“When we talk about the larger society in America, I think we’ve made some major headways in LGBTQ rights and acceptance,” says Kenya Hutton, president of the Center for Black Equity. “However, there are active moves being taken to get rid of some of those rights. Seeing attempts to take back those rights is a little disheartening, trying to go back to a space where a young, gay me was afraid to come out and of what was going to happen.”

The 46-year-old sees part of his mission as creating a world where younger generations of LGBTQ people will not have to overcome the same obstacles he had to in the process of exploring his identity.

“It’s sad, it’s scary,” he says of what he sees as a backlash against the broader LGBTQ community. “We achieved so much, but it’s so easy, with the stroke of a pen, to put an entire community in disarray. A lot of us are tired. We’ve been doing this work for so long, but we know we have to continue doing the work because we refuse to go back into the closet.

“It’s just disheartening to see that there is so much hatred for such a small portion of the community, especially our trans community, which just wants to live and exist,” he continues. “I struggle with understanding why they are so angry with a community that just wants to live, who just want to exist in peace and harmony with everybody else and get their human rights like everyone else.”

Hutton, a child of Jamaican parents who grew up in Brooklyn’s Flatbush neighborhood, was primarily raised by his grandparents. He attended private schools until eighth grade but ultimately transferred to public school after getting his ears pierced in an act of rebellion against the school’s strict dress code.

Once in public school, he began encountering the real world, learning about the diversity within the larger community and encountering real-life experiences with discrimination, classism, and homophobia. He would eventually come out as gay to his high school drama teacher, who served as a supportive resource during that tumultuous time.

As an adult, Hutton became involved in the ballroom scene, which he first became aware of after watching the iconic ballroom documentary Paris is Burning on PBS.

“I had a group of friends that I talked about it with, and they were very anti-ballroom,” he recalls. “So one day, I was at the Puerto Rican Day Parade in New York City, and a guy walked up to me and started talking with me, and he invited me to an event and I said, ‘Sure, I’ll come.’

“I thought it was just a regular club on 28th Street. I went and was talking to the guy, and then the music came on and then the commentator got on the mike. And I realized I was attending with a ballroom legend. And as the ball was going on, I looked across the room and those same people who were telling me not to go to balls were sitting right in front row. That was my first introduction to ballroom.”

Since then, Hutton, a member of the Legendary House of Garçon, has competed in and hosted balls both in New York City and D.C., where he is also a co-founder of the Capitol Ballroom Council. He was recently granted “legendary” status within the community for his efforts to connect the ballroom community with important physical and mental health services. Hutton also notes that his experience with the ballroom community — where one has to have thick skin to deal with criticism — has helped make him a better, more vocal advocate for the causes in which he believes.

“One thing about ballroom is that you’ll get down, but you dust yourself off and keep on going,” he says. “And ballroom really gave me that real-world grit that I take with me into all the spaces I enter. The more my career advances and I develop leadership skills, I see myself pulling different lessons from ballroom and integrating it into my professional life.”

Interestingly, Hutton’s first encounter with the Center for Black Equity, the organization he now leads, came as a result of a bartending gig.

“I was brought in as a bartender for an event through one of my colleagues,” he recalls. “They said they were looking for someone to just come and serve beer and wine to the attendees. And I was like, ‘Sure, I’ll come and do it.’ And maybe about 15, 16 years ago is when I started really volunteering with the organization, coming around and getting more involved on a day-to-day basis.”

When it comes to his personal values, Hutton prizes integrity, humility, and authenticity as traits worthy of being emulated.

“I learned very early that what you always have, and carry with you through life, is your integrity. That’s what people are going to know you for,” he says. “I try to be humble as possible, and to operate from a place of love. I have a love for my fellow humans. I think everybody is beautiful in their own way, in their own right. And I think everyone deserves the right to shine.

“I also admire people that live authentically,” he adds. “I still, even at this age, sometimes battle my little inner demons that tell me, ‘Okay, you shouldn’t wear that. You shouldn’t say this. You shouldn’t do that. You can’t go here. You can’t go there.’ So when I see members of the community, especially some of the young community, living authentically as who they are, I admire that. I want the future generation to not feel like they have to shy away or fit into someone else’s mold.”

