Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Brief thoughts on criticisms of Emma Watson's U.N. speech

There has been much criticism of Emma Watson's speech at the United Nations for centering feminism on men, what we are capable of or not, and how sexism hurts us too. Dare I overstep my boundaries as a male-identified person to say that I agree, to an extent, with these critiques, though I hope for a world large enough to fit the type of feminisms that simultaneously center themselves around the ways of being and knowing of women--indeed, women's liberation--, while also articulating the ways in which patriarchy hurts all of us and that the articulation of this recognition not derail or de-centralize rhetoric and imaginations away from womanhood and women-centered possibilities, but contributes to the greater project of gender(ed) justice where all people are free from the shackles of misogyny. 

Thursday, September 11, 2014

On Never Forgetting.

To me, this is not an Either/Or day. It is a Yes/And day.

Yes, thousands of innocent lives were murdered on September 11, 2001. And, yes, thousands more innocent lives were murdered in the retaliating wars that followed.

Yes, those planes were highjacked by religious extremists. And, yes, this country is highjacked by religious extremists.

Yes, people argue U.S. war-waging was justified. And, yes, as a country, the U.S. has done much (around the globe and domestically) to provoke war-waging against it.

Yes, New York City will never be the same. And, yes, the Middle East will never be the same.

Yes, Islam is a peaceful religion. And, yes, Christianity (can be) a peaceful religion.

Yes, the 2,977 lives lost on September 11 matter. And, yes, the 16,725–19,013 civilian lives lost in the aftermath matter.

Yes, war is not the answer. And, yes, war is not the answer.

So if by "Never Forget," you are asking me to remember only a fraction of history, to honor only a fraction of humanity, I am not in solidarity with you.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Hierbaloca: The Children of Aztlán

May we dance
in the living room of hope.
Our bodies hold memory—
we are desert stones.

May we rise
in the face of our pain.
As Arizona weeds dare,
our fists rise most when blown.

Our hearts pump through sorrow
making way for what is possible.
We are farmers. We harvest our own.

We are backyard children
playing, watched by la abuela
weaving through each other’s arms.

We are leaves
on branches, on roads.
Fodder after being shade
            cover to elders
food for new leaves to grow.

We are blood
rivers, mama’s veins.
We are the return,
though we never left.

Our lungs pump through anguish
manifest what is possible.
We are Texas breeze in each other’s hair.

We are nopal-raised abuelos
we play dice with tomorrow
betting: we will overcome.

Somos, todos, aztlaneros.
Our roots run deep, run wild.
Unharnessed, tainted as the Gulf.

We were free. We remember.
Thievery shall not hold us.
We have no papers to show.

Lorenzo Herrera y Lozano
Originally published in Poets Responding to SB1070

Thursday, June 19, 2014

In the name of nuance and kindness

For the past few weeks I have been sitting with the realization (or reminder) that social justice narratives (in particular my own) often lack the capacity or invitation to hold nuance, to engage in an exchange of ideas, to actually dialogue and to do so with kindness. The dynamic is less about learning and growing from others, but to prove myself right, even if at the expense of the feelings of others and at the expense of my own growth. Shutting down the conversation has kept me from the opportunity to hear the nuance in the voices of my peers, it has kept me from becoming greater than the limitations of my own ideas.

Whether the topic is the use of the word Tranny, whether FIFA should bring about an institutional ban of sorts in response to crowds yelling “¡Puto!,” whether people who grew up watching soccer with their loved ones are right or wrong to be excited about the World Cup, whether gay marriage is the death of sexual liberation, whether Orange is the New Black. So many lessons I could have learned, so many stories I could have heard had I just made enough room for nuance and kindness.

As an atheist, I do not know how much credence I give to astrology, but I do know that I was born under the sign of Taurus and that I am stubborn as all hell. Regardless, I am committing toward pushing myself to learn to listen to the ideas of others, to not feel threatened by them, to sit firmly in my own convictions while hearing what others have to say.

