Since I launched oursistacircle.com, my social networking site for lesbians of color, in 2009, I have witnessed many black-lesbian-owned businesses fail or struggle to survive because of the lack of support in our own community.

Nineteen-year-old Analouisa Valencia, the African-American and Latina lesbian who is competing in the Miss South Carolina contest, recently joined Huf...

In 1976, Gail Marquis was playing on the first U.S. women's basketball team to compete in the Olympics. Around that time Audrey Smaltz was knee-deep i...

The mission of OurSistaCircle is to connect, empower, inform and support lesbians of color globally. But what else could such a website do to be more unique? It could allow members to create genuine friendships, and it could address their emotional and mental concerns.

"Real L Word" star Saj Golde hopes her latest endeavor, BlackOUT Magazine, provides a positive outlet for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender peopl...

Over a decade ago, Staceyann Chin burst onto the scene with Russell Simmons’ “Def Poetry Jam” on Broadway. Sharing the stage with other prominen...

Is Sassy from VH1’s “Black Ink” part of the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community? During episode six, in the mist of the...

“Girl Play TV” fills the void of leading fictional black lesbian characters with masculine-centered or identified women. The New Orleans-based sho...

Barbara Jordan, born and raised in Houston, Texas, made history twice in her early political career, becoming the first woman elected to the Texas Sen...

On behalf of Equality Florida, I want to thank Lt. Governor Carroll for taking responsibility for her words and for responding to the harm those words inflicted.

We -- lesbians of color -- are already shouldering disproportionate concerns about our visibility without folks like you adding to the load. We are living in a society that almost pathologically refuses to acknowledge our existence... that is, until our existence is perceived as a threat.

Each year, I mark the MLK holiday by reexamining King's teachings, remembering that my longing for LGBTQ justice is inextricably tied to my work toward religious tolerance in the black church. And this is why I continue to speak up.

Seldom do I see my image anywhere, and certainly not portrayed in non-stereotypical and non-heterosexist ways on the silver screen. But Dee Rees' semi-autobiographical Pariah gives me a glimpse of my younger self growing up in Brooklyn.

Two lesbians of African descent abandon fear for risk and decide to marry in New York City, breaking social taboo in Africa while making U.S. history. But did their struggle for equality pay off in their homeland?

I spoke with Kelebohile Nkhereanye and Renee Boyd about their decision to marry, its impact on their relationship as a lesbian couple of African extraction, and what their marriage, and marriage at large, mean to queer Africans on the continent and in the Diaspora.

When my wife and I attended the Kwanzaa celebration with our son's classmates and their families in 1977, we were the only lesbian couple in the room. Yet we were welcomed into that room. This was a life-changing event for me.

One of my findings is that working-class black lesbians live in black communities, not "gay ghettos," and that social location shapes their identities, family formation, and other understandings in ways that differ from some white LGBT people.