Category: Activism & Politics

Activist issues and projects, political topics

Cincinnati Pride Continue’s a Tradition of Intimidation and Ignorance

Cincinnati Pride Continue’s a Tradition of Intimidation and Ignorance

Posted on by JAC

I am disappointed to see that even with plenty of strong, capable organizers on staff, Cincinnati Pride continues to value it’s own ‘pride’ over that of the community.

For the second year in a row, the committee finds it appropriate to allowing a religious anti-LGBTQPIA hate group to walk in our Pride parade. Many people have complained, but despite this the Pride committee sees fit to use it’s own judgement, and perhaps the judgement of “other cities” who they consulted, on how to “share” OUR day with those who are responsible for our deaths. This issue is about more than just the parade. It is about Cincinnati Pride’s history of bullying the community it is meant to serve. Cincinnati Pride both allows, and in past years has even condoned, people harassing, insulting, and threatening anyone who challenges Cincinnati Pride’s actions. Over the years, myself and many people of my acquaintance have been targeted for asking well worded, diplomatic questions. There have even been times where LG community members, many of them friends or partners of Pride organizers, and sometimes the Pride organizers themselves have harassed me on the street, cornered me in bars, spammed my email, and even worked their way into my facebook friends list just to troll my wall and try to dig up dirt (only to find none). These actions continue to not only go unchecked, but unrecognized.

Pride organizers have stated that by allowing the hate group into the parade, “show that we do not discriminate and attempt to silence other voices, as has been done to us for so many years.” First, best practice (and common sense) tells us that having a mobile unit of protest has more of an impact than a static one. Cincinnati Pride has assured the public that it is working with the local police to keep the protesters in check as they walk through our parade, but once an act of violence happens it is too late. (I should say physical violence because they are already causing emotional violence). Wouldn’t it be better to not risk our people’s personal and physical wellness for the sake of Pride’s pride? Lastly, and most importantly, PRIDE is a celebration of our people rising up against oppression. To willingly hand over sacred space and air time to our oppressors is as offensive as it is illogical. Pride is a day for our people, especially our youth, to grab a sense of acceptance and normalcy. Today, that will not happen for Cincinnati.

It is important to note that most people do not do community organizing/volunteer work without the best intentions. That being said, intention is not impact and I may be so snarky as to say that good intention is not intelligence. Cincinnati Pride has consistently struggled with accessibility issues, racism, sexism, classism, transphobia, elitism… the list goes on. This is not because the Pride organizers are bad people; it is because Cincinnati is a city with a bad politic. The first Pride was a riot; an uprising to stamp out oppression. In order for our people to rise against our oppressive environment, we have to stand up against it, not lay down in front of it as it walks through our Pride parade.

Cincinnati Pride, remember who your boss is; the people of the LGBTQPIA community. By allowing violence to spread under your roof, you are just as guilty as if you were making the attacks yourself. Whether these attacks are coming from anti-LGBTQPIA protesters or from our own community, you are responsible for the damage they cause. You are responsible for finding the solution.

Ten Reminders for Cis People for when Trans = News

Posted on by JAC

I can appreciate that cis people are interested in supporting Bruce Jenner. I also can appreciate that the attention brought on by Bruce’s coming out brings further visibility to trans people. That said, as the media circus swirled over the weekend, so did my frustrations. Cisgender (cis) people have been doing pretty well with trans identity politics recently, but in the last couple days something went awry.

A cis ally is someone who has some level of knowledge about the trans community and proactively builds solidarity with trans people. We know that there is no right or wrong way to be trans but sometimes our community extends that philosophy to say there is no right or wrong way to be an ally. This surely comes from our people’s desperation for support and recognition. In other words, we take whatever we can get with an obligated gratitude. I rarely abide by this practice which has given me the reputation of being “mean” or “impatient.” (Perhaps those who call me “mean” have not seen me spend hours patiently educating offensive, but well intentioned cis people all with an impenetrable supportive smile.) Contrary to popular belief, it is possible for trans people to appreciate cis efforts for solidarity while also addressing problematic behavior. Supportive education is my general practice, focusing on strengths. I try to avoid value-loaded words like “right” and “wrong” and use strength based language like “a better word would be…” or “a more positive way is…” It’s also to be expected that education will look different depending on who is being taught. If you are brand new to trans stuff, then I’ll be very patient and gentle. If you’ve been working with trans topics for years, my method is going to be more direct saying, “I respect your ability to comprehend this at a higher level so let’s be polite, but real.” Then there are times when an issue is so large, it is necessary to address the cis community as a whole. Every situation requires careful strategy, and sometimes that strategy is simply saying, “No, you’re doing it wrong.”

