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A couple of weeks ago, I participated on a panel at the American Sociological Association annual meeting titled, “Navigating Queer Identities in the Department and Classroom.” I decided to reflect on what I feel is the “conditional acceptance” of LGBTQ scholars in sociology. I have provided my notes from that panel below.
I have faced surprisingly little homophobic discrimination in my academic career. There have been occasional stings of homophobic microaggressions: “you’re gay, do you like my shoes?”; “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about AIDS”; “did you want life insurance for your wife?”; “we’re so gay-friendly – there are lots of theatres and museums nearby.” But, I am not aware of instances of outright discrimination, harassment, or exclusion.
I do not take from my experiences the assumption that I am one of the lucky few, and certainty not the conclusion that homophobia is a thing of the past (even in academia). Rather, I am keenly aware of the choices – or, rather, compromises – that I have made that have shielded me from more severe discrimination and marginalization in academia. To some degree, at least compared to even a few years ago, lesbian, gay, and bisexual have achieved acceptance in sociology. The American Sociological Association’s (ASA) advocacy for marriage equality is nothing short of historical. (The field lags in recognizing, addressing, and eliminating transphobia.)
As a queer cisgender man, I have certainly felt welcome, if not accepted, in sociology. But, this acceptance has felt anything but unconditional. Throughout my career, I have felt conditionally accepted as an out queer man in sociology. I borrow this term – conditionally accepted – from the experience of coming out to my parents around age 18. In the years that followed, their initial denial and disappointment gave way to acceptance because I was doing well in school. They admitted that it became easier to accept my sexuality because I was successful. Translation: my parents would have continued to struggle if I were HIV-positive, suffering from drug addition, or another casualty of suicide or hate crimes.
“I Don’t Mind Gay People”
In my academic career, I have faced two manifestations of this conditional acceptance as a queer scholar studying queer communities. The first is akin to the supposedly welcoming phrase, “I don’t mind gay people as long as they don’t come up on me.” You can be queer in sociology – just do not demand the majority to change. Do not ask sociology to start recognizing sexualities and trans studies as legitimate areas of study.
Even before I even began my PhD program, I was discouraged from pursuing gender studies training. My dreams of a joint PhD in sociology and gender studies were quickly dismissed with the warning that I would never get a job. But, I was also discouraged from pursuing a graduate minor in gender studies; instead, my minor became research methods (i.e., statistics). By the midpoint of my training, I had picked up the habit of choosing more mainstream subfields and topics on my own. I focused on social psychology instead of gender or sexualities for my qualifying exam. My dissertation was primarily a medical sociology project, though it includes some attention to sexuality and intersectionality.
On the surface, the pressure to become a mainstream sociologist was a practical matter. I would, and did, get job offers as a quantitative medical sociologist who has published in mainstream journals. Maybe the interests I came to grad school with – wanting to study racism within queer communities using qualitative methods – would have led to a very different academic trajectory. But, the implicit message was that studying sexualities – or more specifically, studying queer people – was not important to sociology. To be successful, one does not become a sociologist of sexualities, and certainly not a sociologist of queer communities nor a queer sociologist. Rather, one becomes a medical sociologist, a criminologist, a cultural sociologist or some other reputable subfield, who happens to study LGBTQ people.
When I became a medical sociologist who happens to study queer people, and other oppressed groups, I stopped hearing that my research interests were “too narrow.” I stopped hearing, “you’ll never get a job with a dissertation on trans people.” Conforming paid off – at least professionally.
“Don’t Flaunt It”
The second manifestation of conditional acceptance for queer scholars in sociology is parallel to the expression, “I don’t care if you’re queer as long as you don’t flaunt it.” For lesbian, gay, and bisexual people, your sexual identity is not an issue so long as you do not make it an issue – at least in the eyes of our heterosexist colleagues. Besides advice on how to frame my work, I also occasionally received advice on how to present myself as a scholar. For conference presentations, I was warned against “shy guy stuff.” Translation: “man up.” To be successful, a scholar must present herself in a masculinist way. From the awful stories that I heard from trans and gender non-conforming peers, I understood that to mean my ticket to success on the job market was wearing suits and speaking with unwavering authority and expertise. Due to my fear of professional harm, I wear suits in almost every academic setting, including the classroom.
