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:Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 7.14.25 AM

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 McVeigha 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 themselvesMaybe 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:

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 10.31.36 AM

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.”





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.





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:

      1. We are men.  We hold male privilegePeriod.
      2. 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.
      3. 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.
      4. 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).
      5. 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.
      6. 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.
      7. 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.
      8. 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.
      9. 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.
      10. 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).
      11. 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.
      12. 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.





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.





In Defense Of Femininities — All Of Them

1 03 2013

Happy Women’s, Womyn’s, Womanist Herstory Month!  Yep, it is March already.  A time the US has set aside for obligatory celebration of girls and women and their contributions to the world.  Sadly, there is a sense of obligation, with the whisperings of “do we still need this?”

Comprehensive Gender Equality

Yes, we do still need these 31 days — barely 10 percent of the entire year — to reflect on girls, women, feminism, sexism and patriarchy, and gender.  By no means have we achieved gender equality.  And, we are overdue for broadening our vision of gender and equality.

Some time ago, I blogged about the narrow definition of “gender equality.”  In this limited, traditional sense, we are referring to the the equal status and treatment of women and men, still recognized by their gender and presumed sex.  This is certainly the dominant vision of mainstream feminism, or was at least in the days of second wave feminism.

There are at least three aspects of gender inequality that remain in this limited view of gender and gender equality.  First, this vision reinforces the treatment of “woman” as a singular status and “women” as a monolithic group.  The unique experiences and needs of women who are also of color, poor, disabled, lesbian, bisexual, queer, older, immigrant, and so on are overlooked.  Second, this focus fails to address the marginalization of transwomen, and transgender and gender non-conforming people in general.  Finally, while aiming to free women from oppression, certain gender identities and expressions — namely femininities — remain stigmatized and invisible.

Gender Diversity

There is a great deal of gender diversity that is too often overlooked within our society that continues to treat sex and gender as binaries: females and males, women and men.

Women, as a group, come from diverse backgrounds: race, ethnicity, social class, sexual identity, nativity, body size and shape, religion, region, and ability.  It is unsurprising, then, that various branches of feminism — or, more accurately, various feminisms — emerged to counter the exclusive focus of mainstream (second wave) feminism to the lives of US-born white middle-class heterosexual cisgender women.  Some of the prominent feminisms in both activism and academia include Black feminism, Womanism, Chicana feminism, multiracial feminism, Third World feminism, lesbian feminism, and working-class feminism.  Today, feminist advocacy and organizations are now more inclusive, but there is still a strong tendency to slip into “single issue” politics.

Related to this diversity among women is the variation within the category of “woman.”  Just as thinking of gender in binary terms, women and men, a singular view of women misses the existence of trans* and gender non-conforming people, particularly transwomen.  Unfortunately, feminist advocacy and organizations have even excluded transwomen in the past, and many wrestle today with deciding how far their inclusivity should extend (e.g., should women’s organizations serve transmen?).

Beyond diversity in terms of gender identity is the recognition of diverse gender expressions.  In reality, there is no universal femininity.  Rather, there are multiple femininities.  Because of the conflation of sex and gender, we tend to assume that femininity = woman; so the reality that femininity can be expressed through any body, regardless of sex and gender identity, is actively resisted and suppressed.  This means we also overlook the hierarchy of femininities, wherein hyperfemininity in female-bodied individuals is rewarded and valued over other expressions of femininity and its expression in other bodies.

Just to make sure the above discussion is clear, I stress that there is a great deal of gender diversity that is too often ignored or erased.  “Woman” does not imply white, US-born, able-bodied, heterosexual (or even sexual), cisgender, feminine, middle-class, Christian, and thin.  There is no singular status or identity of woman.  As a consequence of overlooking this gender diversity, we also miss the inequality that persists among women and among femininities.

In Defense Of Femininities

Despite the many gains that (cis)women have made, and increasing attention to the lives of transwomen, femininity itself remains stigmatized and devalued.  In fact, I would argue that some of the gains made toward gender equality have come at the expense of femininity.  Indeed, early on, some feminists expressed concern that the elevation of women’s status to that of men’s would largely men that women become men.  You can join the old boys club on the condition that you become a boy.

