I've been considering and may again return to the story of Sandy Woulard--a person I did not know, but an important person to my own personal history and political involvement. I've been in a funk and not been writing much, but I hope to again soon.
In the meantime, make sure you read Joseph Erbentraut's very well-done piece on tackling the social problems that make people like Sandy at risk to such horrendous violence. It's from a couple months ago, but definitely worth the reread.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Why You (Yes You!) Should Be An Ally
Keeping It Queer
By Erica Chu
Why You (Yes You!) Should Be An Ally
You may be skimming through this article and thinking, “But I’m gay. Why would I need to be an ally?” Well, by the time you get to the end I think you’ll understand.
One of the worst things a society can do is to act as if the experiences of one group is the universal human experience. A conversation I had with my grandfather when I was eight might help explain this problem. All my life I’d eaten white rice with Chinese food, eggs, or occasionally with some meat and gravy dish, but one day I got in an argument with my Anglo-Nebraskan grandfather, who told me rice was a food exclusively served with sugar, cream, and raisins. I was shocked, horrified, and vehemently against the idea of this rice pudding monstrosity replacing or even supplementing rice the way God intended. I insisted that rice was not a sweet food and that everyone eats plain rice, but he argued that it was a dessert.
Even though I am still uninterested in rice pudding, I can now acknowledge that my experiences and preferences are not universal, and the fact that I like plain white rice and am around a lot of people who also do doesn’t mean everyone does or needs to. It’s fairly easy to come to those conclusions when it comes to food, but the difficult history of minority groups in this country has taught us that such lessons are not so easily learned.
Gay people have historically been treated as outsiders and even been labeled sick, sinful, or somehow set apart from the “normal” people. We have all witnessed the social and emotional pain that a belief in “normal” sexuality has caused and have come out against such unfair treatment, but being straight is not the only sign of “normalcy.”
In the US, there is a persistent belief that normal Americans are of white European ancestry, speak English as a first language, are middle class, heterosexual, cisgendered (nontransgendered), Christian, formally educated, able-bodied, slim, and believe strongly in monogamy, raising children, patriotism, and capitalism.
These qualities are great qualities to have and there is quite a large number of people who this description accurately describes, but there is absolutely no reason someone should be given preferential treatment because they fit the description of “normal” more closely than another. Yet this is exactly what happens in most civic, professional, and social environments.
When we’re shown favoritism by coworkers, people in the street, or by larger institutions such as educational systems and the government, we become privileged. We expect that we’ll be treated in a certain way, and we have options for taking action if our expectations are not met. There’s nothing wrong with expecting to be treated well, but the problem is when we demand that we be treated well at the expense of others.
Privilege comes with how we are perceived, so even though I don’t make much money, because I have fairly new clothes, I am perceived as middle-class and therefore able to gain the privileges that come with being fairly well off. For instance, I’m not followed in clothing stores, I am seated right away in restaurants, and I am not harassed by police. If at any time I am, I have the option to fight back through talking with supervisors and appealing to my “upstanding” qualities. If I tell the supervisor, “Your employees should not harass me because I’m not a thief” they will likely not believe me. I might then be tempted to say, “Look at me: I am clean, my clothes look nice, I have a job, I come from a good family, I am a college-educated person—how dare you!” These comments would likely elicit an apology from the supervisor, but appealing to my class, education, and employment only supports a system that would reward that narrow definition of “normal.”
This is where you being an ally comes into play. Look again at the description of the “normal” American and note how many of these qualities describe you. Yes, you may indeed be a minority on more than one count, but it’s time to take a look at all the privileges you do receive for appearing “normal.” This is your starting point for figuring out how you can help make this world a safe and affirming place for every kind of person.
Make sure to read my column in two weeks, which will be titled “Seven Things Allies (YOU!) Can Do” for more specifics on this theme.
Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. She manages the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.
By Erica Chu
Why You (Yes You!) Should Be An Ally
You may be skimming through this article and thinking, “But I’m gay. Why would I need to be an ally?” Well, by the time you get to the end I think you’ll understand.
