Organizer, activist, and educator, Trinice McNally. Photo Credit: Sasha Matthews of Green Tangerine Photography. Photo courtesy of Trinice McNally.

By Jaimee A. Swift

A Black queer feminist organizer, activist, educator, and student affairs professional, Trinice McNally (she/her/hers) is relentless when it comes to transforming and creating liberatory spaces for LGBTQ+ students at HBCUs.

Trinice McNally’s interview is a part of ‘Voices in Movement’ February 2020 theme, ‘#MakingBlackQueerHistory: Black LGBTQ+ Women and Non-Binary Student Activism at HBCUs.’ To read the descriptor, please click here.

There are so many words to describe Trinice McNally: powerful, moving, motivational, compassionate, caring, relentless. And it is through her relentless activism, leadership, and dedication to the liberation of all Black people that McNally will stop at nothing until LGBTQ+ students receive equity at HBCUs and beyond.

A Black queer feminist organizer, activist, educator, and student affairs professional hailing from London, England with Jamaican roots, McNally is a two-time alumnus from Bethune-Cookman University (originally the Daytona Literary and Industrial Training School for Negro Girls), the first and only historically Black university founded by a Black woman, Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, an educator and activist who was the co-founder of the United Negro College Fund (UNCF) and founder of the National Council of Negro Women (NCNW). As a nationally recognized transformation leader, McNally, during her graduate studies at Bethune-Cookman, conducted a two-year research study on the best practices, resources, and initiatives to foster inclusive learning environments for LGBTQ+ students at HBCUs. Because of her dynamic work, she served as the coordinator of diversity initiatives at Bethune-Cookman and became the first openly queer woman employed at a Florida HBCU, with a specific and explicit mission to develop LGBTQ+ programs that uplift and empower LGBTQ+ students.

In 2015, McNally became the coordinator of the LGBTA Resource Center at North Carolina Central University (NCCU). As the first LGBTQ+ resource center in the state of North Carolina and as one of a handful of HBCUs that even have a LGBTQ+ resource center, under McNally’s leadership, NCCU became the first HBCU to host a Lavender Graduation and also hosted a Queer Prom during LGBTQ+ Pride Week. She also created a LGBTA student leadership program called “LGBTA Ambassadors”, and collaborated with NCCU Student Affairs, Student Health Services, and the School of Public Health (PrEP Ambassadors) to develop LGBTQ+ inclusive curriculum. She was also the program manager of The HBCU LGBTQ-Equality Initiative of the National Black Justice Coalition, where she trained over 600 students and 300 administrators about the critical importance of creating inclusion and awareness for LGBTQ+ students at HBCUs. She is also a member and organizer with the DC chapter of Black Youth Project 100 (BYP100), “a member-based organization of Black youth activists creating justice and freedom for all Black people.”

Currently, McNally is the founding director of the Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Multicultural Affairs (CDIMA) at the University of the District of Columbia (UDC), an HBCU in Washington, D.C. Launched in 2019, CDIMA is “dedicated to promoting social justice through the development of co-curricular programs and educational activities that enhance the personal development, success, and collegiate experiences of marginalized students.”

With all the work she has done and continues to do, McNally’s upapologetical and relentless activism is continuing the formidable legacy of Black queer activists and changemakers who paved the way for past, current, and future LGBTQ+ students at HBCUs.

I spoke with McNally about her experiences as a queer student at Bethune-Cookman University; the process of creating the Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Multicultural Affairs at UDC; her opinion on what HBCUs can do better to foster equity and representation for LGBTQ+ students; and who are Black Women Radicals she admires.

You are a two-time alumnus of Bethune-Cookman University. As a student, when did you realize that LGBTQ+ representation and inclusivity were not thoroughly recognized at HBCUs? Can you discuss your activism as a student at Bethune-Cookman in regards to ensuring LGBTQ+ students were seen and heard?

