Reinventing the flag felt necessary, and it especially pulled on our heartstrings that year, as we were knee-deep in the pandemic and news outlets were offering little or no coverage of the alarmingly high rate of trans and gender-nonconforming people who were murdered in 2020. The flag’s intention was not just to recognize the diversity in our community, but also to pay homage to those Black and Brown femmes who led resistance movements. In 2020, there was a widespread circulation of images of the Progress Pride flag that artist Daniel Quasar developed in 2018. It’s clear there should be a change in the way we acknowledge queer femmes in this space, but acknowledgement without action and accountability is a dead-end street. Over time, organizers and community members have found ways to uplift the femmes from the past who played important roles in equality movements. Marsha Johnson, Stormé DeLarverie, Sylvia Rivera and Miss Major Griffin-Gracy were all prominent activists whose protests, riots and advocacy work, during and after the Stonewall Riots, led to the creation of many LGBTQ+ advocacy groups and organizations that still exist today. But they haven’t been publicly recognized as such in mainstream queer media, and they certainly haven’t been supported or uplifted like they deserve. Throughout history, Black and brown queer femmes have been the backbone of LGBTQ+ equality movements. The feelings I have about this aren’t new.
While being loved and cared for is important, it’s also important to understand that centering someone’s identity around what they do for others can be complicated. I was more so drained from the broken record that plays in both my relationships and my community organizing work: that I was created to do everything for everyone at all times. I wasn’t necessarily offended that people have perceived me as someone who can take care of others and take care of them well. The sentiment seemed harmless, but being Black, queer and femme means you battle the “angry Black woman” trope by day and the “mammy” caricature by night, with little or no space to exist outside of these roles. Instead, I poured myself more wine and drank as if it weren’t a weekday. You’re now looking at the modified version that was created in Colorado in 2017 by the University of Northern Colorado poly community, according to their website.I glanced up from where I was sitting and debated whether I was going to end the night in a slew of tipsy text-message exchanges reminding all my past lovers and friends that I’m nonbinary. The history: It can be traced all the way back to Jim Evans in 1995, who “wanted to create an anonymous symbol for the polyamorous community,” according to the Gender & Sexuality Resource Center at University of Northern Colorado. “The infinity heart sign represents the infinite love for multiple partners at the same time,” according to the Gender & Sexuality Resource Center at University of Northern Colorado. And the infinity heart sign on top of all the colors is truly where you see its meaning. “Polyamory is a form of consensual nonmonogamy that emphasizes emotional connection among multiple partners,” says Elisabeth Sheff, PhD, author of The Polyamorists Next Door: Inside Multiple-Partner Relationships and Families, who previously told Cosmopolitan. The meaning: First, it’s important to understand the term.