black people, and certainly not for Black Trans people.

I know this firsthand because I worked for Councilmember Rue Landau as the Director of Constituent Services, and what I experienced in her office made it clear: she is not my Councilmember.

Anti-Blackness Behind Closed Doors

Let’s talk about the truth behind the optics. I was the only Black Trans person in Rue Landau’s office, and despite my previous experience working for former Councilmember Helen Gym, I was the lowest-paid employee in the office. Let that sink in. I had the experience, I had the qualifications, but my Blackness - and more specifically, my Black masculinity - was undervalued from day one. And I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Another Black man in the office experienced the same anti-Black treatment, specifically from the chief of staff, a white man who had clear issues with Black men.

When I raised concerns about this mistreatment with Rue Landau, I was met with excuses and deflection. My lived experience was invalidated. Instead of taking direct action, she claimed that the entire City Council needed training on cultural competency - but conveniently, her office couldn’t afford it. This was not about affordability. This was about refusing to acknowledge the anti-Blackness in her own ranks. This was about refusing to take responsibility.

Exploiting My Trauma for Policy Wins

During my time working for Rue, I was homeless. I shared my experience with her, explaining the systemic barriers within Philadelphia’s housing system - how application fees and credit score preferences fuel gentrification and keep Black people locked out of stable housing. I spoke about these realities from my own trauma, hoping for change.

Now, Rue has proposed a policy to lower application fees, and while on the surface that may seem like progress, I see it for what it is: the exploitation of my trauma for political gain. My lived experience was used to build a policy that she can now take credit for - without ever addressing the systemic harm that led to my homelessness in the first place. She gets to look like a hero, while I was struggling to survive under her leadership.

Diversity Hires Without Equity Are a Scam

Let’s be real - many of us, as Black people, especially Black Trans folks, have been diversity hires in white-led organizations. They love to put us on their websites, in their grant reports, and on their flyers, but they do not love to pay us fairly, respect our expertise, or protect us from anti-Blackness in the workplace. I was hired, but I was not valued. That is not equity. That is exploitation.

When Black people speak on anti-Blackness, we are not asking for a debate. We are not “misinterpreting” reality. The trauma of anti-Blackness lives in our bodies; we feel it on a cellular level. Our ancestors lived through it, our parents lived through it, and we continue to feel it in spaces that claim to be “progressive.” White people, even those who claim to be allies, do not understand this reality because they have never had to. And when confronted with it, too many choose to gaslight, dismiss, or deflect rather than listen, believe, and change.

The Politics of an Office Speak Louder Than Campaign Promises

Representation without accountability is meaningless. The way a leader sets up their office, hires their staff, and handles internal issues is just as political as the policies they push. Rue’s office was not a safe space for Black men. It was not a space where Black Trans people could thrive. And when that truth came to the surface, she chose silence over action.

Giving out a bunch of citations to Black Trans people in recognition of their contributions does not disqualify you from being anti-Black. Politics is very much about optics and performative gestures, and those citations do not erase the harm happening behind closed doors.

I left my position, as did the other Black man in the office, because we refused to endure continued harm. We chose our peace. But choosing peace does not mean choosing silence.

Media Optics vs. Reality

Too often, people are fooled by what they see in the media. They see smiling faces, diverse campaign teams, and well-crafted social media posts and assume that means progress. I am here to tell you that what happens behind closed doors tells a different story. And I am not exposing this out of bitterness - I am exposing it out of love. Love for my people, love for my ancestors, love for my Black Trans siblings, and love for every Black person who has been tokenized, underpaid, disrespected, or pushed out of spaces that claim to be for them.

Anti-Blackness in progressive spaces is still anti-Blackness. No title, no identity, no well-meaning excuse will ever change that. It is time for real accountability. Because if we don’t call it out, who will?

[mrchristianaxavier]

It's my 10 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[mrchristianaxavier]

From Community Building to Community Destroying: The Violence of white Queer Gentrification in Philly

Queer gentrification is a term that emerged in the 21st century to describe the process of white LGBTQ+ individuals displacing Black LGBTQ+ individuals from their neighborhoods. Cities like Philly have been witnessing this phenomenon for years, as white queer individuals have been moving into historically Black communities, such as West Philly, leading to the displacement of long-standing BIack LGBTQ+ residents. While many Black individuals in the LGBTQ+ community have experienced homelessness and discrimination, white queer individuals have often been oblivious to the power they hold in the gentrification process.

White Queer gentrifiers in Philly are at fault for participating in gentrification, rather than advocating and fighting for equity and affordable housing for Black Trans and Queer communities. The same individuals who show up in hoards to marches, rallies and demonstrations to advocate for equity, fairness and safety for LGBTQ+ individuals have become oppressors of Black neighborhoods. They have become active players in the displacement of Black Trans and Queer individuals who have lived in these neighborhoods for generations.

In general, many people who identify as LGBTQ+ face housing discrimination, however, Black Trans and Queer people suffer even more. We experience both housing discrimination and micro-aggressions due to our ethnicity, putting us at a disadvantage in the job market, and ultimately impacting our ability to access affordable housing.

In such a scenario, instead of working for equity and affordable housing, white Queer individuals often become participants in gentrification. White Queer gentrifiers are oppressors because they bring privilege, capital, and cultural dominance to communities where Black Trans and Queer people are already marginalized. White Queer gentrifiers have moved to neighborhoods in Philly that are close to downtown or are well connected to public transportation, where rent is cheap, live in fancy newly-renovated apartments, and frequent high-end shops that are inaccessible to many Black LGBTQ+ individuals. The result is that original residents get pushed out of their homes, and neighborhoods that once thrived with diverse cultures become vanilla neighborhoods catering to the new demographics.

