Kareem Queeman started baking at a young age, encouraged by his grandmother. As he found his way in the culinary world, he opened his own bakery and has been featured on a number of network television competitions, both as a contestant and a judge, and has cooked on a number of daytime shows. In 2013 he founded Mr. Bake Sweets, where he bakes designer custom cakes and dessert spreads. The bakery was first online before opening a brick-and-mortar store at a food hall in Maryland. This year is a reset for the 37-year-old Queeman. Last year he was a James Beard semifinalist in the Outstanding Pastry Chef or Baker Category, potentially making him the first Black and gay man to receive that recognition.
In the latest edition of Voices in Food, Queeman talks about how this year is a reset. He’s closed Mr. Bake Sweets (he’ll still be doing specialty orders such as wedding cakes and corporate events) and is focusing on what he’s passionate about beyond baking — representation, inspiration and education. “I’m asking how I want to leave my mark.”
Baking was an escape for me as I was growing up in public housing in Harlem — it gave me the chance to tune everything else out. My grandmother gave me a safe space to be my full self. She allowed me to chill out and explore.
My mother didn’t understand what I was doing. I look back and see that as a single Black female, raising two Black sons, she was trying to prepare us for a world that’s not kind for people who look like us. She also had her own struggles with illness and addiction.
“I couldn’t find a job — sometimes I think it was my name that kept me from getting a callback.”
- Kareem Queeman
In middle school, I took a home economics course, and in high school I baked my heart out. I decided to attend culinary school, The Culinary Institute of New York at Monroe College in New York City. At the same time, I was also navigating what it meant to be a Black man who identified as gay — I wanted to figure out how to fully represent myself. When the world told me I couldn’t and I shouldn’t, I looked to change that to “I can and I should.”
Upon graduation, I wanted to bake elaborate wedding cakes. I couldn’t find a job — sometimes I think it was my name that kept me from getting a callback. I moved to Virginia to help somebody open their first bakery, then got a job with Crumbs Bake Shop, and worked my way up in that company. I decided that staying corporate wasn’t for me and branched out on my own to open Mr. Bake Sweets in 2013. It was my form of baking what I call “nostalgic classic American desserts,” [like] banana pudding and red velvet cake. It’s food made with love and that makes people feel good. It’s paying homage to my heritage by taking a recipe for sweet potato pie, passed along from my aunt, and transforming that to a sweet potato cake.
“There was no representation in food media doing what I do who looked like me — no Black men, no men of color, and no openly queer men.”
- Kareem Queeman
As I became more sure of my skillset, in 2016 I started to try to get on television and was featured in a number of competitions. My mother initially wasn’t supportive of my path, but then encouraged me. She passed away in 2017 — never getting to see me on any of the networks I’ve been on — but she’s been there in spirit.
As I did that, I came to a realization — there was no representation in food media doing what I do who looked like me — no Black men, no men of color, and no openly queer men. We have Marcus Samuelson as a Black chef, we have Carla Hall as a female baker/chef. There’s nobody for boys who are like me to identify with, to think to themselves, “I can aspire to be like him.” By seeing themselves through representation, you’re telling people there’s space for them in areas where there traditionally hasn’t been any. I think overall people want to be seen and appreciated.
With social media we see so many young adults coming out, being more gender-fluid and more expressive. I’m here to say to them that it’s presence that’s power, not necessarily the food. I’m in preliminary talks to partner with my alma mater, Monroe, to open a space that will work to change the industry. I want to be a trailblazer for the Black and brown and gay populations. When I’m in front of students, I’ve had so many Black men connect with me after, saying, “Just hearing you talk gives me a safe space.” I’m looking to bring the themes of empowerment and resilience to the table — I’ve learned through my career that fear and self-confidence can coexist.
Before You Go
