Another Consequence Of Homophobia: Overcompensation?

14 06 2013

In my and other scholars’ research, the damage of discrimination to one’s health and well-being is clear.  On top of the constraints discriminatory treatment places on one’s life chances and livelihood, victims of discrimination are furthered burdened by the blow to their sense of justice and fairness, and their well-being.  It is no surprise then that so much research focuses on discrimination as a mechanism through which social inequality is maintained.

From my personal life, exercised in my professional life but not as a topic of research, I know well about the “positive” consequences of prejudice and discrimination.  I do not mean positive as in good or desirable.  Rather, I mean the consequences that otherwise would be good or desirable if they were not the product of facing discrimination or prejudice.  I mean the sense of solidarity with fellow members of one’s oppressed group, pride in one’s identity and community, and a drive to persevere and overcome adversity.

The “Gay Tax”

I know well of the “Black tax” that I and other Black people face, having to work twice as hard to receive equal recognition.  This is because Black people are stereotyped as unmotivated, unintelligent, culturally inferior, unprofessional, and immoral.  I find myself particularly concerned with how others will evaluate me and my work.  I find myself having to give a second thought to people who don’t give me a first.  It is hard for me to let trivial slights go because I refuse to be undervalued or underestimated.

In comparing how I navigate this homophobic society as a gay man to the “Black tax,” I can discern a “gay tax” that manifests as regulating (read: suppressing) my gender and sexuality.  To minimize heterosexual men’s discomfort with my sexuality, I remain physically and emotionally distant, and “man up” my gender presentation.  To dodge religious folks’ judgement, I make as little reference to my sexuality as possible.  And, as many couples do, my partner and I are rarely affectionate in public.

All at once, I am aware of these aspects of the “gay tax,” critical of them, but pay them for my safety and well-being.

Another “Gay Tax”: Overcompensation?

But there may be another aspect to the “gay tax” that is similar to the “Black tax.”  Aware of the devalued status of lesbian, gay, and bisexual people in society, some gay men have expressed through autobiographies that they throw themselves into their work to elevate their status.  Maybe, just maybe, if you are the first gay president, the world will see you just as “the president.”

In a recent study, Pachankisa and Hatzenbuehler (2013) found support for the “best little boy in the world” thesis.  In a sample of gay and heterosexual male college students, their results suggest that gay men are more likely than heterosexual men to derive their self-worth from academics, appearance, and competition.  And, the length of time that gay men remained in the closet, and the level of homophobic prejudice and discrimination in their state, were strong predictors of the extent to which these young gay men derive their self-worth from competition.

It’s the idea that young, closeted men deflect attention from their sexuality by investing in recognized markers of success: good grades, athletic achievement, elite employment and so on. Overcompensating in competitive arenas affords these men a sense of self-worth that their concealment diminishes (from NYT review).

The downside of this “positive” consequences of the stigma gay men face is their health and well-being.  Through a nine-day diary, these gay men’s focus on elevating their status (either professionally or aesthetically) predicted long periods of isolation, interpersonal problems, unhealthy eating behaviors, and emotional distress.

All Gay Men?  What About Women?

The researchers devoted a great deal of discussion to the generalizability of their findings.  With a non-random sample of gay male college students, there is reason to worry that these findings do not translate into the experiences of all gay men, particularly those from economically disadvantaged backgrounds.  Further, the sample is overwhelmingly white.  So, in a blog post about the article, the lead author noted:

Importantly, like the authors of “best little boy in the world” narratives, the participants in our study were mostly white, middle class, college-educated men.  The extent to which possessing multiple stigmatized identities might shape self-worth remains to be seen, as does the extent to which this or a similar phenomenon applies to women.

In addition to assessing how other gay men (especially gay men of color, working-class gay men, older gay men), are affected by and respond to homophobia, one curiosity remains: what about women?

What about female sexual minorities, you might ask? “The notion of the ‘best little boy in the world’ crops up everywhere in stories about gay men’s early lives and not as much in the narratives of young lesbians,” lead researcher John Pachankis of Yeshiva University told me in an email. “That certainly doesn’t mean that women don’t experience a similar phenomenon, but only that lesbians’ personal stories don’t seem to emphasize it as much.” Exploring that particular question is a next step for research, he says.

Ironically, the language of “overcompensating” has been used in discussions of this study, but without explicit reference to the gendered notions of (men’s) overcompensation.  It may be the case that these young men are emasculated by homophobia, and they (like many men) have found some way to compensate in their effort to measure up to the rigid expectations of masculinity.  And, funny enough, many appear to set their sights on arenas that are not vehemently homophobic — academics and aesthetics.  Athletics, sex with lots of men, and big trucks do not seem to top the list of the things gay men wish to brag about.  So, this raises some interesting (unaddressed) questions about gay masculinity.

That’s Me!

Ah, yet another study where I, as a scholar, am humbled to reminded that I am a human, equally affected by the social world as everyone else.  In his NY Times article, federal lawyer Adam D. Chandler echoed some of these sentiments:

But seeing your reflection in an empirical study has its drawbacks. The flip side of discovering you’re not alone is the melting of your presumed snowflake uniqueness. Now I’m a statistic, another data point, just an ordinary overachieving closet case.

That’s bad enough. What’s worse is that the biography is half finished. They haven’t told me what’s on the other side of the closet door. Once I’m no longer harboring my secret, will I lose my drive? Or will my lifelong trophy hunt expand to include a search for a trophy husband?

I don’t know the answers. But I’m ready to find out.

Toward (Some Of) The Answers

Like any manifestation or consequence of oppression, a starting point is becoming aware of this drive to overcompensate.  This is yet another aspect of the homophobic reality gay men note and challenge in raising our gay consciousnesses.  And, I can provide (some of) the answers Chandler wants.

In a general sense, strong social support will help to minimize some of the distress.  And, having multiple roles or other important, ongoing tasks, events, affiliations, relationships, etc. is beneficial as well.  We do ourselves a disservice as gay men by isolating ourselves — that’s the opposite of seeking social support and others like us (as well as supportive allies).  By focusing narrowly on elevating our status, we place so much stock into too few things, leaving us vulnerable to having our entire self-worth tank when those aspects of our status do not go well.

But, more specific to gay men is a strong, positive gay identity and connection to the LGBT community that helps to buffer the harmful effects of our exposure to prejudice and discrimination.  While inevitable, how we respond to these stressful aspects of homophobic oppression can reduce their impact to our health — namely, challenging discriminatory treatment and confiding in trusted others about these experiences rather than accepting and repressing them.  And, rejecting (rather than internalizing) the homophobic prejudice and stereotypes of our society, and general self-acceptance are crucial for our well-being.  I recommend (again) Dr. Crystal Fleming‘s advice on rejecting others’ stereotypes and hatred.

The lead author of the study, a psychologist, offered the following recommendations:

Our research also reveals some important lessons for young gay men’s health and well-being.  The results of our research suggest that gay men take careful stock of the extent to which their self-worth derives from seeking status from domains like being the best, looking the best, or earning high grades or lots of money.  If gay men do recognize that their self-worth comes from those domains, they might consider the health costs of doing so.  Do they experience trouble in relationships with others, such as frequent arguing or spending lots of time alone?  Will they compromise personal values to attain status?  Are they chronically stressed or engaging in unhealthy habits, like going to the gym to an unhealthy degree or restricting their food intake?

If gay men answer “yes” to any of these questions, it will first be important to recognize that these difficulties are not personal failings and may have their source in stigma and the early lessons learned from growing up in a stigmatizing world.  Psychotherapy with a compassionate, gay-affirmative therapist can help gay men understand the legacy of experiencing early stressors like hiding one’s sexual orientation during adolescence or growing up in homophobic environments.  For many gay men, the negative effects of these early experiences may not be obvious at first, but can nonetheless be successfully addressed with supportive help from friends or professionals.

In understanding this “gay tax” as a stressor unique to gay men (similar to the “tax” that other oppressed groups face), I also recommend mental health service that treat patients who are gay as gay patients.  That is, care that understands the unique needs and experiences of gay people, rather than treating them as interchangeable with any other patient.  I strongly recommend The Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain of Growing Up Gay in a Straight Man’s World. 

Oh, and eliminating homophobic prejudice and discrimination helps, too!


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A Recent Test Of My Bystander Intervention

2 06 2013

I have done some work in the past to advance bystander intervention approaches to sexual assault prevention.  In the days that I volunteered at Middle Way House, a local intimate partner violence and rape crisis shelter, I compiled a review of bystander intervention curricula, hopefully to extend MWH’s own anti-sexual violence curriculum.  Here, and at Kinsey Confidential, I have written about bystander intervention, as well — including using the approach to eliminate racism and its consequences.

I really like the notion of bystander intervention because it moves beyond victim-blaming, to place both the problem and the solution on society.  For sexual violence, this means recognizing the way that sexism purports an ideology that characterizes women as sex objects, and is manifest in organizations that promote or facilitate sexual violence.  It is much harder to focus exclusively on the perpetrator’s intentions (“maybe he got carried away”) or even the victim’s “guilt” when these incidents occur within a rape culture.  I see it as the missing complement to understanding social problems sociologically — that we must see the solutions as society’s responsibility, as well.

A Recent Test

A few days ago, I heard screaming from a nearby apartment.  Being nosy, I peeped out of my window to see what all of the commotion was.  I could locate the screaming to an apartment where a couple (I presume) argued.  I could make out some of what they said — something about a misplaced cellphone and, apparently, misplaced blame for its disappearance.  I watched as long as my fleeting interest held.

But, I felt that the arguing was quite heated.  I began to worry that it might develop into something worse.  It did.  “What did you say to me?  WHAT DID YOU SAY?” the man demanded.  Short of anything physical, this kind of verbal threat concerns me; it’s tone is hostile and intent is likely meant to scare the recipient.  And, through the small gap in their blinds, I could she him shake the woman and then push her against the wall.  Panic set in.  “I have got to do something,” I thought to myself.

First, I called 911.  The dispatcher calmly asked, “is it still just verbal at this point?”  Good – another concerned neighbor beat me to calling.  “No, he just pushed her against the wall.”  The police were sent to respond.  I felt my bystander intervention advocacy tested.  Do I run over, especially if it becomes more violent?  (How could I live with knowing something worse happened if I didn’t act?)  No, I have to live here for a while longer; my partner’s and my own safety cannot be overlooked.  I decided to call and text friends and family who either work in violence prevention or law enforcement — “what else can I do?”  That was it.  They all assured me that it was in the police department’s hands now.

The police did arrive soon after.  I could hear their knock at the front door; a dog began barking.  Fortunately, their arguing had settled slightly after I called 911, though the times of silence were no more settling for fear he had further hurt her.  I could not see or hear anything for a few minutes after the police arrived.

Then, the man, shirtless, darted behind the building.  I do not know whether he dashed passed the police, or even jumped from the second-floor apartment patio.  One police officer walked slowly behind him.  Then, I could hear police interviewing the woman, though it sounded as though they were badgering her.  She left with them to her own apartment.  After a while, the three police cars parked at the edge of the woods, which he ran into, left.  I was a little unsettled by a perpetrator being on the loose, so I peeked out every once in a while.  I noticed a police officer remained behind, probably to apprehend him if he returned.

The Aftermath

I had considered notifying my apartment complex about the incident.  But, I was not sure what would come of it.  Coincidentally, they emailed me the next day about a maintenance request I had not put in.  So, I let them know then.  With an apology for the disturbance, they let me know was evicted; he had that day to leave or be forced out by a Sheriff the next week.  I heard a commotion early the next week.  I presume he did not go willingly. But, he is gone for good.  But, the arguing suggests he was probably with his girlfriend/wife as he moved out.  This is what worried me.

Yes, I am relieved he was evicted.  It turns out this was the third time police have come for him.  And, I realized it was the second intimate partner violence incident within a week.  The previous weekend, I heard a woman’s frantic screams, but police were already involved so I did not investigate further.  Another nosy neighbor said to her boyfriend as they passed me, “I don’t know why she would scream that much about a broken window.”  She was probably screaming in sheer terror because this man, her boyfriend/husband who has a history of attacking and terrorizing her, was coming after her (again).  (This is my point about the problem of culture.  These people dismissed her as overreacting and never thought about her or him again.)

He is gone from this neighborhood, but who knows whether he moved in with her.  She is not out of harms way.  If their relationship ends, he may continue to perpetrate violence against others (and may already be doing so).

Bystander InterventionS

This, of course, was not the first time I have been tested.  There are many ways in which I have had, and sometimes taken, the opportunity to intervene in preventing violence and its consequences.  For, intervening is not merely about the immediate violent situation.  I can intervene by challenging comments and jokes that justify, glorify, or ignore violence.  I can support victims of violence, even as simply as offering emotional support, saying “I believe you” and “this is not your fault”; if they allow, and I am equipped to do so, I can offer resources to leave on-going violent situations or rebuild their lives.  I can work to educate others, especially to see violence as a social problem and prevention as a community responsibility.

I still do not feel that I did enough.  But, in the grand scheme, I did as much as I could safely do, and I continue to work on violence prevention at broad level.  The situation forced the reminder that my gift is in education, in research, in disseminating knowledge, and speaking out in general.  It is important that I do my part from these strengths and my own perspective, rather than trying to be superman.  And, I hope others will (continue to) do their part, as well.


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Categories : Academia, Activism, Domestic Violence, Education, Gender, Intimate Partner Violence, Kinsey Confidential, Law, Men, Sexism, Sexual Assault, Sexual Violence, Society, Violence Against Women, Women, Teaching, Me, Justice, Blogging, Voice, Bystander Intervention, Patriarchy, Victim-Blaming, Dating Violence, Rape Culture, Advocacy, Violence Prevention, Social Problems

[kinsey] April Is Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM) – Are We Aware Yet?

22 04 2013

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

There is still a little over a week left in April – Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM).  This is our annual 30-day-long recognition of a problem that affects far too many people, especially girls and women: sexual violence.  The primary goals of the month is to raise awareness about sexual violence and, ultimately, eliminate it all together.

With nearly forty years of anti-sexual violence activism — are we aware yet?  Unfortunately, not so much.

What Is Sexual Violence?

An important starting point for raising awareness about sexual violence is to define it.  A major focus of sexual violence prevention is on sexual assault, which is typically defined as any sexual contact with a person without their consent, through coercion, or by force.

Because of inconsistent definitions in the law, especially from state to state, non-consensual sex is sometimes referred to as rape.  Some distinguish rape from sexual assault to include any non-consensual sexual acts that involve penetration.

While these distinctions are important, at least for legal purposes, they are not inclusive of other unwanted sexual acts.  So, advocates have pushed for recognition of the full range of such acts under the broad umbrella of sexual violence.  This broader category includes:

Attention to sexual violence, as a broad class of non-consensual sexual acts, also allows for attention to victims who are often overlooked, including boys and men.

The Basis Of Sexual Violence

Next, it is important to understand what sexual violence is based upon.  Sexual violence is an expression of power.  It is a tool that is used to physical, mentally, and/or emotionally control another person.  It is not an expression of sexual desire.

In understanding sexual violence this way, the myths that someone simply goes over board, gets carried away, or that their hormones got out of control are dispelled.

Beyond Individuals

By “power,” I am referring primarily to the social hierarchies, which place members of our society either at a high or low status.  Most attention has been paid to sexual violence as an expression of sexism.  In particular, women are afforded lower status and less power in society than men.  There are various things that some men do to further limit women’s status or disempower them, or even take advantage of them, including sexual violence.

So, it is important to look beyond what, on the surface, appears to be a private, individual act of sexual violence.  For example, the seemingly personal acts of acquaintance rape  and spousal rape are fundamentally political because they serve as an express of sexism.  But, sexual violence may also be based on other systems of oppression, including racism, homophobia, transphobia, classism, ageism, ableism, and fatphobia.

Sexual Violence And Oppression

But, sexual violence is not merely an expression of one or more of these systems of inequality.  It is also influenced and justified by them.  For example, sexism includes the rigid control of women’s bodies and sexualities, the sexual objectification of girls and women, and so forth.  This creates a dynamic where girls and women are vulnerable to sexual violence, and in which some men feel entitled to women’s bodies.

When women are victimized, the act is justified by stereotyping men as naturally oversexed and women as asexual, or by blaming the victim.  Alternatively, others may turn a blind eye, or even deny that it occurred.

Also, sexual violence actually reinforces these systems of oppression.  Again, using the example of sexism, women’s subordinate status to men, and constrained opportunities and well-being are partly the artifact of sexual violence.  Some reports suggest 1 in 4 women are survivors of rape or sexual assault, and, thereafter are at risk for facing various health problems.  Even more women live in fear that they may be victimized (or revictimized).

Sexual Violence As A Social Problem

Reflecting the systematic component of oppression, sexual violence is not a random occurrence.  And, all members of society do not share an equal chance of being victimized.  Women make up 90 percent of survivors of sexual violence.  In addition, there is evidence that repeat perpetrators of sexual violence account for most acts of sexual assault and rape.

Sexual violence, then, reflects a society-wide problem.  Further, some social organizations and institutions play a role, either by 1) ignoring such acts, 2) failing to support survivors and protect victims from further harm, 3) failing to punish perpetrators, 4) condoning these acts, and/or 5) facilitating sexual violence.  For example, colleges and universities have been criticized for (unintentionally) creating space for rampant sexual violence on campuses.  Recently, more and more schools have come under fire for doing too little in response to sexual violence, or even discouraging reports of victimization.

Culturally, how we talk about sexual violence (or not) contributes to the problem.  Too often, in everyday conversations, the media, pop culture, and so forth, jokes are made about rape and sexual assault, victims are blamed for their own victimization, and perpetrators are excused for actions.  In fact, many have argued that we live in a rape culture because sexual violence and the cultural norms that condone it are so pervasive.

Another facet to this is the harassment and bullying that survivors face for reporting their victimization, and their and allies’ public anti-sexual violence activism.  In other words, some victims and allies who speak out face a backlash, which aims to silence them.  A strong effort is made to keep sexual violence invisible, or at least seem like isolated, random, private acts.

Sexual Violence Prevention As A Community Responsibility

Because sexual violence is such a huge, widespread problem, no one person can stop it alone.  That is why many anti-sexual violence advocates are pushing for bystander intervention – a call for others to fight against sexual violence.  This includes:

  1. Intervening when sexual violence occurs if it is safe to do so.  For example, this can mean alerting a teacher if your friend confides in you that she is being molested by her uncle (and she agrees to have you tell the teacher).  Or, making sure your friend, who is very drunk, gets home to his own bed after a party.  Or, letting your coworker know that whistling at women on the street is a form of harassment and encourage him to stop.
  2. Supporting victims and survivors of violence.  One of the most important things to do is ensure them that you hear them and believe them.  (Unfortunately, they may be doubted by others, and face the broader victim-blaming norms in society.)  Ask them how you can help them.  And, ask them whether they wish to report their victimization (e.g., to the police).  It is okay to encourage them to pursue either support for themselves or punishment for the perpetrator, but ultimately they can choose not to and you should respect that.
  3. Challenging victim-blaming and other aspects of our rape culture.  For example, speak up when you hear rape jokes or “slut-shaming.”  Or, write to media outlets or politicians who perpetuate these problems.  Or, join an anti-sexual violence campaign or organization.  Participate in your own or the nearest college’s Take Back the Night rally and other anti-sexual violence events.
  4. Educate yourself and others.  For example, help to raise awareness about what sexual violence is, how it is a society-wide problem, and what we can all do to prevent it.  Have frank, yet age-appropriate conversations with your children, students, or other young people about consent.
  5. Break the silence about sexual violence.  This goes for allies and, if they feel safe and comfortable, survivors of sexual violence.  This means bringing up the subject when opportunities arise, or even making those opportunities happen.  My own approach is to blog and cover sexual violence in the courses I teach.  While it may be difficult in some ways, I find that men who are allies to survivors can have great impact in speaking up about sexual violence.

Indeed, we are not there yet in having a good understanding of sexual violence and why it persists.  But, hopefully, we will at least be closer by next year’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month!  And, of course, our collective efforts should not be limited to the month of April.

Additional Resources

 


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My Kind of Sociology! Toward A Self-Defined Activist-Academic Career

17 04 2013

DangerBeing forced to watch the  world whirl by me as I worked on my dissertation was tortuous: two cases on same-gender marriage heard by the US Supreme Court; horrendous media coverage of an already horrendous rape case in Steubenville, Ohio; a racist attempt at anti-racism in music.  And, just as I came up for air, the good news of finishing was overshadowed by the tragic bombings in Boston.  I tried by best to keep up, but, obviously, I have been way too busy to chime in.

But, one good thing has come out of the selfish time of dissertating — well, besides an awesome dissertation.  My mind has been boiling over with questions about research and academia in general.  In attending college, I learned; but, now (almost) with a PhD in hand, I see how I have learned how to learn.  And, increasingly, that critical eye has turned back on itself, raising questions about knowledge and science.

What is “knowledge”?  What is “science”?  Who defines it?  Who has access to it (and who doesn’t)?  Are the multiple types of knowledge and science — and, if so, are they equally valued in academia and society in general?

On Activism And Academia

As I near the completion of my graduation training, I feel both more qualified as a scholar, but also more empowered in defining my scholarship for myself.  And, I will tell you, the latter sentiment is largely a product of self-teaching, not so much my graduate program.  I alluded to this in my essay on blogging as a form of intellectual activism.

I have received mixed reactions to my essay, “Blogging For (A) Change.”  Initially, many were excited, supportive, and noted that they share my sentiments.  I was not surprised, since these warm responses were coming from my primary, intended audience — fellow sociologists of color and anti-racist sociologists.  (It was an essay for the ASA‘s Section on Racial and Ethnic Minorities.)  But, given its potential relevance to all scholars, I also provided the essay as a blog post.

Thereafter, I began to receive more cautioned responses.  In addition to private exchanges, I was honored to be the subject of another blog post by Dr. Fabio Rojas: “why activism and academia don’t mix.”  Fabio explains:

Why do we “beat [activism] out’ of graduate students?  The answer, in my view, is that academia and activism are simply different things. Every activity has a bottom line. In politics, it’s votes. In business, it’s money. In religion, it’s souls. Activism is about promoting social change, which is a different bottom line than academia, which is knowledge generation.

Beyond the differences in the goals of academia and activism, Fabio notes that the latter is neither rewarded nor institutionally sanctioned within the former.  And, he clarifies that, ultimately, academics do have a role in social change — the production of knowledge.  A few other sociologists chimed in with comments to emphasize that the commitment of a scholar of color to the advancement of one’s community or people of color in general does not necessarily imply that one is an activist.

Fearing that I may have been mistaken in speaking for other scholars of marginalized backgrounds, I posed the question on Facebook: “Was I wrong in assuming many academics are also activists, even at heart?”  For the most part, my scholarly friends suggested no, with many suggesting that they, too, are activists.  But, there seems to be good reason for the skepticism that some have expressed.

Activism And Academia Can Mix, But…

Let me start by removing the question –  “can one be an academic and an activist?” — from the table.  Yes, it is possible.  There are a handful of people who have suggested that this is the case for them; I strongly suspect that there is at least a sizable minority of scholars for whom this is true.

DuBoisAnd, history suggests that it has been done.  In the last subject of my leisure reading, Stalking the Sociological Imagination, I was reminded that some of the founders of sociology were activists, including W. E. B. DuBois and C. Wright Mills.  (Some who are discussed — for example, Talcott Parsons — were simply the unfortunate subject of McCarthyism despite maintaining a generally non-activist career in sociology.)  Before that, I was reading Dr. Patricia Hill Collins‘s On Intellectual Activism.

But, as Fabio pointed out, activism — here, meaning any efforts toward social justice or social change outside of research, teaching, and (academic) service — is not rewarded in academe.  For most academic jobs, one is hired because of their qualifications in this academic “Holy Trinity” – research, teaching, and service (usually in that order, especially at research intensive schools).  The same goes for tenure, promotion, and most of the other academic opportunities that scholars pursue (e.g., grants, awards).

But, let’s be clear that the sentiment that one shouldn’t be an activist is a separate matter from whether one can be an activist.  In addition, lack of professional reward implies what is valued, not necessarily what is devalued.  You can be a drag queen, baseball player, stamp collector, or whatever other activities you like outside of work even though the academy will not pay you for it.

Activism And Science Can Mix, But…

A second issue is whether activism and science, in particular, mix.  As one of my friends pointed out, the primary concern is that the biases of someone with activist leanings pose a threat to the objectivity required in science.  For example, if a researcher wishes to advocate for the legalization of same-gender marriage, what would she do if her research suggested that children of LGBT parents really do fare worse than those of heterosexual, cisgender parents?  But, a few things need to be unpacked from the science vs. activism dilemma:

First, sorry folks — “objective science” is an oxymoron.  Humans, who are biased in all sorts of ways (e.g., passions, interests, experiences), do science.  Scientists typically study the things they find interesting or about which they are passionate.  Sometimes we get sleepy and make mistakes.

This is where the peer review process comes in.  While it is not perfect. we gain more confidence when new studies have been vetted by other scholars in that subfield.  When done right, a researcher should be well aware of prior research to aid in research design, analyses, and interpretation.  The roles of anonymous reviewers and the journal’s editor(s) are to verify all aspects of the study.  So, if a researcher submitted a study heavily laden with political motivations, with little sound science or major ethical concerns, the reviewers and editor should catch it before it gets published.

A third issue is the failure to acknowledge other problematic biases in research that do little for society as a whole.  In particular, I am referring to the “publish or perish” dictum that places great emphasis on where one’s articles are published, and how many publications one can obtain in a certain period of time.  Not only do I worry that this pressure poses a threat to scholars’ health and well-being, I sometimes fear that scholars’ motivations for prestige and quantity lead them to overlook bigger contributions to theory and to society in general.

Another unspoken consequence of this pressure is the number of studies that have been tweaked or totally abandoned because researchers yield “null findings” — for, it is the significant findings that get you published!  My point here is that science is not perfect, whether activists are doing research or not.

Activism, Academia, And Research Can Mix, And…

phcI argue that it is important to weigh the benefits of the mixing of activism and academia, too, before we jump to a decision on this mixture.  If activism reflects one’s passion for a particular social or political cause, then the work of activist-oriented scholars may benefit academia on the whole because of their unique motivation about the subject and the extra care they take in their work.  In addition, this activist flare may bring a creative lens to one’s scholarship.  Just think of where the social sciences be if Patricia Hill Collins never pursued an academic career, deciding instead to continue working toward educational reform.  Would some other sociologist have applied and extended Kimberlé Crenshaw‘s legal scholarship on intersectionality?

Indeed, for some scholars (myself included), one’s research, teaching, and service are interdependent.  There is a sort of synergy among these three components of our scholarship that is greater than the sum of research + teaching + service.  For example, I experienced a great sense of mutual influence among my research (discrimination and health, LGBT health), teaching, and my work as a co-facilitator for “Boyfriend Lessons” — a series of workshops for bisexual, trans, and gay young men on health and well-being (particularly sexual health).  I brought to the latter insights from others’ and my own research to articulate how the health of queer men is shaped and constrained within a bi-, trans-, and homophobic context.  These insights have also been articulated in my blogging for Kinsey Confidential.  When I taught Sexual Diversity in 2009-2010, I often shared my Kinsey Confidential blog posts, as well as news of current events, to spark discussion and “warm up” the class for the day’s lecture.  My teaching, my service to the community, as well as my personal experiences and interpersonal connections, in turn, have influenced my research.

But, this comes with full knowledge that service that is not serving the academy does not “count” professionally.  And, again, I stress the importance of the peer review process for publishing research.  How I get to the research process in the first place, and what I do with research once it’s published are undeniably influenced by my commitment to social justice.  While it also influences how I do research, I based my decisions and interpretations on existing theory and research, and have my work vetted by other scholars, just like my non-activist colleagues.

Now, About The Elephant In The Room…

I keep harping on the matter of science, despite its imperfections, because there are some ways in which academia and activism do not mix.  Well, there is one big way, and that is when scholars shirk standards of ethical, empirically- and theoretically-based science all together.

The scandal surrounding a 2012 study by University of Texas Austin sociologist, Mark Regnerus, has been at the background throughout my public dialogue on activism and academia.  Since this story first emerged as I entered the job market, I decided to stay silent on the scandal.  And, even once I secured a job, things had grown to a level that I felt it was best to let those protected by tenure to chime in.  But, this case is likely the example of the concern that skeptics have raised.

Besides my fear of professional consequences, a further complication is the concern that calls for academic freedom must acknowledge that the political pendulum swings both ways.  If I wish to have more space for scholars to blog, speak to the media, and use their research for public “good,” I must recognize that some will be doing so for causes that are not my own, or are even counter to mine.  Sure, Regnerus should be free to blog (as he does), no matter his conservative views.

But, this case stands out because there is evidence that he did not draw upon existing theory and research throughout his research design (namely, how he defined “families with lesbian parents“).  Further, to some extent, the peer review process was usurped.  Even if this paper was not used in political efforts to oppose same-gender marriage, this is simply bad science.

The harmful mix of this bad science and his conservative activism is further apparent in the use of this study (which should have been retracted all together) to encourage the US Supreme Court to deny legal recognition of same-gender couples.  Even when the American Sociological Association spoke for the discipline to say there is no empirical evidence to cause concern for the well-being of children of LGBT parents, he co-signed on an amicus brief that said otherwise, largely based on his and another flawed study.  Unfortunately, his singular voice and study were reframed in the actual SCOTUS case as evidence that sociologists have yet to reach a consensus on LGBT families.

Bad science + activism = public harm.  The peer review process should have prevented the study from ever being published.  And, in being responsible scholars, greater effort should have been made to balance supposed mixed findings: 50 studies say X, but, there is one that says not X; here’s why we the latter study is important (or not).  (The ASA brief did this, and further stressed why Regnerus’s study is flawed and irrelevant to LGBT families.  Regnerus et al. did not do this in their brief to the Supreme Court.)

I believe that scholars can be activist-academics or activist-leaning academics or academics from 9-5 and activists on the weekends.  But, this is with the caveat that scholars should be responsible and ethical in how they do research and what they do with it, and how they teach and on what topics, how they serve academic and non-academic communities.

Academia Needs Activism

A final point on the activism-academia mixture is that they need each other.  Activists need the work of researchers to make a case for social change, particularly to change laws and policies.  Researchers, in turn, benefit from their work being carried beyond the pay-walls of academic journals.

But, beyond the notion of active activists and passive academics who simply do science and produce knowledge, academia benefits from activist efforts to bust down barriers to the ivory tower.  Despite his undeniable contributions to sociology, W. E. B. DuBois was not welcomed into the discipline because he was Black.  Eventually fed up with the racism of sociology and the academy in general, he turned more exclusively to activism, co-founding the NAACP.

Recently, I have learned of other marginalized scholars who were either kept out or whose contributions were ignored. Today, I began reading Imagine a World: Pioneering Black Women Sociologists.  I am embarrassed to admit that I have never heard of the five Black women sociologists featured in the book: Jacquelyne Johnson Jackson, LaFrancis Rodgers-Rose, Joyce A. Ladner, Doris Wilkinson, and Delores P. Aldridge.  But, considering that the discipline has not been (and still is not) immune to the prejudices and discriminatory practices of the outside world, why would I?

THOMASThe most mind-blowing revelation I have had on this matter is the obvious erasure of Dorothy Swaine Thomas.  She co-authored a book with W. I. Thomas, from which “his” famous quote comes: “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences” (Thomas and Thomas 1928: 572).  Yet, Dorothy is rarely given credit for the “W. I. Thomas quote.”  Sadly, what was originally outright sexism that drove the discipline to erase her contribution, my generation of scholars is never taught about her just because our teachers do not know otherwise.

These revelations have fueled my aforementioned interests in the sociology of knowledge and sociology of science.  It is a scary thought that what is taken as Truth is based on science done overwhelmingly by privileged scholars (i.e., middle-class white men) sometimes based on samples that do not reflect members of marginalized groups.  Marginalized scholars are excluded or their work is undermined (sometimes as a result of the exclusion).  For example, there is a slow growth of studies on sexuality published in the top journals in sociology, yet such scholarship published in sexuality journals is regarded as unimportant to mainstream sociology or it is dismissed as “mesearch” if conducted by an LGBT scholar.  (Because the work white middle-class men do, even on themselves, is Objective Science and Truth.)

It is unsurprisingly to me, then, that some minority scholars who were initially interested studying their communities (for their advancement or liberation) end up doing work on the sociology of knowledge (e.g., Patricia Hill Collins) or critiquing research methods (e.g., Dr. Eduardo Bonilla-Silva).

Moving Forward

In sum, I reiterate that it is possible to be an activist and an academic.  If responsible, one’s work in one domain can benefit the other.  And, for some, the synergy among all aspects of your activist and academic selves cannot be compartmentalized into research, teaching, (academic) service, and community service or activism.  The question is not whether you can be.  And, frankly, I think it is time to move beyond asking whether you should be an activist.  Some people just are.

I conclude, then, by suggesting that it is time to recognize the reality of activism in academia, and better appreciate the good it does for it.  Arguably, science would remain limited and exclusive without activist efforts to end discriminatory practices in education.

Moving forward, the question should be how to support students and scholars who are activists at heart (because you never know what impact they can have in society!).  I call for ending the practice of “beating the activist” out of graduate students.  It is no secret that many students come into graduate programs, especially in the social sciences, with the hopes of making a difference.  It is time to support them as they are.

My Kind Of Sociology

And, I am working toward my own self-defined sociology, even after six years of “beatings” in graduate school.  You may have noticed that I renamed my blog, My Sociology.  This was the name of my very first blog.  By the title, I do not imply that I own sociology (though we could debate whether it can be or is owned, and by whom).  Rather, I take the position that there is no one, singular way to do sociology nor to be a sociologist.

Seeing the doubt that students from marginalized backgrounds experience, particularly in graduate school, makes it particularly important to support activist-leaning academics.  A narrow image of successful scholars is purported, and the disconnect between one’s social justice desires and what they learn in graduate school persists.  So, too many — just too many — scholars of color, women scholars, first-generation and working-class scholars doubt themselves, questioning whether an academic career is right for them, and, frankly, whether they are right (read: good enough) for academia.

There are a number of examples of sociologists, whether or not they identify as activists, who serve as inspiring role models, folks who pursue their own kind of sociology:


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On Doubting And Denying Each Other’s Experiences and Perspectives

5 03 2013

The recent sociological blog debate on the supposed era of post-racism still weighs on my mind today, even as the conversation has tapered off.  Beyond arguing against this idealistic (and limited) vision of post-racism, I have reflected a great deal on how we have talked about race and racism, and the barriers that seemed to have gotten in the way of meaningful dialogue.

I have reflected upon how others have perceived me or even gone to the extent of criticizing me.  Most recently, I heard that some of my fellow graduate students dubbed me overly-sensitive.  I am used to this critique.  But, I joked with some of my friends that I must have gone “soft” over the years; I was labeled “militant” within my first year of graduate school, and then “uppity” by my third year.  Now, in my sixth and final year, I am merely “overly-sensitive.”

Doubting And Dismissing

Initially, it is upsetting to have fellow scholars — who are, by training, critical of the social world — lazily dismiss your critique of oppressive and unequal practices as sensitivity.  But, I learned to make peace with the reality that making friends in the academy is a bonus, not a given (this is not college!), and privileged and oppressed people come to academia for very different reasons.  Though we get the same training and do similar tasks (i.e., research, teaching, service), these are means to different ends.

So, I have grown used to the criticisms of unsympathetic privileged individuals — purportedly-liberal whites, heterosexuals, men, those of the middle-class, and those born in the US.  This weekend, it donned on me that the criticisms that have stood out in my mind, those with which I struggle for some time, are those from fellow marginalized group members — people of color and LGBT folks in particular.

Doubt And Dismissal By Other Marginalized Individuals

Obviously, the recent debate with Fabio Rojas (a Latino professor who advocated the “post-racism” thesis) continues to linger in my mind.  And, I still shudder today at the thought of having a gay man (who was a friend at the time) dub me “uppity” in arguing about the persistence of homophobia and racism.

My initial concern with having another person of color deny that racism exists, or is a persistent problem, or was relevant to a particular event in question is the fear of “airing dirty laundry.”  This is particularly true for Fabio’s suggestion that we live in a post-racist era.  Whether this is true or not, I fear that whites who secretly believe this, or who are on the fence about the significance of racism today, or who are too lazy or limited in their thinking to assess for themselves, will take this “post-racism thesis” and run with it.  “You see, even he thinks it, and he’s Latino!”  But, realistically, the hunger to declare racism dead is strong enough that those kinds of folks will find the evidence they need to do so anywhere.

But, beyond that fear, it has become clear to me that having another member of your oppressed group doubt or deny your experiences with oppression or your perspective more generally is harmful and disappointing in its own right.  First, because they do not completely agree, and, second, because they deny your perspective.  Of course, this is not to say that they cannot disagree, nor that you are automatically right and they are automatically wrong.  Rather, I take issue with those who seem so set on denying the existence of oppression that they reject your experiences and perspective that challenge that ideal picture.

In the two examples I mentioned, after drawing upon my personal exposure to racist prejudice and discrimination, a fellow man of color pointed out my (justified) rage and pressed on with his argument that racism does not exist.  After describing the homophobic prejudice and discrimination I have faced, a fellow gay man dismissed me as “uppity” because I became angry that he denied that homophobia is “all that bad.”  For whatever reason, they are so tied to these post-racist and post-homophobic utopias that my experiences failed to serve as evidence of racism and homophobia, and I needed to be further silenced by trivializing my anger.

Intersections With Power And Privilege

What complicates these kinds of challenging conversations with other marginalized individuals is that we may hold other privileged identities.  The force of the blow of being called uppity was multiplied by 100 because it came from a white man.  Our shared marginalized status as gay men shifted to the periphery in my mind as I was subject to the most racist verbal assault in my life, short of being called “nigger.”

As I have since learned, the racist history of the term uppity is not widely known; however, he failed to apologize once I called that to his attention.  Rather, he pressed on to correct me: “you could also say ‘uppity bitch’ or ‘uppity faggot’; it’s not just about race.”  He was right; it is not just about race.  It is about power.  Rather, it is about disempowering the recipient of the charge of uppitiness.

In addition, axes of power drawn from institutions can complicate matters, as well.  One challenge to the dialogue with Fabio is that he is a tenured professor; I am a graduate student on the verge of finishing my training (so, I still tread lightly to prevent making myself vulnerable to backlash).  Though he has not exploited his power, and has been civil throughout the debate, he very well could draw upon his status as a professor to silence me.

In my and other students’ interactions with other professors, being told homophobia is not that bad or sexism is dead and gone, we, as mere students, can only go so far in disagreeing with a professor.  Beyond fearing retaliation, we are constrained in many ways because these conversations tend to occur on the professors’ turf and terms.  How intensely and for how long can you disagree with a professor as you sit in their office, meeting with them during the time they are available?  And, you probably met with them for their help.  Moments after you leave their office, you could witness a white professor pet the hair of another Black student and ask whether it is really hers, but, while in the professor’s office, their view that “racism is not that bad today” is Truth.

A Call For Better Support From Our Fellow Group Members

I should stress that I do not intend to demonize those individuals of one’s own marginalized group for disagreeing, or even verbalizing that disagreement.  Also, I do not care to engage why some oppressed people fail to “see” oppression.  Some may have yet to gain the necessary consciousness to see more subtle expressions of prejudice and discrimination.  For the rest, dismissing them as having internalized their own oppression is just as harmful as them denying your oppressed reality.

Instead, I call for doing a better job of supporting one another.  As marginalized people, we already face enough doubt and denial from privileged people.  I will probably spend much of my energy in research, teaching, and serving on various university committees trying to convince whites that racism still exists.  What I need from other people of color, then, is a shared safe space to be free from doubt and denial.  Let us be sure to protect a space for ourselves where we do not have to convince one another that racism exists, or that our experiences were really shaped by racism.  We need a space where we will not trivialize each other’s emotional responses to prejudice and discrimination.

In fact, this safe space is one of the reasons why marginalized folks seek out others like themselves.  It is exhausting to deal with heterosexism and homophobic prejudice and discrimination, having your rights debated daily and voted upon every election cycle, while being told your fight for equal rights is not that important.  So, LGBT and queer people find solace in one another’s company.  It is no coincidence that, given my challenging experiences in graduate school, most of my closets friends today are queer, of color, and/or working-class.

I do think that we should challenge one another, whether it be raising our consciousnesses about our oppressed reality or trying to think outside of our own perspective.  But, this is not the same as outright doubting or denying someone’s experiences or perspective.  While growing together, supporting other people of color, other LGBT and queer people, other folks from working-class backgrounds, and other women means seeing, hearing, and validating each other in a society set on making us invisible, silent, and insignificant.


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On The Proposal To Replace LGBT With “Gender And Sexual Diversities” (GSD)

2 03 2013

Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people have made a great deal of progress toward gaining equal status and rights in the US, particularly within the past decade.  But, on the eve of the US Supreme Court’s consideration of same-gender marriage, we find ourselves still battling rigid stereotypes and prejudice.

Arguments against equal protections for transgender people continue to reduce them to their bodies and/or their sexualities, claiming their presence poses a risk of sexual violence for cisgender people.  Lesbian, gay, and bisexual people continue to be depicted as a threat to children and families, often outright accused of sexual deviance, including pedophilia, bestiality, and sexual addiction.  A great deal of the efforts to challenge anti-LGBT prejudice, discrimination, and violence entails battling these myths and stereotypes, and promoting an image of LGBT people as mere humans.

The Importance Of Self-Definition

The extent to which LGBT people are oppressed in the US can be gleaned by the power that heterosexual and cisgender people hold to name, recognize, represent, and include LGBT people.  As such, there are efforts by LGBT activists and advocates to address each of these elements of inequality: from challenging the exclusion of LGBT people from important social institutions, to challenging the use of “gay” as an insult; from promoting greater (positive) visibility of LGBT people in the media, to advocating for greater attention to sexual identity, and gender identity and expression in politics.

One aspect of LGBT empowerment, then, is obtaining the power to name oneself, and to be visible, represented, and included.  Sociologist Patricia Hill Collins talks about the importance of self-definition for Black women’s empowerment in her scholarship on black feminist theory:

[S]elf-definition offers a powerful challenge to the externally defined, controlling images of African-American women.  Replacing negative images with positive ones can be equally problematic if the function of stereotypes as controlling images remains unrecognized…The insistence on Black women’s self-definitions reframes the entire dialogue from one of protesting the technical accuracy of an image…to one stressing the power dynamics underlying the very process of definition itself…By insisting on self-definition, Black women question not only what has been said about African-American women but the credibility and the intentions of those possessing the power to define.  When Black women define ourselves, we clearly reject the assumption that those in positions granting authority to interpret our reality are entitled to do so.  Regardless of the actual content of Black women’s self-definitions, the act of insisting on Black female self-definition validates Black women’s power as human subjects (pg. 114).

Gender And Sexual Diversities

The successful recognition of LGBT people as just that — LGBT — has only recently been achieved in general US discourse about sexuality and gender identity and expression.  And, by no means has the acronym gained complete use over less inclusive terms: “gays and lesbians,” “homosexuals,” “gay people,” “transsexuals,” and so forth.

Of course, the acronym LGBT is not entirely exhaustive in its inclusion of all sexual and gender minorities.  Queer is sometimes included, and the ‘T’ arguably includes all trans* people (e.g., transgender, gender non-conforming, transsexual, genderqueer, intersex, etc.); and, some use the longer LGBTQQIA to include queer, questioning, intersex, and asexual identified people.  Still, others remain unnamed, though assumed.

To reflect this vast diversity in sexual identity, gender identity, and gender expression, a London-based therapy group for sexual and gender minorities, Pink Therapy, has proposed the term “gender and sexual diversities” (GSD).  Initially, I would take no issue with a broader, more inclusive term to speak about such diversity.  But, the proposal to replace LGBT with GSD — which, ironically, sounds like a mental illness (like PTSD) — put me on the defensive.  I thought, “who are these people to make such a proposal?”

As I watched the interview to hear more about their proposed GSD umbrella term, I became more concerned about their intentions, and how their suggestion is given legitimate consideration — even a poll at the bottom of the HuffingtonPost Gay Voices article on the proposed name-change.

PollI agree that LGBT is not inclusive enough.  But, the tired joke about the “alphabet soup” to name every gender and sexual identity is where we land when trying to move beyond exclusivity.

But, within their explanation, I noticed that their vision was broader even than sexual and gender minorities; in fact, their initial proposal of “Gender and Sexual Minorities” (GSM) was shot down because some they include are not necessarily minorities in the same sense that LGBT individuals are.  In particular, the therapists name asexuals, members of kink and BDSM communities, and those in non-traditional relationships (e.g., swingers, those in polyamorous relationships) as individuals to be included in the broader “GSD” label.

To include swingers, who are largely conservative middle-class white heterosexual married couples, as well as similarly privileged people who are polyamorous or into kink or BDSM alongside sexual and gender minorities moves the discussion beyond the denial of rights and protections and exposure to prejudice, discrimination, and violence.

Self-Definition

Indeed, the sexual practices and relationship structures of cisgender heterosexuals who engage in swinging, kink, or who are poly are stigmatized.  But, this is a different matter than the stigmatization LGBT and queer people face because of their sexual and/or gender identities — who they are, not merely what they do.

At a minimum, I am suspicious of this proposal.  LGBT people across the US are being asked to consider adopting the name “GSD” following the proposal of a small group of therapist in London that was elevated via HuffingtonPost.  How did these people even pique the interest of the online newspaper?  Just who are these people to come along with such a major proposal?

But, I think it is safe to say that I oppose this change for three reasons.  First, it is proposed by some external source, rather as an act of self-definition.  Second, likely related to the first, they advocate to include privileged people in our minority community.  It is not for lack of sympathy or even awareness of the invisibility and stigmatization that poly, kinky, and swinging folks experience; rather, these are matters distinct from the marginalized status of LGBT and queer people.  Third, also related to the first, is that the term seems silly as a name for a group.  For example, Black people, whether self-identified as “Black,” “African-American,” “Caribbean Black,” and so on, do not identify as “racial diversity” or “diversities”; even racial and ethnic minorities, collectively as “people of color,” do not use such a label.

I ask, before this proposal goes any further, why?  With such effort that has gone into recognition as LGBT communities, why abruptly shift to a new label that would include individuals who are not gender and/or sexual minorities?

A Note About Boundary Work

I know that I am walking the fine line of boundary work — that is, drawing the boundaries of who is included in LGBT and who is not.  Like every group, whether privileged or oppressed, we have had a long history of drawing and redrawing the bounds of LGBT.  Even today, bisexual and trans* people must ask why ‘B’ and ‘T’ are often reflected only in name.

But, I stress here that this proposal instigates these questions.  I am sure that I am not alone in having the knee-jerk reaction to become defensive at the proposed inclusion of individuals who are not socially and politically marginalized in society.  I also emphasize that we question who determines those boundaries.  What authority do these two therapists have to rename an entire segment of the population?  Who grants that authority, and how is it reinforced?  These questions are at the core of Collins’s discussion of self-definition: interrogating who has the power to define us, if not ourselves, and why.

I recognize and celebrate the great complexity and diversity of genders and sexualities.  But, we must hone the power to name ourselves for ourselves as a part of our path to true liberation.


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A Call For Bystander Intervention To End Racism

27 02 2013

In the recent sociological blog debate on racism versus the supposed dawn of “post-racism” in America, we often touched on problems that make talking about racism difficult, if not entirely impossible.  In addition to institutional constraints, there are interpersonal factors that can derail meaningful conversations about race and racism.  In addition to calling attention to these barriers, it is important to make explicit that too few people take on this difficult task.

Responsibility For (Anti-)Racism

In general, too few people consistently assume responsibility for talking about race and racism, and fighting racism more broadly.  That kind of work is presumed to be taken on by activists and leaders of social movements.  But, in particular, the responsibility generally falls in the laps of those victimized by it — in this case, people of color.  As Jason noted in his contribution to the “post-racism” blog debate, racial and ethnic minorities generally face this burden alone.

But, people of color are neither alone in this racist society nor the creators of this system of oppression.  Whites are implicated by virtue of the benefits they receive (i.e., white privilege) from the historical legacy of racism, as well as today.  Eliminating racism, then, is just as much their responsibility, if not more, as it is for people of color.

As I re-watched a few of ABC’s “What Would You Do” social experiments regarding race and racism, I was reminded just how problematic America’s sense of responsibility for racism and anti-racism are.  While too few whites intervene when they witness racist discrimination in stores against (innocent) people of color, many seem quick to intervene to sanction Black people’s criminal behavior but not that of whites (see part 1 and part 2).  (Three young Black men sleeping in their own car got more calls to 911 than did three young white men vandalizing and breaking into someone else’s car.)

A Personal Anecdote

Racist events are plentiful, from small slights to extreme forms of violence.  So, there are too many missed opportunities to confront racism, or at least learn from these events to do things differently in the future.  One such event stands out in my own life.

At the start of my second semester of graduate school, my cohort and I sat through the beginning of our training and preparation to carry out a telephone survey on social attitudes that summer.  In talking through concerns for the project, whether we as  interviewers “talk black” was posed as a potential bias in our interviews.  It felt as though as though a grenade had gone off right in the middle of class, but we continued on ignoring it.  I thought, “was I the only one who heard that?”

This event only became an issue when my colleagues of color and I were overheard joking about the racist comment the following week.  That was brought to the attention of the professor who, out of concern, asked us whether and how to “handle” this.  Three weeks later, we finally devoted an entire two-hour class to discussing the comment about “talking black” — a phrase the professor wrote explicitly on the board to facilitate our conversation.

Of course, five minutes that felt like an eternity passed before anyone broke the thick silence that suffocated the room — it was me, naturally, in which I called attention to that deafening silence.  As the tense conversation carried on, my cohort was divided, with the students of color and anti-racist white students taking issue with the concern about “talking black,” and the rest remaining silent, or speaking up to say they did not see a problem or even recast the comment in their head so that it was not problematic.

The conversation boiled down to whether the commenter said “talking black” or talking black, where the quotation marks became the symbolic boundary between belief that there is a(n inferior) style of English unique to Black Americans and the knowledge that others believe that (but not believing it oneself).  Only a racist person would forgo the quotation marks, for this would reflect their own beliefs.

With the conversation ending with a half-ass apology from the commenter, that one’s upbringing in the Midwest should suffice as an excuse for one’s racist prejudice, we left the room more divided than ever before.  The rest of our department remained curious bystanders, but nothing more came of these events outside of the efforts of students of color to challenge racism in the department and university.

To add insult to injury, later in the semester, my colleagues of color and I overheard some of our classmates complain about the ongoing divisiveness, placing blame on us for not having gotten “over it” yet.  Their simultaneous lack of understanding and lack of sympathy only further fueled the division.  I am happy to say that a great deal has been forgiven, but one can never forget such events.  But, sadly, because little came of it, we saw yet another racist event occur years later.

A Call For Bystander Intervention

I, as others before me, call for a bystander intervention approach to ending racism.  Too often, individuals not directly involved in a dangerous or difficult scenario — or bystanders — simply stand-by and watch without intervening to provide help.  As such, in the case of the prevention of sexual violence (since this “bystander effect” was coined after no one intervened in the brutal rape and murder of Kitty Genovese), advocates have strongly emphasized the need to turn bystanders into potential interveners – “bystander intervention.“  Applied to racism, this means that individuals are called to action to intervene if they witness racist discrimination, bullying, or violence.

However, I push this anti-racist bystander intervention one step further beyond intervening in difficult situations.  Similar to my calls for bystander intervention to prevent sexual violence (i.e., rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment), I stress that our anti-racist work must include a sense that racism is a community issue and, as such, anti-racism is a community responsibility.

Ways To Intervene

A related aspect is noting that racism exists at multiple levels and, as such, there are an infinite number of ways in which we can fight it:

  1. One can intervene when they witness racist discrimination or harassment.  Of course, this depends upon a number of factors that make this easier said than done.  And, no one should intervene in ways that place them at risk for getting hurt.  If it is a scenario of extreme violence, like a racially-motivated hate crime, a safe means of intervening may be to call the police.  If it is an instance of the unfair firing of a Latina coworker, you could approach your supervisor to note that you feel your coworker deserves a second chance.
  2. Challenge racist prejudice.  This can entail calling people out who appear to harbor prejudice toward people of color, or hold misguided stereotypes.  It also means calling out offensive comments that others’ may make about racial and ethnic minorities.
  3. Challenge yourself.  No matter one’s racial or ethnic background, and one’s racial ideology, no one is immune to the pervasive poison of racism.  It is important to also check your own biases and actions.  Do you seek out friends of the same race?  Do you avoid “that part of town”?  Do you do certain things, at least in part, to avoid appearing racist?
  4. Educate yourself.  Unfortunately, most Americans leave formal education knowing little about racism and the history and experiences of people of color beyond obligatory coverage during Black History Month.  To push beyond this, one can take the time to learn more (even from March to January).  Read books about and by people of color.  Go see films on historical and contemporary accounts of the lives of racial and ethnic minorities.  Visit museums that feature exhibits on race and ethnicity.  Become comfortable talking about race and racism with the people around you, no matter their race and ethnicity.
  5. Support victims of racist prejudice, discrimination, and violence.  As I wrote the first suggestion, I realized that there are so many concerns that one may have in directly challenging racist actions.  But, there are fewer concerns regarding harm in supporting victims of these actions.  Though your supervisor who unfairly fired your Latina coworker very well could threaten you, as well, you are freer to reach out to your coworker.  See if she wants to talk, needs help finding a new job, or even filing a discrimination or EEO complaint.  Even outside of severe instances of racist acts, you can be a supportive ally by really hearing people out when they reveal their experiences to you (rather than blaming them or encouraging them to think of alternative reasons for those acts).
  6. Challenge racist practices of organizations and institutions.  Though the days of overt racist laws and policies are mostly gone, there are still many — albeit neutral in intention and language — that disproportionately harm people of color.  It is important to challenge these, just as it is to challenge racism at the individual-level.  Maybe you can speak up if your workplace implements a dress-code policy that unfairly targets racial and ethnic minorities.  Take action to prevent the efforts to repeal Affirmative Action and other policies that aim to redress racial inequality.  Educate yourself and others about how new policies or policy change can contribute to racial equality, even if they are not targeted solely toward people of color (e.g., Affordable Care Act).

Concluding Thoughts

Obviously, everyone cannot become leaders of social movements like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. or lead deadly anti-racist efforts like abolitionist John Brown or the slain Mississippi civil rights workers.  Most of us are not lifelong activists.

But, there are many opportunities throughout a given day to make a difference, no matter how small.  For, even small acts add up to a big contribution to challenge prejudice and stereotypes, educate oneself and others, end racist discrimination and violence, and promote racial diversity and equality.  Just as we are all implicated in racism, it will take all of us to end it.


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Categories : "Post-Racial", Academia, Activism, Affirmative Action, Allies, America, American Indians, Anti-Racism, Asians and Asian Americans, Attitudes, Black Communities, Black People, Bullying, Bystander Intervention, Civil Rights, Crime, Debate, Discrimination, Education, Equality, Ethnicity, Faculty, Hate Crimes, Higher Education, Inequality, Injustice, Institutional Discrimination, Institutional Racism, Interpersonal Discrimination, Interpersonal Racism, Justice, Knowledge, Latina/o People, Law, Marginalized Groups, Me, Minorities, Oppression, People of Color, Prejudice, Privilege, Race, Racism, Rape, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Violence, Silence, Social Change, Social Movements, Society, Stereotypes, Teaching, Unfair Treatment, Violence, Voting, White People, White Privilege

Sexual Violence Among Children — How Do We Define It?

28 01 2012

The New York Times recently covered a story about a six-year-old boy who was suspended from school after touching the thigh or groin of another boy:

It started as schoolyard roughhousing during recess, with one boy’s hand allegedly touching the upper thigh, or perhaps the groin, of another. There were no reported witnesses, and it remains unclear if anyone complained, but the principal immediately suspended the student, placing the incident on the boy’s record as a case of “sexual assault.” The children involved were first graders — the purported assailant just 6.

The severity of the punishment for this incidence has caused a stir, highlighting a number of other cases where parents raise doubts about the appropriateness of the punishment:

Experts said such incidents are not isolated, but rather part of an emerging national trend. A similar case caused a sensation in Boston in November when a 7-year-old faced sexual harassment charges for kicking another boy his age in the groin during a fight.

Due to heightened concerns over bullying in recent years — spurred by a public awareness campaign following several child suicides — school administrators now feel pressure to act boldly in cases where students might face harassment.

Yet, what appears to be driving these concerns is the appropriateness of defining these behaviors as sexual assault:

Indeed, calling a matter “sexual” when a first-grader is involved seems at odds with California statutes that indicate that such intent can only be applied to children who are in fourth grade or older.

Stuart Lustig, a board-certified child psychiatrist at the University of California, San Francisco, said that in general it is quite common, normal even, for young children to touch each other’s genital areas. “It’s curiosity,” he said. “It’s not sexual in the adult sense.”

Dr. Lustig added that it would only become a concern if a young child does not stop when told the behavior is inappropriate. However, he said he had heard of cases where schools have acted immediately to discipline youngsters, even over a single schoolyard kiss. “Schools can sometimes respond very strongly because of the legal environment,” he said.

That is, there is apprehension — even legal codes — to conceptualize certain behaviors among young children as sexual violence.  But why?  It may be that:

  1. we believe that children are too young to understand sex and sexual violence, thus, they cannot be held accountable for their actions — at least for the first instance, and for minor, less intrusive events.  But, does this also mean that children are too young to discern touching and attention they want from that which is unwanted?
  2. we believe that children are too young to be sexual.  So, touching at this age should be seen as mere curiosity.  But, doesn’t this mean children are too young to consent, and, as such, all touching is considered sexual violence?

Then, what is sexual violence among children?  Are certain behaviors (touching, staring, flirtation) considered inappropriate if they are unwanted by the target of such behaviors?  Or, does it depend on the severity of the behaviors, either in how intrusive they are or how much they harm the target of the behaviors?  Or, rather, does it depend on the intentions of the child enacting these behaviors?

An Important Moment

Following the change to the federal law defining rape to include violence against men, this is an important moment to fully engage these kinds of messy questions.  In understanding sexual violence as an expression of power over another, we must ask ourselves what power, oppression, and violence look like for children.  Just as we are apprehensive to believe that a six-year-old boy intended to sexually assault another boy, we may be apprehensive to believe that six-year-olds understand power well enough to comprehend and enact sexual violence.  Despite also denying that young children are sexual, we must engage the question of consent for sexual activity and attention.  But, we cannot overlook that children can be the targets of unwanted sexual activity or attention just because young children may not be old enough to fully comprehend all of these complex issues (adults obviously struggle, too).

Childhood may offer an important moment to teach children about sexual violence so that they may better recognize it (and, hopefully prevent it in their communities) in adulthood.  We are sending mixed messages to our youth in ignoring some forms of sexual violence and severely prosecuting others, especially where the expressions of violence are more akin to bullying than sexual assault, rape, and sexual harassment.  Fortunately, there are some places like Middle Way House that work directly with children to teach them about healthy, consensual friendships and relationships.  But, obviously, there is so much more to do.


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Categories : Children, Community, Education, Media, Oppression, Power, Rape, Relationships, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Violence

Resilience: It Gets Better Because We Make It Better

21 01 2012

Sociologist Tey Meadow‘s recent op-ed at Huffington Post makes an important point.  It is critically important that we acknowledge and address the bullying, harassment, and discrimination faced by lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and gender non-conforming youth that, in turn, results in their elevated risk for suicidality, mental health problems, drug and alcohol abuse, among other threats to their health and well-being.  However, it is also of critical importance to acknowledge and celebrate the many ways in which LGBTQ youth are surviving and thriving, embracing their individual and community resiliency.

In the face of tremendous overt hostility and covert neglect, still, most LGBTQ teenagers do not wish to end their lives. The Trevor Project, a national crisis and suicide prevention hotline for LGBTQ youth, has fielded over 200,000 calls since its inception in 2008, calls from youth reaching out for affirmation and support. They survived. Some of them even thrived. Where are their stories?

This call for broadening our focus on the lives and experiences of LGBTQ youth comes after yet another tragic suicide of a queer teenager.  Eric James Borges took his own life last week.  What makes this tragedy more unsettling is that he interned for the Trevor Project, which works to prevent LGBTQ suicides, and created his own “It Gets Better” video.  As Meadows makes clear, we must continue to change the current social and political climate that demonizes LGBTQ people, relationships, and communities — this means society at large, as well as in schools, the military, families, places of worship, the medical system, etc.  But, we must not allow bullying, harassment, suicides, isolation, and the other negative aspects of LGBTQ youths’ experiences in a homophobic, biphobic, and transphobic society; we must not allow LGBTQ youth to be equated with suicide and victimization.

LGBTQ Resilience

Advocates and researchers have made great strides in highlighting the hostility LGBTQ youth and adults face in the United States and world wide.  This includes theoretical and empirical developments that help us to understand how prejudice and discrimination create and maintain health disparities, for example, the minority stress paradigm.

One area that needs much more work is resilience among LGBTQ individuals and communities.  Each individual has the capacity for resilience, as defined by Psychology Today:

Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever. Rather than letting failure overcome them and drain their resolve, they find a way to rise from the ashes.

Indeed, as health researcher Ron Stall points out in his calls for better understanding resiliency among LGBTQ people, those who live today in our homo/bi/transphobic country maintain some level of resilience.  In his words, given the effect of prejudice, discrimination, and harassment on LGBTQ individuals health and well-being, we could envision a world with the majority of LGBTQ people suffering, abusing drugs, harming themselves and their bodies, and engaging in unsafe behaviors.  Yet, despite elevated risks for mental, physical, and sexual health problems among LGBTQ people compared to heterosexuals and cisgendered people, most LGBTQ people are in good health.  As he explains, there must be, at both the individual and community levels, a great deal of resilience that prevents these homo/bi/transphobic forces from becoming every LGBTQ person’s inevitable reality.

It Does Get Better — We Can And Have To Make It Better

In addition to identifying factors that promote resilience among LGBTQ individuals and for LGBTQ communities, it is necessary to continue to understand and address the social forces that impede on the lives of LGBTQ people.  I, like many others, have supported giving young LGBTQ people a message of hope, for, in the words of Harvey Milk, hope is necessary to carry on through the day when all seems difficult or impossible.  But, we must continue to fight against transphobia, biphobia, and homophobia — we cannot simply hope for the day when it gets better.  We already know that it has gotten better because we have fought to make it better.  Fighting for our rights and our lives is, arguably, one of the strongest forms of resilience because we take an active role in challenging inequality.

Thinking More Critically, Thinking Globally

Another point that I like about Meadow’s op-ed is the emphasis on recognizing the institutional and societal manifestations of oppression faced by LGBTQ people.  Like good sociologists, we must push attention to the bullying and harassment faced by LGBTQ youth to who is doing the bullying and harassment and how society and various institutions condone or promote such behavior.  This includes highlighting the failure of schools to promote acceptance, inclusion, and safety of all of its students, yet also, attending to the actions and attitudes that disparage and demonize LGBTQ people at home, in the government, in religion, and so forth.

A second shift in our attention is to better understand how homophobia, transphobia, and biphobia intersect with other systems of oppression.  Too often, the priorities of LGBTQ communities misses the unique needs and experiences of LGBTQ people who are multiply disadvantaged: women, transpeople, people of color, people experiencing poverty and/or homelessness, people with disabilities, religious minorities, immigrants.  Arguably, the well-being of LGBTQ people is only as strong as its worst-off members — those who are often invisible in society and even in LGBTQ communities.

Third, and finally, I echo calls to reconceptualize LGBTQ rights as human rights.  Such a move forces us to think globally about the lives and experiences of LGBTQ people.  While some places, especially Western nations, are relatively tolerant of LGBTQ people (I use the term “relatively” strongly, here), other countries keep homosexuality on the books as a crime punishable by death and, even if not, such punishments are carried out daily by everyday citizens.  We cannot become complacent with mere “tolerance” in places like the US, Canada, and some counties in Europe while LGBTQ people face severe violence and repression elsewhere.

It gets better… and already has… because we’ve made it better, and will continue to do so:


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Categories : Activism, Biphobia, Civil Rights, Coming Out, Community, Discrimination, Equality, Gender Identity & Expression, Gender Non-Conformity, Genderqueer, Health, Homophobia, Human Rights, Inequality, LGBT People, Mental Health, Prejudice, Progress, Queer, Queer People of Color, Sexual Identity, Sexual Orientation, Sexual Prejudice, Sexuality, Social Change, Social Movements, Sociology, Transgender, Transphobia, Violence

Victim-Blaming And Failed Justice For Rape Victims – A Call For Bystander Intervention

19 03 2010

Last last year, as many as 10 young men gang-raped a 15-year-old girl, while another 10 people watched, in Richmond, California.  As horrible as the attack was, with many questions that swarm regarding one’s ability to witness such a gruesome attack without intervening or calling for help, we already have a name for this phenomenon: the bystander effect.  The term was coined to make sense of how 38 people witnessed, by hearing and/or seeing, the violent rape and murder of Kitty Genovese in 1964.  And, subsequent research has found that the diffusion of responsibility, or the pressure one perceives to intervene, increases as the number of people present increases.

A Disconnect Between Problems And Solutions

Unlike other countries, like some in Europe, many of the US’s Good Samaritan laws are focused on protecting individuals who help in emergency situations from criminal and financial liability, yet, there is little about holding responsible those who fail to intervene in such situations.  (Think back to the 1997 death Princess Diana, when seven paparazzi were later charged with failing to abide by France’s Good Samaritan law.)  Further, the primary solution that has been offered by activists, scholars, and lay people to prevent sexual violence (i.e., rape, sexual assault) is to equip women with the knowledge, skills, and confidence to protect themselves from future attacks.   This, unfortunately, means that, when these strategies fail, and a woman is sexually assaulted or raped, she is at risk for being blamed for her own attack (“victim-blaming“).

A victim-blaming post at the Daily Princetonian has sparked a wave of criticism of the continued prevalence of victim-blaming for sexual violence, coupled with the emergence of evidence that colleges are failing to seek justice for victims of sexual violence (see here, here, here, and here).  For example, NPR reported on a woman who was raped in her Indiana University dorm in 2006, sought to bring criminal charges up on her rapist, but never received justice.  The rapist was suspended from IU for a year, but returned, forcing the woman to drop out for fear for her safety and emotional well-being.  So, for all of the pushing to report sexual assaults when they happen, given that so few women report them when they happen, there is a great chance the police and, if a college student, the university will fail to do anything meaningful.  Heck, just last week, a student at the University of Massachusetts Amherst admitted to raping a woman, but, essentially, he will face no punishment from UMass.  So, women are told to protect themselves (i.e., be covered head to toe, don’t get drunk, and don’t hookup), and then are blamed if they are raped and are given few options to see that justice is achieved.

Hold The Community Responsible

Over the years, I have come across rape conceptualized as a social problem, public health concern, and product of sexism and patriarchy, to mention a few.  The missing link, however, has been conceptualizing sexual violence as a community problem.  As long as we provide prevention strategies for potential victims and potential perpetrators of sexual violence, we will continue to leave individuals to protect themselves and blame them when they fail to do so.  The critical shift, then, is to hold everyone responsible for preventing sexual violence.  This includes every member in the community – advocates, activists, educators, law enforcement officials, social workers, psychologists, medical professionals, and so forth.  And, this includes prevention at every point on the continuum of sexual violence, not simply intervening when an event has reached the point of rape.  This means challenging sexist jokes or comments, calling out harassing behavior, pushing for changes in social and community norms about gender roles, sexual behavior, and relationships, and, of course, intervening when rape and sexual assault occur.  This approach has been called bystander intervention, but, clearly implicates everyone as a bystander, not merely those who witness the most intense, violent forms of sexual violence.  The goal of such an approach is to prevent sexual violence before it ever starts, and also shifting the responsibility and blame from potential victims to the entire community.

For some reason, we continue to think about rape and sexual assault as an entirely different category of crime.  High crime rates, in terms of robberies, thefts, vandalism, assaults, and murders, can unify a community (i.e., neighborhood watch, town hall meetings) and get the attention of politicians and law enforcement, but rape and sexual assault does not seem to mobilize communities in the same way.  Murder, assault, and robbery victims are not blamed for their own attack, no matter what they did, who they are, or how they’re dressed, yet the same is not true for victims of sexual violence.  Areas with high rates of sexual violence aren’t categorized as “problem areas” in the same way that they are when other types of crimes are common; if that were true, most college campuses would be deemed high-crime areas.  (Yet, we let rapists continue to attend school and live on campus even when they’ve been convicted of sexual assault or rape.)  It’s time we take seriously sexual violence as a problem of the community.


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Categories : Activism, College, Gender, Hate Crimes, Law, Men, NSRC Dialogues, Rape, Sex, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Violence, Society, Women