Trinice McNally (TM): “Bethune-Cookman University is a private, Methodist-affiliated institution. Whenever I answer questions like this, I think it is important to start with that because HBCUs and the Black church are the oldest and longest standing institutions for Black people in the United States. If an HBCU was founded somewhere in the South, more than likely, there was a church that supported financially, fiscally, or some other way to make the institution possible. I realized this when I first entered Bethune-Cookman by attending our mandatory Sunday church sessions––which were mandatory for first-year students. On Sundays, we had to go to church and other Sundays, we had to go to chapel––sometimes we had to go to chapel during the middle of the week. It was just a lot of Christian indoctrination when I went to Bethune-Cookman, which was okay and it wasn’t also jarring because I had been raised Christian in the Pentecostal Church but I realized it was just innately homophobic. There would be sermons preached against folks for being queer––especially against queer men because our choir and our band at Bethune-Cookman was mainly LGBTQ+ folks. From going to church services and attempting to go to counseling, I was trying to really understand what I was experiencing because I dated men in high school but I always knew I was queer. This also was the time where we weren’t using the term “queer”––this was the early 2000s.”

“My sophomore year I came out and started being really public with the relationships I was in with women. I went to the counseling center and the counselor told me I needed to pray and then took out oil.”

“I definitely was questioning––maybe bisexual––and I was like, ‘This is an identity I’ll be able to figure out when I get to college. I got to Bethune-Cookman and my first year I wasn’t really open about my sexuality in that way. My sophomore year, I came out and started being really public with the relationships I was in with women. I went to the counseling center and the counselor told me I needed to pray and then took out oil. This was in 2009. That is when I knew for sure this was a place I wasn’t going to be able to make it if I had to continue to live like this. A lot of my friends at Bethune-Cookman who I knew were queer folks, in particular, were suicidal, depressed, and really suffered from substance abuse. Locally, there was one gay club in Daytona Beach and there were two in Orlando. We would frequent Pulse nightclub in college.”

“ We kind of built a community on our own. I decided we needed an organization on campus that would provide funding and education. I petitioned for it about a year and got support from the University’s vice president at the time, who is now the president of Claflin University, Dr. Dwaun J. Warmack. He was really supportive. I got maybe 30 signatures of students who said they would support and would join. That is how I got into the work. I later graduated with my bachelor’s in psychology and started working for a suicide prevention program on campus. We got a new director of counseling services––finally––and she was queer. She became my mentor and taught me a lot about queer activism, what it could look like at an HBCU, and really taught me how to organize. Also, a lot of my work in graduate school comes from Victory Kirby-York and the work she was doing at Howard. So, that is how I came into the work––from personal experience to creating community with queer folks. We really created our own little houses and our own gay families because that was the only way we could survive at Bethune-Cookman because it was so homophobic.”

You have committed your life to advancing the lives and perspectives of LGBTQ+ students at HBCUs; creating inclusion and fostering awareness; and are dedicated to fighting for Black liberation. In your career, you also have held many pioneering positions, especially in regards to leadership that explicitly focuses on LGBTQ+ rights at HBCUs. What has been the most rewarding aspect of your work?

TM: “I think that is such a hard question but also such an easy question because it has been young people I’ve met who thought they weren’t smart enough or thought they weren’t good enough or that this work wasn’t for them, and to watch them transform and be committed and change their politics as a result of that, is what I am most proud of. I went to Bethune-Cookman where I didn’t learn a thing about Black feminism––not a thing. There was a point where we didn’t even have an African-American professor and it was the most disgusting thing at an HBCU. So, I understand not coming into politics at a time during undergraduate. In most schools I’ve worked at, like my time at NCCU, were were petitioning for a Women and Gender Studies minor and it finally happened after I left. So, for me, it has been rewarding to see students come and become radicalized at the Center [Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Multicultural Affairs (CDIMA)] and transform and feel like their worthy and valuable and that they have work to do and to offer our movement is the best part of this work.”

“Watching people transform and become committed to organizing is the best part of my work. I have so many mentees across the United States and people who I love and hold dear to me because of the work we have been able to do together. That has been the most rewarding part, especially when it is Black women and gender non-conforming folks.”

“Sometimes, people kind of get turned off by jargon––we are using terms like ‘intersectionality’, ‘capitalism’, and ‘imperialism––and some are like, ‘Well, I don’t understand what that means’ but young people actually do understand because they are living and experiencing it right now. They may not have the theory but the praxis is evident. Watching people transform and become committed to organizing is the best part of my work. I have so many mentees across the United States and people who I love and hold dear to me because of the work we have been able to do together. That has been the most rewarding part, especially when it is Black women and gender non-conforming folks.”