One of the worst things a society can do is to act as if the experiences of one group is the universal human experience. A conversation I had with my grandfather when I was eight might help explain this problem. All my life I’d eaten white rice with Chinese food, eggs, or occasionally with some meat and gravy dish, but one day I got in an argument with my Anglo-Nebraskan grandfather, who told me rice was a food exclusively served with sugar, cream, and raisins. I was shocked, horrified, and vehemently against the idea of this rice pudding monstrosity replacing or even supplementing rice the way God intended. I insisted that rice was not a sweet food and that everyone eats plain rice, but he argued that it was a dessert.
Even though I am still uninterested in rice pudding, I can now acknowledge that my experiences and preferences are not universal, and the fact that I like plain white rice and am around a lot of people who also do doesn’t mean everyone does or needs to. It’s fairly easy to come to those conclusions when it comes to food, but the difficult history of minority groups in this country has taught us that such lessons are not so easily learned.
Gay people have historically been treated as outsiders and even been labeled sick, sinful, or somehow set apart from the “normal” people. We have all witnessed the social and emotional pain that a belief in “normal” sexuality has caused and have come out against such unfair treatment, but being straight is not the only sign of “normalcy.”
In the US, there is a persistent belief that normal Americans are of white European ancestry, speak English as a first language, are middle class, heterosexual, cisgendered (nontransgendered), Christian, formally educated, able-bodied, slim, and believe strongly in monogamy, raising children, patriotism, and capitalism.
These qualities are great qualities to have and there is quite a large number of people who this description accurately describes, but there is absolutely no reason someone should be given preferential treatment because they fit the description of “normal” more closely than another. Yet this is exactly what happens in most civic, professional, and social environments.
When we’re shown favoritism by coworkers, people in the street, or by larger institutions such as educational systems and the government, we become privileged. We expect that we’ll be treated in a certain way, and we have options for taking action if our expectations are not met. There’s nothing wrong with expecting to be treated well, but the problem is when we demand that we be treated well at the expense of others.
Privilege comes with how we are perceived, so even though I don’t make much money, because I have fairly new clothes, I am perceived as middle-class and therefore able to gain the privileges that come with being fairly well off. For instance, I’m not followed in clothing stores, I am seated right away in restaurants, and I am not harassed by police. If at any time I am, I have the option to fight back through talking with supervisors and appealing to my “upstanding” qualities. If I tell the supervisor, “Your employees should not harass me because I’m not a thief” they will likely not believe me. I might then be tempted to say, “Look at me: I am clean, my clothes look nice, I have a job, I come from a good family, I am a college-educated person—how dare you!” These comments would likely elicit an apology from the supervisor, but appealing to my class, education, and employment only supports a system that would reward that narrow definition of “normal.”
This is where you being an ally comes into play. Look again at the description of the “normal” American and note how many of these qualities describe you. Yes, you may indeed be a minority on more than one count, but it’s time to take a look at all the privileges you do receive for appearing “normal.” This is your starting point for figuring out how you can help make this world a safe and affirming place for every kind of person.
Make sure to read my column in two weeks, which will be titled “Seven Things Allies (YOU!) Can Do” for more specifics on this theme.
Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. She manages the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.
Dinosaur Rage
Keeping It Queer
By Erica Chu
Dinosaur Rage
My partner T has recently changed jobs, and in her new work environment, everyone assumes she’s like most of the women there who are heterosexual and who value things like getting married or being a good wife or mother. Of course there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being that type of person, but T wants people to recognize her as queer. Even when she tells them, they don’t quite get it because she likes her hair long, wears heels on occasion, yet she’s not a femme. She’s about as much masculine as she is feminine, but no one seems to understand. Common narratives of masculinity or femininity are difficult for her because they’re all too confining—she wants to identify as something unaffiliated.
Our language and culture are not very accommodating, so despite her attempts to be the non-gendered or multiply-gendered person she wants to be, she gets angry when these expectations are placed on her. She’s filled with rage that everyone assumes they know what she is. She jokes that the rage she experiences justifies a new identity as a dinosaur.
