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Finding my place in Ailey’s legacy as a Queer Black man

Like me, Alvin Ailey had navigated the intersections of Blackness and queerness in a world that wasn't always ready for either.

I wasn’t even supposed to be there.

When my friend invited me to The Whitney Museum of Modern Art to see “The Edges of Ailey,” I was actually visiting New York City for a climate conference. Making time for an art exhibition felt like playing hooky. 

I hadn’t grown up with a deep appreciation for performing or visual arts. Most of what I’ve learned about the arts was after college through social osmosis. In fact, I think the first time I heard of Alvin Ailey was a Black History Month quiz. Not on Buzzfeed, though. Please, give me at least some credit. I had heard about him at a work event.

But I caved into my friend’s relentless goading, and acknowledged that it was time I pay a debt to a queer ancestor. 

As soon as I entered the space, on a spiritual level, I felt the weight of all that was there pressing on my shoulders. Here was the legacy of a man who, like me, had navigated the intersections of Blackness and queerness in a world that wasn’t always ready for either. Born in Rogers, Texas, in 1931, Ailey’s journey was shaped by feelings of otherness—growing up in segregated America while coming to terms with his sexuality.

His choreography reflected his own struggles and triumphs as a Black gay man, creating work that captured both the seriousness of oppression and the lightness of authentic self-expression. While he remained private about his sexuality—a necessity of his era—his art spoke volumes about the complexity of identity and the search for belonging.

When Ailey died of AIDS-related complications in 1989, he left behind more than just a dance company. His passing, like those of so many queer artists during the AIDS crisis, was initially kept hidden—a painful reminder of the stigma that surrounded both AIDS and homosexuality. Yet today, we can acknowledge the full truth of who he was: a revolutionary artist who used his art to break barriers and inspire generations, to inspire me, even. 

And I pinched myself for thinking I ever wasn’t supposed to be there as I stood surrounded by the passionate, rich as blood, red walls of his exhibit at The Whitney. I’m sure he was looking down on us–quite literally. Playing like ticker tape along the edge of the ceiling was a video recast of Alvin Ailey’s funeral. They showed his carefully and joyfully created “get well soon” videos that his theatre company colleagues made for him while he was in the hospital. The saddening spoiler is that he wasn’t getting better, he never would.

While that homegoing celebration danced above us as close to heaven as it could quite possibly be, artifacts that each held significance to Ailey’s life meet me at eye-level.

Carl Van Vechten, a white American photographer who became an essential chronicler of the Harlem Renaissance, captured countless portraits of the era’s luminaries in his New York City apartment studio. His photographs of Ailey and his contemporaries preserved a vital moment in cultural history.

Mary Lovelace O’Neal, known for her bold, monumental paintings, challenged conventions during the Black Arts Movement. While many of her contemporaries worked in narrative and figurative styles, she pursued abstraction, creating her own powerful visual language.

William H. Johnson, one of the South’s most revered twentieth-century artists, transformed his style over time. His work evolved from realism to expressionism to a powerful folk style, documenting the African American experience with both vibrancy and solemnity.

Each of these artists grounded me in my queerness and Blackness. Like Ailey himself, whose adolescence was shaped by feelings of otherness–both due to racial segregation and his growing awareness of his sexuality–their work spoke to the complexity of identity, the power of self-expression, and the beauty of living authentically.

And with this realization, the shift happened inside of me: I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

About the author

Charles Orgbon III

Charles Orgbon III (he/him) is an environmental sustainability consultant by day, and freelance writer by night. When it comes to writing, Charles has done a variety of creative projects, from personal essays to news journalism to even comics and songwriting. In 2020, for example, he released his first EP, "A Survivor's Reward." He loves writing about identity, culture, and sexuality.