In carrying out his work for the Center for Black Equity, Hutton is also motivated by an innate desire for fairness.

“I’m a firm believer — always have been, always will be — that it is your right as a human being on the face of this earth to be treated with respect and dignity, to get respect from everybody regardless of your economic status, regardless of your degree attainment. I hate when that doesn’t happen, and that keeps me going,” he says.

“Growing up, the things I went through, things that I saw, I saw my friends dying. I saw classism. I saw my grandparents choose to be quiet and keep their heads down just for survival. My grandmother came to this country making $60 a week in America. I think seeing all those things makes me want to utilize my access and my privilege to advocate for those voices that can’t speak for themselves.”

METRO WEEKLY: Let’s talk about your coming out story. When did you first know you were gay?

KENYA HUTTON: I feel like I always knew. I always knew something was a little different, but because of society, and growing up in a Jamaican household, I didn’t know what “gay” was. I didn’t know what same-sex attraction was. I remember specifically thinking to myself, “Oh this will just pass. It’s just everybody. All guys think other guys are attractive, right?” I used to justify these things to myself. I never said it publicly, but I can think back to me being like, “Oh my God, he’s hot,” and wondering what he would look like and taking peeks in gym class. But then just saying to myself, “Oh this is normal. I think everybody does this.”

It wasn’t until high school that I realized, no, this was more than just a random passing, that this was really something that was who I was, and tried to deny it before coming to that realization. I did the whole “try to pray it away” thing. I went through all the stereotypical emotions that you hear people talk about as they’re growing up, learning their identity. I had girlfriends and did everything I could to convince myself that this was just a phase. But more and more, as I got older and realized the attractions I was having were lingering thoughts, I began to realize that I was gay.

I had my first gay experience in high school, and I actually came out to my high school drama teacher, who was the first person I told that I was gay. Ms. Rinaldi was great. She welcomed me and just made me feel okay. During that time, I had a lot of feelings and a lot of uncertainties growing up, and then that kind of began the world of Kenya Hutton being an openly gay man.

MW: Tell me about how being raised in the Jamaican community influenced your coming out? What makes that cultural background unique?

HUTTON: I wouldn’t change being Jamaican for the world. I love my culture. I love my family, I love my food, I love everything about it. Unfortunately, it is a very hypermasculine culture, and there isn’t any space for anything that is not a traditional man, or a traditional stereotypical male experience. It’s very machismo, very masculine, very much about taking care of the family. It’s hard growing up in that space because homosexuality is not welcome. It’s not discussed. When you grow up in a household where you hear and see homophobic slurs being made, and when you see –- and this is not just in Jamaican culture, but this was part of the broader culture at the time — LGBTQ folks as characters, being made fun of, it made it really hard to accept that I might be gay.

In Jamaican culture, we still have deep-rooted discrimination, hatred towards LGBTQ community. It’s still illegal to be gay in Jamaica. I still have friends who are refugees who had to leave Jamaica, and run away because they were part of the LGBTQ community. To this day, I have a friend right now going through refugee status because of that, and she’s from Jamaica. So Jamaica still has a long way to go as far as that’s concerned.

MW: How did your parents, family, and friends deal with you coming out as gay?

HUTTON: I came out in the midst of an argument with my mother. We were arguing via email. It was just weird. She called me the F-word, and my response to her was, “Tell me something that I don’t already know.” I’ll never forget that. And then she just stopped responding.

Prior to that, my mother and I had a really tight relationship, but then I didn’t hear from her for a couple of days at that point. I was living with my grandparents at the time. I remember she used to come over and just be in the hallway, crying. And I was just like, what do I do with this? How do I handle this? I ended up getting her in the space and said, “Listen, yes, it’s true, but I’m asking you not to tell anybody. Keep this to yourself. I don’t want my grandparents to know. I don’t want my father to know, because my father’s Rastafarian.” I just did not want that.

I’ll never forget: I was at work that day, and I was working in an office in the parts department of a major printing company at the time. I was sitting at my desk, and two of my uncles called, and then my father called. And he never said what was going on. He just called and said, “Hey, Kenya, I just wanted to let you know I love you and you are always going to be my son.” And I just didn’t know what was going on. I was like, “What are they calling about?” And it wasn’t until my father called that I realized my mother had told them in the hopes that they would “straighten me out.”