I do not know if this is a public apology or a way to hold myself publicly accountable, perhaps it is both. The one thing I believe in above all else, is the possibility of creating world large enough to fit us all whole. My unkind and anti-nuance stances are not aligned with this belief. So, to quote one of Adelina Anthony’s poems, “I’m checking myself, so I don’t check out permanently.”

With this, I begin my moratorium on political commentary. I look forward to reading and learning to listen to my peers.


Thursday, June 12, 2014

Irreconcilable Differences: Because this is what HOPE looks like

In 2008, I was among those who believed that voting for Barack Obama was the right thing to do, that it was time and necessary to have a Black president, that "HOPE" meant something deeper than a poster, that it held the possibilities for a larger world, a world where justice could fit.

In 2012, I was among those who believed that voting for anyone but Barack Obama would constitute a vote for Mitt Romney. I believed that, despite Obama's centrist ways, his short fallings, and the disillusion, the alternative would be further devastating. I also thought that, perhaps, in his second term, he would do right by poor/children of color in public schools, immigrants, all women (even those employed by religious institutions), Black and Brown men enslaved in our prisons, the millions of students and former students bound by crippling debt.

I am aware of the numbers. I know that Congress has proven itself useless, that Democrats lack what Republicans have: unwavering values (for however vile, they have values), commitment to the poor the way Republicans commit to the rich, the backing of a fearful and hateful base, the patent on Jesus Christ, the IRS-defying churches, the money. I know that in many, many cases, Obama's hands have been tied, that the country has become further conservative, further insane. But not all injustices have been out of his and his party's hands.

From the President's admonishments that Black men be "good" men, that they raise their children, not "get in trouble"; to his and the First Lady's annual graduation speeches admonishing young people of color to "get over it" and work harder, to seek the riches promised by "Respectability," to follow their lead and see all their problems disappear; to escalated and ongoing wars; to the atrocity that was (and is) "Race To The Top," and opening the doors to further privatization of public schools; to overseeing (or at least benefiting from) the systematic, overnight dismantling of the Occupy Movement; to ripping immigrant families apart; and, now (or for some while now) the mass incarceration of immigrant children, taken from their families, captured and held in grotesque living conditions and substandard care, I cannot stand in my home, in my communities, and say with a clear conscious, "We did the right thing."

Perhaps, to the extent that our pseudo-democracy allowed, voting and encouraging others to vote for Barack Obama was, if not the right thing, the best we could do. I still believe there is great value in having elected a Black President, that the impact on race and racism in this country has been positive, despite the Right’s high-jacking of the race debate—the imagination of children of color today is far different, hopefully greater than the children of color of my and previous generations. But having a man of color in the Oval Office means nothing to the child detained in Arizona, away from their family, sleeping under the crumbling roof of a “processing center,” hidden from the eyes of the media.

What am I supposed to say to this child? That I projected my own ideals to the word HOPE, that I compromised my beliefs in the name of the “greater good,” that it was the best I could do, that I am sorry? I am complicit.

This country is, indeed, so far to the right, so entrenched and wedded to white supremacy, its theocratic ways, its hunger for ever-increasing wealth, that the mass incarceration of children is acceptable, the further stripping of a woman’s right to self-determination is acceptable, the enslavement of Black and Brown men in prisons is acceptable, the deportation of more than 2,000,000 immigrants is acceptable, the periodic mass murdering of people at the hands of gun-worshiping sociopaths is acceptable, drone strikes are acceptable, surveillance is acceptable, the dismantling of Affirmative Action is acceptable, growing impoverishment is acceptable.

And all we offer ourselves to fight with is a Liberal agenda, an agenda that seeks to reach across an aisle that is becoming blurrier by the day, mantras that seek to reassure and assuage the middle class while stomping on the backs of the poor, that gays and lesbians can now get married and join the military and help perpetuate the injustices that sustain our comforts. The best we can come up with is something “better than the alternative.”