My discipline (sociology) recently tipped over the threshold of gender parity to become a predominantly-female field.  Though the “glass ceiling” has been cracked, if not completely shattered, in some of the field’s top-departments and leadership positions, feminist sociologists continue to struggle to gain legitimacy in mainstream sociology.

Further, we continue to prioritize and reward masculine (or even masculinist) presentations of self.  On two occasions, I witnessed a woman professor scold women students (in front of a mixed-audience) for appearing to lack confidence and aggressiveness: “don’t do that, that’s girly!”  I, too, was discouraged by a (man) professor from being a “shy guy” during an upcoming talk, which, upon comparing notes with another student, realized was the softened version of “man up!”  (I suppose I was assumed too sensitive or critical for the more direct assault on my gendered presentation of self.)

These interpersonal constraints are compounded by those at the institutional level.  In particular, academic institutions continue to evaluate scholars, particularly for tenure, using standards of the days where (white) male scholars had stay-at-home wives to take care of house and home.  Women who become parents face great professional costs, while women who forgo parenthood are rewarded.  Of course, an ironic twist to this aspect of sexism is that fathers receive a slight boost.

Liberating Femininities

As an optimist, I see liberating girls, women, as well as femininity as beneficial to all members of society, no matter their sex, gender identity, and gender expression.  As a critical scholar, I see this liberation as inherently tied to the liberation of all oppressed groups. Sexism is linked to transphobia is linked to heterosexism is linked to classism is linked to racism is linked to xenophobia is linked to ableism is linked to ageism and so on.

For example, two groups of oppressed men — Black men and trans, bisexual, and gay men — stand to benefit from the liberation of femininity.  Just as a hierarchy exists for femininities, one exists for the diverse expressions of masculinity, with that of US-born white middle-class able-bodied heterosexual men as the most valued.  Thus, Black masculinity and queer masculinity are devalued, stereotyped, and simultaneously threatened and treated as a threat.  As a result, many queer and Black men devalue femininity in society and particularly among themselves.  (Some rationalize this by asking, “why would you want to be further stigmatized?”)  True racial and sexual equality cannot exist if these men’s gender expressions remain constrained and policed.

It is time, then, to update our feminist vision of the future.  Feminism cannot be limited to the goal of liberating (a “narrow” category of) women.  We must liberate all women, regardless of their sex assigned at birth, race, age, ethnicity, ability, nativity, religion, body size and shape, and social class.  And, we must liberate all expressions of gender, particularly femininities.  For women will never be truly free in a society that oppresses femininity.





No More Sexism-Colored Glasses?

31 01 2013

The United States Military has finally lifted its ban on women armed service members serving in combat.  Women have long participated in military and war, and have increasingly been allowed to participate in all spheres and roles.  However, the ban preventing women from serving in combat remained the last
official barrier to their full inclusion in military activity.

In many ways, this move is overdue, considering the number of women service members already serving in combat.  The notion of a contained combat zone reflects war practices of yesteryear; so, beyond excluding women from war all together, there remains little possibility of protecting them from direct combat.  The longstanding reasons for prohibiting women from participating in the military — and then, once included, arguments against allowing women into specific spheres and jobs in the military — also reflect outdated views about women, sex and gender, the body, and sexuality.

Not Discrimination, Just Practical!

It is now (somewhat) unpopular to openly espouse some of the most hostile sexism of the past.  Rather, like in the case of the lingering combat ban, opponents have pointed to practical matters:

Over the years, people have made silly cases against women in combat, but the prevailing argument seems to have been that women have less upper body strength than men — and so would have trouble carrying heavy rucksacks over long distances or wounded soldiers out of harm’s way.

As a soldier, if you’re injured and cannot move, do you want a 6’1″ 220lb. muscular man to carry you to safety, or a scrawny 5’2″ woman to slowly drag you out of danger (likely leading both of you to your deaths)?  When framed that way, it makes it more difficult to refute such concerns.  The problem inherent in this opposition is it underestimates the strength of all women (and/or overestimates the strength of all men) and exaggerates the differences between women and men by erasing the diversity among women and among men.  If we are actually concerned about the 5’2″ marine’s strength, why exclude 6’1″ muscular women from combat while including short, petite men?