It all makes a good joke, but there is a large amount of seriousness involved. Most of us have felt the pain and anger caused by a straight world that expects heterosexuality or assumes stereotypes. The classic protest chant, “We’re here, we’re queer” comes from the same kind of rage against a society that refuses to see us for who we are and what we want to be. For some of our straight friends it’s difficult to understand where some of our anger comes from. Why should we get angry when someone stares at us on the train? Why should we speak ill of overprotective parents who think movies that reference same-sex attraction is too obscene for young people? Open conversations help our straight friends to really understand where we’re coming from and how this rage forms.
The same thing is true when talking about race. Members of racial minority groups sometimes develop negative attitudes because of continued assumptions about who or what people should be based on what they look like. I have a chip on my shoulder about a lot of white people, yet that chip didn’t magically appear. It developed over time through numerous experiences that have taught me many people make assumptions about me and the world based on a very small perspective. I try to be conscious of my own attitudes and work to be fair, but the rage sometimes escapes. If you’ve been asked as often as I have “what are you?” like you’re an alien who requires immediate classification, would you blame me?
This kind of rage can develop in any group of people who’ve been a minority among a larger group that thinks they are the standard for “normal.” These “normative” groups can be straight, white, people without disabilities, middle-aged, middle-class, male, and numerous other possibilities. In the LGBTQAI community, the “normative” group in danger of alienating minority groups are gay men and to a lesser but still present degree lesbians. Bisexual, transgendered, intersex, asexual, queer, and a gamut of other identities are often ignored, or treated as if they should be gay, should be straight, should be “trannies”, or a variety of other things.
One important challenge for any community is to resist the tendency to make expectations and assumptions about people’s identities. It’s difficult especially within communities such as ours, which are based on outsider status, but in such cases it’s all the more important. Even within twice minoritized groups such as transgender or queer communities, there can be a tendency to assume a “normal” narrative of what and who should be considered trans or queer.
We’ve all had the experience of being a part of the minority group. Chances are, we’ve each also participated in the process of alienating a minority group in some manner. It’s unfortunate, but it’s also incredibly important we acknowledge past and present failings so that we can improve and make the present and future what it must become: a safe place for all kinds of people.
Rage is not the most productive of emotions, but understanding how it develops in each of us sheds light on how we can inadvertently cause others to feel similar kinds of rage. So the next time you see someone who is untrusting and maybe has a bad attitude, ask yourself how it developed. What changes can you make, what changes must we make to create a world that is safe for that person? I’ve mentioned gender, sexual orientation, abilities, and age, but what of identities we’ve not even considered? If dinosaur rage can exist, there must be a lot of other kinds and therefore a lot of other work we need to do.
Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. She manages the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.
By Erica Chu
Dinosaur Rage
My partner T has recently changed jobs, and in her new work environment, everyone assumes she’s like most of the women there who are heterosexual and who value things like getting married or being a good wife or mother. Of course there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being that type of person, but T wants people to recognize her as queer. Even when she tells them, they don’t quite get it because she likes her hair long, wears heels on occasion, yet she’s not a femme. She’s about as much masculine as she is feminine, but no one seems to understand. Common narratives of masculinity or femininity are difficult for her because they’re all too confining—she wants to identify as something unaffiliated.
Our language and culture are not very accommodating, so despite her attempts to be the non-gendered or multiply-gendered person she wants to be, she gets angry when these expectations are placed on her. She’s filled with rage that everyone assumes they know what she is. She jokes that the rage she experiences justifies a new identity as a dinosaur.
It all makes a good joke, but there is a large amount of seriousness involved. Most of us have felt the pain and anger caused by a straight world that expects heterosexuality or assumes stereotypes. The classic protest chant, “We’re here, we’re queer” comes from the same kind of rage against a society that refuses to see us for who we are and what we want to be. For some of our straight friends it’s difficult to understand where some of our anger comes from. Why should we get angry when someone stares at us on the train? Why should we speak ill of overprotective parents who think movies that reference same-sex attraction is too obscene for young people? Open conversations help our straight friends to really understand where we’re coming from and how this rage forms.
The same thing is true when talking about race. Members of racial minority groups sometimes develop negative attitudes because of continued assumptions about who or what people should be based on what they look like. I have a chip on my shoulder about a lot of white people, yet that chip didn’t magically appear. It developed over time through numerous experiences that have taught me many people make assumptions about me and the world based on a very small perspective. I try to be conscious of my own attitudes and work to be fair, but the rage sometimes escapes. If you’ve been asked as often as I have “what are you?” like you’re an alien who requires immediate classification, would you blame me?
