Black and Queer in the Harlem Renaissance
During the early and mid 20th century, a colossal social movement of artistic expression and intellect occurred in Harlem. In a time characterized by non-white subjugation, this predominantly black neighborhood in New York City offered a haven in which African American creatives were able to produce and perform, allowing the rise of such notable figures as Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, Louis Armstrong, and Josephine Baker. The artistic boom fostered by this movement came to be known as the Harlem Renaissance.
The Harlem Renaissance was spearheaded by respectability politics, which sought to (favorably) reinvent the image of black people in the eyes of white Americans. Alain LeRoy Locke, for example, whom many consider the architect of this artistic movement, hoped to use the notion of the "New Negro" to transform negative ideas then associated with black people. Locke's mission to shine a positive light on this group came at a cost, however: it inadvertently embraced the views and sociopolitical system that devalued both black and queer people. As distinguished American scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. explains, "If the New Negroes of the Harlem Renaissance sought to erase their received racist image in the Western imagination, they also erased their racial selves."
However, some artists within the movement went against the grain. Queer black people were the antithesis to white racism and to black heteronormativity, so queer artists of the Harlem Renaissance often utilized the campaign to explore variances in gender expression and to take pride, both in their race and in their same-sex desires.
Art has always served as a form of resistance. According to American scholar Sarah Baughey-Gill, the majority of 19th-century scientists viewed non-procreative sexual behaviors as forms of psychopathology, which equated same-sex desires with mental disorders. In the 20th century, many mental health and medical professionals continued to embrace this view of non-heterosexuality. The general public followed the "professionals," thus leading orientation-based discrimination to become a staple in American society. Queer black people faced oppression on both fronts. Hence, queer artists of the Harlem Renaissance were determined to use their art to promote pride in both their race and their expressions of sexuality.
No one in the Harlem Renaissance wore their sexuality on their sleeve quite like Richard Bruce Nugent. Born on the 2nd of July in 1906, Nugent was a writer, painter, illustrator, and dancer. Unlike his contemporaries, Nugent was unabashed about his same-sex desires, and he rejected the respectability politics of peers like Alain LeRoy Locke. He once stated, "You see, I am a homosexual. I have never been in what they call 'the closet.' It has never occurred to me that [my sexuality] was anything to be ashamed of, and it never occurred to me that it was anybody's business but mine."
One illustration of Nugent’s difference in approach is his 1926 publication of Smoke, Lilies and Jade, a short story that vividly depicts the complexities and nuances of bisexuality. It made him one of the first African Americans to introduce literature containing a bisexual concept. Unfortunately, many individuals shied away from this piece because of its raw sensuality regarding same-sex desires, but this did not stop Nugent from continuing to create work that oozed queerness.
Nugent surrounded himself with queer black artists who were collectively known as the "Niggerati" within the Harlem Renaissance. While many of these associates were unable to be as unapologetic about their sexual orientations, this did not stop them from rebelling in more subtle ways. Consider Wallace Thurman (born 1902), a distinguished novelist, critic, essayist, and editor. According to the late historian Stephen Maglott, Thurman was married to Louise Thompson for six months, but then the couple split. Thompson believed Thurman "was a homosexual who refused to admit it." However, Thurman never disclosed his sexuality, and it remains unclear whether he was gay or bisexual.
Nevertheless, Wallace Thurman utilized his literary work to question masculinity and its relationship to race, gender, and sexual orientation. As Dr. Stephen Knadler, the chair of English at Spelman College notes, Thurman introduced "a new philosophy for the New Negro." He writes, "While many Harlem Renaissance writers posited a hypermasculine racialized body to counter white supremacist theories of the black man's emasculation, Thurman by contrast offers his readers a queer black male body." Explaining how Thurman's sense of isolation drove him to combat racism and heteronormativity, Knadler further notes, "As a black, possibly gay or bisexual man, whose life was doubly invisible due to both black heterosexism and white racism, Thurman could render his life visible only by first queering or disrupting the normative conceptions of race and gender in the New Negro movement." Although he was never out, Wallace Thurman rejected societal norms through art.
Queer black artists of the Harlem Renaissance also celebrated their "otherness" through gender expression. Gladys Bentley, one of the most beloved icons of the 1920s and 1930s, was a cross-dressing lesbian blues singer who was prominent in the New York nightclub scene. She used her performances to challenge gender norms by appearing in men's tuxedos and large hats, and she was admired by other artists of the Harlem Renaissance. In Smithsonian magazine, for example, Haleema Shah recounts Langston Hughes's description of Bentley's brilliance, noting that he saw her as "an amazing exhibition of musical energy" and "a large, dark, masculine lady."
Bentley's decision to transgress gender roles during the Harlem Renaissance undoubtedly put her in good company. The era was known for its safe spaces for queer black individuals. Venues such as buffet flats and rent parties held social gatherings where gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and nonbinary people were allowed to be themselves. The most famous of these events was the Hamilton Lodge Ball, an annual affair renowned for its extravagance, dances, and competitions. Every year the press would flock to the ball to reveal details to the outside world. The only thing that exceeded the reporters' obsession with the event was their inability to understand what they were witnessing. In 1926, for example, a reporter of the New York Age (one of the most influential black newspapers of the 20th century) wrote, "The masculine women and feminine men, how are you going to tell the roosters from the hens?" Evidently, even ordinary people were challenging conventional concepts of gender and sexuality.
Such voices within the Harlem Renaissance did not go unchallenged in their quest for expression. Claude McKay was a distinguished bisexual writer who wasn't afraid to include queer themes in his poems and novels. Consequently, the FBI placed him under surveillance. English and African American Studies scholar William J. Maxwell notes the FBI called McKay’s 1922 book Harlem Shadows a "collection of radical poems" written by "a notorious negro revolutionary." In response to the FBI’s harassment, McKay spent the bulk of his writing career during this period outside of America.
Some leaders in Harlem, especially members of the upper class, openly castigated such expressions of black queerness. Historian Glenda Elizabeth Sherouse describes how Adam Clayton Powell, pastor of Harlem’s Abyssinian Baptist Church, in 1929 promoted the idea that Harlem’s queer culture was corrupting young black men and women. For example, he blamed lesbians for the "widespread cause of young black women’s refusal to marry." Sherouse further notes that "numerous other ministers, community leaders, and black newspapers joined [Adam Clayton Powell's] crusade against homosexuality that year." Despite Powell's efforts, queer artistic spaces continued to thrive in Harlem.
I owe many thanks to these brave artists of the Harlem Renaissance. In order to ensure all aspects of their identities were recognized, they resisted pressure to conform to social norms coming from both within and outside the black community — pressures with which America still struggles today. Yet, as the legacy of these black queer pioneers continues to remind us, every human being deserves the right to be themselves without interference from the outside world. In the words of American poet Pat Parker: "The day all the different parts of me can come along, we would have what I would call a revolution."
Published Sep 30, 2020
Updated Jan 13, 2024