Body shape and size aside, there is a good chance any fellow soldier will be able to carry you to safety.  Even beyond equality between women and men in strength, some things make me think women are actually stronger and tolerate a lot more pain in life than men.

But, some view the world through sexism-colored glasses, taking a perspective that places differences between men and women at the center, with beliefs about women’s inferior status, strength, intellect, and talent used as justification.  The problem, though, is that sexism also affords men the power to force this view, now matter how inaccurate; the reality according to sexism retains the status of Truth while everything else is an opinion.

Women Were Already In Combat

As I noted above, the lift of this formal policy prohibiting women from battle comes after women were already involved in war and combat. But, sexism-colored glasses blind us to the multiple wars that exist.  War is not merely a series of battles between nations (run by men) that officially declare war, drawing on armed militaries, and ultimately reach some peace settlement.  Throughout history, everyday, and everywhere, there are ongoing wars against women: sexism, patriarchy, misogyny, intimate partner violence, femicide, sexual violence, sexual harassment, sexual objectification, reproductive control, and so on.

War on Women

The Battle (For Equality) Is Not Over

Lifting the ban on women serving in combat is, indeed, a major victory for gender equality in the military.  But, the institution, like every other, remains anything but equal.  Though there are few remaining policies that explicitly discriminate against women, women in the military remain targets of discrimination, harassment, and sexual violence.  Among women service members who file charges when sexually assaulted or harassed, many are silenced, dismissed, or even falsely diagnosed with mental illness and discharged from the military.  Further, women and children of other nations are often unnecessarily or unfairly attacked, harassed, and sexually assaulted by US troops.

On a related note, we are still celebrating the recent repeal of the US Military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, which prohibited openly lesbian, gay, and bisexual (LGB) people from military service.  However, transgender and gender non-conforming people are remain excluded from service.  And, although LGB individuals are officially included, the military is slow to recognize same-gender relationships and marriages, and to afford military benefits to same-gender partners.  By no means is the US military free of sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and racism.  But, there has been some (slow) progress toward equality.





[kinsey] Being On The “Down Low”: What Does It Mean?

8 01 2013

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

“Keep it on the down low.”  A few years ago, many knew this expression simply to mean that something should be kept secret or confidential.  This could refer to anything — a friend’s surprise birthday party, an embarrassing  accident, an affair.  Over the past decade, the use of the phrase “the down low” or “DL” has narrowed to refer to one thing: Black men who date women while secretly having sex with men.  But, this limited definition misses much of the diversity and complexity of life on the down low, and sexuality in general.

“Down Low”

In general, keeping something on the down low means keeping it a secret.  But, some suggest that the expression originates among Black communities in the US to refer specifically to secret relationships, including infidelity or extramarital affairs in heterosexual relationships.  However, one particular use of the term — men in heterosexual relationships who secretly have sex with men — was forced into the national spotlight.

Many people, regardless of race and ethnicity, gender, and social class hide from others that they are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender, have sexual and romantic relationships with members of their own gender, and/or experience desire for such relationships.  In large part, this is due to fear of homophobic, biphobic, and transphobic violence, discrimination, prejudice, and rejection from friends and family.

Hiding one’s sexual or gender identity is ofter referred to as being “in the closet.“  So, how is being on the “down low” different?  And, why have down low or DL men received so much attention over the past decade?

Scapegoats?

Hiding one’s non-heterosexual sexual identity, relationships, or desires, and the bias against these components of sexuality, are obviously not new phenomena.  But, shortly after the new millennium began, men who have sexual relationships with men — particularly those who also have sexual and romantic relationships with women — became the focus of discussions about the high rates of HIV among Black Americans.

Many celebrities (even Oprah!), politicians, and activists concerned about the HIV epidemic among Black people in the US began pointing to these men as a potential source for the staggeringly high rates of new HIV cases among (heterosexual) Black women.  The logic became that some men in heterosexual relationships were secretly having sex with men, and doing so without using condoms to reduce their risk of HIV and other sexually transmitted infections (STI).