You are the founding director of the Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Multicultural Affairs (CDIMA) at the University of the District of Columbia (UDC), “which is dedicated to promoting social justice through the development of co-curricular programs and educational activities that enhance the personal development, success and collegiate experience for marginalized students.” What was the process in creating and founding a center for marginalized students at UDC? What are your hopes for the center and how would you like to see it grow and expand in the future?

Trinice McNally cutting the ribbon to the Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Multicultural Affairs (CDIMA) at the University of the District of Columbia (UDC). Photo courtesy of Trinice McNally.

TM: “Wow, where do I start? In short, it was very difficult [Laughs]. The process was very, very difficult. I think folks just wanted me to build a multicultural center and to be honest with you, I don’t think they were clear about what multicultural affairs can, should, and look like at an HBCU because it didn’t exist. A lot of HBCUs say they have ‘multicultural centers’ at their institutions and claim they are doing the work, but they are really not doing it. I know I wanted something different to happen at UDC. In the past, running the center at NCCU, I knew what was missing––we were only doing work for LGBTQ+ folks and as I got more students coming into the center and into the classrooms, folks were coming in with all their identities. I had folks who were migrants and didn’t understand what that meant for them to be immigrants and how to navigate that experience. I also had a lot of working class folks who did not understand they were poor and what that experience was like as a Black lesbian or a Black gay person. During this time as well, I was really coming into Black feminism and when I joined BYP100 in North Carolina, I was really doing a lot of study, a lot of rigor, and talking to a lot of people in Durham about what it means to be a Black feminist and what it means if our institutions utilize these politics as a framework.”

“A lot of HBCUs say they have ‘multicultural centers’ at their institutions and claim they are doing the work, but they are really not doing it.”

“By the time I got to UDC, I knew what I wanted to do because I saw what was missing. It was a really tough process but BYP100 has really blessed the center in a lot of ways––from partnering with events; being at my grand opening; and speaking and making sure students have access to resources to materials. A lot of my students are starting to join BYP100, so I am bringing them into movement as well, which is a joy. Founding the center for me was very personal and it needed to reflect not only my identities but identities that reflect and impact Black people at HBCUs. That is where the whole impetus of international students comes into play, immigrants, and of course, LGBTQ+ and non-binary folks and first generation college students. UDC by large serves first-generation college students who are non-traditional. The age gap is 27 or 28––that is the average age of folks who apply here. I was able to use data to build the center and get to know what they are interested in and what people need. We have been doing some surveying from our new students around what people’s attitudes and perceptions about LGBTQ+ people and what they really want to learn more about. To my colleagues’ surprise, people were interested in learning about Black history and Black feminism. That is how the center got started. I came up with the name because I didn’t want the name to scare folks because to be honest with you, [Laughs] I don’t think they would have appreciated the center for social justice. But I wanted it to be clear that this is the framework we will be operating from and that is the work––even if I had to call it something else, if that makes sense.”

“It is kind of hard to do this work and for people not to be honest with themselves about the biases they hold and about their homophobia, transphobia, and xenophobia. Respectability will not save us.”

“Multicultural affairs is going to look very different at a Black school than a White school because we are serving majority Black folks, right? But that doesn’t mean that Black folks are a monolith because we all come with different experiences––especially in D.C. right now where gentrification is raging its ugly head. Most of these folks are Washingtonians; my students are second and third generation D.C. folks. They are able to understand the history of D.C. and I think it is important they understand their position as Black people growing up in D.C. and what is happening. I took all of that and along with the work I do with BYP100 and utilizing our Black queer feminist lens and thought, ‘Hey, if I want a student to walk out of here and to understand intersectionality––not by just giving a fancy quote but to be able to embody what that term means, it doesn’t matter what job they get, they are always going to think about who is getting left out. Who are we not talking about? Who are we not centering? And that is what’s been happening––people are starting to understand what that theory means, are really thinking about identity, and also how violence is being enacted in their communities and on this campus.”

“There is a lot of organizing going on with the LGBTQ+ student organizations on campus. I stayed in D.C. for a year before we actually had the grand opening of the center. That year, I was taking the time to get to know students, the climate of the campus, learned about the history of the school, and their relationship with queer folks. It took me about a year to actually build it and figure out exactly what I wanted to do. Also, when I started to do the work, it showed people’s true colors. I think that is where the disconnect and the conflict comes into play. It is one thing for you to hire someone to do the work but when they start doing it, the people that hired you realize they have to shift their politics and examine who they are. I think that is where I experience the most conflict. It is kind of hard to do this work and for people not to be honest with themselves about the biases they hold and about their homophobia, transphobia, and xenophobia. Respectability will not save us.”