To help our cis friends along, I have compiled a list of ten reminders for cis people when trans identities become a focal point in the news:

1) You do not have the right (or ability) to comment on or describe the significance of coming out as trans. It is not ok to offer your opinions on how trans people experience ourselves or what it is like to be trans. If you aren’t trans, you don’t know what it is like. You can be supportive without trying to speak for us.

2) Be prepared for trans people to challenge your self-titled allyship or the “trans ally” hashtag in your posts about a white famous person coming out when trans people (namely, trans women of color) are murdered every day and you never say a damn thing about it, with or without a hashtag. #youredoingitwrong

3) There is a difference between following the nice-person-politic internet herd and being an active participant in the trans movement. Trans people do not need cis validation of our joys or sorrows. We need solidarity and cis advocacy. Ask yourself, how often do you read about trans stuff when we are not in pop culture headlines? Are the only trans related posts you make about the death of a trans person? Are you tagging #translivesmatter about white trans people without acknowledging that it is an adaptation/appropriation of #blacklivesmatter? Solidarity requires more than a mouse click or a hashtag; it requires consistent buy-in, socially just education, and speaking out in real life. You do not get extra ally points for every trans post you reblog on tumblr.

4) If you only talk about the trans community when the news is about a white trans person, you are embodying one of the most damaging and pervasive oppressions trans people experience: racism.

5) If you hear yourself say, “The race of a trans person doesn’t matter because trans oppression has nothing to do with race,” just stop because you’re doing everything wrong.

6) Don’t assume trans people are interested in talking to you about trans news or want to hear how brave and magical you think we are. There are ways to honor the trans movement without tokenism and it is cis people’s responsibility to learn how. If you feel the need to bring up an issue, consider whether it is appropriate. “Hey, I heard about that person’s death…” is not appropriate conversation for crossing paths at the doughnut shop. A better statement is, “I appreciate the work you are doing.” Trans people are not responsible for providing unconditional edu-tainment for cis people; We have more important things to do like live our lives, fight oppression, and try to survive past the age of 30. If you blame, shame, or judge a trans person because they chose not to educate you or you felt offended by their response, you’re doing your “allyship” wrong. The first, most important step in allyship is taking a step back.

7) It is not ok to send/post sensationalized trans related articles to a trans person to demonstrate your solidarity. Doing this can not only be a trigger and/or out someone; the article could realistically be about the death or injury of someone we know and your well intentioned “sharing” can create devastating results. Furthermore, do not interpret a trans person’s internet silence as not knowing about or ignoring a news story. Believe me, we know, and probably knew before you did. We may not post about it because the news language may conflict with our values; we could be too angry to speak; we may be grieving. We are likely not posting as part of our self-care and we are often processing the event offline with other trans people. If you are concerned for a friend, a better option is to check in privately and offer support (note that support does not include interview questions – see #6).

8) Do not connect every event about a living trans person to a trans person who has died. It can be meaningful to hear a cis person say, “I care about trans rights.” It may be less meaningful to hear, “I care about trans rights because “person X” died.” When someone says that to me all I can think is, “Well, a lot of people died before that person… and thanks for only caring if we are dead.” Then, inevitably, the trans person becomes responsible for comforting the cis person in their sadness over our oppression. If you want to talk about trans rights, recognize that we are more than headstones and news stories. We live and breathe and some of us have to work hard to ensure we continue doing that. Focus your conversations on our fight, not our deaths.

9) Do not make jokes about us. Do not make jokes about our bodies, our names, our appearances, or our identities. To not claim that it is “all in good fun” and defend transphobic humor by saying you “make fun of everyone.” There is a difference between stating a celebrity is “dramatic” and making a food product represent a trans person’s disembodied genitals. This kind of humor is rooted in the same transphobic oppression that causes us to be murdered. Recognize that your humor is a form of violence, and when you do, educate your peers (or your customers) on why you are changing your behavior. If you apologize for a cruel joke, but do nothing to stop the room from laughing, you’re doing your apology wrong.

10) Listen to trans people. I repeat: Listen to trans people. Many trans people need every ounce of our time and energy to focus on our survival and the survival of our people. If one of us makes an effort to educate you, be grateful that we are offering our precious resources. Be thankful that a trans person trusts you enough to share our feelings. Trans people face harassment and oppression countless times every day. You may only be corrected by a trans person once or twice in your life. Recognize the rarity of what you are receiving; we would not address something if we did not feel it was important. Lean into it and use it to grow. A call out is not an attack; it is a sign of respect and a desire for solidarity. Listen to trans people and respond with humility and gratitude.

