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unearthingboneI just finished reading The Last Time I Wore a Dress by Daphne Scholinski. Fantastic. I couldn't have read this book at a better time 'cause I've been experiencing a lot of internalized transphobia lately (mostly I've been getting frustrated with myself -- "why can't I just be female and deal with it? Why do I have to have all these special exceptions and shit?") and Scholinski's story reminded me that there is still so much work to do and that playing with my gender expression in ways that are comfortable to me and that asking others to address me by my chosen pronoun ("ze"/"zur" -- i.e., "I use Andrea's pronoun because it makes ze happy in zur everyday life") is okay.
Last night I was drinking lightly with some of my friends and a chaste game of Spin the Bottle occurred -- but what struck me was that none of the straight girls would kiss each other on the lips and none of the straight boys would kiss each other on the lips, either, and even for some of the straight boys kissing each other on the cheek was clearly uncomfortable, too. I was the only queer-identified person playing, and at one point, after one particularly spectacular display of the two straight boys playing getting the serious heebiejeebies about kissing each other on the cheek, I said in a light tone with a smile, "What, are you guys homophobic or something?" (I recognize that this was certainly not the best choice of language given the context, and who am I to challenge what people are comfortable doing with their bodies, but still. If both these boys had no problem kissing the straight girls playing the game and watching and egging on my super queer-friendly female roommate and I kissing but they got visibly uncomfortable kissing each other, then what gives?) Both of them got instantly defensive and they were like, "No, man, no, I love gay people, and some of my friends are homophobic and that shit is just so insane..." I wish I'd been thinking clearer and said something better-phrased and that I'd made a point about homophobia not having to necessarily be a bad thing and that homophobia doesn't always manifest itself in overt acts or declarations of actual hatred toward queer people.
I wonder about how defensive people -- especially individuals who may exist comfortably within mainstream spaces who have never had their identities discriminated against or have never thought about discrimination and social motion -- can get if you observe that they're behaving in a way that is not conducive to a true celebration of -- and not just tolerance of -- diversity. Like they're saying, "Well, since I can say that I'm not homophobic and that I support gay rights, that must mean that I'm not homophobic and I don't really have to do anything else on this topic in order to get my OpenMindednessBoyScoutBadgeTM." This sort of "acceptance," frankly, isn't enough for me -- saying you're "accepting" and the patting yourself on the back is certainly progress which I am thankful for, but these same "accepting" people are still the ones that set the standard for who gets to walk down the street holding their partner's hand and not getting rocks thrown at them. (And p.s., I realize this is totally not a general rule regarding how the heteronormative mainstream relates to the queer community by any means -- I know so many fantastic, heterosexual-identified allies who really "get 'it'" and have taught me much about my relationship, as a queer person, to the heterosexual mainstream.)
It frustrates me that many people have difficulty seeing that there is a marked difference between stating "I'm open-minded and accepting" and actually behaving in ways that are truly open-minded and accepting without having to reassure yourself and others that you're oh-so-open-minded-and-accepting. My friend Katie observed once that upon coming out to one of her friends in a new social circle, her friend responded, "Oh, it's totally okay that you're [insert identity label here]! I love [label] people!" and that, while she completely appreciated the support, she wonders why the receivers of coming-out declarations even have to declare such things outloud and identify these behaviors that are "othered" by the mainstream as belonging to a subculture.
I have many friends who observe my back-and-forth-and-up-and-down identity vacillations and never say a word about the fact that one day I'm in love with a trans girl and the next I'm in love with a trans man and the next a cisgendered (biological) male and the next a cisgendered female, and that is the kind of tacit acceptance I'm talking about. It's not necessarily about being a member of the Welcome-to-the-Accepting-Straight-Family-Let's-Assimilate! P.T.A. -- for me, it's more about not judging my choices and my identities and accepting them fullfold as being part of who I am.
Identity politics create so much insecurity for those who are othered (meaning those who do not fit neat little social boxes and could fall under the category of "other"), and even moreso, I think, in some ways, for the mainstream -- having people who don't fit our tickyboxes of social acceptability creates insecurity for those who do, as a whole, I think, because it challenges their previously-solid (and probably, until that point, transparent) social privelege and assumptions. Othered identities create social insecurity, and insecurity is where phobia -- trans-, homo-, what-have-you -- comes from. And on my wishlist of idealism is that people would stop getting pissed about my existence as a queer/trans person and start examining their own privileges, social dominance and normative behavior. (And, p.s., this goes for queer/trans people, too -- just 'cause we're all already othered in one way doesn't mean some of us, myself included, don't collect other privileges that I wish we'd be thinking about and deconstructing and understanding as much as I desire the heterosexual mainstream to do about us. There is no minority "trump card.")
