Thanks for wanting to contribute!

You have one more step.
Your email address will not be published.

The real way I feel when I see white gay men post “Black Lives Matter”

You’ve done a sh*t job of making me feel like I do, and after all of this, how do I know that my mixed-black life will actually matter to you?

The real way I feel when I see white gay men post “Black Lives Matter”

Let’s take a moment to look at these words.

Black Lives Matter.

And for me, after living in this gay world, it feels like only white lives have ever mattered.

Despite this movement being about systemic racism, police brutality, and justice against murder, I can’t think about how the lives of my black family members are threatened across the United States because all that keeps coming to mind are my years of feeling invisible.

Seeing “Black Lives Matter” plastered on buildings, in windows, and across social media just draws me back to how this “community” hasn’t shown me that the black lives in their lives do actually matter. So I constantly wonder  about the authenticity of these gestures and always get drawn back to “here’s some more hypocrisy.”

And without personal and communal change what does this really do?

I feel awful because I’m making this movement about myself, but in this time when people are finally seriously considering racial discrimination and examining their white privilege, I finally have the platform (or somewhat of a listening audience) to express my frustrations.

Is it my job to shake this narcissism or am I actually just a victim of systemic racism in this environment?

Either way…

Here’s me no longer being quiet.

These subconscious biases have sent me home in tears weekend after weekend, and I have nearly 10 unpublished articles over the past couple years about these socially-curated forms of racial discrimination. All which never made it to the public because I’ve been so conditioned to keep my mouth shut on the topic and never believed that my story could ever be received well.

But over the past few months, your voices have shown me that maybe it’s okay for me to express these frustrations and my feelings need to be known.

I still feel a little uncertain sharing, but I feel like I’ve tried it all and the results always felt the same.

I’ve taken my shirt off and sailed though the sea of shirtless men, only to lose to the bearded white man (or men) before I was even considered.

On the “dating” apps… I’ve been the face, and I’ve been the torso. And the result never changed.

The face rendered instant blocks, and the torso rendered instant blocks. Well, only after sending my face pic and he realized my skin was actually brown (not tan) and it tainted his whitewashed collage of torsos.

Yeah yeah yeah, that’s the game, but it’s f*cking hard to start realizing that it’s not that way for my white counterparts.

My normal was struggling to even land a date, and that’s all I knew. But after getting closer to more and more white gay men, I was able to see this hookup culture from a different perspective. You know, like seeing the conversations full of dick pics that white guys have collected over the years from random unknown numbers because a friend of a friend asked for their number.

We can’t deny that white normative attractiveness is favored all around us, and as a person of color, it’s hard for me to feel welcomed and appreciated in this environment.

But who knows, maybe I’d feel differently if I didn’t instantly get friend zoned, or didn’t come home alone all those nights, or just didn’t feel like I was a placeholder until a different white man walked by.

So white gay men. Check your privilege.

Maybe you don’t think it’s actually because of the color of my skin, but entertain me for a minute. As gay men, we all want to change things about ourselves to fit in.

Work out more.

Get a different haircut.

Level up in our career.

But at the end of the day, are you still afraid that your skin color is actually the issue?

That is privilege.

Cancel this. Cancel that. But are we ever gonna cancel chasing after another white man because someone “hot for being a black guy” is still not up to your standards? Better yet, up to the standards of all the thirst trap accounts you feed yourself on Instagram?

Fast-forward to starting to dating a white guy, and then all of a sudden I feel visible?

Don’t think I didn’t notice.

I noticed your interest suddenly shift from barely talking to me and never making a move on me to strangely wanting to know if my partner and I “play together.”


You’ve disrespected me and I’ve lost sleep from being worried that I will always lose a partner to your sex-motivated power moves. All because you assume everyone is (or should be) as slutty as you are, right?

