When the Joke Isn’t Just a Joke: On Jess Hilarious, Lynae Vanee, and the Transphobia We Don’t Talk About.
Four days ago, Lynae Vanee appeared on The Breakfast Club to promote her new show—a politically rooted, culturally attuned daily series that aims to unpack everything from race and policy to spirituality and collective healing. It was a big moment. Lynae isn’t just a commentator; she’s a gifted communicator with the rare ability to make high-level analysis feel like it belongs in the group chat.
She sounds like family. She is what I call palibal—political, Black, and relatable—for young Black people who consciously want to hear a different perspective. Her words land like memory. She speaks the language of Blackness with both reverence and clarity.
She’s also a reminder that intellectual rigor doesn’t have to be inaccessible. In a world where traditional news is increasingly distrusted, Lynae represents a bridge—someone younger audiences can relate to, someone informed, grounded, and spiritually led. She spoke in the interview about feeling called by God to do this work, and that resonated with me. There’s a spirit-guided intentionality in how she moves, and I respect it deeply.
But this post isn’t just about Lynae. It’s about a moment in that interview—small to some, but telling to me—that exposed a wound we’ve yet to treat in our communities.
At one point, Jess Hilarious, a co-host on The Breakfast Club, said:
“I’m just so glad that you know only women can have babies.”
Let’s unpack that.
Not Just a Line—A History
On the surface, some may dismiss Jess’s remark as an offhand joke. But for anyone paying attention, this wasn’t an isolated comment—it was a continuation of a pattern. Jess Hilarious has a documented history of transphobic rhetoric on air and online. In 2019, she came under fire for sharing anti-trans statements. Instead of reflecting and meaningfully apologizing, she’s often doubled down or hidden behind the mask of “comedy.”
So when she made this comment—during a conversation where someone like Lynae was clearly trying to create an inclusive and informative space—it didn’t feel like a joke. It felt like a jab. A warning shot to affirm her alignment with trans-exclusionary ideologies, wrapped in faux concern for “biological truth.”
But here’s the thing: it’s not the truth.
And it’s not harmless.
Of course, Lynae responded with grace and precision:
“Anyone with a uterus can have a baby.”
Simple. Inclusive. Accurate.
What This Moment Reveals About Us
Transphobia in the Black community isn’t new—but our refusal to name it, to confront it, or even to discuss it with love is something we need to address urgently.
Many of us were raised in environments where traditional gender roles were rigid, rooted in religious interpretations or cultural norms passed down without much interrogation. But tradition is not immunity. Ignorance doesn’t protect us from causing harm.
According to a 2021 Williams Institute study, Black transgender people face disproportionately higher rates of housing insecurity, employment discrimination, and violence—compared to both white trans people and cis Black individuals. These are not abstract issues. These are life-and-death stakes. And too often, that violence begins with language.
A separate study in the Journal of Black Sexuality and Relationships noted that many Black LGBTQ+ individuals experience “layered alienation” when navigating both mainstream society and Black spaces—particularly churches, media, and even political movements. In other words, it’s possible to feel Black and invisible at the same time.
So when a platform as influential as The Breakfast Club—a show that reaches millions—amplifies transphobic commentary, we’re not just talking about bad takes. We’re talking about the normalization of exclusion. And Black people know about that all too well.
This kind of public endorsement makes it easier for policymakers to strip rights from trans people and for everyday people to ignore or justify their erasure.
The Breakfast Club’s Track Record
Let’s not forget: The Breakfast Club has a history of inviting harmful rhetoric into the conversation under the guise of “representation” or “free speech.” During the 2024 election, their platforming of guests like Lara Trump, Jill Stein, and various far-right-adjacent voices raised eyebrows—especially in a moment where the stakes for Black and LGBTQ+ lives were high.
When Vice President Kamala Harris appeared on the show during her campaign, she was grilled in ways noticeably insane compared to who, why and what she was running against. At the same time, misinformation was allowed to flourish. It became clear that the show, while influential, wasn’t always informed.
That dynamic—of Black media acting as both amplifier and antagonist—can be dangerous when not held accountable.
What Accountability Could Look Like
This isn’t a call to cancel Jess Hilarious. In fact, I love her.
It’s a call to challenge her.
It’s a call to speak up in barbershops, on timelines, in churches, and around dinner tables when transphobic rhetoric shows up.
It’s a call to expand our understanding of who belongs in the “Black community,” and who we fight for when we say Black Lives Matter.
It’s a call for platforms like The Breakfast Club—and the networks that fund them—to do better. That means bringing in more informed hosts, diversifying their editorial voices, and refusing to platform violence in the form of “jokes.”
A Word on Lynae’s Grace
Lynae Vanee could have rolled her eyes. She could’ve clapped back. She could’ve shut it all down. But she chose a different route—a correction rooted in both fact and love.
That’s leadership.
That’s what it means to hold space without surrendering truth.
We need more of that. And we need to reward it when we see it.
Because the real work of liberation isn’t just about political power or cultural clout—it’s about how we treat one another.
How we show up when the mic is hot and the cameras are rolling.
We can’t afford to be lazy with our love. Not now.
Not when our siblings—cis, queer, trans, nonbinary—are still fighting to be seen, heard, and safe in the same spaces we all claim to represent.
I guess what I’m really asking is:
When does Black life really matter?
Does it only matter when we see ourselves in it?
Or does it matter always and all the time?
If it’s the latter—and I believe it is—then we have to create safety for all our Black brothers, sisters, and siblings. No exceptions.
Check these links out:
The Williams Institute – Research on Transgender People, including disparities facing Black trans individuals Williams
Black and Pink – Advocacy and support for Black trans and queer people impacted by the criminal legal system
Journal of Black Sexuality and Relationships – Academic research focused on Black LGBTQ+ lives and experiences
Watch the Full Interview:
Lynae Vanee on The Breakfast Club