It is easy for such individuals, who are often not affected by racism, colorism and anti-Blackness, to ignore the fact that their relocation gentrifies neighborhoods and ultimately drives up property values, making it unaffordable for Black LGBTQ+ individuals. This is a form of systemic oppression that needs to be acknowledged, denounced and resolved if we are to have equitable and inclusive neighborhoods and communities.

There is an extreme need for white queer individuals to move out of Black neighborhoods and move into neighborhoods that are socio-economically similar to their own backgrounds. As Queer people, they should be advocating for the rights of those most marginalized and minoritized. This means not infiltrating affordable housing and cultural spaces. Getting out of the way is key.

If white queer gentrifiers in Philly want to be true allies or accomplices to Black Trans and Queer residents, they must acknowledge and admit their role in gentrification. They must take action now to create equity and inclusion, rather than perpetuating the same systemic oppression that Black LGBTQ+ people have been fighting against for generations. Doing better is an understatement. 

[mrchristianaxavier]

$10 Ain’t No Reparations

Slavery. Jim Crow. Separate but equal. The Tuskegee Experiment. The Tulsa Massacre. The MOVE bombing. Police brutality. Gentrification...Until we reckon with the moral debts of this country, so-called America will never be whole nor great.

In the age of social media activism, the offering of reparations by self proclaimed white allies and accomplices of various communities, has become a growing trend. From Facebook groups to Instagram pages that promise mutual aid for marginalized individuals, the term Reparations in my opinion has seen a surge in usage amongst allies, online activists and their networks. Oftentimes, these reparations are dispersed to BIPOC, Trans individuals, Women, Undocumented Individuals, People living with disAbilities and last but not least- Sex Workers. Typically these so-called reparations come in the form of Cashapp, PayPal or Venmo deposits of $5, $10 and $20. As a disabled Black Trans man, who has engaged in sex work in order to survive...I’m here to proclaim THAT IS NOT ENOUGH!

Reparations are not simply funds given to a Black person by a white person or to a Trans person by a cisgender person. Reparations are not chump change or small sums of money that one is willing to part with because they just got paid. They are not charitable donations, tax write-offs or hand-out’s. They are not funds provided to pay one’s phone bill or to buy groceries for the day. Reparations are not a pair of free movie tickets or a $25 Gift card to Target. This misconception has caused many white allies and accomplices to feel accountable, vindicated and resolved of the guilt associated with their white privilege and so-called supremacy. But these small deposits are in fact donations and financial assistance, NOT reparations. And to think so, in my opinion, is an insult to my ancestors and their legacies. As a call that originated in 1865, reparations should not solely help someone out during tough times. Reparations are a redistribution of wealth that should impactfully transform a marginalized person’s life for the better.

Reparations are understood as compensation given for abuse or injury. In the context of the US, it usually refers to money given to Black people and communities for hundreds of years of slavery, violence, colonization, exploitation and oppression. Today, the average white family has roughly 10 times the amount of wealth as the average Black family. White college graduates have over seven times more wealth than Black college graduates. Money cannot un-do or re-do history but it can close some economic gaps and redistribute wealth in a country where many of those who profit off the land and capital are not the ones who originally inhabited it, cared for it and built it. And in order to close economic gaps, marginalized individuals need way more than a couple dollars, in order for their lives to be drastically transformed while surviving and living in a white supremacist society. The key word many so-called allies and accomplices are forgetting is “wealth.”

Reparations can take numerous forms, including: money, scholarships, waiving of fees, systemic initiatives to offset injustices, and land-based compensation. Additionally, reparations should come in the form of wealth-building opportunities that address disparities in education, housing, and business ownership. But reparations should also require sacrifice and loss from those who have benefitted from the oppression of others. Reparations should not be viewed as the gifting of what is easily give-able. Reparations should be a valuable lesson, painfully felt in the gut, for all oppressors, colonizers and abusers- past, present and future. Reparations should also increase equity and close wealth divides for those who have historically been denied access to the so-called American Dream.

When considering the giving of reparations so-called allies and accomplices, should think big and long-term, rather than small and short term. Ask yourself…Are you contributing to gentrification? What are some areas in which you can redirect your purchase-power to Black businesses? Black Trans businesses? What are the ways that you can hold the institutions you are a part of – schools, faith organizations, workplaces, non-profits – accountable in making reparations in land, payment and access?

For me personally, reparations would come in the form of Black Trans people in positions of power, the decriminalization of sex work, the abolishment of the police, the dismantling of the prison and non-profit industrial complexes, a million dollars, affirming health care, credit renewal, plane tickets for year-round travel with all accommodations covered, land, student loan forgiveness, several cars. and huge monetary investments into my entrepreneurship. This is not to say that I am not thankful for all donations and mutual aid, especially when I’m really in a bind because things are never easy when you’re Black and Trans, but these are the types of reparations that would drastically change my life, and others like me, for the better. I also want to make it clear to those who are privileged enough to be able to donate...small donations are not reparations.

