Nigel Shelby was a 15-year-old gay Black boy from Huntsville, AL who did not hide who he was to fit in.
Like so many other gay Black boys, he was bullied regularly. He struggled with depression, rendering him even more sensitive to the ritual of torment he endured.
Two-years-ago, Nigel told his mother what she already knew, and she assured him of her acceptance. She hoped that her embrace would buffer him against the injuries he suffered and the messages he internalized about himself. She had him in treatment for depression.
Unfortunately, all the love and care he received was not enough to keep him, so on April 18th, he chose to end his own brief life.
When a child is so driven to kill himself it is not enough to name the type of oppression at fault.
There are specific patterns leading to such hostile treatment, certain factors that are glossed over by broad categories. The closest we can ever come to undoing what was done to Nigel is to make sure it does not happen again.
What forces affecting Nigel’s everyday life made life itself too much to bear? What kind of support kept him afloat and what were its limitations?
It should be no surprise that Alabama has no laws prohibiting bullying or discrimination based on sexual orientation. Such protection would not only provide punishment to discourage anti-LGBTQ violence.
Kids in states with LGBTQ protective laws face less harassment than those in states without. The laws may have made a difference to Nigel, but we will never know because for him it is much too late.
Bullies are not born, they are groomed often through the abuse they themselves endured. Those who target LGBTQ youth (or others marked as different) are first indoctrinated in the homes, barber shops, playgrounds and churches where they are raised.
Those who shamed Nigel were shown by somebody what to do and why it must be done. They observe how their acts go unchallenged by peers, teachers, parents and other adults who hear and see but say and do nothing.
Every parent of a Black child should ask themselves what they have done or said to let their child know that they do not have to be heterosexual or cisgender to be valuable.
Safety has to extend beyond supportive homes. We need to know what support mechanisms and policies are in place in the schools, centers and youth programs our children occupy.
Most of the spaces that reach Black kids do not have formal affirming groups like gay-straight alliances. How then might we innovate effective resources for queer and questioning youth online and in our own neighborhoods?
Today I await the public outrage voiced by Black parents and educators demanding measures to be taken by Alabama legislators. I search for the denunciations of bullying and other anti-LGBTQ attacks from Huntsville’s Black residents and elected representatives.
As Nigel was a little gay Black boy, we should expect remedial responses from the Black community to which he belonged.
A multitude of bigots, many of whom are pastors and/or parents, cultivate the very same hostile climate that choked Nigel’s spirit. While their words may not have directly reached Nigel’s ears, they provided the scripts and motivation for his verbal assailants. The time for reconciliation is now.
I have already begun to question how as a gay Black man, will I define my allies. It is high time that I raise that bar.
Dr. Barbara L. King, Rev. William Barber, Gabrielle Union, Chance The Rapper and Magic Johnson are among the pastors, celebrity artists, and athletes who use their platforms to combat anti-LGBTQ hate.
We need a handful of everyday folks who can actually enlist peers to organize. Black gays have the right to ask our hetero friends and relatives to do more on our behalf than offer prayers or “SMH”. I appreciate the balm, but we need the catalysts who dare to make substantive change.
I know straight cisgender folk, far more women than men, who will check homophobes on social media or out in public. Can they summon the will to mobilize on behalf of their LGBTQ friends and family?
I am sure it will be our sisters who will rise up first. Nearly every Black church or mosque in America, the Democratic party and every movement from the Montgomery Bus Boycott to Black Lives Matter, owes its survival to Black women.
This initiative would be no different as too few straight Black men are willing to risk predictable gay-baiting. A brave minority would eventually come on board. Numbers notwithstanding, we need brothers who oppose anti-LGBTQ oppression to have some skin in this game.
In a speech delivered 40 years ago, Black Panther Party co-founder Huey Newton suggested that the party should form alliances with both women and gay liberation movements.
Newton acknowledged his own anxieties about “male homosexuality” as a conditioned “hang up” and states that “a person should have the freedom to use his body in whatever way he want”.
Newton’s message was a radical departure from the heterosexist norms tightly upheld by civil rights and Black liberation movements. How might his courageous stance inspire Black men today to look within and challenge their brothers?
Recalling what it was like growing up Black and gay, a dear friend once spoke of contrasts and contradictions. “On my block, when I was called a nigger, I could run to my family, friends, neighbors.
When I was called a faggot, who could I run to?” Nigel deserved to want to live out his life to the fullest. The high school freshman loved to sing and dance. He was a fan of Ariana Grande and Kehlani.
According to his classmate Libby Malone, he was “the bestest friend anyone could have.” His mother recalled, “he was sunshine.”