But, tell me, how horrific is that alternative if this is us at our best?

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Powerful essay on Religion and Gender Inequality by Samantha Eyler

My disdain for christianity is rooted in the injustices I witnessed growing up in churches. The normalization and constant reinforcement of girls' and women's place behind a man (her husband, father, pastor, son [!!]) and at the service of men; the sick concept of "holiness," which justifies the enforcement of strict and gendered physical appearances and conduct; the restrictions in physical activities and vocational and career aspirations; and, the unwavering expectation that one day their lives will be whole and completely god-worthy as subservient wives and mothers--only then.

When I was 19 I told my pastor (who was also a bishop) I believed I was gay, he said I was just confused because I had never been intimate with a woman. He recommended reparative therapy, which I accepted to try as I trusted him as my spiritual guide. Toward the end of the meeting, he suggested I have sex with the young woman I had been dating and that this act would resolve all my doubts. It was in that moment that everything I ever thought to be true came tumbling down. The role of women as tools that exist at the service of men and the ranking of sins (sex out of marriage was less of a sin than being a homosexual) were what led me to walk away from christianity and never look back.

I recognize that my christian upbringing was more literal than most. That most christian women are "allowed" to wear makeup, pants, cut their hair, pursue vocations/careers, and in some instances lead congregations. Still, the fundamental inhumanities exist as the word "allowed" remains. I also recognize that my scars run deep, that the wounds remain, that the rancor I carry is both because of what I witnessed underneath church roofs and what I know to be true about the devastation and ongoing massacre (of bodies, minds) brought about under the shadow and guise of crosses (522 years and counting).

Many, many of my loved ones identify as christians or catholics, and my love for them is unwavering. I hold their right to hold their faith close to their hearts in the same breath with which I hold my own truths. We are complex people navigating complex worlds.

Although I prefer to think and strive toward justice rather than equality, I found this by Samantha Eyler to be powerful and compelling. It also brought back haunting memories.

"Why I Had To Lose My Religion Before I Could Support Gender Equality"

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Macklemore & Embittered Queens: Why we (get to) bite the hand that feeds us

There's been a lot of pushback against Macklemore and Ryan Lewis lately (longer, if you've been paying attention), the song "Same Love," and the recent Grammys performance. There's also been a tug of war happening among queers, queers of color, and our allies. There are those who are critical of Macklemore and Lewis and those who believe they should be left alone, appreciated for their contribution(s), and lauded for their bravery.

Well here's my take:

Macklemore and Lewis are doing just fine. They won their awards, they're rolling in cash and enjoying the fame. They don't need my approval or that of similarly embittered queens (one of the many nicknames given to those who dare speak critically or ill of Macklemore the Messiah). And I'm not sure they need to be defended, but I'm not the one defending them, so I'll leave that alone.

Since the Grammys, I've been reposting (on Facebook) articles that are critical of the artists, the song, or the performance. Articles written mostly by queer/people of color, written in blogs, maybe one written for a major online platform. I agree with some, others I think are a stretch. But my full approval isn't why I repost. I repost because these voices matter to me. I want to read counter perspectives from within the people who stand to the left of political consciousness. This isn't to say that people who are supporting the song, the artists, or the performance are centrist or conservative, but it illustrates, in ways I think are useful, how we are not a monolithic body, despite having similar or somewhat similar politics. I think this is good. We should have these types of dialogues and the occasional fight.

The latest piece I reposted is by Tyler Coates, titled "Queer Rapper Le1f Speaks Out Against Macklemore: Why 'Same Love' Doesn't Speak for the LGBT Community." Some things in the post I agree with, others I don't. But I did find the following words in the piece to be hilarious: "'Same Love' is Acceptance for Dummies." I think that's funny. And profound. 

