Right on Time: A Queer Becoming

When we speak, we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.” —Audre Lorde, A Litany for Survival

After over 30 years of movement work, I realized that my politics had been queering for decades through movement work and my community, disrupting norms, refusing binaries, choosing truth over comfort. I didn’t “come out” in my teens or twenties. My queerness has been more of a slow bloom than a bold announcement. My sexual identity and intimate relationships took their time catching up, becoming more fluid, more honest, more liberated.


“Queer,” once used to harm, now feels like home. It is not just about who I love but how I live, how I relate to power, how I resist. As Cathy Cohen wrote in Punks, Bulldaggers, and Welfare Queens, “queerness is a refusal to be diminished, a politic grounded in shared deviance and collective possibility.” 

Charlene Carruthers reminds us that a Black, queer, feminist lens is a way to do the work and live the life. This lens, identity, and way of moving in the world that erases our humanity is even more evident when we create spaces where everyone, no matter their age, gender identity, class or sexuality, can bring their whole selves. We can tend to our rage, our joy, our brilliance, our exhaustion, and still be seen as worthy of rest, of leadership, and of love. 

This lens is insistent that liberation is not just about what we fight against but about how we care for one another as we fight and how we build a world that affirms our humanity in the process. It is aspirational, shaped by imperfect people committed to transformation. Black feminism, Reproductive Justice, and Healing Justice are the foundations of the work I’ve been stewarding since 2019 through The Black Girl’s Guide to Surviving Menopause. I am impacted by this work, getting free alongside others. 

I often think of the character Hippolyta Freeman, portrayed so powerfully by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor in Lovecraft Country, naming herself again and again across dimensions. I, too, am learning how to name myself, not just as a mother, a storyteller, or an organizer, but as a queer Black Southern woman in full bloom.


Coming out in my late 50s doesn’t make me late to queerness. I’m right on time.


What would I tell a peer having a similar experience? I would start by exploring the spaces of who we are rather than what we do. As my queer identity continues to evolve, I am a daughter, sister, mother, lover, firestarter, creative, the empress of bright ideas, a balm, priestess, and friend. This is what queerness has given me the courage to stay in the work and to keep becoming. And as I do, I carry the brilliance and fire of those who lit the way, Audre Lorde, Nikki Giovanni, Angela Davis, Ntozake Shange, Alice Walker, June Jordan, Toni Cade Bambara, Alexis Pauline Gumbs, Charlene Carruthers, adrienne maree brown, Cara Page, and Sonya Renee Taylor. These kindred souls helped me love all of who I am.

The Invitation
From the moment we take our first breath until our last, we are constantly evolving and learning. Much of how we understand these truths is influenced by our families of origin, culture, spirituality, or religious practices, as well as the circumstances in which we live and create. I encourage you to reflect on this question: regardless of whether you identify as queer, straight, or in any other way that feels true to you, how will you honor your identity and your journey of becoming? What gift will you give yourself that acknowledges and celebrates all aspects of who you are? However you answer these questions, remember Toni Morrison’s reminder, “you are your best thing”.


Omisade Burney-Scott is the Pulse Expert Advisor for Honey Pot Company and the Founder and Chief Menopause Steward of The Black Girl’s Guide to Surviving Menopause. This year, The Black Girl’s Guide to Surviving Menopause will host Iranti Ẹ̀jẹ̀, the first intergenerational menopause conference focused on the Global Majority, queer individuals, and formerly incarcerated people. This conference serves as a sanctuary for those in the process of becoming. It is a gift from our collective ancestors, our movements, and our creativity, reflecting our commitment to those living on the margins of mainstream menopause discourse. This gathering is a sacred tribute to our past, present, and future selves.