On Queer People of Color and Racial Preferences: Racialized Ugliness

You looked at them and wondered why they were so
ugly; you looked closely and could not find the source. Then
you realized that it came from conviction, their conviction. It

was as though some mysterious all-knowing master had
given each one a cloak of ugliness to wear, and they had each

accepted it without question. The master had said, “You are
ugly people.” They had looked about themselves and saw
nothing to contradict the statement; saw, in fact, support for
it leaning at them from every billboard, every movie, every
glance. “Yes,” they had said. “You are right.” And they took
the ugliness in their hands, threw it as a mantle over them,
and went about the world with it. Dealing with it each

according to his way. — The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, pg.39

I remember the first time I read The Bluest Eye for my Toni Morrison literature class back in college. From the get go I was drawn to the Breedloves, Pecola specifically, because of how “ugly” the characters were. When I read the above quote, I damn near cried-partly because of how powerful that quote is, and and partly because of how much I felt it related to how I felt and sometimes still feel about myself; that I’m ugly because other people consistently told me that, and I could find no reason to think otherwise.

It’s also a quote I constantly return to whenever I think of the ways in which queer people of color think of themselves as “ugly,” especially in the eyes of queer white people and because of the White Gayze™, and how it’s much different than how queer white people think of themselves as ugly.

White ugliness, because of white supremacy and racism and colorism, exists at the most base level of ugliness and simultaneously at the top of the hierarchy of beauty. Queer white people can feel ugly and still have their attractiveness affirmed in queer spaces worldwide. Queer white people can “not fit the mold” and still be the mold at the same time. Queer white people can feel ugly, but it’s never because of their whiteness. Since whiteness is the default idea of beauty. And even if a queer white person is deemed “conventionally unattractive” they’ll still be seen as more attractive than a queer person of color because of their whiteness.

Queer people of color’s beauty exists as “niche” in the public eye. It has to exist within a frame work deemed acceptable by the White Gayze™ in order to be widely seen as attractive. Otherwise, we’re defaulted into being considered ugly. Queer black people are made to feel ugly because of their blackness. Queer Asian people are made to feel ugly because of their Asian-ness. Queer Latinx people are made to feel ugly because of their Latinx-ness. Queer Indigenous people are made to feel ugly because of their Indigenous-ness.

We often capitulate the to the idea that we’re ugly because we’re inundated by these ideas.

Which brings me back to the above quote. There are so many beautiful queer people of color who think they’re ugly because they’re not seen as attractive by queer white people. Their ugliness was given to them, and they accepted it without question because white supremacy and whiteness said so. There are too many queer people of color who perpetuate white supremacist ideas of beauty.

I don’t remember when it happened, but at some point in my life the idea that my blackness was the cause of my ugliness implanted itself in the deepest part of me, and affected my ability to see blackness as beautiful. I remember how that idea drove me to seeing any non-black person, especially white people, as inherently more beautiful, and that I should aim to date them in order to somehow validate my worth.

I remember how I would never entertain the idea of being with a black person for a myriad of reasons. And I remember how deeply insecure I was that I was black, and would never really be considered attractive-or, at the most, be considered attractive despite my blackness.

And I know that I am not unique in having thought and felt this in relation to my race and skin color.

Queer people of color look everywhere to see themselves and their beauty reflected back at them, and are often met with one dimensional “versions” of themselves that looked nothing like them, which only reaffirmed the times they were called ugly. Or are constantly bombarded with images of queer white people being personified as sex symbols, or having their beauty constantly praised.

Of course, with social media there are more avenues for queer people of color to look and see themselves reflected and decolonize their ideas of beauty as it relates to them and other queer people of color, which is a great thing; however, there is still a long way to go. We haven’t quite yet even really begun to scratch the surface of the ways in which ugliness is affected by race.

Toni Morrison closes The Bluest Eye with one of the most poignant observations of how we, as people of color, help prop up racialized ugliness-a lesson we all should take to heart in our desire to abolish the current world order in service of a just and equitable world: We often place the entire blame on individuals themselves for believing they’re ugly. “They didn’t have thick enough skin.” “I was only joking.” “You’re too sensitive.” “It’s your fault for paying attention to their words.” We try to shirk any responsibility we have in making, forcing often, people feel that they’re ugly. It’s too uncomfortable for us to recognize we take a passive joy in making others feel uglier than we’ve been made to feel about ourselves, and abandoning them in that dark pit of self-hate to crawl out of half-alive because that’s how we’ve convinced ourselves that’s the only way to become better people.

It’s a practice we need to end. And we should really look deep inside of ourselves and meditate on why we like making people feel ugly, and why we demand they go through such tremendous abuse to find beauty that’s always naturally existed within them.

Originally published at https://medium.com on April 26, 2020.