Is this type of humor snarky? Yeah. Is it catty? Yeah. Is it mean? Probably. Is it true? For me, yes. Yes, it is. And I think that's the point. People are reacting. I'm reacting. We're reacting to what we feel is an onslaught of normalization, of having our lives and experiences told for us, of being assimilated, of being incorporated. We protest that the incorporation and acceptance is not for the wholeness of who we are, but of a watered-down, bland version of ourselves that is unthreatening and palatable. We are the ones being changed so that society can accept us, the problem is rooted in us, not the poisoned society that chooses who to accept and who to discard (the history of racism in this country is an excellent example of how this works).

Many people holding left-of-center politics are defending Macklemore and Lewis, "Same Love," and the Grammys performance. I think this has value, too. I want to hear and read why like-minded people think what Macklemore and Lewis are doing through "Same Love" is good. There's value in what my peers think. However, what I don't value is the argument that a critique is impolite, churlish, or disrespectful of Macklemore and Lewis, and by extension, every ally who ever lived. We don't even get to question. It's like Sunday bible school all over again. 

Like I said, these white straight men are doing just fine. We, on the other hand, are not. Perhaps we need to revisit what "ally" means and what it takes to be an ally. And while I don't think we'll come up with a universally-accepted definition, it's a good exercise to have. My definition of ally is not one who does things for us, but with us, on our terms, and led by our leadership. This is what it means for me to be an ally to women and to trans* folks. If Macklemore and Lewis are to be the hand that feeds us equality, it should come as no surprise that some of us will bite that hand.

I'm not going to stop being critical or unpacking layers, or over-processing things. The reason I have been adamant about posting things that are critical of "Same Love" and the two pop rappers is because I get to. We get to. I don't care if it's tasteless in the eyes of their existing fans or recent fans garnered by these allies' benevolence. Being pleasant to others' taste buds is not what critiques are for. They're meant to agitate, to engage, to raise questions.

I want to be exchanging ideas, grappling with these issues, and occasionally even fighting with like-minded people. I don't care what conservatives think about my opinions, I don't care what they think is homophobic or racist or not. It's not my job to worry about that, and it's certainly not my job to educate them. Other, better equipped people are doing that work, not me. I'm not in conversation with people who are still debating on the level of Racism, Classism, or Sexism 101. They can debate with someone else. Not me.

I'm in conversation with my communities-- radical, queer/folks of color, and socially conscious white and straight folks. This is why I post these critiques on my wall, because I think it's important that we engage each other, that we exchange ideas, that we agree, that we disagree, that we let multiple truths exist simultaneously.

In the case of Macklemore and Lewis and "Same Love," I would expect people to push back. There is a long and strong history of queer/people of color pushing back on things that don't sit well in our bodies. A lot of us push back. We push back against things that smell of normalization. We push back against White Messiahs. We push back against words like "acceptance" and "tolerance." We push back against a mainstreaming of who we are. And we get to do that. I don't care if it's uncouth or uncivil, maybe it's supposed to be. 

I find the lyrics in "Same Love" to be pedestrian, regurgitated key words that over the years have been used by liberals and HRC alike to try to fold queer folks into the poisoned fabric of society. "Same Love" is conditional love. There were no obvious signs of queer freaks being married at the Grammys. Instead, we were brought to tears by the unions of respectable-looking and well-groomed couples. And good for them, I have no beef with the newlyweds-- their lives, their bodies.

I do have beef (a huge slab of wagyu) with people force-feeding me what the on-air mass wedding was supposed to mean: the acceptance of gays and lesbians into society. I know this acceptance would include me if I combed my hair, covered my tattoos with a crisp over-starched shirt, reverted my relationship into monogamy, mispronounced my name, and behaved like the good Baptist boy I was raised to be. But that's not the movement I want to be a part of. A movement that eagerly embraces the acceptance of some over the rejection of others is not my movement.

