Latest news with #safeSpaces
CBS News
3 days ago
- General
- CBS News
Queer Motherland group aims to create safe space for LGBTQ+ Black Americans and Africans
A UCLA study finds that 1.2 million Americans identify as both Black and LGBTQ+, a growing community that often faces unique challenges. In response, a new organization is working to create safe spaces for queer Africans in both North Texas and across the globe. Personal journey inspires advocacy Olive Okoro, a Nigerian immigrant, knew she was queer from a young age but didn't come out until high school. When she did, her family responded with openness and a willingness to learn. "My family said, 'You know what, let's change it. Let's learn about what she is talking about,' and I honestly, really appreciate that about my parents," Okoro said. Group promotes queer African identity Okoro went on to found Queer Motherland, a group for Black LGBTQ+ individuals in the Dallas-Fort Worth area and beyond. "It is a LGBTQ+ African group where we promote queer Africans around the diaspora, and we teach the knowledge and the education about how colonization has affected queer Africans' entire history," she said. Social media growth and first events The group has already gained thousands of followers on TikTok and Instagram and has applied for nonprofit status. Its first event, held in partnership with the Dallas Black Queer Collective at the Dallas Public Library, featured queer African literature and community discussions. Global board reflects international mission Queer Motherland's board includes members from Dallas, Houston, Chicago, London, and Ghana. One board member in Ghana, who asked to remain anonymous, shared the risks of being openly queer in a country where homosexuality is criminalized. "I live carefully to not step on the wrong foot and not to get myself in trouble," she said. Facing criminalization across Africa According to Amnesty International, 31 of Africa's 54 countries criminalize LGBTQ+ identities. Penalties range from prison time to the death penalty in countries like Mauritania, Sudan, northern Nigeria, and southern Somalia. "There is a lot to fight since it's not acceptable where we're from," the board member said. "Everyone is trying to put us in prison, lynch us, or kill us." A vision for global connection Despite the risks, Queer Motherland is pushing forward with a vision to expand globally. Okoro hopes to one day host an international conference featuring queer African speakers from around the world. "Our goal for Queer Motherland is to one day have a conference where we bring multiple speakers from different countries who are queer and African," she said. Empowering identity and visibility For Okoro and her team, the mission is about more than safety—it's about empowerment, education, and representation. "I want to have positive representation of queer Africans," Okoro said. "I want to use the opportunity to say, we are here, we are queer, and we're never, ever going to go anywhere."
Yahoo
5 days ago
- Health
- Yahoo
4 Signs Your LGBTQ+ Feels Supported at Home
Fact checked by Sarah Scott Pride Month is in full swing, and with it comes the great joy and privilege of supporting LGBTQ+ family and friends. In families with LGBTQ+ children, this time of year is incredibly special and affirming; parents have the opportunity to support their LGBTQ+ children even more loudly and proudly. As anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and rhetoric continues to make waves, it's more important than ever to support our LGBTQ+ children. Studies have shown that an overwhelming 82% of LGBTQ+ teens want people to support and accept them—and 68% hope for the creation of safe spaces where they can be themselves. While this doesn't seem like a high bar to clear for supportive parents, some may wonder: Are there any outward signs that their LGBTQ+ children feel supported at home? Parents spoke to mental health experts to find out the four biggest identifiers that your LGBTQ+ child feels supported at home. This sign is the biggest and most important indicator of whether your LGBTQ+ child feels supported. If your child seems comfortable coming to you with their thoughts and worries about their identity, your support system at home is strong, says Jeremy R. Goshorn, PhD, LCMHC (NC), LPC (PA), NCC, CFT, Assistant Professor at Lebanon Valley College. 'Fostering open, honest, communication within the family is vital. The only way to know if your child feels supported is to ask,' he explains. This doesn't just work in favor of your family cohesiveness; affirming communities have been found to be protective against suicidal ideation in LGBTQ+ youths. Let's face it: kids can be hard to engage sometimes, making verbal communication a challenge. But body language can say a lot, says Laura Erickson-Schroth, MD, MA, Chief Medical Officer of The Jed Foundation.'Body language can tell you a lot. Uncrossed arms or legs often indicate a feeling of comfort,' she explains. Keeping an eye on how your child is holding themselves: if their body language is tense, you might need to sit down and have an open conversation about how they're feeling. LGBTQ+ folks don't just come out once: they often come out dozens of times as life goes on. Because the world assumes that all people are heteronormative and cisgenger, kids can often be on the back foot when talking about their relationships and identity. But LGBTQ+ children who feel supported can be excited to tell their parents about crucial realizations and developments in their lives. 