In my pursuit to conform to the heterosexist and cissexist standards in sociology and academe in general, I have been rewarded. But, that has come at great personal costs. What began as a diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder stemming from the intense, urgent demands of grad school morphed into anxiety about interacting with other people in general – even students. I find only slight comfort in my suits from the fear of being dismissed, disrespected, or even fired. I struggle to find a home within sociology. My work falls primarily in medical sociology, yet I remain unknown in that subfield of the ASA. I find a sense of community in the sexualities section, but my limited research feels insignificant to the study of sexuality. Finding the proper home for awards and sessions is a challenge each year, as well.
More generally, I feel my professional identity has almost completely dissociated from my sexual, gender, and racial identities, as well as my activism. Though I am undeniably out via my blogging and other public writing, my scholarship, and the picture of my partner on my office desk, my queer identity is disconnected from my professional presentation of self. In the classroom, I only explicitly out myself after students have completed course evaluations because I fear that I will be deemed biased or “too activist.” I suppose I am somewhat in the closet intellectually and pedagogically. I do not feel authentically queer as a scholar and teacher.
I probably should not be surprised by my experiences. I first read Patricia Hill Collins’s essay, “Learning from the Outsider Within,” in my first semester of graduate school. Through that 1986 piece, Collins warned me that scholars of oppressed communities face the pressure to “assimilate a standpoint that is quite different from their own” in order to become sociological insiders. The outsider within status is one filled with tension between one’s experiences and worldview and the false ideology of objectivity in mainstream sociology. Collins noted that some sociological outsiders resolve this tension by leaving the discipline, while others suppress their difference to become sociological insiders. Apparently, I have pursued the latter path.
Some Advice For LGBTQ Sociologists (And Scholars in General)
I do not share these experiences to criticize my graduate program, or as an excuse to vent about that chapter of my life. I also refrain from casting blame, as I am partly responsible. Knowing the norms and values of academia, I have made various compromises in order to get ahead. Fortunately, there are improvements, albeit reflecting slow change. For example, just 3 years after the 2012 sexualities ASA pre-conference in Denver, CO, sexuality will be the 2015 theme for the main ASA meeting in Chicago. And, I do not want to characterize the academic career options for queer people as bleak, facing either conformity and selling out or perpetually being on the margins of sociology.
I do believe there is hope for an authentic, happy, and healthy career for queer sociologists, including those who study gender and sexualities. I suspect we must all make some sort of concessions in order to success in academia, though this burden falls more on marginalized scholars. It may be useful, then, to determine how far one is willing to concede. At what point does advancing in one’s career outweigh the costs to oneself, one’s identity and values, one’s family, and one’s community? I recommend reflecting on this at multiple times in one’s career, particularly with upcoming milestones, new jobs, and other transitions. Essentially, can you live with the tough decisions you must make?
- If you are forced to make concessions, or even sell out in some way, then make sure there are other sources of community, authenticity, happiness, or validation in place in your life. Find or create a queer community, maybe specifically of other academics. Have one fun, critical, or super queer project for every few projects that are more mainstream; maybe use these projects as opportunities to collaborate with other queer scholars. If your research is pretty devoid of queer issues, find ways to cover them in your classes, or vice versa, or focus your service and advocacy on queer initiatives.
- Look for queer role models among your professors or senior colleagues. Look outside of your own department or university if necessary. And, in turn, consider being a role model for your students and junior colleagues – that means being out if it is safe to do so. Incorporate sexualities and trans studies into your syllabi to demonstrate the relevance and importance of these subjects in sociology. At the start of the semester, ask students for their preferred name and pronoun, and mention yours.
- Before enrolling into a program or accepting a job, do your homework. How safe will you be as an out LGBTQ person? In the campus and local newspaper, can you find evidence of anti-LGBTQ violence, discrimination, and prejudice? Are queer scholars, especially those who do queer research, supported and included? Email queer and queer-friendly students or faculty. I have heard some suggest being out on interviews and campus visits, which seems counterintuitive; but, if you face discomfort or hostility, you would know what to except upon going there.
- Let’s be honest about what we are talking about here: figuring out how to survive as queer people within heterosexist and cissexist academic institutions. In order to be included, in order to create queer communities, in order to see our own lives reflected in scholarship and curriculum, we must fight. Like it or not, we must be activists to ensure our survival and inclusion within academia and other social institutions.
