At first she seems uncertain, she doesn’t know whether to sing or not. There is no music; the only sound that fills the auditorium is a low murmur. She says something and leaves the stage, but as soon as she gets down the few stairs, somebody signals her to get back on again. With a steady voice, she starts rapping; the beat is sampled from Eminem’s “I’m Sorry Momma,” but the words are her own: “I’m sorry momma, I never meant to hurt you, but tonight I’m coming out the closet.”

Jennifer Robles, a.k.a JenRO, wears the typical hip-hop attire; baggy jeans, big belt, white headband and sunglasses –even though the sun’s rays have probably never hit this windowless space. Her neck veins swell and her hands underline the words as she sings: “Little Jenny isn’t gonna wear a dress.” Heads rhythmically go back and forth, some laugh in recognition and numerous thumbs are up. The audience at the Black LGBT Film Festival seems to love it. “Go rip it girl,” an older man shouts when she’s done. “”That was (i)good(i),” says somebody else.

JenRO, 24, takes a seat among the audience, leans back and lets this night’s documentary “Pic Up the Mic,” where she and other MC’s are featured, tell the story of the blossoming queer hip-hop movement, or as some people from within the community would call it: the Homo Hop Revolution.

Created in 1998 by Dutchboy, a 37-year-old hip-hop artist, producer and community organizer, Phat Family – an online forum – was the first international platform for artists, writers, and fans “interested in exploring issues related to hip-hop music and culture and lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender identity.”

At nineteen, JenRO was among other LGBT MC’s at the 2003 East Bay Pride Festival, trying out their bold lyrics by revealing their sexual identities and struggles of keeping it real in a society that does everything to make people act, think, and feel within the societal paradigm. The festival was the forerunner for the annual, bi-coastal PeaceOUT World Homohop Festival, and the seed that would spur the growth of a long awaited alternative to the male centered, hetero-dominated mainstream hip-hop culture that’s recognized for being highly homophobic and misogynist.

Juba Kalamka, a.k.a. pointfivefag, founding member of the fiercely political homo-hop group Deep Dickollective (D/DC), founder of the label Sugartruck Recordings and director of the Oakland PeaceOUT Festival, says that the discussion about hip-hop has to be a discussion about racial issues as well. He means that there isn’t more machismo within the black communities than in other communities, but that the mainly black hip-hop culture becomes kind of a scapegoat for everything wrong in American society.

“Often non-white people get to be invested in tools that white supremacists have created to control and destroy the lower classes,” Kalamka says.

Kalamka is a sturdy man with a pleasant voice, big brown eyes and long dreads who identifies himself as bisexual. He explains that both gay and straight people often are uncomfortable with him and the other members in D/DC because they don’t fit the stereotypical image of a gay man. Kalamka says that straight people wouldn’t dare to pick on him because he looks like an unassuming black man on the street, but at the same time they don’t know how to relate to him. He’s also criticized inside the gay community for being “hyper-masculine” – not gay enough.

“I’m not gonna queen it up so you can feel safe. It’s an insult to other queers,” he says to his critics. “If I were to put a flower in my hair and wear dresses, that would be an insult to people who live that life.”

Unlike JenRO, who ultimately would like to hit a mainstream hip-hop audience without having to stray from her true self, Kalamka doesn’t dream of being a part of it. He believes that in order to do that you first have to become “normalized,” because that’s what our culture perpetuates and rewards.

“There is a desperation for validation even for people within the queer hip-hop community,” he says. “When money is stuck in your face, most people are willing to give up their integrity.”

However, it’s hard to imagine JenRO ever giving up hers.

She grew up in lower-income neighborhoods in the Bay Area, rebelled against conventional “girl” behaviors by the age 5, and got in trouble for it both at home and in school. At age 15, she ran away to a hangout place for gay youth, and when she eventually came back home she was forced to tell her parents and the police where she had been. She says this forced everyone in her family to see things for what they were.

“They weren’t happy, but they eventually accepted that I’m a dyke,” she says. JenRO started to write poetry at age 12 as a means of expressing herself. Growing up hearing hip-hop every free minute, it came natural to JenRO to transform words into hip-hop beats.

“Hip-hop is the story of your life,” she says. “You can bring up your struggles, love, family, streets –the rapper is just saying what’s going on, what’s real.”

Adam Mansbach, author and teacher of fiction writing and hip hop classes at San Francisco Art Institute, doesn’t believe the mainstream hip-hop scene is ready to embrace homo-hop yet. He says that because of “the paradox in hip-hop of extreme homophobia within an extremely homosocial culture, any association of overt homosexuality is threatening.”

“Masculinity and sexuality are defined and expressed in an all-male context, and the domination of women and of other men is central, as is the celebration and the primacy of men's relationships to each other,” he says. “The whole thing is built on premises that come so close to sounding incredibly gay that it’s actually funny –or would be, if the misogynist weren’t so intense.”

JenRO, whose 2nd CD, “Hate it or Love it” is out in record stores right now, has experienced this fear many times. She says that other hip-hop artists hear parts of her music and want to work with her at first, but change their minds when they hear words such as: “let me lick your Kitty cat” and “Hey girl, come here let me feel on your booty,” and realize that she is lesbian.

“They are afraid that they would be categorized as gay,” she says. “If they know who they are and if they are comfortable with their own sexuality, they would have nothing to worry about.”

As Mansbach points out, hip-hop has always been used as a tool to create social change and empower marginalized groups. Today some hip-hop artists take it to another level and make sexual identities part of the message.

Similar to JenRO, Julie (Fucking) Potter, a Bay Area hip-hop artist and comedian, grew up on ‘gangsta’ rap and says that as much as it’s important to wave the rainbow flag, she wants to be judged for her great beats and strong lyrics – not for her sexuality.

“I’m everything that hip-hop isn’t supposed to be: I’m white, I’m a woman and I’m gay, and the Homo Hop Revolution is like an umbrella for everyone who doesn’t fit the average description,” Potter says. “But I don’t want to be defined as my sexuality – I want to be fucking Julie Potter.”