Controversy erupted in Toronto’s queer community recently as Danny Glenwright, a cissexual editor at Xtra, Canada’s largest gay and lesbian newspaper, publicly posted a trans woman‘s birth name on his personal Facebook. After at first agreeing to remove her information, he instead posted a non-apology to Xtra‘s website, sparking further outrage by trans people and their allies. In response, Xtra has promised to engage in efforts to increase trans awareness and inclusivity at the paper, though details of the plan are unclear.
The tragedy here for me isn’t just the incredible disrespect shown to the trans woman by a member of the LGBT media, but that it seems part of a larger pattern of backlash to trans women by cissexual gay men. Whether it is in response to the transphobic actions or words of a Ronald Gold, or Dan Savage, or exploiting our deaths for camp, or even arguing against use of the word ‘cis’, there is a significant minority of cis gay men who make no effort to restrain their vitriol for trans women who demand equality.
This is by no means to suggest all cis gay men are transphobic. Far from it, I myself have many cis gay men who are incredible friends, allies, and community, and many prominent gay men are vocal supporters of trans rights. Still, whenever conflict arises between cis gay men and trans people (trans women specifically), there is inevitably a core of gay voices who respond with anger and hatred. The tactics of belittling, derailing, and dehumanizing occur again and again.
This isn’t limited to trolling commenters on websites, either. Some gay men in positions of real power – politicians and the media, among others – hold at best regressive ideas about trans women, and at worst engage in actively anti-trans behaviour. These men directly affect the quality of life for trans people in their ability to influence laws and culture. Whether it is excluding trans people from legislation designed to protect other LGB people or normalizing our culture’s transphobia, the outcome is the same: trans people are marginalized and dehumanized.
Now, the point of writing this isn’t simply to point out that some gay men can say and do transphobic things, or to engage those men in a flame war. Though it is an uncomfortable pattern to point to, and the conversations to begin addressing this issue will not be easy, they nonetheless need to happen. One of the common derailing arguments of those internet commenters is to suggest that the ‘real enemy’ is elsewhere, and that trans people are misguided in their criticism of transphobia within the gay community. I flatly reject this. We cannot move forward to seek social justice for all if we have rot in our foundation. Allowing transphobia, racism, ableism, misogyny, classism, and other oppressions to go unchecked only undermines our efforts. Only by addressing them will our movements be stronger.
This post is part of an informal series on dating as a marginalized queer identity. The focus will inevitably be shaped by my personal experience – being white, a trans woman, fat, poor, polyamorous, and a survivor of sexual violence and abuse – but I hope it will resonate to some degree with whose experiences aren’t similar to mine but who nonetheless feel marginalized by their communities. These posts arose from conversations with a number of people on various points of the continuum of queer cultural desire, and I am deeply grateful for those folks. They give me hope these conversations can happen more often, and on a much larger scale.
The first part of the series is available here: Dating from the Margins: Desexualizing and Cultural Abuse
On many occasions I have heard a friend or acquaintance dismissing a potential date because they’re “insecure,” “too needy,” or seem “more invested.” In polyamorous communities I have often noticed alarm if the person dates fewer people, or doesn’t seem to have much dating history. These value judgements are rarely if ever accompanied by any further analysis, though, and seem to be almost universally accepted as reasons to not date someone.
I have trouble accepting this conventional wisdom for many reasons. At its base this kind of thinking assumes a model of equal access to dating and desirability, which is demonstrably false. Further, it ignores any awareness of oppression models and privilege, and instead works to support those privileged by this model by making neutral these judgements which are nonetheless strongly informed by external cultural biases.
In my last post I presented the idea of systemic desexualizing as cultural abuse, and I stand by that. Especially if one identifies as a proponent of social justice, and of equality in the face of cultural prejudices regarding race, disability, queerness, body type, gender identity, etc., the understanding of the impact of desexualizing and denying desirability is of paramount importance to dismantle oppression. I cannot imagine describing the systemic denial of food, or sleep, or shelter to be dismissed as unchangeably innate and apart from oppression models, yet we do this with desirability all the time.
When I hear someone say their rationale for not dating someone is because of their “insecurity,” or some other easy pop psychology reasoning, I always hope they’ll have a flash of understanding and compassion, and say, “Though I imagine their insecurity might stem from a set of cultural oppressions which I can’t begin to imagine.” We cannot expect progressive social models to ever take hold if we accept the denial of an arbitrarily defined subset of people to the basic right to access love and sexual expression. This zero-sum thinking is the essence of capitalism, and encourages us to hold tight our own privileges while denying the exclusion of others.
When we stigmatize the symptoms of cultural abuse and marginalization (which is what most of the described “insecurity” is), especially in relationships where that same cultural abuse and marginalization privileges us, we are agents for that system of oppression. To identify ourselves as proponents of anti-oppression yet still engage in language and attitudes which apply negative value judgements to people without acknowledgement of the roots of those judgements undermines the very point of anti-oppression activism. It denies the impact of that abuse.