- Let’s keep having these conversations. It is crucial that we know that we are not alone, and that we have a supportive community in sociology.
Earlier this year, in the midst of working on my dissertation, I found blogging to be a healthy refuge through the loooooong days. It provided me a space to write without the persistent editing (and censoring) I must do in traditional academic writing. So, like Jeff Kosbie, I wrote a blog post on defining my career as a sociologist for myself — specifically a career that will be informed by my passion to make the world a better and just place (see below). Also, check out Michelle Kweder’s piece, “Why I’m not waiting for tenure to change the world…”
I hope you’ll be inspired!
Being forced to watch the world whirl by me as I worked on my dissertation was tortuous: two cases on same-gender marriage heard by the US Supreme Court; horrendous media coverage of an already horrendous rape case in Steubenville, Ohio; a racist attempt at anti-racism in music. And, just as I came up for air, the good news of finishing was overshadowed by the tragic bombings in Boston. I tried by best to keep up, but, obviously, I have been way too busy to chime in.
But, one good thing has come out of the selfish time of dissertating — well, besides an awesome dissertation. My mind has been boiling over with questions about research and academia in general. In attending college, I learned; but, now (almost) with a PhD in hand, I see how I have learned how to learn. And, increasingly, that critical eye has turned back on itself, raising questions about knowledge and science.
What is “knowledge”? What is “science”? Who defines it? Who has access to it (and who doesn’t)? Are the multiple types of knowledge and science — and, if so, are they equally valued in academia and society in general?
On Activism And Academia
As I near the completion of my graduation training, I feel both more qualified as a scholar, but also more empowered in defining my scholarship for myself. And, I will tell you, the latter sentiment is largely a product of self-teaching, not so much my graduate program. I alluded to this in my essay on blogging as a form of intellectual activism.
I have received mixed reactions to my essay, “Blogging For (A) Change.” Initially, many were excited, supportive, and noted that they share my sentiments. I was not surprised, since these warm responses were coming from my primary, intended audience — fellow sociologists of color and anti-racist sociologists. (It was an essay for the ASA‘s Section on Racial and Ethnic Minorities.) But, given its potential relevance to all scholars, I also provided the essay as a blog post.
Thereafter, I began to receive more cautioned responses. In addition to private exchanges, I was honored to be the subject of another blog post by Dr. Fabio Rojas: “why activism and academia don’t mix.” Fabio explains:
Why do we “beat [activism] out’ of graduate students? The answer, in my view, is that academia and activism are simply different things. Every activity has a bottom line. In politics, it’s votes. In business, it’s money. In religion, it’s souls. Activism is about promoting social change, which is a different bottom line than academia, which is knowledge generation.
Beyond the differences in the goals of academia and activism, Fabio notes that the latter is neither rewarded nor institutionally sanctioned within the former. And, he clarifies that, ultimately, academics do have a role in social change — the production of knowledge. A few other sociologists chimed in with comments to emphasize that the commitment of a scholar of color to the advancement of one’s community or people of color in general does not necessarily imply that one is an activist.
Fearing that I may have been mistaken in speaking for other scholars of marginalized backgrounds, I posed the question on Facebook: “Was I wrong in assuming many academics are also activists, even at heart?” For the most part, my scholarly friends suggested no, with many suggesting that they, too, are activists. But, there seems to be good reason for the skepticism that some have expressed.
Activism And Academia Can Mix, But…
Let me start by removing the question — “can one be an academic and an activist?” — from the table. Yes, it is possible. There are a handful of people who have suggested that this is the case for them; I strongly suspect that there is at least a sizable minority of scholars for whom this is true.
And, history suggests that it has been done. In the last subject of my leisure reading, Stalking the Sociological Imagination, I was reminded that some of the founders of sociology were activists, including W. E. B. DuBois and C. Wright Mills. (Some who are discussed — for example, Talcott Parsons — were simply the unfortunate subject of McCarthyism despite maintaining a generally non-activist career in sociology.) Before that, I was reading Dr. Patricia Hill Collins‘s On Intellectual Activism.
