Rustin & Intersectional Representation

This month, our discussion in Anti-Racist Film Club dwelled on the topic of intersectional “representation” in the film Rustin (2023).

Not many of us were familiar with Civil Rights activist Bayard Rustin before screening this film. A few had heard the name in school… but couldn’t remember any details about his life or work. Certainly none of us realized the significance of event organizers who worked behind the scenes to create the marvelous scope of events like the 1963 March on Washington. We knew the importance of news coverage for strategic, non-violent protest (especially when it came to televised police brutality) but had never considered how many hundreds of hours went into planning a demonstration on this scale. 

Yet, likely the main reason we’d never heard of Bayard Rustin was because he was an openly gay, Black man raising a generation of “Angelic Trouble-makers” in an era where the very movement he fought for wanted nothing to do with his public image. 

During our meeting, we took turns naming the Civil Rights figures we did remember learning about. These included: 

• Religious leaders like Rev. Martin Luther King Jr and Rev. Jesse Jackson

• Rosa Parks

• Malcom X

• Students such as Ruby Bridges and the Little Rock Nine. Or the college students who refused to move from lunch counters.

• Authors like Maya Angelou and Toni Morrison

And, for the most part, we realized that our history books portrayed a “good” Civil Rights Activist as a Black person whose image was easily digested by the white majority.  A non-violent, married Christian, a well-educated American, an innocent student, or an award-winning artist. In an hour-long discussion, we could not name any disabled, trans, or first-generation immigrant activists at all. Besides Malcom X, our examples were practicing Christians and the women we listed were either married or literal children. 

We did not remember Bayard Rustin because we were not taught about his contributions to the American Civil Rights Movement. We were not taught because both the mainstream white audience he spoke to and the Black organizations he worked with decided that his sexuality made him unfit to be a respectable face of activism. Rustin refused to move to the back of a bus in 1942—over a decade before Rosa Parks famously did the same. In fact, Rustin was intricately involved in organizing the Montgomery bus boycotts after Parks’ arrest. We all remember Dr King’s “I Have a Dream” speech at the Washington monument, but not the man who built him that stage (metaphorically of course). 

In this film, the character of Bayard Rustin was played by Coleman Domingo and directed by George C. Wolfe—two openly gay, Black men who’ve faced discrimination in their own careers, decades after the events of their film. Another article I could write might simply praise the production for its dedication to representation both on and behind the camera… but today I’m frustrated that Rustin ever became a “hidden” historical figure at all. As talented as Bayard Rustin was, he is not a uniquely forgotten individual.

The LBGTQ+ community has its own icons of activism. Off the top of your head, right now… how many can you name that are also Black?

This June, I challenge you to find more folks at the intersection of these two identities… among countless others. I hope this exercise will bring you as much frustration as it has me—and maybe our next history book might spare our children the same lesson.

ps. For a head start, look up James Baldwin and Audre Lorde.