As a teenage girl, being dubbed a ‘lesbian’ was the worst possible insult.
I remember hearing it first when I was around 10. A boy had said it about a masculine-presenting female teacher.
At the time, I was embarrassed without understanding why.
But the next time I heard the word, screamed at a girl who had beaten a boy in a track race, I had more knowledge, fully aware why ‘you’re a leeeesbiiiaaaan’ had been spat, drawing out every vowel for maximum impact and humiliation.
Growing up as a Black child, in London and Surrey, I did not know any lesbians who were out.
It was something that was never spoken about – and it would be several years before I first met a Black lesbian.
The lack of Black LGBTQ+ representation was so stark that I managed to convince myself that I couldn’t possibly be a lesbian, because such people clearly did not exist in the Black community.
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