While we imagine ourselves capable of dismantling such oppressive systems as capitalism, sexism, racism, and classism, I find it deeply sad that we are unwilling to commit resources to the dismantling of desexualizing and exclusionary desirability. This is the truly revolutionary, and the truly radical.
This is the first in an informal series on dating as a marginalized queer identity. The focus will inevitably be shaped by my personal experience – being white, a trans woman, fat, poor, polyamorous, and a survivor of sexual violence and abuse – but I hope it will resonate to some degree with whose experiences aren’t similar to mine but who nonetheless feel marginalized by their communities. These posts arose from conversations with a number of people on various points of the continuum of queer cultural desire, and I am deeply grateful for those folks. They give me hope these conversations can happen more often, and on a much larger scale.
I am often frustrated by people who are otherwise invested in understanding and opposing systems of oppression, but who nonetheless exclude dating and desirability from analysis or self-critique. This is especially frustrating when they are privileged by those very systems. This lack of analysis by those who have access and who are prioritized as desirable by their communities effectively silences the experiences of those whose trans status (or having a disability, or not meeting cultural beauty standards, or any of the markers of undesirability imposed by external systems) limits or completely denies access. In many queer, sex positive, polyamorous activist communities I have experienced those with access treating their privilege as the status quo, something which is never discussed, is neutral from criticism, and to which all are assumed to have access. This is done with an often startling ignorance of those who do not.
Understandably, who we are attracted to is a very sensitive topic for most of us. We want to believe our desires are our own, unshaped by the media, patriarchy, racism, ableism, transmisogyny, or other oppressive systems. This is even more challenging when one’s identity is based in ideas of activism, social justice and equality; We don’t want to feel like we’re upholding oppressive standards, or engaging in systems which sometimes violently desexualize marginalized identities.
Conversely, those who do not enjoy much dating capital face an incredibly challenging and vulnerable process when discussing desirability. You can’t help but wonder how much will be dismissed as sour grapes, or what judgements will be made about you to justify your undesirability in the minds of others. This furthers the silencing, and prevents the discussions which can begin to address these inequalities.
And the inequalities are considerable: The systemic desexualisation of any group of people is abuse at the cultural level. Though the idea of being privileged by a culture which abuses the sexuality of others is sure to provoke knee-jerk defensiveness, much like white people who respond to the idea of being privileged by living in a racist culture by saying “But I’m not a racist,” this isn’t about individuals. Refusing to engage with the systems which privilege us because we’re uncomfortable with that sort of self-reflection, however, allows those systems to continue, and makes us complicit in their existence. The effects of desexualization are nonetheless real, and cause much emotional damage for many people.
This isn’t to say we can simply reprogram our desires for the sake of a more egalitarian community, but waving the discussion away with “I can’t help who I’m attracted to!” isn’t the answer either. What we do need is discussion and acknowledgement, not as a defence of our desires, but to perhaps understand how external forces narrow their scope. Acknowledging the prioritizing of certain bodies and identities is just the beginning, and will lead to many difficult conversations I’m sure, but ultimately can only lead to more understanding, more inclusiveness, and stronger communities.
Dan Savage has a long history of transphobic commentary in the advice column he writes for Seattle’s The Stranger. Yesterday he took his transphobia to a new level, mockingly suggesting that Washington state Attorney General Rob McKenna is trans (he’s not). In Savage’s world view being trans is so shameful it is something to slur right-wing politicians with.
Having grown used to “Ann Coulter is a tranny” slurs from the folks on the left for the past decade, this kind of behaviour strikes me as typical of many cissexuals who otherwise would consider themselves progressive. Typical, too, are the responses to trans frustration: the angry tranny trope, trans people need to get a sense of humour, to focus on the “real fight,” and all of those other derails that only aim to avoid responsibility for the privileged and phobic comment.
I am sure Rob McKenna’s policies are worth criticism, but if that’s the case critique policy. Savage’s response weakens any real criticism of McKenna because the right can now point to this stupid diversion. Further, it fractures response to McKenna by alienating a segment of people who might agree but find mocking trans people to make a political point reprehensible. So Savage isn’t just transphobic, he’s a shitty political activist, too.
Past initial outrage what will the response be, I wonder? I’m expecting Savage and his supporters to dig in, that’s nothing new, but this is a hard point to gloss over for those trying to remain ‘impartial.’ I’ve heard a lot of lip service from cis allies over the years, but I’ve rarely seen them give up something they like consuming – I’ve had people flat out tell me they know Savage is transphobic but they’re going to read him anyway. The kind of transphobia Savage engaged in by making those comments about McKenna has real life implications for trans people. I wonder how many more passes he’ll get.
This used to be an article criticizing transmisogyny in Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” video. A LOT of people read it, more than anything else I’d ever written here. After a while, though, it became clear people were linking to it and sharing it not to criticize the transmisogyny, but to criticize Lady Gaga. The vast majority of hits to this page have been cis people using it as a “source” to argue with other cis people. ABOUT LADY GAGA. Yawn doesn’t begin to describe it.
So I’ve taken it down, which is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. We’ve all got better things to talk about than another rich, white pop star.