In many instances, justice will never be fully granted to BIPOC communities who have been harmed, as long as we ignore the very foundations of which this country was colonized, pillaged and falsely founded. There are lives, memories and histories that cannot be restored or rewritten. But in the pursuit of justice, we must include accountability, reparations and systemic change. Reparations are one way to acknowledge the true face, histories and sins of this country, and take actions that make real, transformative, life-changing amends to those who have suffered in lineage, legacy and in life. Reparations must indeed be the foundation if Liberation is in fact the plan.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Without Sex Work, Philly Trans March Would NOT Exist

Dr. Maya Angelou, hailed as a national best-selling author, a genius, a visionary, a god, Our Mother, Our Ancestor…was also a sex worker. But her sex work is not mentioned as much as her known accomplishments, although she speaks of her experiences as a sex worker unapologetically, in her book entitled, “Gather Together in My Name”. Marsha P. Johnson, a known Trans rights activist, used income from her sex work, to create housing for Queer and Trans youth in NY. The sex work of Revolutionary Malcolm X is also described in Manning Marable’s, "Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention." Oftentimes, the words sex worker and role model are not used in the same sentence. But history has proven that sex workers have contributed to society in many ways, that are often invalidated and diminished under the politics of so-called respectability.

On October 10, 2010, a beloved Black trans woman from Philadelphia, named Stacey Lee Blahnik was brutally murdered in her South Philly home. She was a Legend of the Ballroom scene and was the Mother of the House of Blahnik. I did not personally know Stacey, but she had deeply touched the lives of many of my friends, who grieved their lost heavily. In support of my friends and fellow community, I attended Stacey’s funeral. It was the first funeral I attended for a Black Trans person. And it transformed the way I viewed Black Trans Lives and the movement towards liberation forever. I was deeply affected. As an empath, I felt every tear fall, every scream yelled, and every heart broken. Although overwhelmed with emotion, that day I came to understand that these were war times. That the lives of Black Trans ppl, especially Black Trans women, did not matter to most. With the life expectancy of Black Trans women at 35 years of age, as a Black Trans man, and as a king conscious of his own inner divinity…I knew I had to stand up and do something for my people. This was apart of my purpose.

In 2011, I founded and organized the Philly Trans March, as a response to Stacey’s Blahnik’s murder and the lack of action and response from local police, detectives, and government officials. The Philly Trans March is an annual protest and rebellion against the hate, injustice and inequity faced daily by Trans individuals, with a focus on the experiences of Black and Brown Trans adults, elders, and youth. That year 350 people marched in the streets of downtown Philadelphia, in support of Trans Liberation. It was a monumental and historical demonstration that continues to this day. In 2019 before the pandemic, 750 ppl joined the Philly Trans March and marched in the hoods of West Philly. It was the biggest and most impactful one yet.

Despite having a planning committee, the first Philly Trans March was not easy to organize. Funds were needed for this grand idea of mine to come to fruition. Initially, I planned every fundraiser under the sun that I could think of. From Trans fashion shows, to selling tee shirts, to movie nights, to talent showcases, to art exhibits, to bake sales…there was even a Pancakes for Supper event with a Live DJ! But despite my creativity, self-determination, and excitement, most of these fundraisers had low attendance and participation. As founder, I felt that I needed to do something to secure the funds needed for this particularly important March.

The same year that the Philly Trans March was founded, I began engaging in sex work to survive. There is a misconception that Black Trans men, automatically benefit from male privilege, once we medically transition, and that our lives become void of struggle, violence, and oppression. Although some privilege is seemingly gained, Black Trans men, like Black cis men, are ultimately feared, criminalized, targeted disproportionately by law enforcement, and discriminated against. We are seen as walking threats to literally everyone, even other Black men…and literally overnight. And as a Black Trans man, without a legal name and gender change at the time, finding safe and secure employment was extremely difficult. So, I began putting my earnings from sex work towards the funds needed to make the Philly Trans March a success. And for the first 3 years, the Philly Trans March was mostly funded through sex work. No one knew of my efforts, but without sex work, the Philly Trans March would not have existed. Since then, the Philly Trans March has gone on to inspire other powerful marches in places like New Orleans, Atlanta, and other major cities in the south. In Philly, the Trans March has prompted local government officials to create new laws and make policy changes, to create a safer Philadelphia for all individuals.

When people are allowed to work as they choose and make a livable wage, great things can manifest. And that includes sex work because sex work is real and legitimate work. Sex workers are not deviants or criminals. Sex workers are some of the hardest workers alive. Sex workers are visionaries, lovers, poets, artists, advocates, parents, counselors, and agents of change. Just like Maya Angelou. Just like Marsha P. Johnson. Just like me, Christian Lovehall.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Reflections on Anti-Blackness as a Black Trans Artist & Entrepreneur

Last year, I decided to define liberation for myself, as a Black Trans individual living in a white supremacist society. I was tired of being in survival mode and being poor. I was tired of being exploited and tokenized by non-profits that employed me. I was tired of working at non-affirming organizations and companies. I was tired of dealing with anti-Black supervisors and managers. I was tired of being close to death. As a Solutionary, I committed myself to diving deeply into my artistry and entrepreneurship, for these were in fact ways in which a Black Trans individual like myself, could gain financial security and freedom…creating more opportunity for myself, my loved ones, as well as my community.

FrootFly LLC was founded by myself and my partner, who is also a Black Trans woman, to create a Fresh Fruit Distribution Resource for BlPOC, Individuals with Health Immune Deficiencies, Youth & Elders and Everyone open to embracing and honoring the natural goodness the Earth provides. We chose to sell high-quality tropical fruit, not normally found in the convenient and grocery stores that are accessible to marginalized individuals, such as Soursop, Jackfruit, Mamey, Sapodilla, Cacao, Nam Wah Bananas, Yellow & Red Dragon Fruit, Passion Fruit and more. Growing up and living in the hood, my partner and I understood the frustration of not having access to healthy quality fruits and vegetables and wanted to increase access to those who need it most, especially during COVID-19. In addition, we wanted to help build our ancestral and cultural connections through the variety of items we offer.  With our Fruit Share Program, FrootFly also aims to provide marginalized individuals with Organic Tropical Fruit boxes, monthly.

