![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-05-30 08:39 pm (UTC)I think gender-variance (or any other variance from social norms of race, religion, gender, sex, sexual orientation, body ability, ethnicity, body size, brain structure, brain ability) 100% causes insecurity at a social level for people who don't struggle with issues of gender (et al) on a regular basis. I'm not saying that people individually are necessarily made insecure by me having gender issues (that would indeed me be saying HAHA I'M MAKING YOU INSECURE!) -- but the existence of something other than what is expected and dictated by social norms creates insecurity in the very most basic sense of the definition of the word "insecurity" -- something other than what is expected by the definition of a norm creates shakiness for the norm to stand on. It's like if cats suddenly evolved to look like dogs -- then what we've always known as the physical representation of the word "cat" would be new and different and the definition of the word "cat" would be suddenly more malleable than it had ever been before. For some cat-lovers, this is going to bring confusion when they look at their cats at home: If this is what I know to be a cat and I'm supposed to also believe that other non-cat-looking-being is a cat, then what is a cat really? How can both these things be a cat?
The idea of "live and let live" isn't enough for me, again, because of the differences between tolerance, acceptance, and celebration of diversity. "Live and let live" or "it doesn't bother me so long as you don't push it on me" is tolerating -- I'll let you be who you are and I'll be who I am, but the thing is I am the dominant, power-holding party here because I am "granting" you the ability to "be" whatever you want and so I get to decide what is normal enough to "let live" and what isn't.