One of the straight boys from last night also repeatedly kept using the word "queer" as a derogatory word, which is something another one of my female straight friends was doing a couple of weeks ago, too, and when I objected gently, she got defensive, too, and her response was something like, "I don't mean anything by it, and how could you think I would, since I'm so open-minded that I'm friends with you?" Sorry, but being my friend and supporting my queer/trans identities, while absolutely admirable and something I appreciate deeply, doesn't mean you get to then throw around my identity names as diminishing terminology. Almost everybody in the heterosexual mainstream is homophobic, just like everyone is racist to some degree within white society.
I wish more people in the mainstream were open to discussion and asking questions and making mistakes about identities and learning in general. A few months ago I was interviewed by a bunch of "straight-as-they-come" sorta masculine-identified stereotypical straight dudes on a radio show about queerness and gender identity, and these guys were messing up language left and right and making erroneous assumptions about gender politics, etc. -- but I appreciated at the end of the day that they were trying and asking questions and really listening and really, truly wanting to learn about what it's like to be queer or gender-variant. That was one of the coolest experiences I've ever had and it was such a solid learning experience for me that there are people in the mainstream who may not necessarily be in the "know" and really want to try to understand, even if they may not be able to ever fully empathize. The only way we're ever going to get to true equality -- I mean, that idealized kind of place people who don't understand why "labels are necessary" because we're all ~*humanzzzzzz*~ talk about where we don't bat eyelashes at differences in pigment or god(esse)s or genitalia or brain structure or chromosomes or hipsize or relationship structures or body ability or monies -- is to cut the separatism and let everyone play with everybody else's identities and ask questions and work to understand each other.
Last night I was drinking lightly with some of my friends and a chaste game of Spin the Bottle occurred -- but what struck me was that none of the straight girls would kiss each other on the lips and none of the straight boys would kiss each other on the lips, either, and even for some of the straight boys kissing each other on the cheek was clearly uncomfortable, too. I was the only queer-identified person playing, and at one point, after one particularly spectacular display of the two straight boys playing getting the serious heebiejeebies about kissing each other on the cheek, I said in a light tone with a smile, "What, are you guys homophobic or something?" (I recognize that this was certainly not the best choice of language given the context, and who am I to challenge what people are comfortable doing with their bodies, but still. If both these boys had no problem kissing the straight girls playing the game and watching and egging on my super queer-friendly female roommate and I kissing but they got visibly uncomfortable kissing each other, then what gives?) Both of them got instantly defensive and they were like, "No, man, no, I love gay people, and some of my friends are homophobic and that shit is just so insane..." I wish I'd been thinking clearer and said something better-phrased and that I'd made a point about homophobia not having to necessarily be a bad thing and that homophobia doesn't always manifest itself in overt acts or declarations of actual hatred toward queer people.
I wonder about how defensive people -- especially individuals who may exist comfortably within mainstream spaces who have never had their identities discriminated against or have never thought about discrimination and social motion -- can get if you observe that they're behaving in a way that is not conducive to a true celebration of -- and not just tolerance of -- diversity. Like they're saying, "Well, since I can say that I'm not homophobic and that I support gay rights, that must mean that I'm not homophobic and I don't really have to do anything else on this topic in order to get my OpenMindednessBoyScoutBadgeTM." This sort of "acceptance," frankly, isn't enough for me -- saying you're "accepting" and the patting yourself on the back is certainly progress which I am thankful for, but these same "accepting" people are still the ones that set the standard for who gets to walk down the street holding their partner's hand and not getting rocks thrown at them. (And p.s., I realize this is totally not a general rule regarding how the heteronormative mainstream relates to the queer community by any means -- I know so many fantastic, heterosexual-identified allies who really "get 'it'" and have taught me much about my relationship, as a queer person, to the heterosexual mainstream.)
It frustrates me that many people have difficulty seeing that there is a marked difference between stating "I'm open-minded and accepting" and actually behaving in ways that are truly open-minded and accepting without having to reassure yourself and others that you're oh-so-open-minded-and-accepting. My friend Katie observed once that upon coming out to one of her friends in a new social circle, her friend responded, "Oh, it's totally okay that you're [insert identity label here]! I love [
I have many friends who observe my back-and-forth-and-up-and-down identity vacillations and never say a word about the fact that one day I'm in love with a trans girl and the next I'm in love with a trans man and the next a cisgendered (biological) male and the next a cisgendered female, and that is the kind of tacit acceptance I'm talking about. It's not necessarily about being a member of the Welcome-to-the-Accepting-Straight-Family-Let's-Assimilate! P.T.A. -- for me, it's more about not judging my choices and my identities and accepting them fullfold as being part of who I am.