In addition to creating a small business with my partner, I also released a children’s book, entitled, My Name is Troy. My Name is Troy is a book specifically for young Black Trans boys, about a Black Trans boy named Troy, who is loved, protected, and affirmed by his family. The children’s book was an envisioning of the love I never received from my family, while growing up and a gift to young Black Trans boys who may grow up thinking they are alone or who are told that they are wrong about who they know themselves to be.

With efforts rooted in health, wellness, equity, and overall liberation, many would assume community to be supportive. But unfortunately, within this beautiful journey of reclaiming our time in a world where many are rooting for the demise an overall genocide of Black Trans people, I (as well as my partner) have experienced much anti-Blackness from many who claim to stand in solidarity with Black Trans Lives and Black owned businesses.  

Here are just a few DONT’s when supporting Black Trans Artists and Entrepreneurs:

Being Blocked from posting in Facebook Groups

When my partner and I launched FrootFly, the first places we went to promote our new business were social media platforms, such as Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. Social media allows artists and entrepreneurs to meet and engage with potential customers where they are at.

Paid Facebook advertisements are good for creatives and businesses because they allow you to target a specific audience. Facebook claims that they are 89% accurate when it comes to targeted campaigns. However, as Black Trans individuals in survival mode, securing funds to consistently pay for Facebook ads proved to be difficult. Therefore, much of our Fb promotion occurred via our personal pages, our business page and by posting in various community-based groups. 

After a few weeks of posting, I noticed that many of my posts in certain Trans and LGBTQIA+ groups were being reported and marked as spam, not by Facebook but by so-called community members and group admins, themselves. The same people known to hashtag #BlackTransLivesMatter and show up to community rallies, vigils, and marches with a quickness, were also quick to further oppress and marginalize the very people they claim to stand in solidarity with, on social media. Stopping me from posting in groups, stopped potential income from getting to 2 Black Trans individuals striving to live full lives, and not solely survive. 

It was especially disheartening for me personally to experience because as a Trans advocate and freedom fighter who has positioned himself on the frontlines many many times, I knew if I were an admin of a LGBTQIA+, Trans or Queer Facebook group, I personally would let Black Trans artists and entrepreneurs post their items for sale freely (regardless of the purpose of the group) because I’m conscious and aware of the experiences of Black Trans individuals and understand the necessity and importance of closing economic gaps and increasing equity for those most marginalized.

 White Cis-centric Expectations for Operations

Good customer service means meeting customers' expectations. And meeting customers' expectations pays off for all businesses. Customer support is more than just providing answers; it’s an important part of the promise a brand makes to its customers. 

Most large companies and corporations have customer service departments to handle inquiries and complaints. They have shipping departments that track packages, manufacturers to produce items at rapid rates and in bulk quantities, and huge warehouses to hold these items. However, when you’re a small business, oftentimes it’s the owners who have to make sacrifices unknown and wear multiple hats, especially when first launching a brand. But things can become even more difficult and stressful when you’re a small business owner who is also a part of several marginalized communities.

When shipping items from FrootFly, as well as copies of My Name is Troy, many customers, and so-called supporters, after only a few days, sent emails asking where their items were. Initially, in the name of good customer service, we would respond with our processing time, tracking info and shipping process, but after a while I soon noticed that many of these inquiries were accusatory and filled with anxiety rooted in Anti-Blackness.

It is a fact that Black businesses struggle in ways that white owned businesses do not. One of the reasons that Black businesses struggle to succeed is due to a general distrust of Black people. In general, society views Black people as “unprofessional”. From the way we wear our hair to our diction and ability to code switch, Black people in business realms are constantly policed and expected to fit tightly and neatly in line with corporate norms established by white elites.

Most people who reached out to us did so because they did not trust us as Black people, who owned a business. They did not trust me, as a Black person, who was an author of a children’s book. They assumed that they were getting swindled for their money, scammed, and robbed…because in their eyes, that is what Black people do. It was evident in their typed microaggressions, the way things were phrased and phony excuses. Studies have shown that people of all ethnicities and backgrounds have stated that they rather do business with a white owned company than a Black owned company. If it is hard for Black cisgender-owned businesses…imagine the experiences of a Black Trans owned business.

Understanding the experiences of Black Trans individuals and supporting Black Trans businesses go hand-in-hand. Instead of getting angry and impatient with Black Trans business owners, when products are seemingly delayed, email response time is not immediate, or when operations seemingly do not imitate that of a large corporation…in my opinion, a person who truly stands in solidarity would consider what that person is also experiencing daily. Has that Black Trans individual eaten today? Has that Black Trans individual experienced violence today? Do they have consistent access to Wi-Fi?

Most Black Trans owned business will look a bit different than cisgender owned businesses in terms of operations, due to an extreme difference in access and lack of equity. For many Black Trans individuals, each day is literally a fight to survive…and as entrepreneurs, this is what my partner and I are committed to overcome.

 Reported PayPal Disputes 

When I wrote My Name is Troy, I did so out of love for self and Black Trans youth, specifically Black Trans boys. I did not write the book to make a profit, but to leave something behind in the name of legacy that was beautifully made for Black Trans youth for generations to come. I priced the book at a rate that I felt was accessible specifically for Black families of all incomes, but also leaving me with little profit. For me, the book was bigger than profit. Ultimately it was a gift for young Black Trans boys…a reminder that they matter, while living in a world that seemingly forgets that they even exist.

Upon releasing the book, many people who purchased the book were white and/or cisgender members of the LGBTQIA+ community. Hundreds of orders poured in unexpectedly within the first 2 weeks of accepting pre-orders. The book had done better than I expected in terms of units sold but wasn’t reaching the demographic I had hoped...young Black Trans boys.

