The Work Continues: Advocacy, Community, and the Future of Black Queer Health

For decades, Black gay and queer men have stood at the intersection of multiple identities, and have fought not only against racism and homophobia, but also against systems designed to erase or overlook us entirely. From the height of the HIV/AIDS epidemic to the ongoing struggle for equitable healthcare and safety, our stories have undoubtedly been marked by hardship and have also unearthed our brilliance.  

Then the unthinkable happened, and harmful policies that were visions and failed attempts under the 2017 Presidential administration have become harsh realities in 2025. Suddenly, it felt as if everything we’d hoped for, worked for, and succeeded at would soon become a memory. Policies like the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the legalization of same-sex marriage, and the growing visibility of Black queer voices in art, politics, and activism have offered hope. Yet, today’s socio-political climate poses an unsettling question: Was it all for naught?

In my work at TCC Group alongside organizations that drive equity and systemic change, this moment has sharpened our collective sense of urgency. Our approach has long been one of grounded in integrating community voices into every step of the process. Our commitment to fostering a more just society means continuing to center the stories of, and advocate for, those most impacted, while ensuring that their leadership shapes what comes next. 

In recent years, the progress hard-won by Black queer communities has faced challenges. The resurgence of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, censorship in education, and the rollback of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives all threaten to undo decades of advancement. For Black queer men, these threats compound existing disparities in access to quality healthcare, safe housing, and affirming social services.  

“What do we think? What do we know? What can we prove?” In the film “And the Band Played On”, this phrase represents the CDC’s approach to the epidemiology of HIV, emphasizing the need to separate fact from fiction. I often find myself asking these questions in many of my personal and professional endeavors, and offer these thoughts:  

What do we think?  

We think that as Black, gay, and queer men we (and all of our historical contributions) will soon face erasure. This includes the countless people who have done the difficult work of helping reduce the spread of HIV and have fought against systems of stigma and oppression so that people of color (who are already marginalized) can face less hate – or at least be equipped with the tools and resources to create safer spaces that are absent of it. 

What do we know? 

We know that socio-political hostility translates directly into health inequities. When healthcare systems fail to address the specific needs of Black queer men, particularly around HIV prevention, mental health, and gender-affirming care, the result is not just policy neglect, but a larger public health crisis. 

The constant negotiation between visibility and safety impacts heavily on mental and emotional health, and is the driver of increased rates of anxiety, depression, and suicide within our communities. The emotional toll of erasure remains one of the most enduring and painful realities for Black queer men today. 

What can we prove?  

We can prove that when healthcare equity and resources that support the well-being of Black, gay, and queer men are in place, we live longer, healthier lives. This means that systems of oppression, hate, and stigma not only hides us, but kills us. 

Despite these challenges, resistance still persists and thrives. At TCC, the question we’re asking is “What can we build with”? This is not new work for us. For decades, TCC has partnered with community organizers, advocates, and local networks who have always led the charge toward equity and justice. In this moment, we’re investing even more intentionally in grassroots organizations and community-led solutions that not only respond to harm but build enduring systems of care and power. 

Through our work with a corporate healthcare funder focused on disrupting and addressing health disparities across the US, we designed and implemented multiple programs which prioritized organizations that provide services to underserved communities, including LGBTQ+ and BIPOC individuals. Through innovative mechanisms for funding grassroots initiatives and building community-centered frameworks, and youth advocacy initiatives, we see what this looks like in action. Organizations like The Counter Narrative Project, BEAM (Black Emotional and Mental Health Collective), and Mobilizing Our Brothers Initiative (MOBI) are redefining what wellness looks like for Black queer men by providing culturally competent therapy, creating safe spaces for storytelling, and challenging mainstream narratives that often sideline Black queer experiences. 

In cities like Atlanta, New York, and Chicago, and Los Angeles, we have seen communities creating their own health ecosystems by and for Black queer men. These include peer-led support groups, pop-up HIV testing events, and holistic wellness retreats focused on joy, connection, and healing.  

My time at TCC has shifted how I see advocacy itself. What once felt like a distant, uncertain path now feels essential as a tangible expression of values and partnership. Working alongside communities and organizations who live the realities policy often fails to reach has shown me that advocacy isn’t just about influencing systems; it’s about protecting lives. As today’s political and cultural climate tests the values we claim to uphold, there is a renewed urgency to act with intention and align ourselves with people and institutions that honor inclusion, justice, and truth. The work of protecting Black queer men’s health, visibility, and dignity requires more than solidarity. It demands partnership. It demands a collective willingness to resist the systems that seek to divide, devalue, and erase. 

Because the question was never “Was it all for naught?” The question is and always will be: “What more can we do together?”