HH Work Sheet

December 12, 2025December 16, 2025 - by Daniel Nkado - Leave a Comment

Dear Brothers,

As 2025 ends and a new year approaches, I want to speak directly to you—fellow Black queer men who move through party spaces, hookup culture, and chemsex scenes with both desire and caution.

This letter is not about judgment. It is about protection, affirmation, and truth‑telling.

Here’s a clearer, tighter version that keeps the emotional truth intact:

As Black queer men, we often face heightened risks around substance use. Our experiences—from how we use, why we use and what we use—are shaped by a complex mix of personal, generational, and societal pressures. Many of us carry trauma that defies verbal explanation.

This guide is written with love for my fellow Black queer men on how we can minimise the harms associated with substance use. We are entitled to all the fun, joy, and care in the world, without ever having to compromise our lives.

Why We Use: The Realities for Black Queer Men

Substance use among gay and bisexual men is significantly higher than among heterosexual adults. One major explanation is minority stress—the chronic strain caused by stigma and discrimination (Meyer, 2003).

For Black queer men, this stress is multiplied by other unique issues:

Racism inside and outside queer spaces.
Homophobia in families, communities, or churches.
Hypersexualisation and fetishisation of our bodies.
Under-representation and isolation in mostly white LGBTQ scenes.
Violence and criminalisation create extra problems for Black queer men living in hostile countries.

We are not weak for seeking ways to forget trauma. None of us planned to be born in a world that makes everything so exhausting. But we at least owe it to ourselves to be honest with each other and take care of ourselves and others like us.

The Black-Specific Context of Party and Chemsex Culture

For many Black queer men, turning up, hooking up, or engaging in chemsex is happening on top of an already heavy emotional load:

Many of us enter party spaces already carrying psychological wounds—microaggressions at work, exclusion in dating, being sexualized but not respected, trauma from the past.
Substances help some of us feel desired, some to loosen shame, or to briefly quiet a mind that’s been on high alert all week.
For some, drugs become a way to cope with loneliness, trauma, internalised feelings of shame, or body image pressures.
In predominantly white chemsex scenes, Black men may experience both fetishisation (“I’ve always wanted to try a Black guy”) and exclusion (“Get the sleepy Black guy a cab—that dick is not working”), sometimes in the same night.

Absolutely, Daniel. Here is a trauma‑informed, culturally grounded, Black‑queer‑centered adaptation of your article. I’ve kept the structure, strengthened the emotional resonance, and reframed the content through the lens of racialized stress, community care, and the realities Black queer men face in party and chemsex spaces.

This version speaks to us, with us, and for us—without pathologizing, blaming, or moralizing.

A Letter to Black Queer Men Approaching 2026: Navigating Party Culture, Chemsex, and Safety With Care

By [Your Name/Organization]

Keywords: Black queer men chemsex, trauma‑informed harm reduction, PnP safety, racialized stress, LGBTQ substance use disparities, GHB overdose prevention.

Dear Brothers,

As 2025 ends and a new year approaches, I want to speak directly to you—Black queer men who move through party spaces, hookup culture, and chemsex scenes with both desire and caution. This letter is not about judgment. It is about protection, affirmation, and truth‑telling.

Our experiences with substances, sex, and safety do not exist in a vacuum. They are shaped by racism, homophobia, fetishization, exclusion, and the constant pressure to perform or survive in spaces not built with us in mind. Many of us carry trauma—personal, generational, and societal—that shapes how we seek pleasure, connection, and escape.

This is a harm‑reduction guide rooted in love for Black queer men. You deserve joy, intimacy, and freedom without sacrificing your safety or your life.

Why We Use: The Realities for Black Queer Men

Substance use among gay and bisexual men is significantly higher than among heterosexual adults, often linked to minority stress—the chronic strain caused by stigma and discrimination (Meyer, 2003). For Black queer men, this stress is compounded by racism, cultural silence around sexuality, and the emotional labor of navigating predominantly white queer spaces.

According to SAMHSA, 39.1% of LGB adults reported illicit drug use in the past year, compared to 17.1% of heterosexual adults (SAMHSA, 2022). But numbers alone don’t tell our story.