This kind of rage can develop in any group of people who’ve been a minority among a larger group that thinks they are the standard for “normal.” These “normative” groups can be straight, white, people without disabilities, middle-aged, middle-class, male, and numerous other possibilities. In the LGBTQAI community, the “normative” group in danger of alienating minority groups are gay men and to a lesser but still present degree lesbians. Bisexual, transgendered, intersex, asexual, queer, and a gamut of other identities are often ignored, or treated as if they should be gay, should be straight, should be “trannies”, or a variety of other things.
One important challenge for any community is to resist the tendency to make expectations and assumptions about people’s identities. It’s difficult especially within communities such as ours, which are based on outsider status, but in such cases it’s all the more important. Even within twice minoritized groups such as transgender or queer communities, there can be a tendency to assume a “normal” narrative of what and who should be considered trans or queer.
We’ve all had the experience of being a part of the minority group. Chances are, we’ve each also participated in the process of alienating a minority group in some manner. It’s unfortunate, but it’s also incredibly important we acknowledge past and present failings so that we can improve and make the present and future what it must become: a safe place for all kinds of people.
Rage is not the most productive of emotions, but understanding how it develops in each of us sheds light on how we can inadvertently cause others to feel similar kinds of rage. So the next time you see someone who is untrusting and maybe has a bad attitude, ask yourself how it developed. What changes can you make, what changes must we make to create a world that is safe for that person? I’ve mentioned gender, sexual orientation, abilities, and age, but what of identities we’ve not even considered? If dinosaur rage can exist, there must be a lot of other kinds and therefore a lot of other work we need to do.
Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. She manages the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Turning Over a New Leaf
Keeping It Queer
By Erica Chu
Turning Over a New Leaf
Congratulations! You’ve survived another holiday season. It’s now several days into 2011, and as many of us switch out the old wall calendar for a new one, we often think of what resolutions we have for this coming year. I am (probably like many of you) promising myself that I’ll eat healthier and exercise more, but I’m also thinking of what my priorities should be for the coming year. I am taking stock of my attitudes toward the unavoidable in my life—school, work, family, relationships, friends, and volunteering. I don’t usually put so much effort into New Year’s resolutions, but this year, the calendar just happens to coincide with some significant changes in my daily routine. As a result, I’ve also been considering the things I’ve not had time for, the things I’ve let slip away during the inevitable busyness of the last year.
I was once an avid journaler. I recall being nineteen, and after many months of writing in the same journal, I reached the end. I had bought a new one with a black cover, a succession of clean, white pages, and as I held this new journal in my hands, I wondered what words, what experiences, what stories would fill these same pages by the time I reached its end. It was thrilling to open to the first page, uncap my pen, and make those first few notes into what I knew it would become—a worn, dusty journal containing the documentation of a life I once lived.
That journal sits on a shelf near my desk, and as I flip through this dusty book, I am reminded of how much I’ve forgotten of that time in my life. On one particularly messy page is an entry about my concern for a friend’s well-being. This guy is still a friend, and the worries I expressed in that entry are very much a continued reality, but I am presently less concerned because the past several years I’ve been so caught up in my own life and my own problems I’ve not often thought about how I could help this friend. As I set the old journal down again, I resolve to call him and if I can, be of some support.
The more I think about making resolutions, the more I come to understand that taking stock of the present and making goals for what I want for the future is not enough. I need to look at the future in light of the past. What has been neglected that I can no longer ignore? What have I wanted and why? Do I like the goals I’ve lately been setting for myself, or are there goals from my past that I still want to pursue?
The LGBT community in Illinois is at a similar moment of reflection. As the passing of the Civil Unions Bill gives same-sex couples a sense of local security and as the repeal of DADT gives us hope that federal change will come, it’s very easy to pat ourselves on the back and say we’ve made it. We might take stock of our current situations and make goals based on what we’ve experienced lately—public validation for gay people through same-sex marriage or positive representations on popular television shows. Yet what has been written in the journals of the struggle for LGBT rights? What has been left out? What do we want to be written? What dreams have been forgotten, what priorities neglected?