But, as Fabio pointed out, activism — here, meaning any efforts toward social justice or social change outside of research, teaching, and (academic) service — is not rewarded in academe. For most academic jobs, one is hired because of their qualifications in this academic “Holy Trinity” – research, teaching, and service (usually in that order, especially at research intensive schools). The same goes for tenure, promotion, and most of the other academic opportunities that scholars pursue (e.g., grants, awards).
But, let’s be clear that the sentiment that one shouldn’t be an activist is a separate matter from whether one can be an activist. In addition, lack of professional reward implies what is valued, not necessarily what is devalued. You can be a drag queen, baseball player, stamp collector, or whatever other activities you like outside of work even though the academy will not pay you for it.
Activism And Science Can Mix, But…
A second issue is whether activism and science, in particular, mix. As one of my friends pointed out, the primary concern is that the biases of someone with activist leanings pose a threat to the objectivity required in science. For example, if a researcher wishes to advocate for the legalization of same-gender marriage, what would she do if her research suggested that children of LGBT parents really do fare worse than those of heterosexual, cisgender parents? But, a few things need to be unpacked from the science vs. activism dilemma:
First, sorry folks — “objective science” is an oxymoron. Humans, who are biased in all sorts of ways (e.g., passions, interests, experiences), do science. Scientists typically study the things they find interesting or about which they are passionate. Sometimes we get sleepy and make mistakes.
This is where the peer review process comes in. While it is not perfect. we gain more confidence when new studies have been vetted by other scholars in that subfield. When done right, a researcher should be well aware of prior research to aid in research design, analyses, and interpretation. The roles of anonymous reviewers and the journal’s editor(s) are to verify all aspects of the study. So, if a researcher submitted a study heavily laden with political motivations, with little sound science or major ethical concerns, the reviewers and editor should catch it before it gets published.
A third issue is the failure to acknowledge other problematic biases in research that do little for society as a whole. In particular, I am referring to the “publish or perish” dictum that places great emphasis on where one’s articles are published, and how many publications one can obtain in a certain period of time. Not only do I worry that this pressure poses a threat to scholars’ health and well-being, I sometimes fear that scholars’ motivations for prestige and quantity lead them to overlook bigger contributions to theory and to society in general.
Another unspoken consequence of this pressure is the number of studies that have been tweaked or totally abandoned because researchers yield “null findings” — for, it is the significant findings that get you published! My point here is that science is not perfect, whether activists are doing research or not.
Activism, Academia, And Research Can Mix, And…
I argue that it is important to weigh the benefits of the mixing of activism and academia, too, before we jump to a decision on this mixture. If activism reflects one’s passion for a particular social or political cause, then the work of activist-oriented scholars may benefit academia on the whole because of their unique motivation about the subject and the extra care they take in their work. In addition, this activist flare may bring a creative lens to one’s scholarship. Just think of where the social sciences be if Patricia Hill Collins never pursued an academic career, deciding instead to continue working toward educational reform. Would some other sociologist have applied and extended Kimberlé Crenshaw‘s legal scholarship on intersectionality?
Indeed, for some scholars (myself included), one’s research, teaching, and service are interdependent. There is a sort of synergy among these three components of our scholarship that is greater than the sum of research + teaching + service. For example, I experienced a great sense of mutual influence among my research (discrimination and health, LGBT health), teaching, and my work as a co-facilitator for “Boyfriend Lessons” — a series of workshops for bisexual, trans, and gay young men on health and well-being (particularly sexual health). I brought to the latter insights from others’ and my own research to articulate how the health of queer men is shaped and constrained within a bi-, trans-, and homophobic context. These insights have also been articulated in my blogging for Kinsey Confidential. When I taught Sexual Diversity in 2009-2010, I often shared my Kinsey Confidential blog posts, as well as news of current events, to spark discussion and “warm up” the class for the day’s lecture. My teaching, my service to the community, as well as my personal experiences and interpersonal connections, in turn, have influenced my research.
But, this comes with full knowledge that service that is not serving the academy does not “count” professionally. And, again, I stress the importance of the peer review process for publishing research. How I get to the research process in the first place, and what I do with research once it’s published are undeniably influenced by my commitment to social justice. While it also influences how I do research, I based my decisions and interpretations on existing theory and research, and have my work vetted by other scholars, just like my non-activist colleagues.