Essentially, Black DL men were thought to be a “bridge” for bringing the high risk for HIV among men who have sex with men to heterosexual relationships.  However, researchers have found little evidence to support this proposal.  But this myth has persisted.  Why?

One possibility is that homophobic and biphobic prejudice has allowed down low men to serve as scapegoats, an easy target to lay blame for HIV rates among Black women.  Unlike “out” gay and bisexual men, hostility toward DL men is seen as justifiable because they are deceitful, intentionally lying to their female partners.  In fact, the disdain toward men on the down low spread beyond concerns about risk for HIV and STIs to general suspicion: “how to find out if your husband is on the down low“, “how to tell if a man is on the DL.”

The Role Of Race And Racism

As I noted earlier, feeling or actually being forced to hide one’s same-gender sexuality — whether identity, relationships, or desires — is experienced by many.  And, being on the down low is also not limited to Black men.  In a recent study published in Deviant Behavior, sociologists Brandon Robinson and Salvador Vidal-Ortiz found use of the term down low, or even identifying as DL, was just as common among white men as it was among Black men using Craigslist.com for casual sexual encounters with other men.  Another sociologist, Jane Ward, has also studied postings on Craigslist, specifically looking at white men who identify as “str8 dudes” or “str8.”

So, why have Black men been singled out?  Some have argued that Black men on the down low are simply the most recent victim of a long history of demonizing or pathologizing Black sexuality.  That is, somehow the sex lives of Black DL men are more deceitful, immoral, and risky (i.e., HIV risk) than those of exclusively-heterosexual Black men and DL men of other races.  And, they understandably face greater pressure to hide their “true” sexualities because Black communities in the US are stereotyped as more hostile toward lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people.

“True” Sexuality?

Are men on the down low really just gay and bisexual men who are in the closet?  Yes, in the sense that they hide some aspect of their same-gender sexuality.  However, no, there is a great deal more diversity and complexity than most discussions of the down low assume.  While some identify as bisexual (or even gay), many identify as heterosexual; also, some do not claim a particular sexual identity, while others actually identify as DL.  Also, as found in a recent study of DL men in New York City, their defining characteristic is hiding their same-gender sexuality from their female partners, yet some are “out” as DL (or gay or bisexual) to friends and family.

This diversity is missed, in large part, because the complexity of sexuality is overlooked.  In particular, one’s sexual identity is conflated with one’s sexual behavior is conflated with one’s sexual desires.  Whether for men on the down low, other people in the closet, out lesbian, gay, and bisexual people, or heterosexuals, these dimensions — identity, desire, and behavior — are related, yet distinct.  These dimensions tend to align for the majority of adults, but there is a sizable minority for whom these dimensions do not appear congruent nor permanently fixed.

Sexuality Is Complex

Focusing on the sexual practices of Black men on the down low is shortsighted, missing the complexity of sexuality and the great deal of sexual diversity in America.  Even for these men, such a narrow focus misses other important aspects of their lives and well-being, including poverty, prejudice and discrimination, limited access to quality health care, and so forth.

It is crucial for our understanding of sexuality and sexual health that we pay attention to other important dimensions, namely race and ethnicity, gender, and social class. In addition, we must consider how various social factors shape and constrain our sexualities.  This will help to move beyond a focus only on individuals’ actions while ignoring the limitations, constraints, and disadvantages they face.





[kinsey] Who Are Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Americans?

5 11 2012

LGBT Americans.

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

Over the past few years, we have been hearing new estimates of the number of adults in the United States who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender.  It seems the number came down from the 10 percent figure from the work of Alfred Kinsey, to 8 percent with the National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior, to 3.8 percent in a report from the Williams Institute (UCLA).  The latest estimate from a Gallup poll last month suggests that 3.4 percent of Americans identify as LGBT.

Only 3.4 Percent?!

The size of a minority group — in this case, LGBT people — is important for numerous political and social reasons.  So, it is understandable that some were initially panicked when the commonly-cited figure of “one-in-ten” seemed to drop to a low of 3-4 percent.