Identity politics create so much insecurity for those who are othered (meaning those who do not fit neat little social boxes and could fall under the category of "other"), and even moreso, I think, in some ways, for the mainstream -- having people who don't fit our tickyboxes of social acceptability creates insecurity for those who do, as a whole, I think, because it challenges their previously-solid (and probably, until that point, transparent) social privelege and assumptions. Othered identities create social insecurity, and insecurity is where phobia -- trans-, homo-, what-have-you -- comes from. And on my wishlist of idealism is that people would stop getting pissed about my existence as a queer/trans person and start examining their own privileges, social dominance and normative behavior. (And, p.s., this goes for queer/trans people, too -- just 'cause we're all already othered in one way doesn't mean some of us, myself included, don't collect other privileges that I wish we'd be thinking about and deconstructing and understanding as much as I desire the heterosexual mainstream to do about us. There is no minority "trump card.")
One of the straight boys from last night also repeatedly kept using the word "queer" as a derogatory word, which is something another one of my female straight friends was doing a couple of weeks ago, too, and when I objected gently, she got defensive, too, and her response was something like, "I don't mean anything by it, and how could you think I would, since I'm so open-minded that I'm friends with you?" Sorry, but being my friend and supporting my queer/trans identities, while absolutely admirable and something I appreciate deeply, doesn't mean you get to then throw around my identity names as diminishing terminology. Almost everybody in the heterosexual mainstream is homophobic, just like everyone is racist to some degree within white society.
I wish more people in the mainstream were open to discussion and asking questions and making mistakes about identities and learning in general. A few months ago I was interviewed by a bunch of "straight-as-they-come" sorta masculine-identified stereotypical straight dudes on a radio show about queerness and gender identity, and these guys were messing up language left and right and making erroneous assumptions about gender politics, etc. -- but I appreciated at the end of the day that they were trying and asking questions and really listening and really, truly wanting to learn about what it's like to be queer or gender-variant. That was one of the coolest experiences I've ever had and it was such a solid learning experience for me that there are people in the mainstream who may not necessarily be in the "know" and really want to try to understand, even if they may not be able to ever fully empathize. The only way we're ever going to get to true equality -- I mean, that idealized kind of place people who don't understand why "labels are necessary" because we're all ~*humanzzzzzz*~ talk about where we don't bat eyelashes at differences in pigment or god(esse)s or genitalia or brain structure or chromosomes or hipsize or relationship structures or body ability or monies -- is to cut the separatism and let everyone play with everybody else's identities and ask questions and work to understand each other.
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Woah, skinny commentspace indeed!
Date: 2008-05-30 08:27 pm (UTC)The small stuff, to me, is just as important as, if not moreso, than the grander scale. How else are we going to effect massive change on a national level without changing individual thought frameworks, behavior and word choice? You can't just make a law suddenly and demand that 300 million individuals it; I mean, you can, certainly, but the most effective way to affect change on a massive scale is to start small -- to start with individual interactions, individual considerations. That way, people are able to make up their own minds about the information you're presenting them and they're not just forced to come to the conclusion you want them to come to -- then many people may feel resentment for having their right to choose stripped away.
Most people who exhibit homophobic/transphobic/et al behavior just have never been asked to think about things any other way, and having someone present an alternative schema to them is oftentimes all it takes to help them understand better. That's what grassroots movements like the gender- and queer-rights movements are about -- individual conversations that translate into cohesive movement that translate into paradigmatic shifts on a national level.
I live my life every day to educate others and to meet them where they are at -- that's the honest reason why I have decided to express my gender identity and my queerness in the physically-tangible ways that I do. And I think that last piece is so important -- to meet people where they are -- to tailor educational conversation and language to a person at the level they're at and not immediately start demanding that people start using my language and my gender identity this and my queerness that. No -- you gotta go from 101 onward and not make assumptions about what people know and what they're comfortable with.
And, frankly, I don't give a shit if I'm someone people resent hanging out with because I ask them to consider other perspectives or challenge their racist, homophobic, transphobic, or other phobic or -ist language and behavior. I'm not gonna live a non-offensive, non-irritating life because just because it might get under someone else's skin -- I know my constant "check yo' language" stuff can be irritating to others but I'm still gonna do it because it's my right and my responsibility to my own identity that I ask other people to use language that is comfortable to me and creates an even plane of power between us, not gives it to one person (which includes me) in the conversation.
(And yes, again, I have to say I wish I'd phrased my question to those two straight boys much better, but one foible on my part does not negate my strong commitment to loving and kind educating that meets individuals at the level they're operating at and does not demand that they meet me where I am.) I have been blessed to have many amazing, supportive friends -- I'm glad to have conversations with other people, to let our lives brush up against each other for the time that we have, but I could really give a shit whether they like me or not or whether they think my "language policing" is inappropriate or not. For me it's entirely appropriate and that's the important part.