Maybe these are my “ass-out-of-u-and-me” assumptions, but do you ever think your commitment issues are because you get such special treatment and attention from everyone and you don’t want to give that up? When you answer “duh,” think about this:

Your privilege says, “You can have it all,” and it’s only making you feel comfortable and validated as you create more and more networks of people that look like you.

Don’t get me wrong, individually some people have been great. But when brought into a group… oh my. I’ve just had to accept the truth.

Thank God for my Native American friend reminding me, “You know why you’ll never be part of them, right…? You’re not white.”

I fell for the trap of what I see all around me and what is impossible for me to be. White.

Who knows how much longer my naïvety would have thrived if I didn’t have that one candid person of color who gave it to me frankly.

Maybe all of us not-as-attractive-as-Zac-Efron guys feel the same and I should have just said “F*ck it” long before getting to this point of bitter resentment.

F*ck your performative allyship.

I see that black square on your profile and that video of you marching on a highway, and I know that it’s not enough for me.

You say “Black Lives Matter,” but you’ve done a sh*t job of making me feel like I do.

So after all of this, how do I know that my mixed-black life will actually matter to you?

How do I know that you will do more than mourn the loss of those lives and actually make change by valuing those around you?

How do I know, that this won’t just be another fad that keeps white people busy from their boring pandemic-locked-down lives, and I won’t still be unsuitable for you to look at… to know… and to respect…?

You Might Also Like...

3 responses to this post

  1. Bgm

    Dont know if you’ll see this as I’ve just come across this several months after the fact but I have some thoughts as another black gay man. My trouble with this and similar pieces on racist preferences in the gay community is it never examines the centering of white men. Throughout this piece it seems like the only men you were considering were white men, and thus being rejected by them caused a lot of pain. Nowhere is it discussed of dating black men or other non white men, and at least in my experience many non white men who speak out against racial preferences in dating have the same preferences for dating white men. Non white men often hold these same preferences and biases against non white men but never examine their own. I am not saying any of this to dismiss the valid points of racist preferences white gay men often have, but I think the conversation isn’t complete. It’s also harmful as a black gay man to run across other black gay men or non black gay men who have less desire to date or completely rule onto dating black men due to their preferences.

    1. Sean NicDao Post author

      Hey BGM — Thank you for voicing your thoughts. You’re right. This piece doesn’t dive into the author’s experience dating other men of color, and the conversation isn’t complete. But the point of this piece is to concisely highlight the fact that there’s a disparity between white men and men of color in the gay community. Though your concerns are important, diving into dating preferences would oversaturate this piece with information and distract from the author’s call to keeping white men accountable for their seemingly hollow claims. White men are the target audience, not other people of color.

  2. Chadrick

    Thank you Sean for sharing your perspective. I am a white gay male, and I very much recognize my privilege. My ideal preferences are pretty much unobtainable, I also find most white gay men to be undateable, as I am one of the marginal himbos with a passing disability, and huge interest in metaphysics and other fringe subjects. The white men I find attractive often find me repulsive for my directness, my oversharing, and my intensity. Then again if I suppressed who I really am to be societally conforming I’d perhaps have an easier time in exchange for being wholly miserable. These “top tier” white gay men will avoid all kinds of traits that do not fit in with the societal expectations they were indoctrinated with.
    However skin color is one of the most unfair reasons to be stigmatized, as it cannot be changed. These men do not deserve you or I. They are so caught up in the societal programming that they are blindly following. It is sheep who prefer to remain confined to the cages they’ve been placed in. They are lost. They don’t even know who or what they are at their core.
    Adversity can be humbling, it can help us see through BS. Adversity can also help us find ourselves way more effectively than privilege ever will, as we ultimately have to dive within ourselves to heal the wounds we have accumulated. Those who haven’t truly suffered will continue harming others having developed little understanding of how it may feel.
    This is all only from my perspective and every perspective is unique, I acknowledge that everything I’ve shared is my truth, not necessarily anyone else’s.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Get Connected With Me

I'll never share your email with anyone else.