I knew that shipping so many books would take me some time. For one, each set of books I ordered from the printer took 2 or more weeks to get to me, due to COVID-19 related shipping delays. There were further delays once I shipped the books to those who purchased them. The profit left over from each book sold only covered shipping fees but did not cover my travel to and from the post office nor the shipping materials used to mail the books. But I committed myself to getting a book to each person who placed an order, no matter how long it would take me. And why wouldn’t I?

After two weeks of releasing my book, more emails began pouring in about the whereabouts of their items. Apparently, I was not moving fast enough. But what people were not being truthful about was that to them I was not moving at a pace that they were used to…a pace that is easily kept by the white owned companies and corporations they usually support.

When I responded to some of the email inquiries, some people encouraged me to be transparent with my customers to make it easier on both myself and patrons. But explaining to hundreds of so-called community members that Black Trans individuals have it harder than most and that their bias is causing their anxiety became exhausting. Many people became combative, but a few actually did admit to their anti-Blackness, claiming they would do better. I knew the anti-Blackness I experienced was real, despite most people’s denial, projection, and dismissiveness.

Several customers even went to the extent of reporting my PayPal account, claiming they never received an item…a claim rooted in Anti-Blackness, impatience, and the expectation for Black Trans entrepreneurs to deliver things at the same rate as white owned corporations. Most of the disputes ruled in my favor, as I explained to PayPal that there were shipping delays. But some did not, causing my account to go into the negative several times, with security measures added that made receiving and transferring funds extremely difficult. With each negative transaction, PayPal also threatened to send a report of owed funds from refunds sent to collections, negatively affecting my credit. This frustrated me for many reasons, but mostly because I stressed myself out trying to get out as many books as I could as often as I could, despite my lack of income and resources.

Is this how community stands in solidarity with Black Trans entrepreneurs? The distrust and bias from so-called allies and accomplices in my opinion, is ultimately violence. Where were the emails from community members asking me if there was anything anyone could do to help me ship things faster? This is what happens when so-called community is not intentionally mindful of the experiences of those most marginalized and when support is performative rather than an investment in Black Trans communities.

When you’re buying something from a Black Trans artist or entrepreneur, you’re not just purchasing a product. You’re helping a Black Trans person eat that day. You’re helping to provide a Black Trans person with another day of shelter. You’re helping a Black Trans person purchase their meds and pay bills. You’re literally helping a Black Trans person to live.

Do better.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Transphobia: Hate NOT Fear

As creator of The Free Ky Project, I always get excited when I see photo awareness campaigns, because I know of the impact they can have. Lately I've been seeing ppl participating in one where they are holding signs that read "Transphobia is a Sin"....but imo there's no such thing as Transphobia.

Ppl hate Trans ppl. And misogny is a beast that's kept well fed by both cis men and cis women, of all ethnicities and nationalities. But there's no real transphobia imo.

When I was child, my mom used to lock me in our basement as punishment for when my mouth was "too smart" and when I "talked back." While in our dark, cold basement, mice would often bite my feet, ankles and legs. Because of this I have a phobia of rodents in homes. I've had extreme panic attacks when I see even the smallest mouse indoors. It's embarrassing. It has been debilitating at times. But I know it's because of the trauma I experienced as a youth.

Phobias are anxiety disorders. Many people with phobias realize their fear is extreme and/or irrational. Black Cis men who murder Black Trans women believe they are being VERY rational in their actions. This is not a phobia.

Phobias cause sweating, trembling, hot flushes or chills, shortness of breath, difficulty breathing, a choking sensation, rapid heartbeat and pain or tightness in the chest. Phobias are life-altering. Professionals advise ppl to seek the help of a doctor if a person has a fear that prevents one from leading their fullest life. No one is going to a doctor or is being prescribed meds for "Transphobia" because it's not a phobia.

There's Claustrophobia, Arachnophobia, Acrophobia, Hemophobia, Agoraphobia and many others...but Transphobia is a "community approved buzz word" that imo extremely mutes the reality of what's really going on...Trans ppl, especially Black Trans women, getting murdered.

And imo, community must be careful. Phobias are actual behavioral health disorders. If ppl keep calling this violence against Trans ppl a phobia...imo there's a chance it will get put in the DSM and when Black Trans women get murdered...those guilty can blame their actions on an anxiety disorder, callled Transphobia. Imo, there's no Transphobia.

Ppl hate themselves. Ppl hate Trans ppl. And hate breeds violence.

People with phobias actively avoid the phobic object or situation. If you have a phobia of spiders, you keep away from spiders (unless undergoing contact therapy). Cis men who murder Black and Brown Trans women...are NOT avoiding Trans women. This is violence, not a phobia.

A phobia is an extreme and irrational fear of something. A fear that literally stops one in their tracks and causes them to freeze in fear. This violence is not due to fear of Trans ppl.

In theory, so called Transphobia may be a sin but when lives are at risk, I personally stray away from popular buzz words and choose to speak with language that is simple, clear and more easily understood. Hate is a sin, and that includes Hatred towards Trans ppl. Murder is a sin, and that includes killing Trans ppl. Also, Black Trans Lives Matter. Periodt.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Sharing Isn't Always Caring: Performative Solidarity on Social Media

Online social networks like Facebook allow many people to maintain an online identity or persona. Sometimes these identities overlap with one’s authentic self. However, these identities are often created, in my opinion, to reflect an ideal version of self. Things that uphold these online identities include the sharing of pictures, articles, videos, campaigns and hashtags. Social media platforms can give individuals the power to re-shape and re-define themselves into whoever they desire to become virtually…including so-called allies and accomplices.

