I’m at a point in my life where I can confidently say that I’m a proud Black, bisexual femme. PERIODT.
It was NOT an easy journey.
I grew up in a family with traditional Christian values. That’s synonymous with:
- “no, we’re not allowed to talk about sex in this house.”
- “Sex before marriage is a sin.”
- “Homosexual acts are morally unacceptable.”
Really, I can go on and on.
Then, my parents sent me to a Catholic private school. I was the only Black girl in class. When I looked at my fellow Black friends, I often felt like I was not black enough.
I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere—my skin was either too dark or too light, my hair too puffy or not kinky enough.
I found comfort in listening to angsty punk rock songs. I clung to every word my fave artists sang. How can they be so comfortable in their skin and honest with their feelings while I can’t?
I never had someone to talk to about my experiences at school.
My primary and middle school years were a blur. Then, come my high school years, I became a rebellious teen. I was in and out of different relationships with a few so-called “macho” men. But I was never happy.
Then I met B.
She was different, very easy to talk to. We got along quite well. She listened to me. She understood me.
I fell in love. We fell in love. I tried to hide what I felt, tried to understand it.
“What’s wrong with me? This isn’t what I was taught.”
Then I remember my father’s booming voice, “Aliyah, that’s unacceptable!”
Keeping all I felt to myself was hard. Being Black is one thing, but being Black and queer is another thing. I have read a lot of stories of discrimination against queer people of color.
Sadly, B transferred school, which left me all alone and more confused than ever.
I looked at my life and every aspect of it that didn’t feel right. But my relationship with B, albeit short, was the exact opposite.
I decided not to hide what I was feeling anymore and came out to my family.
Yup, I could still remember that part of my life vividly—
- full of tears,
- and anguish.
I felt completely drained after telling my family everything.
It took a couple of years and many painful talks until my family accepted who I am. However, I felt rejuvenated and empowered after all that.
There were a lot of painful twists and turns in my journey, but it was truly transformative. In it, I found a renewed desire to succeed and a passion for helping others.
But that’s my story, and that’s only one story.
I know it’s challenging for queer people of color to come out and open up about themselves. There’s still a lot of experiences and identities in this community that we need to recognize.
That’s why I want to help others speak up and face the hardships of embracing their true selves and sexuality.
With the mission to spread awareness and elevate the voices of the minority, I signed up for the Gender & Sexuality program at the University of Arizona. I then earned my Ph.D. in 2017.
I believe that we, queer people of color, deserve a safe space in the sexual wellness industry.
But, unfortunately, sexual issues that affect minority groups are still rampant.
I want to change that.
As part of the minority, I want our voices to be heard. I want to hear your story.
Finding yourself and your pleasures don’t have to be difficult. I’m here to help you break through the barriers so you can be empowered to live your best life and experience MOORE pleasure inside and outside of the bedroom.