In the future, how would you like to see LGBTQ+ students and alumni centered and uplifted as a part of the formidable history, present, future, and legacy of HBCUs? What can HBCUs do to be more inclusive of its queer, transgender, and gender non-conforming student body?

TM: “I have lots to say! [Laughs] I have never been to an HBCU outside of Howard University––and the Lavender Reception is very new––and have seen LGBTQ+ folks honored. I have never seen it. I think there are ways for more universities to be cognizant of their LGBTQ+ people by simply collecting the data. I know people will say they don’t know if they have LGBTQ+ people and there is a very small number but we all know that is bullshit. We know and we are clear about the ways in which the United States is changing; we know the cities where Black LGBTQ+ people live; we know about transgender murder rates––we have access to the data but what HBCUs are doing is refusing to actually be apart of that and collect that work. If they started to collect the data, that means they would be accountable. So that is the first thing. Another simple thing is asking on an admission application ‘what would you call your sexual orientation? or ‘how would you identify?’ or ‘how would you describe yourself?’ ‘What are your pronouns?’ I think very small things that captures data are teachable moments for people who may not know and actually help other folks to be seen and feel affirmed.”

“I know people will say they don’t know if they have LGBTQ+ people and there is a very small number but we all know that is bullshit.”

“Another thing is definitely policy that protects LGBTQ+ students. It makes me think about all the organizing HBCUs do around homecoming and they always want us to give back––they always want us to give money and pledge endowments but oftentimes [queer folks] we didn’t have good experiences at the institutions. I think that would change and people would possibly give back and would want to be at their institutions beyond homecoming or the party deal if they felt work was happening around what they cared about. You can hold LGBTQ+ receptions. You can honor your LGBTQ+ alumni. You can actually take the time to invest in LGBTQ+ people while they are in school, so when they graduate and return, they support the institutions. I see this changing. We have institutions like Spelman College––that has the only Women’s Research and Resource Center out of the 103 HBCUs we have left. Howard University, North Carolina Central University, and Fayetteville State University are doing work. However, I think we can do more work by hiring LGBTQ+ staff; creating budgets and policies that protect those staff members; and establishing centers that actually have budgets and funding support. If HBCUs say they have LGBTQ+ centers, they should really invest in the centers and not just have a classroom with pamphlets about LGBTQ+ inclusivity.”

“If HBCUs really wanted to be intentional about LGBTQ+ students and alumni, I think you actually have to treat students well while they are in school. Collect data. Make sure students have resource centers. Make sure that resident life is inclusive. Be more honest and transparent on your websites about what resources you offer to LGBTQ+ students. Because if you are proud, you would do that.”

“Unfortunately, when it comes to LGBTQ+ inclusivity, we see HBCUs doing things just to check boxes. If HBCUs really wanted to be intentional about LGBTQ+ students and alumni, I think you actually have to treat students well while they are in school. Collect data. Make sure students have resource centers. Make sure that resident life is inclusive. Be more honest and transparent on your websites about what resources you offer to LGBTQ+ students. Because if you are proud, you would do that. They share information about Divine 9 organizations and do it for student government associations. Hell––they do that for the international student organizations but rarely do you see the institution promoting and accepting the LGBTQ+ student organizations or funding them. It is usually students giving their personal money or their advisors to make the work happen.”

“There also needs to be cultural competency training that is LGBTQ+ inclusive. I think that is something that should be mandatory for every person on any campus––including faculty and staff. I think some folks think, ‘Only folks in faculty need to be trained.’ No, because the janitor is also in relationship with LGBTQ+ folks. Everyone who serves at a university should be culturally competent on queer identities and also other marginalized identities on campus. Folks are being misgendered, unrepresented, ignored, and they are not being taken seriously. While I do think some faculty and staff genuinely do not know about certain issues and I don’t think that some of them mean harm all the time; however, I don’t think that changes the impact. Your intentions can be one thing but that impact on that student’s life is a whole other conversation people are not ready to have. There are so many things you can do to make sure students are safe and affirmed on campus. I do not think it is possible for LGBTQ+ alumni to be centered if you didn’t include them as students––it is not possible.”