As a Black Trans artist, advocate and entrepreneur, getting my content shared is a good thing. Social media content shares spread awareness, increase visibility and widen one’s audience. But sharing isn’t always caring when it’s rooted in performative solidarity. Performative allyship is when someone from a nonmarginalized group proudly professes support and solidarity with a marginalized group in a way that either isn’t impactful or that actively harms that community.

Recently, I have noticed an increasing trend where white people share content on social media from and about marginalized individuals and communities, to seemingly receive a virtual pat on the back by their peers for being a “good white person.” 

GoFundMe campaigns are shared without people donating. Petitions are shared, left to be unsigned. Articles are shared for their juicy headlines only. Hashtags supporting Black Lives are also shared, by white people who actively reap the benefits of their privilege daily and who are too afraid to defend Black Lives in front of their peers, family, friends and co-workers in real-life. The shared content only reflects their make-believe online identity. Nothing else.

This trend excuses privileged people, especially white people (cis and trans), from making the personal sacrifices necessary to tap into the layers of the systemic issues they claim to be against. It also creates a false reality where white people feel separate and far removed from the oppressors they share articles about, such as dictators, terrorists, politicians, law enforcement and conservatives.

These types of shares are phony public declarations and stands against issues such as racism, misogyny, transphobia and anti-Blackness, that people seemingly check off a to-do list with grand satisfaction and pride. But it is nothing more than solidarity put on display for kudos, clout and rewards.

Performative solidarity is also seen with page likes and online event invites. Event Invites created by BIPOC are more cluttered with so-called allies who are “Interested”, than those actually willing to attend. Many of these individuals are people who in real life are also unwilling to commit to dismantling the issues and causes they claim to be passionate about on social media. But the opportunity to appear anti-racist, cultured, cool, woke, diverse and intelligent is irresistible to such individuals. This is especially dangerous for BIPOC event planners, artists and entrepreneurs who depend on ticket and product sales for basic necessities, such as food, meds, clothing and shelter.

Performative solidarity and allyship is deadly to marginalized individuals and communities. It is exploitative. It is oppressive. It is violence. Real allies and accomplices must act, not solely with social media shares, but with their wallets. They must call people out and hold them accountable in real life, including relatives and employers.  They must sacrifice their privilege and be ok with getting super uncomfortable. And most importantly, they should do something transformative and impactful that no one will ever know about or see.

The experiences of marginalized individuals and communities are so much more than click bait and trending topics.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Liberating Myself from Holiday Blues

Holidays were never truly enjoyable to me, growing up as a child. The festive days consisted of dusty decorations, redundant slow-cooked meals, visiting family members I didn’t know and dressing up in the most uncomfortable and embarrassing outfits. I didn’t receive many presents on Christmas nor my birthday and I wasn’t allowed to celebrate Halloween. For me, “holidays” were cool because they were days off from school and work.

As I grew older however, holidays became immensely depressing. My family ties grew to be non-existent, due to my family’s strong stance against my affirmed gender and sexual orientation. I became the black sheep and began to spend holidays alone. Chinese food became the norm for my holiday cuisine, as they are usually the only stores open on holidays that sell and deliver food in my hood.

Many of my friends would invite me to their holiday family parties and gatherings; invites I would often turn down as being around other people’s families was a harsh reminder of the family and love I desired but did not have. Social media didn’t help either. The impact of holiday posts was shattering to my heart, spirit and psyche. I felt bad about myself, my life and fought through tears with envy. I knew there were no perfect families, but ultimately feeling and being alone filled me with overwhelming sorrow. I began to dread “family holidays” every single year, as they often triggered my depression, making it extremely difficult to get out of bed, eat and shower. There were many holidays where I even considered and attempted suicide…

After years of dealing with such severe symptoms of depression during the holidays, I began to get sick of experiencing these “holiday blues”. I knew my depression would not just go away, but that there had to be some way to ease this pain. I grew tired of crying and feeling sad. I grew tired of feeling unloved. I grew tired of feeling unwanted. I wanted better days for myself. I wanted to be in a better head and heart space. I knew I was deserving. I also knew that I could no longer go on this way. I had to make a choice. I chose to take accountability for comparing my life to others and the self-inflicted pain that such comparison warrants. I became aware of my triggers and logged off social media. I became intentional about counting my blessings and knowing that they are enough. I made the choice to be as happy as I could. I had to change my perspective and my routine.

I had to admit to myself that holidays are different for everyone, despite what is posted on social media and the over-commercialization that society force feeds the masses. And for the most part, holidays are rooted in tradition. So, I committed myself to creating my own traditions. And in creating my own traditions, I now have something to personally look forward to during the holidays. Some holidays I take small trips; some holidays I make reservations at amazing restaurants; some holidays I spend quality time with friends; some holidays I make offerings to my ancestors; some holidays I book studio sessions and record new music; some holidays I go to the movies to see newly released films; some holidays I go shopping for myself; some holidays I’ll read a good book; and some holidays I stay home and catch up on much needed sleep. Ultimately, I do things that I love to do, tend to my self-care and simply celebrate life. I don’t have to adhere to the traditions of others, do what everyone else is doing nor what people expect me to, as long as I’m enjoying myself. Holidays were never truly “wonderful times of the year” for me, until I chose to manifest and create the very joy I desired.

Dealing with depression during the holidays is very common, despite many being advertised as “joyous and blissful.” When a person doesn’t have family, holidays can definitely ignite feelings of loneliness and hopelessness. As difficult as the holidays can be, there are indeed ways to cope, push through and survive. Be encouraged and know that you’re deserving of love every day…even if that love comes solely from self.