Why was there such a drop in estimates of the size of the LGBT population in the US?  The primary reason for what appears to be a drop is how we have counted LGBT people.  When Dr. Kinsey conducted his major studies in the 1940s-1950s on the sexual behaviors of women and men in America, he asked them about sexual encounters with individuals of their same gender.  In fact, when measured this way, even 2008 estimates come close to 10 percent of adults who have engaged in same-gender sexuality.  But, the majority of those adults identify as heterosexual — that is because, while they are related, sexual behavior, sexual orientation, and sexual identity are distinct aspects of our lives.

In addition, as Indiana University professor Brian Powell points out, these are estimates — 3.4 percent — of those who are “out,” or at least willing to tell a researcher that they are LGBT.

You may be thinking, “3.4 percent?  That’s pretty small no matter how you measure it!”  Generously rounding to 4 percent, that is the equivalent of one LGBT person in every twenty-five people.  At approximately ten million people of the 315 million people in the US, that places the size of the LGBT population between the state populations of Michigan (9.8 million) and Ohio (11.7 million).

Who Are LGBT People?

There has been a great deal of attention over the past decade on the relationships and families of LGBT people.  But, since researchers are just now beginning to collect national data on sexual identity, we know still do not know a great deal about who LGBT people are.  With recent research, including last month’s Gallup/Williams Institute poll, we can begin painting a picture of the sociodemographic and political profile of LGBT Americans:

  • Race:  There is notable racial and ethnic diversity among LGBT people, with 3.2 percent of white Americans identifying as LGBT, while over 4 percent of Black, Latina/o, and Asian American adults self-identify as LGBT.  As the report suggests, “Overall, a third of LGBT-identifiers are nonwhite (33 percent), compared with 27 percent of non-LGBT individuals.”
  • Gender:  There is a slightly larger percentage of women (3.6 percent) who identify as LGBT, compared to men (3.3 percent).
  • Age:  LGBT identification appears to be skewed toward younger populations, with slightly more than six percent of 18-29 year olds identifying as LGBT, compared 30-49 year olds (3.2 percent), 50-64 year olds (2.6 percent), and adults 65 and older (1.9 percent).
  • Socioeconomic Status:  Contrary to the stereotype of wealthy LGBT people (gay men, in particular), the greatest percentage of LGBT adults has completed only some college (but no degree), followed by having a high school diploma or less education.  Also, LGBT people are skewed toward lower levels of income ($60,000 or less, but especially under $24,000).
  • Relationship Status:  About 20 percent of LGBT people report that they are married, and 18 percent are either in a domestic partnership or living with a partner, while 48 percent are currently single.  This compares to 54 percent of heterosexuals who are married, and 23 percent who are single.
  • Parental Status: Equal percentages of heterosexual and LGBT women have children under the age of 18 (32 percent for each).  But, 16 percent of LGBT men have young children in the home compared to 31 percent of heterosexual men.  Interestingly, Latina/o, Black, and Asian American LGBT adults are more likely than white LGBT individuals to be parents.
  • Region: LGBT people make-up similar percentages of each region of the country, though the numbers are slightly higher for the East (3.7 percent) and West (3.6 percent) coasts, compared to the South (3.2 percent) and Midwest (3.4 percent).  Indeed, LGBT people and same-gender couples live in just about every part of the country.
  • Political Views: LGBT Americans are generally more liberal, and more likely to identify as (or at least with) the Democratic political party, than heterosexuals.  Also, the majority favor President Barack Obama over presidential contender Mitt Romney, while heterosexuals appear more evenly split between the candidates.

Beyond Sexual Identity

The biggest caveat for these results is that LGBT adults were examined as a singular group, so we do not know how these characteristics vary among lesbian women, bisexual women and men, and gay men.  And, more importantly, the unique profile and experiences of transgender people cannot be distinguished, either.

Also, while LGBT people differ somewhat from the general, predominantly-heterosexual (and cisgender) population, they are not a homogenous group.  There is a great deal of diversity within LGBT communities, namely in terms of race and ethnicity, gender identity and expression, social class, relationship and family structure, and so forth.  As such, it is important to think about the many identities and statuses individuals LGBT hold — not just sexual and gender identity.  For example, in pushing for greater visibility, support, and equality for LGBT families, it is crucial to acknowledge that LGBT people of color and LGBT women are more likely to have kids, and face the additional burdens of racial and gender inequality.  LGBT families are just as much an LGBT issue as they are about race, ethnicity, gender, class, immigration, etc.