At the time, my father and I didn’t have a good relationship. But he also knew that he wouldn’t turn his back on me. And those phone calls meant so much to me, to hear from people that I generally feared but wouldn’t say what they were calling about. It just was reassuring to me to hear I was still loved, and I’m still Kenya to them. Eventually, my mother came around, and she and I tried. Our relationship never really repaired back to the way it was before, even to this day. But she came around.

Also, I had a very heavy amount of shame, and I didn’t want to embarrass my grandparents. I’ll never forget, years later, after I had relocated to D.C., I used to drive up [to New York] two or three times a month to check on my grandmother and make sure she was okay. My grandparents were really the ones that raised me.

One day, we were sitting in the car that my grandmother had brought me, and she said, “I don’t know why your mother keeps on making a big deal about your lifestyle.” And I just didn’t say anything. I just sat there staring straight ahead. I swear I was staring a hole through the windshield. And she said, “You’re happy. You’re not killing anybody. You’re not doing anything wrong. Just be happy for you.” And at that time, I knew that my grandmother knew [I was gay]. She might never say it, but would acknowledge it.

My mother was the one who struggled the most because she was concerned that I was going to transition. She was worried that I was going to get into drag. She was concerned that I was going to contract HIV, and she even raised the notion of, “Do I have to get separate plates and cups for you?” She struggled the most of anyone accepting that I was gay. She wanted grandkids. She went through all the stages of grief, but everyone else seemed to have rallied around me, which made it easier for me to deal with and stand in my own identity, despite the culture that I grew up in.

MW: The Trump administration has been very keen on rescinding any information that acknowledges transgender identity, in particular, with recent executive orders and agency actions. While many people are disgusted, there are some gays and lesbians who have defended those actions. What would you say to people who argue that Trump is not a threat to gay men’s rights, specifically?

HUTTON: That’s a great question, right? Because the proof is in the pudding. We see what he’s doing. We see what he’s saying. We see how things are being written. So, of course, those actions should raise alarm. Trump says one thing, but does another. We’ve seen that time and time again. We see the attacks on the trans community. And if you know anything, if they are ever successful in achieving all they plan with the trans community, who do you think will be next? They’re not going to be done with their mission.

They’re trying to erase us out of existence. They’re attacking gay books. They’re attacking gay exposure. They’re essentially trying to put us back in the closet. So I like to listen to people when they say we don’t need to worry, but I struggle with understanding [that sentiment] because I’m seeing the same things, and I am getting concerned. I see the attacks and I think there is an intent to divide the community as much as possible, because if they keep us divided, it will be easier to chip away at parts of the community.

I think there’s a certain group of people within the community, who, because of socioeconomic status, aren’t understanding the experiences of people in the community that don’t have access to attend his dinners, that don’t have access to 401(k)s and aren’t easily able to navigate spaces. They’re forgetting those parts of the community that are scared, that need resources. They’re forgetting about the little gay Kenya that needs to see openly successful queer people living authentically in their truth, so they know it’s okay to be gay and not live in shame.

I always find it very interesting when LGBTQ folks defend Donald Trump and the things that he’s doing. I can’t even say Donald Trump — it’s the current administration as a whole. I don’t understand what they’re seeing that I’m not seeing.

MW: We’re also seeing a backlash to diversity, equity, and inclusion measures, both within the administration and among society as a whole, to the point that private employers and major corporations are getting rid of DEI initiatives or downplaying their pro-LGBTQ worker benefits. How do you feel about the backlash, and what should the response be to these anti-DEI efforts?

HUTTON: I think what’s been done is a very systematic approach to convince people that DEI gives Black communities, or LGBTQ communities, advantages or services that others aren’t able to get. If you really get through the noise, you’d realize that DEI really benefits all of us. It benefits the differently abled. It fights against ageism. It fights against sexism. It allows you to be able to come back to work after taking maternity leave. It even includes ADA compliance. It’s so much more than just race, or saying a Black person or a queer person gets an advantage that others don’t. DEI is really just saying that we’ve realized that some communities have been left out of the larger conversation, and we’re going to intentionally make sure that we create space so they can get access to all the things that they want, that they need as humans, because the existing spaces were not made for them.