'When a young person feels at ease being open about their identity with their parents or guardians, they might casually share significant life updates during everyday conversation – things like joining the GSA at school or having a crush on someone in their class,' Dr. Erickson-Scroth says. Remember, LGBTQ+ children experience stigma in their daily lives, so if you're hearing about everything from the littlest alteration up to the biggest life-changing event, that's a sign they feel supported. When an LGBTQ+ child feels supported and safe, they can express their unique styles freely. Whether their identities are reflected in their use of pronouns, clothing, makeup, or hair styles, children who feel safe shine authentically, says Dr. Erickson-Schroth. And this also extends to activities that might traditionally feel 'gendered,' like playing with dolls or trucks. 'Make your home a place where your child can be themselves and express their identity authentically, ensuring no games or clothes are off-limits for gendered reasons,' she affirms. Your child should feel safe to express themselves, and when they do, you can know they are comfortable and supported in your home. At the end of the day, it's important to make your LGBTQ+ child feel safe and supported. But let's face it: sometimes it can be hard to know what to do and say, especially when the world seems to be moving 1000 MPH at all times. Here are some suggestions from the experts: Start learning about LGBTQ+ issues: Read about LGBTQ+ topics and make it clear to your child you want to know more and want to advocate for them, says Dr. Erickson-Schroth. Keep your eyes open: Be aware that outward projection could be a mask, says Dr. Goshorn, but creating an inclusive environment and welcoming atmosphere, like hanging Pride flags and encouraging open communication, helps to mitigate those issues. Find local support groups: Dr. Goshorn suggests Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG), where parents can meet other parents of LGBTQ+ youth. Use : Swap out 'girlfriend/boyfriend' for 'partner,' suggests Dr. Erickson-Schroth. Seek outside counseling–for you: Learn effective strategies for supporting your child, including fostering open communication, says Dr. Goshorn. Give yourself grace: Just showing up for your child matters! Remember, no parent is perfect, and that's okay, affirms Dr. Erickson-Schroth. Read the original article on Parents
The Guardian
15-06-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Flipping the bird at an old man wasn't exactly in my playbook. It felt like a rupture
Here's a scene: I'm at a library on the outskirts of Melbourne. I'm 'in conversation' with a librarian. It's not possible to keep those words out of scare quotes, not if you're aware of the small and faulty machine that keeps Australian book publicity moving. What I am doing is being asked generous, kind, eminently answerable questions about my new book so that I can move a few units. It's a 'conversation' I'm grateful for because I like moving units and I like talking to librarians and, let's be real, I also like talking about myself. The crowd, including several Melbourne friends, is attentive and also kind and generous. What could go wrong? Libraries are safe spaces, temporary haven for kids and their parents, rough sleepers and the lonely, and people who a millennial friend describes as neurospicy. I love libraries. They're full of readers and I love them too. So, this library is a safe space. The warm murmur of people, some of them sitting on the carpet in the aisles, disappeared into words. The big windows looking on to a lake, giving light to the pages. I'm glad to be there. The crowd (the 'crowd') includes a couple of men, one in his possibly late 60s, one in his possibly late 70s. The first listens and smiles; the second stands at the back of the room to one side. He is very clearly someone who doesn't know who I am and doesn't care, but neither do I – he's there and I'm grateful. At the end of the conversation there are a few questions, some carefully crafted by writing friends who know that the terrible silence that follows 'does anyone have a question?' is a lonely place. Then the older man puts up his hand and the microphone is handed to him. Then he starts a long story about his long life, and I let him talk because I get it. I mean, I just talked about myself; have at