There are a lot of possible answers to this question, and though I won’t pretend to know the answers to these questions, I will say I believe our priorities need to be reassessed. Passing the civil unions bill is a big step toward making life easier for many in our community, but what will make life more livable for our homeless youth? What will make life more livable for the poor among us, for those in need of safe housing, access to healthcare, access to legal documents, those contemplating suicide, struggling with addiction, or aging closeted and alone?
Whether it’s a new year or a new stage in the life of our community, as we look hopefully onto the blank page of our immediate future, it’s my hope we turn over a new leaf. The immediate past has been full of activism that is progress, but it helps only some among us while many of the most vulnerable have been neglected year after year. Next year, I want to pick up this messy page and read that we have worked for the most vulnerable in our community, so I pick up my pen, and start writing (and working) on my own personal priorities.
Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. She manages the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.
By Erica Chu
Turning Over a New Leaf
Congratulations! You’ve survived another holiday season. It’s now several days into 2011, and as many of us switch out the old wall calendar for a new one, we often think of what resolutions we have for this coming year. I am (probably like many of you) promising myself that I’ll eat healthier and exercise more, but I’m also thinking of what my priorities should be for the coming year. I am taking stock of my attitudes toward the unavoidable in my life—school, work, family, relationships, friends, and volunteering. I don’t usually put so much effort into New Year’s resolutions, but this year, the calendar just happens to coincide with some significant changes in my daily routine. As a result, I’ve also been considering the things I’ve not had time for, the things I’ve let slip away during the inevitable busyness of the last year.
I was once an avid journaler. I recall being nineteen, and after many months of writing in the same journal, I reached the end. I had bought a new one with a black cover, a succession of clean, white pages, and as I held this new journal in my hands, I wondered what words, what experiences, what stories would fill these same pages by the time I reached its end. It was thrilling to open to the first page, uncap my pen, and make those first few notes into what I knew it would become—a worn, dusty journal containing the documentation of a life I once lived.
That journal sits on a shelf near my desk, and as I flip through this dusty book, I am reminded of how much I’ve forgotten of that time in my life. On one particularly messy page is an entry about my concern for a friend’s well-being. This guy is still a friend, and the worries I expressed in that entry are very much a continued reality, but I am presently less concerned because the past several years I’ve been so caught up in my own life and my own problems I’ve not often thought about how I could help this friend. As I set the old journal down again, I resolve to call him and if I can, be of some support.
The more I think about making resolutions, the more I come to understand that taking stock of the present and making goals for what I want for the future is not enough. I need to look at the future in light of the past. What has been neglected that I can no longer ignore? What have I wanted and why? Do I like the goals I’ve lately been setting for myself, or are there goals from my past that I still want to pursue?
The LGBT community in Illinois is at a similar moment of reflection. As the passing of the Civil Unions Bill gives same-sex couples a sense of local security and as the repeal of DADT gives us hope that federal change will come, it’s very easy to pat ourselves on the back and say we’ve made it. We might take stock of our current situations and make goals based on what we’ve experienced lately—public validation for gay people through same-sex marriage or positive representations on popular television shows. Yet what has been written in the journals of the struggle for LGBT rights? What has been left out? What do we want to be written? What dreams have been forgotten, what priorities neglected?
There are a lot of possible answers to this question, and though I won’t pretend to know the answers to these questions, I will say I believe our priorities need to be reassessed. Passing the civil unions bill is a big step toward making life easier for many in our community, but what will make life more livable for our homeless youth? What will make life more livable for the poor among us, for those in need of safe housing, access to healthcare, access to legal documents, those contemplating suicide, struggling with addiction, or aging closeted and alone?
Whether it’s a new year or a new stage in the life of our community, as we look hopefully onto the blank page of our immediate future, it’s my hope we turn over a new leaf. The immediate past has been full of activism that is progress, but it helps only some among us while many of the most vulnerable have been neglected year after year. Next year, I want to pick up this messy page and read that we have worked for the most vulnerable in our community, so I pick up my pen, and start writing (and working) on my own personal priorities.
Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. She manages the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.
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