What makes a black man in 2023?

The hashtag #TransgenderDayofRememberance went viral last week as progressives posted online about the 26 Americans who identified as transgender who reportedly were killed in 2023.

Given the topic, I expected to see organizations such as the Human Rights Campaign and trans activists promoting the message and noting that most victims were “people of color.”

What I didn’t expect were posts from the National Urban League, a black pastor, a U.S. senator from Georgia, the first black governor of Maryland, and the black men who run New York City, Chicago, and Baltimore.

These men are part of a very different type of social transition.

It should go without saying that murder is wrong. Human life has inherent value because we are made in the image of God, regardless of a person’s gender identity, sex, or skin color.

But given the unfortunate levels of violence in some of our largest cities, it is clear that these men — like many black progressives — have a political motivation for speaking out on this question.

Eric Adams, Brandon Johnson, and Brandon Scott could spend all day tweeting about the shootings, murders, and carjackings that plague their cities. Instead, all three have pledged to make the streets safe for their “trans siblings.” Their public safety proclamations reflect the priorities of their party.

This is not just a matter of political priorities. It’s also about language, affect, tone, and disposition.

They are also tangible evidence that the public image of black men has undergone a complete public makeover in the past 15 years — a social phenomenon very few people seem to notice.

Progressive black men have gone from “late adopters” to dutiful allies on LGBTQIA+ issues since the election of Barack Obama and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement.

This has been quite the turnaround. Perceptions of black masculinity have been largely shaped by sports and hip-hop culture for close to 40 years. Americans of all stripes wanted to “be like Mike” when Michael Jordan was at the height of his popularity.

Brands that were wary of rap’s hard edges in the early 1990s eventually softened their positions over time. Snoop Dogg has never disavowed his ties to the Crips, but that hasn’t stopped him from being a corporate pitchman or partnering with Martha Stewart.

Rappers were criticized for years for being hyper-masculine and misogynistic. Much of that feedback was deserved. The disrespect and degradation of black women in rap lyrics and videos were a feature of the genre, not a bug. The black feminists critiquing hip-hop were eventually joined by black LGBT activists in claiming that straight black men were oppressing both groups. What followed were years of cultural programming that attempted to destroy men by framing masculinity itself as toxic.

Malik Yoba is an actor who played a detective on the 1990s cop drama “New York Undercover.” His character, Detective J.C. Williams, epitomized the hip-hop-influenced archetype of black masculinity while fighting crime in the gritty streets of New York City.

Fast-forward 20 years, and Yoba was repeating trans propaganda and apologizing for using the phrase “naturally born women” on “The Breakfast Club.”

Yoba is far from the only one. Professors like Marc Lamont Hill, who think men can get pregnant, use their academic training to subvert any social norm they believe abets oppression. But athletes like Dwyane Wade and Charles Barkley have helped nudge other black men with traditional views to accept all things related to the Pride movement.

But this is not just a matter of political priorities. It’s also about language, affect, tone, and disposition.

There is an ever-expanding group of black men with large social media followings and high-profile media platforms whose mother tongue is the language of personal therapy. Their entire online persona is one of a never-ending series of “traumas,” “microaggressions,” and “harms.” They walk around in a perpetual state of fear.

Since 2020, they have written about being too afraid to wear face masks in grocery stores as well as being too afraid of COVID to take them off at the gym. These are the men who think a vote for Trump will lead black people back to cotton fields or consign us to concentration camps.

In the span of one generation, black men in the public square have gone from gangsters to milksops. The “hard” street pose has been replaced by men frolicking in fields and craving the “soft life.”

One of the ironies of the public transformation of the black male image is that black LGBT culture warriors display a level of aggression toward their hetero counterparts that proves testosterone is not a social construct.

Saucy Santana is a cross-dressing rapper from Florida who has had a “Brazilian butt lift” and wears fake eyelashes and heels. He starred alongside Miami rapper Trina in the “No Voting, No Vucking” ad that was tied to an organization founded by Michelle Obama.

Santana may dress like a woman, but he has no problem threatening his foes with rape on social media. Similar levels of aggression can be seen from Angelica Ross, an actor who “identifies“ as a woman. Ross took to social media a few months ago to threaten a black comedian named Jess Hilarious who called trans people delusional and affirmed the fact that only women can give birth.

The transformation of the black male image is not a sign of progress. Men, regardless of their ethnic background, should aspire to be strong, tough, and resilient. A good man is also loyal, faithful, and honest. Affirming lies and delusion for the sake of personal and political gain is the antithesis of manhood.

This doesn’t mean that men don’t have feelings. It just means that we shouldn’t be controlled by them. There are times when a man needs to be tender, especially if he has a wife and children. But needing an emergency appointment with your therapist because someone confused you for an Uber Eats driver or an election didn’t go your way is a sign of emotional instability and weakness, not emotional balance.