Black, Queer, and Soulful: Owning My Identities in Music

Finding My Full Self in the Music

As a younger woman, I used to compartmentalize who I was. There was the performer version of me, the family version, the corporate version, the spiritual version, and then the quiet, private self that held it all together. But as I have grown, I have realized that my power comes from integration and from showing up whole.

Being a Black lesbian in music is not something I hide or something I use as a statement (except when I am in my full Sapphic Soul Singer bag). It is simply who I am, and it shapes every lyric, every performance, and every decision I make.

When I am creating or performing, all those identities come with me, not as labels but as lived experiences. They shape the way I move through sound and story. They give the music its heartbeat. My queerness shows up in my freedom to love and express without boundaries. My Blackness carries the ancestral rhythm, the culture, the community, and the joy. My womanhood holds the nurturing, the sensuality, and the strength. Together, they make music that is authentic, layered, and alive.

Growing Up Gen X: Why Integration Took Time

Growing up Gen X meant you learned to keep certain things to yourself. We are the latchkey generation. The "mind your business" generation. The generation raised on don’t ask, don’t tell vibes long before that phrase ever became policy. You learned to be strong, independent, and composed even when you were struggling. I have had to unlearn a lot of that in order to fully tap into my artistry, and honestly, it is still hard sometimes.

Back then, there were not many examples of artists who were openly queer, openly vulnerable, or openly complex, especially Black women. You either fit a mold or you did not get invited in. So like many folks, I got really good at splitting myself into pieces. I knew how to code-switch, compartmentalize, and read a room before I even had the language for any of that.

Integration took time because the world did not make it easy. But that is also what makes it powerful. As I grew into myself, I stopped wanting to be "digestible" for others. I wanted to be whole for me, to be in integrity. Embracing all my identities as a Black, a lesbian, a Gen X auntie, an artist, and a truth teller freed not only my life but also my music.

The Freedom in Representation

Representation matters, but it is not just about visibility. It is about truth.

When people see me on stage, I want them to see someone who is fully herself. Joyful, grounded, open, and honest. Being a queer Black woman in this industry sometimes means navigating spaces that were not built for me. But it also means I get to help reshape them.

There is freedom in being able to take up space as myself with no explanation needed. That is something I want to model for the next generation of artists, that you do not have to shrink or hide parts of who you are to be respected, loved, or successful. Your authenticity is your art. 

When I am performing songs like Choose You or Look to the Sky, I know they hit differently for different people. Some hear love songs. Some hear self-acceptance anthems. Some hear a reflection of their own journey toward belonging. That is the beauty of being open, the message expands.

When someone tells me that my music made them feel seen or that a lyric helped them through a rough time, that is everything. Because that is what soul music does. It makes you feel less alone. It lets you breathe a little easier knowing someone else gets it.

Creating from this place of honesty keeps me aligned. Whether I am writing, performing, or mentoring other artists, I want the message to stay the same: your story, your truth, and your love are valid and beautiful.

Carrying It Forward

Being Black, Queer and Soulful is not about categories. It is about connection. It is about honoring every piece of who I am and letting that show up in the art. Music rooted in truth, love, and dope grooves can build bridges. It is proof that when we bring our full selves to the mic, we give others permission to do the same. This is the sound of freedom, authenticity, and belonging.