Now, About The Elephant In The Room…
I keep harping on the matter of science, despite its imperfections, because there are some ways in which academia and activism do not mix. Well, there is one big way, and that is when scholars shirk standards of ethical, empirically- and theoretically-based science all together.
The scandal surrounding a 2012 study by University of Texas Austin sociologist, Mark Regnerus, has been at the background throughout my public dialogue on activism and academia. Since this story first emerged as I entered the job market, I decided to stay silent on the scandal. And, even once I secured a job, things had grown to a level that I felt it was best to let those protected by tenure to chime in. But, this case is likely the example of the concern that skeptics have raised.
Besides my fear of professional consequences, a further complication is the concern that calls for academic freedom must acknowledge that the political pendulum swings both ways. If I wish to have more space for scholars to blog, speak to the media, and use their research for public “good,” I must recognize that some will be doing so for causes that are not my own, or are even counter to mine. Sure, Regnerus should be free to blog (as he does), no matter his conservative views.
But, this case stands out because there is evidence that he did not draw upon existing theory and research throughout his research design (namely, how he defined “families with lesbian parents“). Further, to some extent, the peer review process was usurped. Even if this paper was not used in political efforts to oppose same-gender marriage, this is simply bad science.
The harmful mix of this bad science and his conservative activism is further apparent in the use of this study (which should have been retracted all together) to encourage the US Supreme Court to deny legal recognition of same-gender couples. Even when the American Sociological Association spoke for the discipline to say there is no empirical evidence to cause concern for the well-being of children of LGBT parents, he co-signed on an amicus brief that said otherwise, largely based on his and another flawed study. Unfortunately, his singular voice and study were reframed in the actual SCOTUS case as evidence that sociologists have yet to reach a consensus on LGBT families.
Bad science + activism = public harm. The peer review process should have prevented the study from ever being published. And, in being responsible scholars, greater effort should have been made to balance supposed mixed findings: 50 studies say X, but, there is one that says not X; here’s why we the latter study is important (or not). (The ASA brief did this, and further stressed why Regnerus’s study is flawed and irrelevant to LGBT families. Regnerus et al. did not do this in their brief to the Supreme Court.)
I believe that scholars can be activist-academics or activist-leaning academics or academics from 9-5 and activists on the weekends. But, this is with the caveat that scholars should be responsible and ethical in how they do research and what they do with it, and how they teach and on what topics, how they serve academic and non-academic communities.
Academia Needs Activism
A final point on the activism-academia mixture is that they need each other. Activists need the work of researchers to make a case for social change, particularly to change laws and policies. Researchers, in turn, benefit from their work being carried beyond the pay-walls of academic journals.
But, beyond the notion of active activists and passive academics who simply do science and produce knowledge, academia benefits from activist efforts to bust down barriers to the ivory tower. Despite his undeniable contributions to sociology, W. E. B. DuBois was not welcomed into the discipline because he was Black. Eventually fed up with the racism of sociology and the academy in general, he turned more exclusively to activism, co-founding the NAACP.
Recently, I have learned of other marginalized scholars who were either kept out or whose contributions were ignored. Today, I began reading Imagine a World: Pioneering Black Women Sociologists. I am embarrassed to admit that I have never heard of the five Black women sociologists featured in the book: Jacquelyne Johnson Jackson, LaFrancis Rodgers-Rose, Joyce A. Ladner, Doris Wilkinson, and Delores P. Aldridge. But, considering that the discipline has not been (and still is not) immune to the prejudices and discriminatory practices of the outside world, why would I?
The most mind-blowing revelation I have had on this matter is the obvious erasure of Dorothy Swaine Thomas. She co-authored a book with W. I. Thomas, from which “his” famous quote comes: “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences” (Thomas and Thomas 1928: 572). Yet, Dorothy is rarely given credit for the “W. I. Thomas quote.” Sadly, what was originally outright sexism that drove the discipline to erase her contribution, my generation of scholars is never taught about her just because our teachers do not know otherwise.