I hear people say that the problem bitter queens (like myself) have is not really with the song, but that it's sung by a white straight dude. That if the song were sung by, say, a Black rapper (something Macklemore suggests isn't really possible: "If I was gay, I would think hip hop hates me") or maybe a Black gay rapper, we would be fine. Well, not necessarily. The song is problematic on its own merits. Here are just two examples:

"it's all the same love" 

Well, there's a spoonful of forced assimilation. This, as with all things I write, is informed by how I understand the world: I believe love is a social construction, not some supernatural force that comes down on us like a horny dove. I believe love is beautiful, but not celestial, and certainly not monochromatic. My queerness is beautiful because it is different, I am different, and I believe there's value in this. So when I hear that "it's all the same love," I cringe. I don't think it is. I think all love is beautiful and worthy of being affirmed, not because it's all the same, but because love is what each of us make of it in whatever configuration we choose to manifest it.

2) "we all come from the same one [god]" 

This is what new wave Christians say to passive aggressively insult people of other faiths. It asserts the supremacy of a monotheistic way of believing; it asserts, in the name of acceptance, that there is a god (so f*ck you, atheists); and, let's be honest, it says that the one same god is the one white Christian god.

These two examples alone are enough to raise my blood pressure. So, no, that a white straight dude sings this song is not the only problem. The problems become compounded, not only because of the assumed benevolence of the artists and the song, but because the critical bunch are told that we're over thinking it, that we should just let it go and stop blowing things out of proportion. But for us, the proportions are already huge, and the critics of the critics know that. If this weren't a big deal, people wouldn't be in tears watching the on-air ceremonies. Let's just admit that it's all a big deal, the song lyrics, the Grammy weddings, all of it is huge and has implications. We can disagree on what those implications may be, but to ask the embittered queens to stop making things bigger than they are through our critiques and rants, is simply disingenuous.

I understand that what Macklemore and Lewis' "Same Love" envisions touches people's hearts (I think Mary Lambert's hook is beautiful, despite disagreeing with its "choice" quandary), and perhaps this is why being critical of the artists or the song causes disappointment and anger toward those of us whose hearts aren't moved in the same way. We're complicated beings and we're hurting. People who love and desire like us are being hunted down around the world, laws are being passed to criminalize who we are, we're being murdered, we're being denied access to justice-- our wounds are open. 

I can see how the idea of "Same Love" offers respite. How you may think that if society just accepted us, we could stop having to fight to survive. How being able to marry the one we love would affirm who we are and put an end to lifetimes of discrimination, of violence, of exclusion. I can see how equality feels like a good goal, how if only we were all treated equally, all our suffering would come to an end.

But we don't all agree with you, and at some point, that has to be ok. I'm hurting, too. I want to see an end to global persecution, an end to the violence, an end to laws that restrict our freedom. I also want the suffering to end. Except, I don't agree that acceptance, tolerance, marriage, hate crimes legislation, or on-air weddings will end the suffering, definitely not for all of us. So I push back, others push back, because we carry this conviction, this belief that what is needed for all of us to be free is to rid social fabrics of their poison before we wrap ourselves in them. That freedom doesn't come from acceptance, but from living in a world where people don't need acceptance because they are honored for who they are. That freedom is not found in a society where people tolerate each other, but a society where people are valued and affirmed. Freedom is living in a world where Mary Lambert no longer sings: "And I can't change. Even if I tried. Even if I wanted to," because in that world, it wouldn't matter.

So we can disagree about the critiques I and others have about Macklemore and Lewis, "Same Love," or the Grammys performance, and I will have this conversation with you. But if your disagreement is about whether I get to have a critical opinion in the first place, you and I are no longer in conversation.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

I hate equality, and this is why:

Trailers for Diego Luna's César Chávez movie has been making the rounds and people are pretty excited. I am too, mostly.

I'm excited about the possibilities that a film about such an important moment in Chicana/o and Pilipina/o history and movements holds. I'm excited to see Chicana/o and Pilipina/o lives and stories on the big screen, and I'm excited about America Ferrera. 