“There are so many things you can do to make sure students are safe and affirmed on campus. I do not think it is possible for LGBTQ+ alumni to be centered if you didn’t include them as students––it is not possible.”

“There also needs to be cultural competency training that is LGBTQ+ inclusive. I think that is something that should be mandatory for every person on any campus––including faculty and staff. I think some folks think, ‘Only folks in faculty need to be trained.’ No, because the janitor is also in relationship with LGBTQ+ folks. Everyone who serves at a university should be culturally competent on queer identities and also other marginalized identities on campus. Folks are being misgendered, unrepresented, ignored, and they are not being taken seriously. While I do think some faculty and staff genuinely do not know about certain issues and I don’t think that some of them mean harm all the time; however, I don’t think that changes the impact. Your intentions can be one thing but that impact on that student’s life is a whole other conversation people are not ready to have. There are so many things you can do to make sure students are safe and affirmed on campus. I do not think it is possible for LGBTQ+ alumni to be centered if you didn’t include them as students––it is not possible.”

What does a “Black Woman Radical” mean to you?

TM: “I think a Black Woman Radical is obviously someone that is unapologetically and clearly a Black feminist and is committed to using Black feminism as a tool for liberation. That person is your mom, your sister, your cousin––they don’t have to be a person who has an education. They don’t have to be a person who has access to all this fancy jargon. The Black women who are committed to fighting against the state and ensuring that people have what they need to thrive in this world, to me those are Black Women Radicals. I think sometimes for us in movement, we need to take a step back and not monopolize the work in ways where we think that certain people should only have access to Black feminism because it is for all of us and I think it is the only way we are all going to get free.”

Mary McLeod Bethune taken by Carl Van Vechten (1949) [Public domain]

Who are Black Women Radicals who inspire you?

TM: “Beverly Guy-Sheftall. For sure. The work and what she had to go through at Spelman in order for her to create that center? Yes. She has always been persistent in her efforts to make sure students have access to Black feminism lectures, Black feminist discourse, to Toni Cade Bambara, Audre Lorde’s papers. She has fought for close to 30 years to ensure Black students, particularly, Black women and girls, have access at Spelman. She is one of my sheroes and to me, she embodies what a Black Woman Radical is. Mary McLeod Bethune, the only Black woman to found a historically Black college, which is the institution I graduated from for undergraduate and graduate school. She, to me, epitomizes what a Black Woman Radical is. For someone who didn’t have a college education or what we might call a high school education, was able to start an institution that is over 100 years old and has stood the test of time. And she raised the money on her own? And she was the youngest of 12 children whose parents were slaves? I just don’t know who else other than a Black woman who would have been able to do that.”

“I am really honored to tell people I went to Bethune-Cookman and I am one of Mary’s babies because we are the only HBCU founded by a Black woman. I think that embodies where my politics were showing up during undergrad and I didn’t even know it. I studied a lot about her and spent a lot of time in her home. [Mary McLeod Bethune’s] home is a museum on campus and she is also buried there. I was one of the curators of her home. I spent a lot of time reading her personal work and her last will and testament and it really transformed my life––way before I knew what Black feminism was. Also, Nanny of the Maroons. My family is Jamaican and before I learned about Harriet Tubman or Sojourner Truth, I learned about Nanny of the Maroons. She was a guerilla warfare tactic queen, a strategist, an herbalist, an Obeah woman.”

“My partner, Fresco Steez––she embodies what a Black Woman Radical is. She is a founding member of BYP100 and largely one of the reasons why we use the Black queer feminism lens as a praxis, a politic, and an aspiration. She has taught me so much about organizing and the importance of a cultural aesthetic and an aesthetic being a tool to get people free––to get Black people free. Also, Ella Baker because there would be no SNCC without Ella Baker and there would be no Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. A lot of her work guides the work I do and especially how I talk to young people. The way she talked about group-centered leadership is how I want to embody how I am facilitating and teaching. Her work has helped me to move away from charismatic leadership towards group centered learning.”

For more information about Trinice McNally and Center for Diversity, Inclusion, and Multicultural Affairs (CDIMA) at the University of the District of Columbia (UDC), please click here.

The Unapologetically Relentless Activism of Trinice McNally