These revelations have fueled my aforementioned interests in the sociology of knowledge and sociology of science. It is a scary thought that what is taken as Truth is based on science done overwhelmingly by privileged scholars (i.e., middle-class white men) sometimes based on samples that do not reflect members of marginalized groups. Marginalized scholars are excluded or their work is undermined (sometimes as a result of the exclusion). For example, there is a slow growth of studies on sexuality published in the top journals in sociology, yet such scholarship published in sexuality journals is regarded as unimportant to mainstream sociology or it is dismissed as “mesearch” if conducted by an LGBT scholar. (Because the work white middle-class men do, even on themselves, is Objective Science and Truth.)
It is unsurprisingly to me, then, that some minority scholars who were initially interested studying their communities (for their advancement or liberation) end up doing work on the sociology of knowledge (e.g., Patricia Hill Collins) or critiquing research methods (e.g., Dr. Eduardo Bonilla-Silva).
In sum, I reiterate that it is possible to be an activist and an academic. If responsible, one’s work in one domain can benefit the other. And, for some, the synergy among all aspects of your activist and academic selves cannot be compartmentalized into research, teaching, (academic) service, and community service or activism. The question is not whether you can be. And, frankly, I think it is time to move beyond asking whether you should be an activist. Some people just are.
I conclude, then, by suggesting that it is time to recognize the reality of activism in academia, and better appreciate the good it does for it. Arguably, science would remain limited and exclusive without activist efforts to end discriminatory practices in education.
Moving forward, the question should be how to support students and scholars who are activists at heart (because you never know what impact they can have in society!). I call for ending the practice of “beating the activist” out of graduate students. It is no secret that many students come into graduate programs, especially in the social sciences, with the hopes of making a difference. It is time to support them as they are.
My Kind Of Sociology
And, I am working toward my own self-defined sociology, even after six years of “beatings” in graduate school. You may have noticed that I renamed my blog, My Sociology. This was the name of my very first blog. By the title, I do not imply that I own sociology (though we could debate whether it can be or is owned, and by whom). Rather, I take the position that there is no one, singular way to do sociology nor to be a sociologist.
Seeing the doubt that students from marginalized backgrounds experience, particularly in graduate school, makes it particularly important to support activist-leaning academics. A narrow image of successful scholars is purported, and the disconnect between one’s social justice desires and what they learn in graduate school persists. So, too many — just too many — scholars of color, women scholars, first-generation and working-class scholars doubt themselves, questioning whether an academic career is right for them, and, frankly, whether they are right (read: good enough) for academia.
There are a number of examples of sociologists, whether or not they identify as activists, who serve as inspiring role models, folks who pursue their own kind of sociology:
- DJ Elaine Harvey and Sociologist Mignon Moore UCLA sociologist Mignon Moore and her partner Elaine Harvey have presented their relationship and love to the world to inspire other LGBT folks (especially those of color) and change minds on same-gender marriage. Her work on Black lesbian families (including an article in American Sociological Review!) has advanced the intersectionality theoretical framework to (re)visit the intersections among race, gender, and sexuality. Also, she uses an innovative method (interactions at social events and private parties) for her research.
- Dr. CJ Pascoe, best known currently for her book Dude You’re a Fag, serves on the research advisory board for Lady Gaga’s anti-bullying organization, Born This Way Foundation. She co-edits a blog, Social (In)Queery, on gender and sexuality research.
- The entire Sociologists for Women in Society (SWS) organization.
- Northwestern sociologist Aldon Morris, who has propelled the DuBoisian tradition in sociology.
- The entire Society for the Study of Social Problems (SSSP) organization.
- Monique Carry, a dear friend, who brings together research, education, and activism in her advocacy for Black LGBT youth. She co-founded the All My Children Project, and works as a behavioral scientist for the CDC.
- Patricia Yancey Martin, who has advanced a structural conceptualization of sexism.
- Sociologist and filmmaker Dr. Tukufu Zuberi.
- ASA President Cecelia Ridgeway, who has developed an interesting approach to understand how interpersonal interactions create, reinforce, and recreate macro systems of inequality.
- Tressie McMillan Cottom. Awesome. Badass blogger. Does some great work on the privatization of higher education.
- Sociologists Lisa Wade and Gwen Sharp, who run and edit the popular Sociological Images blog.
- Minnesota sociologist Christopher Uggen, whose research, teaching, blogging, and community outreach aim to make knowledge about crime and punishment, disenfranchisement, discrimination, and health publicly accessible. He was one of the founding co-editors of Contexts magazine, and now edits The Society Pages.