As I concluded in my last post on the size of the LGBT population, we still need more research to capture the profile and experiences of LGBT people in the US and worldwide.  Indeed, sexual and gender identities are a core part of who we are as people — not just in the bedroom, or in our private lives, but also for our experiences in and view of the world!





[kinsey] Sticks And Stones … But Homophobia Hurts, Literally!

1 10 2012
Why Choose? Why Not Both?

Tax Day “Tea Party” Rally.

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones…”  That is one of a few cute rhymes I remember from my childhood.  It is actually a bit ironic that you hear many kids express this mantra, one almost of resilience against insults and hostility, yet kids say the darnedest things (in a negative sense!).  And, whether among youth or adults, there is evidence that prejudice, discrimination, and bullying – even as words – impact their victims’ health and well-being.

Inequality And Health

Many health researchers – including myself – are interested in documenting health disparities in society.  For example, we want to know whether lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) individuals experience worse mental and physical health than heterosexual and cisgender (i.e., non-transgender) people.  And, where disparities exist and persist (and many do!), we aim to identify the factors that create and maintain inequality in health and well-being.  Particularly in the social sciences, we focus on inequality in resources and opportunities (e.g., income, access to health care), as well as inequality in experiences (e.g., prejudice, discrimination), as factors that potentially lead to health disparities.

Oppression And Health

To speak more critically, many researchers are concerned about how oppression shapes population health, particularly the health and well-being of socially disadvantaged groups.  This means taking a view that resources, opportunities, and quality of life are not randomly distributed throughout the population, with equal chance being afforded to each person.  Rather, society is structured in a way that these privileges are systematically afforded to some – white Americans, men, heterosexuals, middle- and upper-class people – and systematically denied to others – people of color, women, LGBT people, working-class and poor people.  So inequality, and its role in shaping population health, is neither random nor accidental; it is both systematic and intentional, and self-perpetuating.

Homophobia And Health

So, how does prejudice and discrimination affect health?  One way is through differential access to capital and resources, namely quality health care, health insurance, health-related knowledge, and factors like income and education that grant access to these resources.  Differential access is largely the product of differential treatment (i.e., discrimination), and the legacy of discrimination in the past.

But, discrimination and prejudice also directly affect mental and physical health.  Let’s take homophobia as one form of oppression that likely contributes to health disparities, in this case, sexual orientation disparities in mental and physical health.  The most obvious way that homophobia might impact one’s health is a physical anti-LGBT assault against an LGBT person, which might also lead to trauma and other mental health problems.  But, even homophobic discrimination, insults, and slights can negatively affect the health of an LGBT person.  For example, a recent study on 114 LGBT young adults found that individuals who frequently hear the expression, “that’s so gay” (which implies that being gay is undesirable), are more likely to experience headaches, eating problems, and a sense of social isolation.

One’s experiences of differential treatment, hostility, or exclusion because they are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender are distressing.  And, like any stressful event, the health and well-being of victims of homophobic discrimination, prejudice, and bullying are threatened.  While one might be able to brush off a minor, infrequent experience with homophobia, the reality for most LGBT people is that they are frequently exposed to such hostility.  For example, since July, there have been over 2.5 million “tweets” on Twitter.com that included the pejorative word, “faggot.”  (You can literally see that homophobic tweets posted every few seconds, thanks to the data collection of the No Homophobes project.)

Today, to constantly be barraged by homophobic messages, being discriminated against and denied equal treatment, and having your rights regularly debated and voted on is essentially “exhausting,” and literally wears on your mental and physical health.  Not surprisingly, the experiencing acceptance, visibility, and equal treatment has a positive effect on the health and well-being of LGBT people.  So, besides valuing diversity, equality, and acceptance as positive goals to strive for, it is clear that inequality, discrimination, and prejudice are literally public health problems.