[mrchristianaxavier]

Invisible to the Eye: Being Black, Trans & Male

As a child who was assigned female at birth, many gender norms were pushed upon me. It was ingrained in me that as a “girl”, I was to be soft, quiet, considerate, giving, gentle, always smiling, intellectually advanced, emotionally vulnerable and attentive. Many of these stereotypes I internalized. Some I embraced. At the end of the day, I didn’t see anything wrong with being kind, compassionate and understanding. Many people in my life, would often compliment me for being so mindful and loving. For me personally, these qualities were not an extension of my assumed womanhood, but rather personality traits that define me as a human being.

Medically transitioning to male, was a process that changed my physical appearance, but not who I was inside. I was still the kind, nurturing person I had grown to be. Although imperfect, I grew to be a man whom I loved and adored. A caring man. A thoughtful man. An empathetic man. I was not completely aware at first that due to my medical transition to male, this was not how I was to be perceived by others.

With my medical transition, how the world viewed me drastically changed. My kindness was suddenly seen as performative niceness. My emotional vulnerability was suddenly seen as weakness. My gentleness was suddenly seen as manipulation. My passion was suddenly seen as anger. My ability to openly express myself and communicate was suddenly described as “mans-plaining.” 

Immediately, I was deemed a misogynist in many spaces, even without saying a word. Every horrible trait of Black men, was put on me by others and placed on my shoulders like a magic cloak.  People of all genders began to look at me with fear, suspicion and/or disgust. Being seen as a man…a Black man…a dark-skinned Black man…by the world, means to automatically be seen as threatening, violent, scary, dishonest, hypocritical, toxic and overall trash.

I soon realized that who I truly was inside came last to how the world viewed my Blackness and Masculinity, when navigating in society. Upon being "cis-assumed", I now have to put in extra effort and labor to be genuinely received, seen, heard and valued accurately and wholely...and oftentimes without much success.

Perception acts as a lens through which we view our environment. Our perceptions influence how we process, interpret and understand the world, our surroundings, society and individuals. In doing so, many often assume that perception is reality. It's even become a popular catchphrase. But perception is not always reality. The problem is that perception is often warped and contorted by biases, past experiences, prejudices and trauma.

The perception of others, often does not align with who I am mentally and emotionally as a person. Instead of medically transitioning to male, many people treat me as if I've transitioned to "a triflin' nigga". Re-defining Black masculinity by myself for myself, has also become something that others often disregard and even find hilarious.

I love the man I am today. I am good-hearted, artistic, wise, caring, understanding and resilient. Although the word beauty isn't often used to describe men...I am in fact a beautiful Black man...flaws and all. And I have to remind myself of these things constantly...speaking life and love into myself...because if I internalize how the world perceives Black masculinity, Black manhood and Black men, I would truly hate myself. As Audre Lourde profoundly stated, "If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive."

[mrchristianaxavier]

When Justice Doesn't Feel Like Justice

Recently on social media, I saw someone post about being raped in the past. They stated they hated the fact that they didn't go to the police and because of that they beat themselves up a lot of the times. But sometimes, what we know as Justice is not all that we expect it to be...

When I was 17, I was victim of rape by a so-called "friend." He was a homie of mine, whom I knew for years, and also worked with. I went over to his house one day after work, to have a few drinks. Maybe I drank too much...maybe I was drugged...but I ended up passing out on his couch. When I did awake hours later, he was on-top of me and inside of me. He stared into my eyes and told me that he was going to make me like men (i identified as a lesbian at the time) because he wanted me and deserved to have me. I fought him off of me and ran to another friend's house who lived close by. Once I arrived and told my friend what happened, she encouraged me to call the police. She informed me that she wished she had reported her rape, years ago when she, herself was a victim, and convinced me it was the right thing to do. I was bleeding and in pain and just wanted the nightmare to end.

When the police arrived and walked into my friend's house, a bright white light shone brightly in my eyes, almost blinding me. I finally realized that the light was from a camera and that the police were not alone. With them was the crew from "Cops", as they were filming a new episode. Softly, I asked the filming crew to leave, if I were to report the crime. Thinking back I cannot fathom how those adults present thought it was appropriate and ok to put a youth, who just experienced a rape, on a TV show. Apparently, their ratings were more important than my safety and wellness...

I was taken to the hospital by the police. I rode in the back of a cop car, as if I were the criminal. Once at the hospital, a nurse did my "rape kit", and revealed that the attack left me with a bruised cervix, hence the bleeding and pain I was experiencing.

The cops found my attacker 3 weeks later. Soon afterwards, I was given a date to appear in court. When that day came, I went to the courthouse by myself, embarrassed by what happened to me. At the time, I naively didn't think rape was a thing that happened to "butch lesbians" and was extremely ashamed.

I was assigned to a public defender. He was a young white guy, who carried a brown folder with my case file. We sat in a room in silence as he read, for the first time, what had happened to me. After reading the report, he asked, "Are you sure this was really a rape? Was there anything romantic going on between you two?" I sat there in my baggy jeans, big tee shirt and fitted cap, and looked at him blankly. I told him no and that I was a lesbian.

While on the stand, I was made to feel like it was all my fault...the lawyer questioning me implied that had I not been drinking underage, I would not have been in this situation. Nevertheless, my attacker ended up pleading guilty. He was sentenced to 3 months in jail.

I remember overhearing my public defender suggest that because I didn't look nor act like a victim, my attacker was only given a few months. They wanted to see me cry hysterically and breakdown in a fit, while on the stand giving my testimony. Little did they know, I was completely broken...but on the inside. And it was a brokenness of which I did not have the capacity to express outwardly or vocalize. While on the stand, my main focus was to not look my attacker in the eyes and to take deep breaths...

