On July 29, O’Shae Sibley, a 28-year-old dancer, was outside of a gas station in Brooklyn, dancing with friends. Beyoncé’s newest album, Renaissance, played around them, filling the air with the sounds of Black queer resistance. Soon after Sibley and his friends began dancing, a 17-year-old and his friends approached the group, ordering them to stop. Anti-Black and homophobic slurs were hurled. The 17-year-old stabbed Sibley, killing him.
The murder shocked the community. Days later, a crowd of Black queer supporters gathered at the gas station in Brooklyn, dancing in the space where Sibley lost his life. Even Beyoncé paid homage to Sibley on the homepage of her website following his death. That this murder happened in New York City, a haven for many queer people, is a startling sign of the rising aggression against Black queer people.
When Renaissance was released last July, I didn’t listen to it for a while. It wasn’t until I saw and heard clips from the songs on Twitter and TikTok that my interest was piqued. In the album, Beyoncé pays tribute to her late Uncle Johnny, a Black queer man. She also samples many Black queer legends from the Ballroom and house music scenes, including Moi Renee, Big Freedia, and Honey Dijon. On the Renaissance tour, there is an entire segment devoted to her dancers, who vogue and show out for the crowd.
I didn’t know the album was a tribute to the Black queer community until I listened to it. When I finally did, it was a moving experience—one many Black queer people had when they listened to Renaissance. One of the most talented, groundbreaking stars of the last 20 years made an album for us. So when Sibley danced to the album, it’s not hard to imagine the joy in his heart, the freedom in his movement. All of that life, robbed from his family and friends.
Some might say this is no time to point fingers, but how does a 17-year-old become a murderer? He’s trained to become one by homophobic and racist rhetoric. He’s taught to believe that his life is worth more than that of a Black queer person because he despises their Blackness, their queerness. He’s conditioned toward violence by a government that says queer people are groomers and pedophiles.
Initial reports on the murder of Sibley said the teen who stabbed the dancer was Muslim, but after his arrest, his lawyer called him “a good Christian boy.” It’s hard not to link the two realities; how Christianity is often used to diminish queer people when we try to come out, to be ourselves, to live. For years, when a gay or trans person was murdered, defense lawyers employed what was known as the “gay/trans panic defense,” the idea that their clients, so shocked by an LGBTQ person’s existence, decided that violence was necessary.
Violent charges have been dismissed based on this defense. The teen accused of murdering Sibley has pleaded not guilty to hate crime charges, and we don’t know what his defense team is planning yet. It surely will be something that robs Sibley of his humanity even more.
A GoFundMe started by Sibley’s father raised six times its goal in a matter of days. Donations are still incoming. People have come together to celebrate Sibley’s life and dance in his name, in the face of violence and anti-LGBTQ rhetoric from politicians. O’Shae Sibley’s friends called him light, someone whose spirit was loved and celebrated when he was here on Earth. He refused to be diminished, and we can’t let the light he shined on Earth be snuffed out.
(featured image: Spencer Platt, Getty Images)