I'm weary though, fearful that the film will deify Chávez without honoring the complexity of who he was and the inherent contradictions in some of his actions and stances. I fear that the film will follow the standard of most biopics and strip Chávez of what made him human -- the complexities and contradictions -- in the name of "good storytelling." 

Hollywood seems convinced we need heroes and deities and will do what it must to deliver. This includes conflating ideas and muddling facts.

One trailer says Chávez "stood for equality" and "fought for peace." And, yes, Chávez believed in non-violence. But to say that he stood for equality grossly oversimplifies and dilutes what he and the people of these movements set out to achieve: justice.

Equality gets thrown around a lot and, unless you're a rabid tea partier or an ideological relative of one, you'll probably say you believe it's a good thing. You might believe the contrary and vote accordingly, but publicly you don't want to be thought of as a bigot.

Equality is that thing pursued by professionalized movements for social change (read: reform). An important difference between human rights and civil rights is the pursuit of equality. For instance, the Gay and Lesbian (I do not include bisexual and transgender to reflect the reality that, really, they aren't included institutionally) Movement wants (and is achieving) marriage equality, the right to serve in the military, the right to file joint tax returns, the right to petition a partner/spouse for immigration purposes, and so on.

Equality is that thing people believe we need in public education. Liberal and moderate (if you can distinguish the difference between the two) agendas dictate that poor black and brown kids need the same education that affluent suburban white kids receive. Equality is "closing the achievement gap" -- helping students of color achieve as much as the lowest performing white child.

Equality is that thing people believe is needed to rid ourselves of racism. All would be right in the world if people just got along, treated each other as equals. Equal pay, equal housing, equal education, equal voting rights. If only we had equality.

Equality is that thing immigration reform (not to be confused with immigrant justice) efforts want when they say "let us serve" (code for let us serve in the U.S. military). That to be fully "American" includes the right to serve in the exploitation and massacring of people of color around the globe.

I hate equality. I hate the word, I hate the principle. Not because I believe white women should continue to be paid .70 cents for each dollar white men earn. Not because I believe gays and lesbians should be discriminated against. Not because I believe poor black and brown kids should continue trapped in a decaying public education system. Not because I believe my undocumented kin should live in fear and continue to be exploited. Not because I believe racism, economic injustice, misogyny are good.

I hate equality, less because of what it achieves, but because of what it impedes.

The women's movement (albeit fraught with racism and classism) included a fight for self-determination. That is, the right for every woman (again, the race and class stuff not entirely figured out) to have agency over their own body and life. The demand that every woman have the exclusive right to exercise their choices onto themselves was deeper, more revolutionary, than the lip service liberals offer on equal pay.

Queer liberation (also eyebrow deep in racism, perhaps also classism) similarly insisted on self-determination as a fundamental right. The ability to freely express and manifest our loves and desires is radically different than achieving legislative nods of approval.

The prison justice movement does not seek to address the overrepresentation of black and brown men in prisons by increasing the number of white men imprisoned. The reduction of overrepresentation is not the same as prison abolition. Less men of color in prisons is not the goal, a world without prisons is.

Equality inspires dull, unimaginative solutions to social ills. Solutions that lean on other ills, merely spreading, redistributing, and/or reinforcing the disease that is injustice.

Not only is equality different from justice, it gets in the way of justice.

A just world is not one that adds gays and lesbians to the list of people who can partake in an institution based fundamentally on discrimination against those who do not marry or are no longer married. A just world is not one where gays and lesbians openly serve in a military that, through violence and subjugation, maintains a world order of profit and white supremacy in the name of a freedom anyone with a critical mind knows is a farce. A just world is not one where love becomes a tool of capitalism by being financially encouraged and incentivized. A just world is not one where only those marrying a U.S. citizen can be petitioned -- or a world where people need to be petitioned in the first place. A just world is not one where more resources ensure poor black and brown kids are taught that whiteness is the standard against which to measure themselves, their families, and their communities, rendering their own ways of knowing and being as deficits to be eradicated. A just world is not a world where black and brown youth take up arms to murder and colonize other black and brown folks. A just world is not a world where simply less men of color are imprisoned. A just world is not one where the legacies and systemic results of white supremacy are invisibilized and ignored. A just world cannot come about because of, or despite, equality.

