Don’t buy state leaders’ hype and hostility. LGBTQ+ Floridians are not the enemy | Opinion
We’re saying it: gay.
And we say it in affirmation of the people, the humanity, the flesh-and-blood Floridians who are turned into faceless, two-dimensional stick figures when we refer solely to the “the LGBTQ+ community.”
And in Florida, they have been referred with far too many hostile actions from state leaders, both elected and appointed.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, state House Republicans continued their dogged pursuit of eliminating anything that would give a gay or transgender person any sense of normalcy in their lives, including debating who uses what bathroom and a crackdown on treatment for transgender minors. They also bandied about penalties for clubs that admit children into “lewd” drag performances. Obviously, children don’t belong in such venues. But was this a huge problem in Florida? Doubtful, but it revs up the base.
Wednesday, the State Board of Education barred Florida middle school and high school teachers from “intentionally” teaching students about sexual orientation or gender identity, unless the lessons are part of a reproductive health course or are “expressly required” by the state’s academic standards. Teachers might otherwise be suspended.
Yes, these are conversations that also should be had at home. But cutting off students’ questions and curiosity is antithetical to what education should be about.
And since schools can’t do educate their students on this topic, maybe a flesh-and-blood South Floridian can.
More than 30 years ago, Naomi Parker was married, with child. Now, she is Naomi Ruth Cobb, living her most authentic life as a lesbian.
“Attracted to girls”
About three decades ago, she said to her husband, “You know, I think I might be attracted to girls.”
He responded, “I think you might be,” Cobb said. “He and I would have late-night talks about being gay. I could come out to him.”
His reaction was the ultimate act of love for his wife — accepting, understanding, selfless. And the next part of her journey began — some of it captured by the beautifully mind-expanding exhibit, curated by Nadege Green and Marie Vickles, “Give Them Their Flowers” at the Little Haiti Cultural Center Art Gallery until April 22. It unearths the artifacts — photographs, newspaper clippings, oral histories, fashion — of Black queer Miami, some going back to the 1940s.
Cobb has lived some of that history.
“The letters were short back then — LGB. The B was for bisexual, and we didn’t use the word ‘transgender.’ ”
“I went out with a friend of mine who took me out into the ‘community.’ I asked: ‘Where are the Black people?’ There wasn’t a welcoming place for us like there were for white gay men.
“There never was a time when I could go into a white gay club and see Black people. There would be a ‘Black Night’ here and there, or you had to come up to Broward County to a club called Sugar’s. You got a chance to go see your friends, maybe your kid’s teacher.
“ ‘Don’t tell anybody you saw me here,’ they’d say. There was still that fear of being outed.”
“And we socialized at each others’ homes. There were doctors, school teachers, business owners. Friends would bring the newbies, like me. They’d say, ‘Don’t date that one’ or ‘That one’s a player’ — the unwritten rules.
“For those of us who had children, one of the most spectacular things was that other women did, too.
“They were guiding me through the process of being a lesbian.
Finding her tribe
“We used the word ‘family,’ but it was spelled ‘phamily.’ It was a tribal language. I built that tribe in Miami, warm and loving. And remember, there was AIDS at the time, and that made the bonds closer.”
During that fraught time, Cobb says, “Mount Tabor Baptist Church and Greater Bethel [African Methodist Episcopal Church] were instrumental in helping us as gay people. They were non-judgmental places where we could go.”
Unfortunately, in Florida, leaders on the highest levels have trampled “non-judgmental” underfoot. Out-loud, white-hot, open hostility has shocked Floridians who don’t believe in scapegoating, in erasing, in smearing fellow human beings simply because they exist.
But elected officials have been dragging drag queens, muzzling LGBTQ+ students and, more recently, calling transgender people vile names.
“It’s suffocating. It feels like the work that we’ve done to open doors to provide equity being closed,” Cobb said.
“But we’ve got our foot in that door,” she said. “We’re strong and we’re not going to let you close it.”
In a Florida intent on erasing both Black history and the presence of LGBTQ+ residents, Naomi Ruth Cobb, indeed, deserves her flowers.
