Within today’s society, it’s popular to stick labels on marginalized communities, each falling victim to a set of negative attributes. Imagine being black in one aspect and queer in the other, two communities filled with pre-fixed notions and thoughts, notably not good ones. Imagine navigating through a system where all odds are stacked against you for being a black individual but having queer stacked on top of that as well.   

Take Jussie Smollett, for example. The singer-songwriter, actor and performer alleged that he was assaulted in Chicago a few weeks ago due to his sexuality and racial identity. Smollett reported that he was targeted by two unidentified “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) supporters. He said the men used racial and homophobic slurs against him, before wrapping a noose around his neck and pouring a bleach-like substance onto him.  

Shortly after that, a swarm of rumors came about that he was lying, and there was credible evidence. His interview with Robin Roberts did not help either. It turns out that two Jamaican men were behind the attack and alleged that Smollett paid them to assault him.

Individuals with the mindset of not believing victims, especially those surrounding black queer lives, furthered the narrative on why not to believe them. This should not take the focus off actual hate crimes that affect black queer men and women. The Human Rights Campaign reported that in 2018, 26 trans women of color were murdered. This is what the media needs to shift its attention on. Our black queer brothers and sisters are dying, and no one is saying anything.  

Acknowledging that Smollett might have lied just furthers support for bigoted individuals to not protect victims. Our attention needs to be focused on attacks that affect these marginalized communities. The 26 dead trans women also deserve media buzz.

In contrast to the Jussie Smollett story, does Penn State Abington, on a smaller scale, represent its marginalized student body?  

Raet, 18, a Penn State Abington commuter and an openly bisexual black male, shared his experiences on being queer and black. To the question “Would it be easier if you were white to come out as gay,” he stops, almost hesitating to answer. Reluctantly, he nods yes, not because of his own experiences, but from what he has seen. 

He says: “Yes, because I do know gays, in general, get discriminated against, but to be black and gay, it only makes it worse.”  

The notion of feeling represented at this specific campus is heavily preached upon, through the Office of Diversity, Equity & Inclusion; Spectrum (club for LGBTQ+ students); and the Black Student Union. But Raet has other feelings towards their agendas. 

He says: “There are not as many things being advocated for as they should be.”  

Raet gives us a glimpse of what being black and queer is like on campus. Actions need to be taken to give more black and queer identities safe spaces to share and validate their experiences. Jussie Smollett’s case was a wake-up call for everyone. Collectively as a society, we need to take more precautions when protecting marginalized identities – especially black and queer ones.