In all transparency, some organizations or corporations didn’t allow access or didn’t provide access to these various communities. And that wasn’t intentional. It was just the nature of how things worked. And people operated out of a space where they just didn’t realize what was going on. DEI just forced you to realize, “Oh, maybe I wasn’t creating space for women to elevate to high positions of leadership within organizations.” Or for communities of color or queer people or older communities or differently-abled communities.

DEI really pushed folks to say, “Okay, let’s make sure we make an intentional effort that if these people are qualified, they’re getting their fair shake.” And I think that’s where folks feel — or I guess are upset — that they were forced to acknowledge other communities, and feel like something’s being taken away from them just because we were leveling the playing field. So I think we have to really do a better job at redefining how DEI benefits all of us and dispel the notion that it only benefits some of us.

MW: You recently took over as president of the Center for Black Equity. How do you see the organization’s mission or some of its goals changing under your leadership?

HUTTON: It’s interesting, because I took over right before the election, and I’m taking over in a very hostile space.

A lot of the work I’ve been doing has been working with communities, and not just the Black LGBTQ community, but working with Black women, working with our trans communities, working with [other] communities to help them figure out how to create and maintain and sustain long-term sustainability around safe spaces. Because as we’re seeing the safe spaces being taken away, where do we go to talk about what we need and advocate for ourselves? So we really have been working really hard on figuring out how we do that.

For 25 years, the Center for Black Equity has been building coalitions, building groups, building teams, building communities to maintain, sustain and elevate safe spaces. And as always, we are advocating for our seat at the table, advocating for the trans community to get access to gender-affirming care, regardless of whether you’re in the military or not.

If you’re in rural parts of the country, we advocate for making sure you have access to health care and medical treatment that you need so you can be successful and be a contributing part of the community, paying taxes to the government so that the country can succeed and have the resources it needs to continue.

MW: As we discussed, there are divisions within the LGBTQ community. How are you attempting to serve as a uniter?

HUTTON: First, by acknowledging the hurt that everyone is going through. A lot of us are hurt, a lot of us are scared. So, acknowledging that. There are efforts being taken to cripple and divide the community, which are forcing folks to rally in their corners and protect their own piece of the pie, so to speak. What we are doing is really trying to address and talk about those differences, while also reminding people that we have to stick together. We have to remain a united front. And I firmly believe that if they come for me, they’re going to come for you, they’re going to come for everybody. So let’s not allow that to happen.

As a cis gay man, I have to make sure I’m out here advocating for women, I’m advocating for trans women, and that they are advocating for us as well. It’s about amplifying the voices of these communities so that they can be heard. We have to push back safely but loudly and advocate for the rights that we, as taxpayers, deserve. They don’t give me a break on my taxes because I’m gay. So if we are paying the same taxes as everybody else, we are entitled to the same rights and access as everybody else.

MW: Does the Center for Black Equity accept federal funding, and if so, to what degree?

HUTTON: We do not accept federal funding. I think years ago, before my time, I think we had a CDC grant, but that was it. We’ve historically not been an organization that survived on federal funding, thank goodness.

However, I see, and I understand, and I know people who are deeply dependent on federal funding or government funding, and I can empathize with them and advocate for them to continue getting access to that funding because they’re filling a void.

MW: While you are not accepting federal funding, other organizations that work with the LGBTQ community are. We’re now seeing the federal government trying to vet whether funds are being used to promote “DEI” or “gender ideology” and cut off funding to organizations that don’t ideologically align with the administration. How are organizations going to be able to get around these hurdles?

HUTTON: I do think the waving of the wand to get rid of DEI is going to be used to strategically cut out access to organizations that provide funding to marginalized communities. I definitely feel that is going to be weaponized. When I look at the words that are going to be flagged, I see an intentional effort to not provide access to programming that benefits the trans community, the Black community, etc. And I think as organizations, what we’re going to have to do is two things at once. We’re going to have to advocate for not being penalized for utilizing those words or providing services to those communities. But we’re also going to have to be creative with our grant applications.