The Black‑Specific Context

Many Black queer men enter party spaces already carrying racialized stress—microaggressions, exclusion, or hypersexualization.
Some of us use substances to soften the edges of that stress, to feel desired, or to escape the pressure of being “the only one” in a room.
Others use to cope with trauma, loneliness, or the emotional weight of living at multiple marginalized intersections.

Chemsex Patterns and Racial Disparities

Research shows that while White MSM report the highest rates of methamphetamine and poppers use (Holloway et al., 2020), Black MSM face greater barriers to treatment, culturally competent care, and HIV prevention services.

This contributes to disproportionate HIV outcomes: Black MSM account for 26% of new HIV diagnoses among MSM despite being a smaller share of the population (CDC, 2023).

These disparities are not about personal failure—they are about structural inequity.

The Risks: What Black Queer Men Need to Know

1. The Drug Supply Is More Dangerous Than Ever

Fentanyl contamination is rising across cocaine, methamphetamine, ketamine, and counterfeit pills. Because Black queer men are more likely to be profiled, policed, or stigmatized in medical settings, overdoses can be especially dangerous.

2. GHB/GBL and Consent in Racialized Spaces

GHB/GBL overdoses (“G‑holes”) are common in chemsex settings. When unconscious, you cannot consent—and Black queer men are disproportionately targeted for fetishization, domination fantasies, and boundary violations.

Research shows GHB is frequently involved in drug‑facilitated sexual assault in queer communities (Bourne et al., 2015).

3. Mental Health and the Comedown

Methamphetamine disrupts dopamine levels, leading to intense comedowns, depression, and paranoia. For Black queer men already navigating racism, homophobia, and community stigma, these lows can hit harder and last longer.

A Trauma‑Informed Harm Reduction Protocol for 2026

This is not about abstinence. It’s about survival, dignity, and informed choice.

Before You Go

Check in with yourself: Are you using to feel free, to feel wanted, or to numb something? There is no shame in the answer—only power in knowing.
Vet the space: If the vibe feels anti‑Black, fetishizing, or unsafe, you do not owe anyone your presence.
Tell a trusted friend: Share your location with someone who loves you and is not at the event.

During the Session

Test everything: Use fentanyl test strips on all powders and pills.
Control your dose: Especially with GHB/GBL. Use a timer to avoid stacking.
Know your HIV prevention options:
PrEP reduces HIV risk when taken consistently.
PEP can be started within 72 hours after a potential exposure.

Protect Your Boundaries

You do not owe anyone a certain role, fantasy, or performance.
You do not have to match someone else’s pace or dose.
You do not have to stay if the energy shifts.

Afterward

Plan for the comedown: Hydrate, eat, rest, and avoid isolation.
Check in emotionally: If you feel shame, sadness, or confusion, know that these feelings are common and not a sign of weakness.
Reach out: Community is medicine. You deserve support.

A Final Word: You Are Worth Protecting

Black queer men deserve pleasure, softness, safety, and joy. We deserve spaces where our bodies are not hypersexualized, our boundaries are respected, and our lives are valued.

As we enter 2026, let’s normalize talking about harm reduction, consent, and mental health without shame. Let’s look out for one another the way the world often fails to look out for us.

You are not disposable. You are not alone. You are worth protecting—every single time.

References

Bourne, A., Reid, D., Hickson, F., Torres Rueda, S., & Weatherburn, P. (2015). The Chemsex Study: Drug use in sexual settings among gay and bisexual men in Lambeth, Southwark and Lewisham. Sigma Research. https://www.sigmaresearch.org.uk/chemsex/

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2021). HIV and Gay and Bisexual Men. U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/group/msm/index.html

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2023). HIV Surveillance Report, 2021. https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/library/reports/hiv-surveillance.html

Holloway, I. W., Bednarczyk, R. A., Fenimore, V. L., & LaCroix, J. M. (2020). Racial/ethnic disparities in substance use and HIV risk among men who have sex with men on a geospatial social networking app. Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment, 113, 108003. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jsat.2020.108003

Meyer, I. H. (2003). Prejudice, social stress, and mental health in lesbian, gay, and bisexual populations: Conceptual issues and research evidence. Psychological Bulletin, 129(5), 674–697. https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.129.5.674

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. (2022). Key Substance Use and Mental Health Indicators in the United States: Results from the 2021 National Survey on Drug Use and Health. https://www.samhsa.gov/data/report/2021-nsduh-annual-national-report

If you want, I can also create: