Homophobia | my sociology

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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Tear-Jerker Expedia Commercial Features Same-Gender Wedding

8 06 2013

Earlier this week, Cheerios received very nasty, racist responses to its new commercial featuring an interracial family. It’s 2013, and racist prejudice still reveals its ugly presence every once in a while to remind us that it still exists. The shift toward tolerance for same-gender couples is years behind majority tolerance of interracial couples. So, I suspect it takes a great deal more bravery for companies to support LGBT rights and marriage equality, let alone feature LGBT people and same-gender couples in their advertising.

But, the pro-LGBT companies are coming forward, explicitly resisting homophobes’ efforts to re-erase LGBT people. The newest pro-LGBT advertisement is an Expedia commercial that features a father attending the wedding of his daughter and her (female) partner. See it below.

This one differs from other advertisements which either feature still photos of same-gender couples, or even a quick, passing (semi-subtle) reference to same-gender marriage. It is almost like a mini-movie, with tension, character development, and a happy ending. What I appreciate is that it takes on the father’s perspective, and that he struggled with how to navigate his daughter’s “new” life and relationship. This is an honest portrayal of how many parents come around to accepting their LGBT children. (I suspect that few come out to parents who have been LGBT-friendly all of their lives.)

Expedia has been an explicitly LGBT-friendly company for years. But, until this commercial, that friendliness was only expressed to and known among LGBT communities. They, like many companies, advertise to LGBT consumers, but save themselves the homophobic backlash by ensuring that only LGBT people know that. Now, they have made the bold step (though after others) to tell heterosexual, cisgender America that they are LGBT-friendly.

Uh oh… the gay storm is coming. Hallelujah!

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Categories : Advertising, Allies, Anti-homophobia, Attitudes, Bias, Business, Coming Out, Commercials, Consumerism, Diversity, Equality, Homophobia, Inclusivity, LBT Women, Lesbians, LGBT Communities, LGBT People, LGBT Rights, Love, Marginalized Groups, Marriage, Marriage Equality, Media, Popular Culture, Pride, Relationships, Retaliation, Sexual Identity, Sexual Orientation, Sexuality, Social Change, Society, Visibility, Women

On the Boy Scouts’ Homophobic and Biphobic Membership Policy

20 05 2013

Regarding the impending vote among Boy Scouts of America (BSA) leaders of whether to accept gay and bisexual men and boys into its membership, one concerned troop leader noted:

The problem is, do I let my kids who are straight share bathrooms and shower houses with kids who are not? How do I divide these kids up for camps? I mean, do I put the gay kids together and then the straight kids together?

Unfortunately, because of its religious foundation, many in BSA see homosexuality as incongruent with the values of the organization. In essence, it boils down to a moral issue. But, opponents of an inclusive membership policy — one that no longer explicitly excludes gays and bisexuals — are doing a poor job of disentangling several components of sexuality. The above quote seems to take issue with boy scouts’ sexual practices. Specifically, there is concern about same-sex sexuality. Yet, scouts who identify as gay or bisexual, regardless of their sexual practices, are excluded. Their sexual identities are assumed to reflect same-sex sexual activity that would occur during scouting events and meetings. That’s a bit presumptuous.

But, the slight openness to allowing gay and bisexual scouts, but not gay and bisexual scout leaders, suggests something more than the conflation of sexual identity and sexual behavior. Across the board, gay and bisexual men are being characterized as hypersexual. Their “open” presence is being described as something that will bring about prevalent same-sex sexual activity — and, of course, that’s bad! OnMyHonor.net, a site devoted to opposing change to BSA’s bi- and homophobic policy, has offered an extensive list — top 10 reasons to oppose policy change, including:

Opening the Boy Scouts to boys who openly proclaim being sexually attracted to other boys and/or openly identify themselves as “gay” will inevitably create an increase of boy-on-boy sexual contact which will result in further public scandal to the BSA, not to mention the tragedy of countless boys who will experience sexual, physical and psychological abuse. BSA’s

Whoa, see that? They went from sexual identity to sexual activity to… sexual abuse. Ah, there it is! Gay and bisexual boys and men are, yet again, being stereotyped as sexual predators. Opponents’ concerns are not merely consensual sex among the scouts. They are also fanning the flames of gay and bisexual boys who will rape other (heterosexual) boys and, the good old stereotype of gay men as pedophiles. To clarify:

Rarely does a pedophile experience sexual desire for adults of either gender. They usually don’t identify as homosexual; the majority identify as heterosexual, even those who abuse children of the same gender. They are sexually aroused by extreme youth, not by gender. [This video is also very helpful to break this myth down.]

Who Are The Real Predators?

So, if opponents are using the exclusion of gays and bisexuals as a way to keep out pedophiles, their efforts are misguided and, frankly, lazy. But, more importantly, I find it a repulsive twist in the perpetrator-victim dynamic. In the debates of the inclusion of gays and bisexuals, be it the removal of exclusionary policies or a change in the climate, in various institutions — the military, athletics, education, and the Boy Scouts — gay and bisexual men are regularly characterized as a threat to heterosexual men (and boys). Somehow, a group that reflects less than 4 percent of the US population is seen as a threat to the remaining 96 percent.

Beyond the numbers, heterosexuals are systematically privileged in ways that queer people are not. They have more power in society. Where is this threat coming from?

And, the reality I know as a queer man is that I have infinitely greater chance of being attacked by a heterosexual than heterosexuals do by me. I regularly see news reports of some gay man who was severely beaten or killed in a homophobic hate crime, or a transwoman who was the victim of a transphobic murder. Worldwide, our generally peaceful protests just for equal status in society are met with violent riots or threats of violence. In addition to the actual perpetration of violence, many queer people live in fear of violence — the effective outcome of hate crimes across the world.

In terms of sexual violence, queer people are systematically targeted, including childhood sexual abuse, and “corrective rape” perpetrated by heterosexual men against queer women. And, the overwhelming majority of instances of sexual violence against women are perpetrated by heterosexual men; and, those committed against men, regardless of sexual orientation, are perpetrated by straight men, as well.

So, another point of clarification is needed: sexual violence is an expression of power, not sexual desire. By that logic, it is more likely that heterosexual men perpetrate sexual violence than, and even against, gay and bisexual men.

Concluding Thoughts

The conflation of gay/bisexual sexual identity with consensual same-sex sexual activity with sexual violence (including pedophilia) is not a concern for the well-being of (heterosexual) boys. True concern would do a better job of disentangling these aspects of sexuality and sexual violence. Continuing to enact homophobic and biphobic discrimination does not protect children from harm (just as excluding gay priests does not prevent sexual abuse in the church).

Rather, these concerns are about maintaining the ugly practice of excluding a marginalized group, which is more likely threatened by the majority than a threat to it. Gay and bisexual boys are being denied participation in this otherwise positive organization. Gay and bisexual men are being denied the opportunity to serve as positive role models, offering a unique perspective that likely still upholds the values of citizenship in BSA. And, heterosexual boys and men are robbed of opportunities to foster positive connections with gay and bisexual boys and men, including the ideal outcome of coming to see gays and bisexuals as humans with great potential rather than deviants, monsters, or villains. The real threat is to an older, closed-minded generation that fears that the younger generation will come to see all people as equals regardless of their sexual identity; so, they aim to prevent this by enacting exclusionary policies.

It is my hope that BSA finally takes a chance on promoting equality for a change — as a person who advocates for equality, but also a queer ex-Boy Scout.

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On “Teaching While Gay”

16 05 2013

The Chronicle of Higher Education recently featured an interesting article by Domenick Scudera on “teaching while gay.“ Scudera raises the question (or concern, really) to queer professors how to navigate one’s own experiences and views and those of students who may “oppose” homosexuality:

If there are students who oppose homosexuality, those students should feel safe within the confines of our classroom to express their opinions in a respectful way. But how would that make me feel? Would I feel safe?

Further:

More important, am I harming my gay students? I believe it is helpful to them, in a safe environment, to hear the arguments against homosexuality. They will encounter those same arguments in the “real” world, as I have. I want them to be prepared. Polls tell us that homophobia persists in our country. It is reasonable to assume that some students in my classroom hold such negative beliefs about homosexuality. They might be reticent to express their feelings in the classroom. Do I have a responsibility to create an atmosphere to bring those thoughts forward?

He suggests that, unlike racist, misogynistic, or anti-Semitic views that students may express — which he would shut down immediately, without question — he tends to entertain homophobic views expressed by students. He even plays “devil’s advocate” when students raise pro-LGBT views in class discussions. But, there are lingering questions of a responsibility to create a safe classroom environment, which seems to push against the responsibility to respect free speech (and thought).

My Take

My initial thought on this is when are there debates in college classrooms on homosexuality — I suppose simply on how students feel about it, the morality of same-sex sexuality and relationships, etc? Because the debates are so wrapped up in religious doctrine, I cannot think of any non-theology classrooms where a comment such as, “well, I’m against homosexuality” is relevant to a class discussion.

If my read is accurate, then this should not be much of a dilemma. Students’ comments that are either tangential or irrelevant to the class discussion, particularly that are simply expressions of prejudice or hatred, should not be tolerated. We, as educators, have a responsibility to create classroom spaces that are free from intolerance. Yes, even though students are exposed still in the “real world,” our responsibility is just the classroom; and, why not provide at least that one space as a place where students, queer and straight alike, do not have to hear, “the Bible says it’s a sin”?

My view is, in general, if it does not draw on course materials, or challenge them, the comment is a tangent at best. This goes, too, for thinly veiled expressions of bias that give a passing reference to course materials. For example, once, on an exam, a student of mine lost points and asked me why. The provided answer briefly noted what an article covered, and then went on to oppose homosexuality. The question, I believe, asked to draw on queer theory to either make sense of the article, or explain why it does not fit with the theory. So, there was no room for students to weigh the merits of same-sex relationships!

A second question is why homosexuality is even addressed as something to be debated. Why treat it as an issue by which no one is personally affected? Why, in light of pro-LGBT views, play “devil’s advocate”? (Again, simply saying, “I’m all for gay marriage,” is still likely tangential at best, unless professors are holding debates on whether to legalize it.)

This is a component of my larger concern of what is lost by approaching teaching from a distance, as though one is merely an “objective” professor with no personal ties to the course content. What is missed by letting the course texts discuss the lives of LGBT people, but essentially keeping the professor’s sexual identity and experiences as a gay person in the closet? Certainly, I am aware of the presumption of bias, that students tend to misread queer professors as advancing “the gay agenda” in the classroom; and “real” activism by LGB professors comes at a cost in academia in general. And, it may be the case that they, like women and people of color, are assumed to be less competent by students, as well. And, there may be concerns for one’s safety and job security. This should not be read as encouragement to express one’s own ideology. But, I still struggle with understanding why so many professors teach as though they are robots with no present, no future, no sort of personal history and experiences.

There are no easy answers. And, of course, much of this varies based on the particular institution (especially religious vs. secular), type of course, and the professors own level of comfort. But, even short of outing oneself, there are ways to minimize the expression of homophobia and transphobia in the classroom. And, these strategies may even challenge students’ views in general. Maybe “debates about homosexuality” should be avoid to get away from explicitly inviting opposition. Offer, or create (with one’s students), a set of guidelines for classroom discussion that makes clear that prejudice and mean-spiritedness will not be tolerated. Encourage students to exercise their skills to use, extend, or challenge course material, sprinkled with other forms of knowledge, in a way that their own personal opinion does not serve as their primary point in speaking during discussion.

Either way, I hope that Scudera is right in his hope for the future:

Fifty years in the future, this will no longer be an issue. If we believe the pundits, same-sex marriage in America is inevitable, and with it may come widespread acceptance of the LGBT community. In 2063, a professor like me, teaching a course like the “Common Intellectual Experience,” will not have to pause when preparing to teach a book like Fun Home to his students.

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Protecting Science From Harm, Protecting Against Harmful Science

2 05 2013

The activists are coming! And, so they should. A supposedly “debunked” study by Mark Regnerus that does not employ valid measures of lesbian couples worked its way right into a US Supreme Court case on marriage equality.

We, as sociologists, did all that we could: 1) petitioned the journal in which it was published, Social Science Research, 2) published critiques of his and Loren Marks‘s studies in the journal, 3) wrote to the media to point out the study’s flaws, 4) offered extensive methodological critiques (e.g., blogs), 5), petitioned the leadership of the American Sociological Association (ASA) to make a public statement against the Regnerus study, 6) conducted an internal audit of the peer review process, and 7) submitted a brief to the Supreme Court as a discipline to make clear no evidence exists to worry about LGBT families. And, there may have been other efforts of which I am unaware.

But it wasn’t enough. Regnerus and other conservative scholars submitted their own amicus brief to the Court. And, somehow, this one study counters all of the other studies enough that Supreme Court Justice Scalia noted:

If you redefine marriage to include same-sex couples, you must — you must permit adoption by same-sex couples, and there’s – there’s considerable disagreement among — among sociologists as to what the consequences of raising a child in a — in a single-sex family, whether that is harmful to the child or not. Some States do not — do not permit adoption by same-sex couples for that reason.

Aftershocks

The American Sociological Association released another statement thereafter to clarify that Regnerus’s study was flawed. While imperfect, every other study suggests no evidence that children of same-gender families are worse off in terms of health, adjustment, academic performance, etc. And, the Department of Sociology at the University of Texas-Austin held a mini-conference on LGBT families last week, featuring Gary Gates and other big names in LGBT research. I assume this was part of the department’s effort (which started as soon as Regnerus’s study was published) to show that others in the department are doing great, pro-LGBT work.

But, it is too late. We do not yet know the outcome of the Supreme Court cases. And, it is unclear whether Regernus’s “debunked” study will be cited by other researchers, politicians, or in other court cases. These are, indeed, real possibilities because his study has been “debunked,” but not retracted. That means it still stands as a peer-reviewed, published academic article — albeit critiqued and discounted.

The lengths that these activists are going makes sense. Though we got to the point where we felt comfortable with the “debunked” status of Regnerus’s paper, it still caused damage — on our watch. Despite our intentions and efforts as a discipline, we did not do enough to prevent this study from having an impact in the fate of LGBT rights (in this case, marriage equality). Whether it comes from religion, science, politics, education, or some other institution, threats to your rights are just that, so who wouldn’t shift into self-defense mode?

Protecting Against Harmful Science

My primary concern, which I have voiced in the discussions among sociologists, is what are we doing to prevent further harm to the community that has been affected by this study? On our watch, a study that should never have reached publication ended up reaching the Supreme Court. We alerted others, “watch out!”; we critiqued Regnerus’s actions, “he’s not even measuring it right!; and even issued a formal statement saying, “we’re not with this guy, he’s crazy.” But, all while we watched Regnerus set up a very calculated assault on LGBT Americans. Since fellow sociologists have so vehemently opposed releasing the names of the peer reviewers of the study, and do not feel compelled to push for retraction, I continue to ask, so now what?

I cannot believe I have to raise this question. But, it seems some are more concerned about protecting science than protecting people from science. There are general principles regarding ethical scientific practice (including discipline specific guidelines), and the universality of Institutional Review Boards to ensure researchers at universities are not causing harm to their participants. Unfortunately, these guidelines were developed as a response to very unethical and harmful research in the past:

During the Holocaust, the Nazis conducted many experiments on Jews (including children)
The “Tuskegee syphilis experiment” (1932-1972), in which poor African American men were infected with syphilis without their knowledge nor with treatment: “The 40-year study was controversial for reasons related to ethical standards; primarily because researchers knowingly failed to treat patients appropriately after the 1940s validation of penicillin as an effective cure for the disease they were studying.”
Similar experiments were conducted in Guatemala from 1946-1948. Over 80 people died as a result.
The use of Henrietta Lacks‘s cells without her or her family’s permission or knowledge in 1951.
Stanley Milgram’s 1961 psychological experiments on obedience, in which he deceived subjects into thinking they were delivering shocks (sometimes deadly) as punishment to a person completing a faux task. Ethical concerns have been raised about the Stanford prison experiment, as well.
Tearoom Trade (1970) — Laud Humphreys’s study of same-sex sexual encounters in public spaces without their knowledge or consent; after observing the men, he used their license plate numbers on their cars to track down their home addresses to interview them (sometimes in front of their families).

For all of the positive things that have come from science (even from some of the awful exploitative, dangerous experiments above), science is sometimes used for evil. Too often, marginalized communities are the targets of harmful science. Of course, in this case, Regnerus and his colleagues did not have any direct contact with their participants; and, there is little reason to suspect that Knowledge Networks (which carried out the survey) caused any harm.

However, I argue that we have an obligation to ensure that harm is not caused in the activities that come after research is conducted: how the research is used and for what purposes. Some argue that, even when studies are carried out for good, we owe it to our participants to give something in return — immediate and tangible, not just “thanks for advancing science!” — for opening up about their experiences, backgrounds, thoughts, opinions, and feelings.

So, now what are we doing to protect this marginalized community that has been further harmed by science? What can we do? Below are some things that have been suggested, and my thoughts on them.

Speaking Out, In General

It is important that we speak out about this scandal, in general. Unfortunately, it feels as though some sociologists feel they have done all that they could and just want this to go away already.

But, who speaks for us? I may be wrong, but many of those — “some sociologists” — do not appear to either be LGBT themselves nor do they study LGBT communities (I’m including here bloggers and those who have left comments). So, maybe it is simple to walk away from this when you can return home to your legally-recognized spouse after a day’s work. Unfortunately, it appears that the sociology bloggers at orgtheory and scatterplot are serving as The Voice for the entire discipline, and the LGBT activists are in direct dialogue with them. I wonder what LGBT sociologists and sociologist of sexualities have to say about this scandal, and whether they feel that we have done enough.

I worry, as I have before: who gets to speak? The subfield of sexualities in sociology is relatively new and disproportionately young. We must tread lightly. And, it is likely that many have remained silent on this issue because they are soon to be or are currently on the job market; or, they are on the tenure-track; or, even with tenure, they are at the margins of their department and the discipline as a whole. Or, just like other fields, maybe some sexualities scholars see their work as irrelevant to activism. And, even for those of us who do pursue activism, we risk professional consequences. But, even those who are not explicitly involved in activism may be the target of political witch hunts or other external threats, or lack of support from the academy to do our research.

Retract It Already

The retraction of published studies is more common than I realized. But, it looks like there is no movement to retract the Regnerus study. There is a lot of shadiness, omission of important details, and conflict of interest sprinkled throughout this entire scandal. But, within conservative standards of “when to retract,” Regnerus’s study is safe. It was the peer review process that is problematic. Specifically:

[T]he paper was submitted for publication 20 days before the end of the data collection, and 23 days before the data were delivered to the University of Texas! That’s fast.

There must be some post-hoc excuse Regnerus or the journal could give to clear this up.

That is in addition to the serious methodological problems that the reviewers should have caught. That is more than enough for some to call for the study’s retraction. Okay, so, since this is not Regnerus’s fault, per se (short of questionable political motivations and funding sources), retract the study and then invite him to go through the peer review process again — this time with different reviewers who are not his colleagues.

“Out The Reviewers!”

LGBT activist John M. Becker has moved forward in demanding records from Social Science Research, namely to out the reviewers of the Regnerus study. Some of my fellow sociologists have been talking about this — I’m sure informally, but in this case publicly on blogs. Some have taken issue with Becker’s efforts, suggesting that it subverts the sanctity of the peer review system for academic publishing; to reveal the identities of anonymous reviewers is a threat to the entire scientific enterprise. Oh, and does it get ugly when sociologists and activists go head to head. But, understandably, when outside forces threaten science (e.g., forced oversight, taking away funding), we necessarily lash out in self-defense.

But, I wonder what would happen if we did reveal the names of those scholars who reviewed Regnerus’s study. Recently, while reading one article about the source of whites’ attitudes toward race-based attitudes, I noticed that the reviewers were explicitly named, right on the first page:

Editor’s note: The reviewers were Lawrence Bobo, Warren E. Miller, David O. Sears, and Susan Welch (p.723).

I decided to search Google for “editor’s note: the reviewers” to see if this was a fluke. I came across two other journals that have, or at least used to, explicitly name the reviewers of a published article, Teaching Sociology and Sociological Inquiry. In the case of the former, I thought maybe as it has become more popular, and moved toward publishing more empirically-based articles, the editorial board might have dropped this practice along the way. But, even a recent article, by sociologist Janice McCabe, dawns the editor’s note, naming each reviewer. It looks as though Sociological Inquiry published the names of authors just for a few years in the early 1990s. These are not the top journals of the discipline, but this discovery leaves me wondering what the harm would be to reveal the names of the publishers in this instance — in this case in which the peer review system was abused, misused, or underused (depending on your perspective).

This is not a question of whether sociology or any other academic discipline should maintain anonymous peer review for publishing. While imperfect, it strengthens science and minimizes (some) concerns about bias. If anything, I see room to strengthen the peer-review system further. And, let’s set aside the potential harms of the overwhelming pressure to publish for jobs, tenure, promotion, etc. as well. The question here is what harm would be caused to the peer review system, or even the entire scientific enterprise, if the reviewers of this one “debunked” study were revealed?

That some journals have revealed the names of reviewers — including articles that are ethically and politically sound — leads me to suggest that the sky will not fall if Becker is successful in his demand for the SSR records. Science will still exist the following day. But, I do agree that this may not actually get us any further in squashing Regnerus’s study or the harm caused by it.

Fight Fire With Fire: More Research!

As Fabio Rojas suggested in response to my plea to do something to take this study down, another possibility is to simply beat Regnerus at his own game. Do more, better research. Indeed, sociologists Andrew Perrin, Philip Cohen, and Neal Caren have done just that in a forthcoming article in Journal of Gay and Lesbian Mental Health — even using the New Family Structures Study data. (Of course, they find that Regnerus’s conclusions were bogus and methodologically flawed.) I do hope, however, that awareness of their new study spreads, as JGLMH is a psychiatry journal and has a so-so impact factor. But, Perrin makes clear that this journal was chosen because of the speedy turn around, and it actually sent out a call for papers to address the Regnerus scandal.

As Michael Bader notes, this scandal has sparked even better work, and maybe science will be even stronger in the first place. But, shouldn’t we be getting it right the first time? Isn’t that what peer review is for? Sure, with time, maybe we will set the record straight. But, for now, the damage has been done for LGBT people. With so much that we have yet to study about LGBT families, it also warrants asking whether we should be worried about having to spend time, energy, and resource on redoing research.

Other Suggestions

Fabio also suggested:

[Realize] that that history is on our side. Increasingly, public opinion polls show greater and greater majorities favor LBGT equality. So if we are winning already, I wouldn’t go and ruin one of academia’s most valuable assets – blind review.
[R]elentlessly critique garbage and draw attention to the body of research.
I would engage the other side with sincerity and fervor. I would show people how to maintain the high ground.

In other words, don’t worry, keep blogging, and be the bigger person. As gay people, my partner and I still cannot get married, not in the state in which we currently live nor the one we are moving to this summer. I am pretty worried about the outcome of the Supreme Court case. And, I am worried how easily this one study breezed through the peer review process, to publication, to press, to the courts. Shouldn’t more sociologists be worried about this, too? And, I am not sure what to say about maintaining “the high ground”. It seems, for the oppressed, playing nice and playing by the rules does little to protect your rights being debated and denied on a daily basis — and my colleagues seem less concerned with my well-being as a human than with the well-being of science.

A Final Plea

“You don’t know what the heck you’re talking about!” Exactly. I am just days away from receiving my PhD, and have little experience publishing and providing reviews for journals compared to the sociologists at the fore of these debates. What do I know?

That is a problem, in my opinion. A systemic problem. With a few research scandals going on these days, I am surprised that my colleagues and I are not in dialogue about science and research ethics. In fact, all that I recall is one week in my research methods course devoted to ethics. We read ASA’s code of ethics, Van Maanen’s (1983) “The Moral Fix: On the Ethics of Fieldwork,” Allen’s (1997) “Spies Like Us: When Sociologists Deceive their Subjects,” and Simonds’s (2001) “Talking with Strangers: A Researcher’s Tale.”

I read Tearoom Trade for another course, though we did not discuss Humprhey’s unethical methods. My knowledge of the Milgram experiment comes from a brief coverage of ethics in my undergraduate psychology and sociology methods courses. And, much of my knowledge about eugenics, the Tuskegee experiments, and other exploitative practices on communities of color comes from my knowledge of Black history rather than science.

In speaking with other LGBT sociologists, I know that I am not alone in my anger, disappointment, and frustration — and, my ignorance about what I can do. This is partly due to our relative lack of power, as a subfield in general (soc of sexualities) and as individuals (pre-tenure). But, it is also due to our lack of access to memories of prior scandals of this sort. For example, while I did read Richard Udry’s “Biological Limits of Gender Construction” (ASR 2000), and even Barbara Risman’s and others‘ critical responses in a class, we never talked about the broader context. What happened after the article and the responses were published?

Why don’t we talk about these types of events in our graduate courses? Why does our training on research ethics only cover the stages leading to submitting an article for publication, ignoring ethical and professional practices that follow publication? In general, I think we could benefit from a bit more reflection on science as an institution. It would be nice (I would even say crucial) to discuss the contexts behind published articles and books. A sociology of sociology, if you will. Why are the authors in certain journals overwhelmingly women, while the top sociology journals are about two-thirds men authors, and the most male-dominated journals are on methods and mathematics? Why are broken barriers in publishing somehow undermined as “affirmative action in publishing” or “trendy, but not really important” (yes, I have heard scholars say this).

If anything, I ask that we stop trying to make this scandal go away in hopes that history will stop repeating itself. Just 12 years after the scandal surrounding Udry’s study, we are faced with a similar problem. And, my generation of sociologists barely knows about it. How can we learn from the mistakes of our discipline if we are not teaching new members about them — what happened and how we resolved it? C’mon colleagues — we have got to do better, for the future of our discipline, but also for society as a whole.

–

UPDATE (05/02/13): And, now we have an example of the potential impact Regnerus’s study can have outside of the courtroom: the everyday harassment of LGBT people.

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Racism vs. Homophobia: Why No One Wins the Oppression Olympics

8 03 2013

I suppose I should not be surprised that even in 2013 we are still hearing debates that compare racism, the lives of people of color, and the Civil Rights Movement with homophobia, the lives of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people (LGBT), and the modern LGBT movement.

It is somewhat ironic that the efforts of President Barack Obama – our first (half) Black president and the first sitting-President to support same-gender marriage – have sparked such debate about race versus sexuality. Back in 2007, he won my support over my initial favorite candidate, then-Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, because he addressed anti-racist advocacy, anti-homophobia advocacy, and the need to heal the wounds between Black and LGBT communities. Wow!

Since the historical 2008 election, we have seen variations on the debate that compares racism and homophobia, civil rights and LGBT rights, and people of color and LGBT people. As recent as January, we still see the strange question, “is gay the new black?” And, on a recent CNN panel, various commentators and political leaders were asked, “are gay rights the same thing as civil rights?” Fortunately, the first two panelists to respond, LZ Granderson and Roland Martin, noted that, of course, the LGBT rights movement is not the same as the Civil Rights movement; but, “civil rights” refer to the equal rights and status of all people, not just people of color.

No One Wins The Oppression Olympics

Comparing these two communities and their past and contemporary movements for equal rights do many a disservice for a at least three reasons. First, no one wins the “Oppression Olympics.” Taking the time to decide whether people of color have it “worse” than LGBT people is futile. With both groups facing prejudice, discrimination, and violence throughout history and today, what difference does it make whether one group faces “more,” or faced it for a longer period of time? It would be impossible to measure oppression in the first place.

Second, participating in the “black vs. gay” and similar debates gives more weight to the efforts of groups that are both racist and homophobic (and sexist, and classist, and transphobic, etc.) who intentionally attempt to “divide and conquer” various marginalized groups. The National Organization for Marriage (NOM), an organization at the forefront of efforts to prevent marriage equality, has actively fanned the flames of resentment within Black and Latina/o communities toward LGBT people. Then, a double standard for homophobia, such that “black homophobia” is used as evidence that Black people are behind-the-times or even un-evolved, while persistent homophobia in white communities goes unnoticed. In fact, conservatives have been (successfully) pitting minority communities against one another for decades.

Third, “black vs. gay” continues to mask that there are a significant number of people who are Black and gay, Latina and lesbian, Asian American and bisexual, and American Indiana and two-spirit. Whereas some members of communities of color are LGBT, efforts to secure the civil rights of Blacks, Latina/os, Asians and Pacific Islanders, and American Indians necessarily implicate LGBT rights. All people of color are not treated equally if our LGBT relatives and friends are prevented from marrying their same-gender partner, are vulnerable to discrimination in the workplace and housing, and so on. Similarly, the efforts of LGBT activists cannot stop at legalizing same-gender marriage, for too many LGBT people of color are disproportionately affected by poverty, ongoing racial discrimination, and the resultant mental health problems.

And, a quick history lesson: the earliest efforts for LGBT rights in the US date back to the 1950s. While Civil Rights activists were beginning their efforts that evolved into a national movement, so too were Homophile activists. When the more radical efforts of the Black Panthers emerged in the late 1960s, so too did those of gay liberation activists leading up to and then taking off with the Stonewall Riots in 1969 (which were led by Black and Latina/o transpeople and drag queens). Gay cannot be the “new Black” because LGBT activism is far from new; and, neither being Black nor the racist oppression that Black people still face has become old or a thing of the past.

But, the supposed black-versus-gay divide is old, and frankly a little tired.

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Oppression As Terrorism

7 03 2013

What image comes to mind when you hear the term “terrorist“? I can imagine most Americans think of something like the images that a quick Google search yields:

Right now, these are the kinds of images that predominate US discourse on terrorism, particularly after the terrorists attacks in NYC, DC, and PA on September 11, 2001. Before that, this was the image of terrorism, at least in my mind:

That of domestic terrorist, Timothy McVeigh – a white supremacists. As a nation, we are more fixated on the threat posed by those pictured in the first image — those people in that country. Our fear of terrorism is used as justification for our xenophobic prejudice toward nations outside of the West. Arguably, it also undergirds the vehement anti-immigration sentiment, now that “immigrant” has become synonymous with “Hispanic,” “Latino,” “Mexican,” and “illegal.”

For the oppressed members of the US — people of color, women, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and trans* (LGBT) people, religious minorities, and immigrants in particular — terrorism exists daily within our borders. Defining terrorism simply as a systematic effort to evoke fear and terror in another group, oppressed groups experience both violence and the threat of violence (i.e., terrorism). In addition to the daily microaggressions and discrimination, these marginalized groups are kept in “their place” through violence and terrorism.

Power And Defining Violence

Continuing to gobble up every idea in sociologist Patricia Hill Collins‘s book, On Intellectual Activism, I got the encouragement I needed to write this post, which I have been contemplating for some time. She has a chapter, “The Ethos of Violence,” in which she argues that violence is not a given phenomenon. Rather, it is socially constructed, wherein its meaning is taken from its historical and social context. But, as I usually do when drawing upon a social constructionist perspective, I echo her argument that the power to define socially is not shared equally. Rather, dominant social groups hold the power to define violence. Whites, the middle- and upper-classes, men, heterosexuals, US-born citizens, and so on define violence.

Take the unfortunate example of the shooting in an elementary school in Connecticut. It would be unimaginable to think anyone would dispute that this was a tragedy — yes, even one that warrants the overdue changes to gun control laws in the US. But, as some pointed out, that kind of rare tragedy in middle-class white America garners great national attention, while everyday violence in urban, poor, and Black and Latin/o neighborhoods rarely get attention. As Collins’s points out, these events, though more common, are not treated as noteworthy violence because they do not directly affect the privileged members of America. In fact, such violence is treated as something to be routinely expected of the inferior classes of people who are stereotyped as natural savages.

Look at the intense political battles against protections from discrimination and violence for women, trans* people, people of color, and lesbian, gay, and bisexual people. It is difficult to fathom how one could oppose protection from violence. But, men, cisgender people, heterosexuals, the wealthy, and whites are shielded from violence. As a part of their privilege, they neither witness nor experience violence enacted toward them because of their status.

Oppression As Terrorism

Collins also notes that, in addition to the violence enacted against oppressed people, they are also terrorized by the threat of such violence.

The routine nature of violence is highly significant in maintaining the social control needed for social inequalities to be seen as natural, normal, and inevitable. The significance of violence goes much deeper than the small number of visible violent acts that actually occur in relation to the size of the American population as well as the interpretive climate needed to define it. Rather, the threat of violence constitutes a powerful tool of social control. For example, women who monitor what they wear, where they walk and with whom, and the time of day they appear in public places adjust their behavior in response to the fear of violence against them. Women do not have total access to the streets because these spaces remain coded as male spaces, at least most of the time. A particular woman need not be raped to know that some streets are always dangerous or that all streets are sometimes dangerous. The fear of physical and sexual assault is sufficient to keep her in her place.

In the above quote, Collins points out that, while at least one-quarter of women experience actual sexual violence, they and the remaining 75 percent of women are plagued by the threat of sexual (and other forms of) violence. That sexual violence affects women such that they live in fear and adjust their behaviors to minimize their vulnerability and this fear constitutes a form of terrorism. And, that seemingly isolated acts serve to threaten and disempower an entire marginalized group (women), rape and sexual assault constitutes a type of hate crime.

In a forthcoming article in Journal of Homosexuality, considering the intersections among race and ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation, Doug Meyer and I found that white men and heterosexual men (the sample was too small to consider all three identities simultaneously) were the only groups wherein fewer than half (~30 percent) reported being afraid to walk alone at night within 1 mile of their own homes. All women, regardless of race, ethnicity, and sexual orientation, Black and Latino men, and sexual minority men had comparable percentages of those who said they felt such fear (between 70-80 percent). These patterns held even as we accounted for their prior experiences of robbery or other crimes.

Marginalized groups have real reason to live in fear. The rates of documented acts of violence are high — just imagine what the rates would look like if most acts of violence were actually reported. And, think about the costs of the fear that most members of marginalized groups experience. This fear and the efforts one may take to protect oneself from violence can mean watching every aspect of your behavior, remaining vigilant and in a heightened state of arousal when walking alone, being wary of strangers of privileged groups, staying away from certain parts of town, or forgoing certain activities all together. For myself, as my partner and I visit Richmond next week to search for a place to live, I have such concerns weighing on my mind; where will we feel safe as an interracial queer couple?

Given their privilege, whites, men, cisgender people, heterosexuals, those born in the US, and the wealthy do not have to experience nor think about violence and the fear of violence. Beyond that, they do not have to acknowledge or validate the fear experienced by members of oppressed groups. Further, they have the power to subvert our claims of violence, either as isolated acts that are not motivated by hate (rather than systemic violence and terrorism) or even as something victims brought on themselves. Maybe it was the short skirt she was wearing. Maybe it was the hoodie he was wearing. Maybe he flirted with the guy. Maybe she “lied” about her sex-assigned-at-birth.

Terrorism And The State

What complicates this further is that the state, which proclaims to protect all Americans, is implicated in violence against the oppressed. Laws on the books are either selectively or weakly enforced. Proposed laws to protect marginalized groups from violence are somehow characterized as a threat to privileged groups. And, too often, the state itself enacts violence (e.g., police brutality, injustice in the criminal justice system, forced sterilization, interment, enslavement, raids). Who protects us when even our protectors enact violence against us or fails to intervene when others attack us?

How quickly we developed national efforts to guard against terrorism (and protect our national borders from “illegals“) — of course, that is when dominant groups come under threat. There has never been a Homeland Security to protect against racism, sexism, heterosexism, cissexism. The oppressed are on their own for that. Ironically, it seems that when the state moves to protect all Americans, the oppressed become suspects. Anyone with brown skin can be searched and demanded for their “papers.” Transgender and gender non-conforming people are subjected to additional screening through TSA security checks at airports. But, c’mon — this is in the name of security for all!

Another Irony Of Oppression

Something akin to the “double bind” or “dual-edged sword” that oppressed people face — the sense that you are “damned if you do and damned if you don’t” — is a sense of irony about systems of oppression. A good example of the “double bind” for women is the reality that they are penalized for being feminine in a masculinist society, but then punished if they are “too masculine” — something that, in overly simplistic pragmatic terms — would make sense to get ahead in life. But, what I find more ironic is a twist on certain aspects of oppression.

In particular, I find it ironic that members of oppressed groups face everyday threats of violence, discrimination, and subtler expressions of hatred, yet are characterized as a threat to dominant society. People of color are subject to violence by, yet are portrayed as violent to, white America. Gay men, in particular, are frequent targets of homophobic violence and discrimination by, yet are characterized as threatening to, heterosexual men. Women, if given the power to control anything (even their own bodies!), are seen as a threat to the livelihood of the nation.

There is an exchange in the 2007 movie version of the play, Hairspray, that sticks out in my memory:

Seaweed: “And this young lady right here is Penny Pingleton.”
Penny: “I’m very pleased and scared to be here.”
Motormouth Maybelle: “Now, honey, we got more reason to be scared on your street.”

Concluding Thoughts

I suppose the take-away points of this post could be: 1) calling for better attention to collective understandings of violence and terrorism, which erase the ways in which oppressed people are attacked and terrorized daily; and 2) calling for real, sustained efforts to account for, outlaw, and remedy the vast amount of violence that routinely occurs against marginalized groups.

This should entail, as Collins points out, better understanding violence at the intersection of systems of oppression, including the heightened risk of violence among those who belong to multiple oppressed groups (especially women and LGBT people of color and poor LGBT people and women). For, even within our own communities, we face violence. Yet, for some reason, many members of privileged groups continue to dismiss our efforts protect ourselves from discrimination and violence — basic, fundamental rights — as “special rights.”

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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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A Gay Guy’s Guide To Feminism – A Brief Introduction

4 03 2013

With the start of Women’s, Womyn‘s, and Womanist Herstory Month this past Friday, I have been wondering what more I can do to challenge sexism — including my own. As I have noted in previous posts, I have an evolving awareness that my own disadvantaged social location as a brown queer man does not make me immune to sexism, nor any other system of oppression.

One important task of my anti-sexist advocacy is to become aware of the ways in which I am privileged as a man. I know this to be a particular challenge for queer men because of our awareness that we are disadvantaged among men. So, I was disappointed to find little beyond a few personal reflections from feminist-identified gay men to guide me and other queer men to understand and appropriately fight sexism. The Guy’s Guide to Feminism seems like a good start, but I find it useful to engage gay men from their unique relationships with sexism, women, and male privilege.

Feminism For Gay Men 101

Though I am just at the beginning of a lifelong journey to understanding sexism and my own male privilege, here are a few lessons I would like to impart to my fellow gay men:

We are men. We hold male privilege. Period.
Yes, number 1 is true despite our sexual orientation and despite our gender expression (no matter how feminine, androgynous, or queer). Though gay masculinity is devalued relative to hegemonic masculinity (i.e., white heterosexual middle-class able-bodied young/middle-age masculinity), it is still privileged over all femininities.
Systems of oppression are linked including — particularly relevant to this discussion — sexism, heterosexism, and cissexism. As such, our liberation is tied to the liberation of ciswomen and trans* people.
While number 3 is true, we are not immune to sexist attitudes and behaviors. And, most importantly, being gay does not make us anti-sexist. Our marginalized status among men may make it easier to understand sexist oppression, but it does does not preclude us from it. Just like heterosexual cisgender men who engage in anti-sexist activism, we must be active in challenging the prejudice, discrimination, and violence against women, and to keep our male privilege in check (i.e., give it up or use it for good).
Though we generally are not sexually attracted to women, we are just as capable of sexually harassing or assaulting women. The root of sexual violence is power, not sexual attraction. I must point out here that too many of us have sexually harassed or assaulted women and naively excused the behavior as innocent because we are gay. Sexual violence by any perpetrator is wrong. But, that of gay men has the added element of placing our women friends and allies in the difficult position of questioning whether to feel violated or upset.
Related to number 5, we must stop treating the women in our lives as objects or accessories. Yes, many heterosexual women are guilty of doing this to us — the gay BFF, every girl’s must have! — which is also wrong. Friendships that exist because of her gender or your sexual orientation are forms of exotification.
Attraction to male-bodied individuals, men, and masculinity must be stripped of the presumed aversion to female-bodied individuals, women, and femininity. We need not be repulsed by female bodies just because we are not sexually attracted to (cis)women. Even when joking, this is no less problematic than (cisgender) heterosexuals who proclaim to be repulsed by people of their same sex.
Certain aspects of gay men’s culture that promote pride and empowerment among us come at the expense of women’s empowerment. To call a fellow gay man “bitch,” “cunt,” and, more commonly in the drag scene, “fish,” is to use a term that derogates women. Though they may be positive in intent and meaning, these are not instances of reclaiming pejorative terms used against us: self-identifying as queer is; “servin’ up fish!” isn’t. Just think how outraged we would be if women decided to adopt “faggot” as a term of endearment among themselves.
Our queer, bisexual, and lesbian sisters are oppressed by heterosexism and sexism. We, as LGBT and queer people, will not be fully liberated by addressing homophobia and heterosexism alone.
Related to number 9, we must recognize that LBQ women are often subject to our sexist prejudice and behavior, ranging from anti-lesbian jokes to outright exclusion (often disguised as innocently bonding with other gay men or even the product of our exclusive attraction to men).
The way that we devalue femininity among ourselves is another arm of sexism. The “no femmes” sentiment, aptly called femmephobia, is nothing more than the hatred of femininity, which is associated with women. Beyond eliminating this silly prejudice in our anti-sexist efforts, we do ourselves the favor of freeing the constraints on how we can behave and express our gender.
We owe it — yes, we owe it — to the ciswomen and trans* people who have fought against the injustices we face to fight against those they face. Even when kept at the periphery or outright excluded, transpeople have fought for equal rights and status for lesbian, gay, and bisexual people. Many lesbian and bisexual women served as caregivers to gay and bisexual men with HIV/AIDS during the 1980s and 1990s, while also fighting along side those who worked for better HIV/AIDS health care. Feminists of all walks of life have advocated for our protection from prejudice, discrimination, and violence, seeing it as important in (and linked to) activism against sexist discrimination and violence against women.

We owe it to our ciswomen and trans* friends and allies — and ourselves — to be better feminists.

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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.

I 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 Gay Guy’s Guide To Feminism – A Brief Introduction

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