Some organizations are going to have to alter their mission statement so they can get access to those funds, because we have to be able to survive. And that’s going to be a struggle for some organizations, like us, that are embedded in Black equity and equity for communities. How do you navigate that? How do you look at a grant application and know that you want to do work for the Black LGBTQ community and know that you need these funds to continue doing that work, but write it in a way that you can still get funding without forgetting your community? I think this is going to be a very tough time for a lot of organizations to reorganize, restructure and be nimble to adapt to what’s going on.

And I hate the fact that some organizations are not going to make it. Some organizations are not going to be able to make the pivot. Some organizations are not going to be able to weave in language to be able to continue getting funding to survive, and we’re going to lose some very impactful organizations, some organizations that have saved lives over the years. We’re going to lose them. And once those cornerstone organizations and spaces are gone, where do those people go to get the affirming care, the affirming services that they need?

As the Center for Black Equity, we are having conversations and giving advice to those organizations on how to navigate this. We’ve had a strategy call already and we’re going to be having more of those conversations about pivoting in your mission statement while still being able to access funding. And about diversifying your funding so that you’re still able to have some level of income coming to provide services for the communities you serve. When we can’t do that anymore, we lose our reason to exist, and that’s a big fear I have right now.

MW: The Center for Black Equity, as it does every year, is going to organize DC Black Pride. There’s been a longstanding internal debate about the inclusion of educational workshops or events as part of the celebration of Pride. Is there a sense of exhaustion within the community regarding the educational or political aspects of Pride, and how do you balance those aspects with the entertainment and celebratory aspects of Pride?

HUTTON: Yes, there is an exhaustion, and people do want a form of release, to just come out and have fun and not worry about what’s going on, almost like an escape from reality. But I think we also have to understand that there are also parts of our community that want those panel discussions. They still want to come to a Pride celebration and learn something. We have people every year who come to DC Black Pride for our workshop series.

We have to create equitable space, active space, engaging space for people to be able to talk about things, to engage in activism, so they can go back to their hometowns and feel a sense of empowerment to fight for rights there. Because there may not be that space in their local towns and their local rural areas. So those people come to a Pride event and they learn from others, and realize, “Oh, wow, I didn’t know this existed. I left this workshop, I left this event feeling reinvigorated. I left this workshop feeling activated. Now I want to go back and make some change for more people in my community.”

We have to keep those aspects of Pride, but also create spaces for people to come and just have a good time, to just listen to music and not hear anything political. We have to understand that the very act of being open and experiencing joy is a form of activism as well, especially when you’re in a space where you’re being told not to exist authentically or openly as who you are.

MW: What would your advice be to someone who is emotionally drained, exhausted, who just wants to turtle and stay home and not engage in activism?

HUTTON: I hope that you don’t. I hope that you are able to still be out there and activate and fight, but I understand if that’s what you want to do. Because I think, far too many times, activists are not taught to take care of themselves. We’re taught to continue pouring and pushing and draining and using all of our energy until we have no more gas left in the tank.

So if you feel that need for you to — as you call it, “turtle” yourself — do what you need for yourself and re-energize. Take some time for yourself. But if you still feel that small flicker of a flame to do something, fan it and let that regrow, because we need our activists to be a hundred percent to be able to handle everything that’s happening. If that means taking a step back to re-energize yourself, do it. In my career, I’ve taken a break and I left the work altogether and I went and bartended for three years. And then I was ready to come back and do the work, and I was able to approach the work with even more vigor than I had before I left, because I took that time for myself.

We need you. We need everybody. Whether you are part of the community or you’re an ally, we need your bodies. And it’s more than just monetary support. We need your bodies in these spaces so that we can really form and grow and build that community.

But I don’t want anyone to ever feel bad for taking time for themselves and saying, “I can’t do this anymore.” Because it’s really hard to be doing it and doing it for years. Do what you have to do for yourself. But I do hope that you’ll be able to turn back around and come back out and join us in the fight because the fight’s not going to be over tomorrow. So if I can fight right now while you take a break, when you’re ready to come back, you can give me a break while I go and recharge myself.

To learn more about the Center for Black Equity, visit www.centerforblackequity.org.