Articulating what justice is and imagining a just world necessitates a retraction, perhaps an overthrowing, of liberal movements. It requires a challenge these movements have rendered us fearful or incapable of: to imagine a world that is possible, rather than the world that is not.

That is, a world where all expressions and manifestations of love and desire between consenting humans is legally respected and socially affirmed. A world where every person exercises agency over their own body and life. A world where peace and the realization of economic justice flourish. A world where simply love, desire, choice bring people together. A world without borders. A world where the ways of being and knowing of students and families of color are a classroom's greatest assets. A world where accountability is informed by our humanity. A world where communities of color thrive.

To say that César Chávez and the Chicana/o and Pilipina/o movements he was a part of stood for equality suggests that what they strived for was to be poisoned only as much as white folks were. That their working conditions become equal to that of poor and working class white folks. The goal, then, would be achieving the same poison levels and poor working conditions of their white counterparts. Equality is not justice.

People took to the streets, walked off fields, boycotted goods because they wanted justice. They were being poisoned, forced to work in inhumane conditions. Justice was putting an end to the poisoning of workers, to the exploitation-- creating new, good working conditions and opportunities.

We can argue about the many, many problems within Chicana/o and Pilipina/o movements and the shortcomings of César Chávez (his stance on immigration among them), and we can talk about how farm workers continue to be poisoned and exploited. However, that what was achieved fell short of what was pursued does not negate the power of movements for social justice. I would venture to argue that equality played a role in the debilitation of outcomes.

Equality is a disease that infects, overpowers, overthrows movements for social change. The NAACP was supposed to be a human rights organization-- civil rights was the compromise. The descendants of the Queer Liberation Front, ACT UP, and the Combahee River Collective (all imperfect in their own way, of course) now celebrate that they are no longer subject to a small number of discriminations, ignoring the fact that their celebrations are subject to perpetuated injustices against others. Our willingness to trade justice for equality says so much about our fear of freedom, or worse, our inability to imagine ourselves free.

Friday, January 10, 2014

The Myth of Being Partially Gay

[See link to article about Boitano's gayness being only part of who he is.]

My thoughts on Boitano and the "being gay is only part of who I am" narrative:

To say that being gay is only part of who we are implies a compartmentalization of identities that might be true in a vacuum, but within the cultural contexts we exist in, are untrue, and frankly, cowardly. Part of what women/queer/folks of color have been fighting for years has been the external pressure to leave part of who we are at the door of any given room we walk into. To be in feminist spaces, women of color were/are expected to leave their cultura at the door. For queer Chicanas/os entering Chicana/o spaces, our queerness was/is expected to stay at the door. Of course, much of this has changed and continues to change. But these changes are, in my opinion, precisely because people refused to leave parts of themselves at the door, insisting that our multiple identities exist within us simultaneously, not consecutively.

So when I hear someone like Boitano say that being gay is only part of who he is, I see him slapping generations of queer men in the face. Queer men who receive(d) the full force of homophobia because their queerness was exactly who they were and they wore this proudly, defiantly, and necessarily (Reagan didn't ignore the AIDS pandemic because gayness was only part of who people were). Of course, one gets to call oneself whatever they hell we want, but to say that being gay is only part of who we are deserves the acknowledgment that it's because of those who did not compartmentalize or coward away that one can say that today.

Homophobia doesn't attack only part of who I am, it attacks all of me, because all of me is all of this simultaneously. Similarly, and more importantly, the power and strength that lives within my queerness is precisely because queer is all of who I am, simultaneous to the many other identities that live within me.