Justice had been served. I reported my rape and my rapist went to jail. But 3 months later, I would run into him again. I would see him at the mall and the grocery store. I'd see him on the bus and on the street. In my city, it's not uncommon to run into people you know, especially downtown. Oftentimes, he wouldn't see me because I always spotted him first.

But not knowing when and if I would see him during my daily travels, gave me extreme anxiety. I was afraid to go outside. I was afraid that eventually he would see me in the streets again and would want to seek out revenge. I slipped into a deep depression. Was this Justice?

Over time through reflection, I personally came to the conclusion, that Justice is subjective and lies in the perception of the victim. I believe that true Justice, for me, had to move beyond and transcend the court rooms and jail cells. Justice was found in my resilience. Justice was found in my smile. Justice was found in being an inspiration to others by speaking truth and giving purpose to my pain. Justice was served when I turned my struggle into strength. Justice was served when I became a survivor and no longer a victim. For many Justice is about being fair and reasonable...and in order to personally heal, I had to be fair and reasonable with myself.

[mrchristianaxavier]

His Pen...UNTAMED. turned 4 today!

[mrchristianaxavier]

Smiling Thru Our Pain...

“Why you always smiling? You stay smiling Chris!” Since I can remember, people have always paid attention to my smile. I remember the “old folks” grabbing and squeezing my cheeks hard, as a child, and poking my dimples deep with their fingers. Kids my age would often tease me because my lips were big “like a monsta”, but still I continued to smile. As Ive gotten older, people have told me how sexy and beautiful it is. Im told that it’s refreshing to see a Black man smile, and although I do it quite often, I personally hate my smile. Not because it is ugly, but because it isn't always a sign of happiness, as most people assume…

Since early childhood, I have suffered from severe depression. It was a taboo subject in my Jamaican household growing up, where emotions were never soft and tender but always brash, arrogant and cocky. Tears were unacceptable for anyone in my family. Hugs were often replaced by complicated hand shakes, head nods and aggressive pats on the chest or back. My smile became my armour in a world where expressing vulnerability meant weakness and shame. 

So oddly enough, I smiled when my grandfather, who raised me, passed away. I smiled when I spoke of my schizophrenic grandmother being “302’ed”. I smiled when I was teased by the school kids. I smiled when my 7th grade teacher asked to see the scars on my arm, when I began “cutting” and inflicting self harm. I smiled when my suicide note was found by friends in high school. I smiled when I reported my first rape. I smiled when I dropped out of college, due to homelessness. I smiled when I got fired from my job. Many people around me saw strength in my smile, but I smiled because I never felt safe enough to cry…like my ancestors who smiled in chains. I also have wondered, if I did release these waters of anguish, who really would care? Would I drown?

Society tells us that smiling is healthy. Studies say smiling can increase our happiness and relieve stress…and that smiling even makes us more attractive. Smiling can make a difference in the world, they say. But sometimes smiling is only done to mask and hide pain…

When the topic of depression is discussed, people usually picture a person who looks sad, stays in bed and cries all the time, however that isn’t always the case. "Smiling depression", although not widely considered, is a very real thing. According to psychologists, it is appearing happy to others, literally smiling, while internally suffering with depressive symptoms. It often goes undetected and those suffering, like myself, often discount their own feelings and brush them aside. I realize today that my smile has become more about inspiring happiness in others, as opposed to me smiling because I’m actually happy.

I believe evidence of this can be seen in folks like late actor Robin Williams, who made a living from smiling and laughing, but later completed suicide, leaving fans confused and lost for words. Or my friend Blake Brockington, a young Black trans man known for his smile and many achievements, but who took his own life at the age of 18. Recently attending the funeral for another beautiful comrade, Chris Collins, whose smile was also celebrated…I painfully wondered if he suffered the same. Am I next? 

Smiles are beautiful gifts to witness and share. They are contagious and often fill us with joy. But they can also be distractions, leaving us stuck at a smile we can’t see past. And in doing so, we often fail to reach one’s eyes where the pain lives boldly and in plain sight, for the eyes are truly the windows to our soul. Smiles are indeed captivating and special expressions of happiness…but as "a colored boy who has considered suicide"…I know that smiles are also signs of tears deferred.

[transbearsofcolor]

Please take the time to read this.. this is so real, this is something I myself have talked about and I know other black male presenting and transmen can relate to..

-Darklight

FTN (Female-to-Nigga)

We are more than our hormones, surgeries, mustaches and beards

Sexy beasts 

desired yet feared 

Hated and envied 

because we pass and blend

Evolve and transcend

But nobody sees the pain within

Because really 

How often does a Black Man in Amerikkka get to win

Other than

In sports, time served and petty rap games

Male privilege that comes with side profiles that fit descriptions and chain gangs

Hands up as we say names

Moving targets as they take aim

Every misogynistic injustice we take blame

From ashes to hashtags

Traffic stops to body bags

Crabs in barrels n barrels in crabs

They take shots and we take jabs

We catch buses cuz we can’t catch cabs

Im tired of being tired

Of being unseen and unheard 

Nothing but a perception blurred

A slave name thats slurred

A wet dream deferred

Because we are the afterthought 

forgotten 

like suicide notes from colored boys

who have guns for toys

But what do I know…

Shittt

Im just anotha nigga wit attitude

#WordzUp

[qualr]

Allow us to introduce the young, gifted, Black WORDZ The Poet Emcee! He is the truth!

[mrchristianaxavier]

thanks for the love everybody! didnt think ppl would fux wit it tbh #WordzUp <3