it, buddy. It's not surprising to me that what he says has absolutely nothing to do with my book. I wait, not for him to finish, but for a couple of minutes of monologue to pass, and then I say something like, it's clear that the past is vivid for all of us. That's why I've written about it. Afterwards there's a signing line. The two men are there. The older stands to one side of the desk I'm sitting at, as though we're friends and he has more special things to say just to me. He doesn't need to buy a book. The other man steps in front of a woman and her child waiting for me to sign their copy and I say, actually, you've pushed in – can you wait at the back of the line? I don't say, you dick, but I think it. When he gets to the front of the line he tells me a pretty engaging story about his past, and then he goes away without having bought a book. I'm on my way out, getting my bag, chatting to the librarian, who's smart and warm and kind, and has worn herself out talking about me. The older man is still there and he's saying, can I have a photo? I've had my photo taken an inordinate number of times in the last 24 hours and I haven't enjoyed it. I'm in my late 50s and I haven't yet reconciled myself to the way I look. The person I now appear to be, heavier, with a lined face and teeth I don't like, isn't someone I want to know about. I know, my bad – I should love my older self. So, partly because I'm sick of it but mostly because this bloke only wants a photo as an extension of the attention he craves, I say no. I point to the big photo of me on the screen, taken several years ago, and say, you can take a photo of that. I'm turning away as he says you looked better with long hair. Without warning – to me or anyone around me – I'm swinging back round to face him and I'm giving him the finger. Then I'm saying, a hot flush surging across my body and face: You don't get to talk to women like that. You can't speak to me like that. I catch a glimpse of the librarian's face – tears have sprung to her eyes. I see my young publicist, who's holding my bag and stepping between me and the old man. She ushers me away and I can hear the man protesting or saying something, whatever it is, something about me, something about himself. I don't look back as Jasmine and I step outside into the bright autumn air and hurry towards our taxi. So many things to say about this. First, that flipping the bird at an old man wasn't exactly in my playbook – not at any time and especially not when I'm trying to sell books. But also, flipping the bird wasn't something I wanted to be doing. Not because it's rude, but because it felt like a rupture, a violation – of me, not of him. A thousand times I've tolerated and even, sometimes, welcomed comments on my appearance. A thousand times I've stood, politely rigid, while a man tells me about himself. This usually happens when it's me who's meant to be the focus. Some men – not all of them – subconsciously hate this and need to remind themselves that they exist by telling me about themselves. I've learned now to civilly stop them, or even point out to them what they're up to, but I've never made a rude gesture, because control over a situation like this is what I want and need. Women learn this control young, and practise it – or fail to practise it – throughout their lives, because the comments and the monologues never stop coming. But as it turns out there's some ghost chilli in my own spice mix. I wanted to say to that man: do you think I'm not looking at you? Do you think I didn't notice that you looked like a praying mantis, frail and savage, wobbling away in the corner of my vision, waiting to do something nasty? You're old too, dickhead. And you probably looked better when you had all your hair. The rupture came because the abyss below it was already there. But the concealment of that abyss, where self-doubt lives (self-doubt about my looks, and even about my intelligence) is my safe space. It's my choice to stand guard over it and repel people with thoughtful, firm, clear words. It made me feel shaky and hurt when I gave him the finger. I hope it gave him a shock and I hope it hurt him too, and I don't regret it. I just don't like it when men make me lose my cool, because it's my fucking cool. Tegan Bennett Daylight is a 56-year-old teacher, critic and writer of novels, including How to Survive 1985
CBC
14-06-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
From fans in war paint to 100M streams, DJ duo The Halluci Nation talks Indigenous dance floors
Three-time Juno award winning duo Bear Witness and Tim '2oolman' Hill, former members of A Tribe Called Red, say they feel like they've managed to create safe spaces for Indigenous people and other marginalized groups at their performances. However, they say their wider appeal has presented some challenges at their shows, which illustrate a lack of shared experience between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people.