No one likes to be told they’re wrong, even as a clever running gag to break up the heaviness of a pretty serious series of call outs. Call outs are hard. You might feel hurt; compare that how much it hurts us to experience the oppression you accidentally embodied. You might think we are being mean; to us, your behavior is beyond mean – it is cruel and exhausting. Is it not fair and just for a trans person to draw attention to behavior that promotes our oppression so it can be corrected? Is it fair for cis people to insult and belittle us for standing up for ourselves? This is not about you; it is about the impact your words and actions have. The most important thing to remember is that intent is irrelevant. When I am teaching classes, I describe privilege like dancing. If you are busting a move with a friend and then accidentally hit them in the face, you friend has a right to be displeased because they just got hurt. They may tell you, “Hey, don’t dance like that because you hurt me.” You can get mad; you thought the move was going to be awesome and you didn’t mean to hit them… You could get embarrassed and run away, leaving your friend alone in their injury. You could ignore it; it’s not your fault they got in the way. Or you can say, “I’m sorry. It was an accident, but that doesn’t stop you from being injured. I’ll rework my dance so it doesn’t hit you or anyone else in the face.” We all make mistakes; no one can do everything right (including us magical trans people). But once you receive feedback on your mistakes, even if it hurts, you can work to do better. It’s time to do better. We have come far enough in this movement that it is fair to expect cis allies to get it right and to take responsibility when you don’t. Until that becomes a reality, expect that sometimes you’re going to be reminded when you’re doing it wrong. Use it, because then you’ll start to do it right.

Drag Culture and the Argument of Transmisogyny

Drag Culture and the Argument of Transmisogyny

Posted on by JAC

I received an “Ask” on my Tumblr page discussing drag as transmisogynistic. Below was my response and since I get a lot of questions about this, I felt it would be useful to cross-post it here.

“There are views that drag is transmisogynistic, yes. I understand why some folks have come to find drag as a weapon against trans people and I feel the reason for this is two fold: abuses from more privileged groups and a lack of historical context. I respect each person’s right to have their own opinions and have no wish to challenge or invalidate anyone. I think that when discussing whether drag is transmisogynistic or not, is important to remember a few things.

History: Historically, “drag” is very significant in the history of communities that, today, we would call trans and gender non-conforming queers. Genderbending is a global theatrical practice, but for sake of time I’ll speak about it in the USA. In the late 19th century until the early-mid 20th cent. “drag” was called female and male impersonation. The sway of theatrical cross-dressing to impersonation came with vaudeville and it included singing and dancing as well as genderbending. M/F Impersonation was seen as a both a way to worship gender as well as a way to play with it and it’s norms. In addition to being fun, the purpose was to make us all question about what truly is a man or a woman and do bodies and cultural expectations really mean as much as we think? Also, drag, as a craft, was the first venue for gender non-conforming people to create lives as their true selves. In the 1920s, for the first time ever people in the USA (as a colonized country) where able to bend gender and dress as they wanted, be who they wanted, and not be arrested or institutionalized. Granted, when the post-war puritanism took hold this was all taken away, but it did happen and it impacted millions of people. The development of the trans community came from two branches: hetero supported transsexualism (started around the 1940s) and queer community gender transgression (started at the beginning of time). Both are valid; both are real; both are equally important. Drag is a part of queer gender transgression and trans people would not have this community as we know it without the power we sized through drag. Drag has played, and continues to play, a very important role in both queer and trans visibility, community building, safer space creation, and artistic craft. To forget this, is to forget our elders who brought us here today.

Drag is a diverse, artistic craft: RuPaul’s Drag Race is not an all encompassing representation of drag; farthest thing from it. Drag is not only DMAB people in feminine expressions for performance (drag queens); It is also DMAB folks dressing in masculine expressions (drag kings); Trans people doing theater, or doing drag as other genders; gender performance art that uses gender to communicate messages (like what I do); uses of hyper femininity and hyper masculinity (such as burlesque and boylesque); and heterosexual people challenging gender norms. Drag is about the conversation of gender and it is queer. It is the ONLY artistic craft we can, without argument, claim as exclusively belonging to the queer and trans community. Even if a hetero person wants to do drag, they have to come into our space to do it; they have to be an ally. We use drag as a form of artistic expression, merrymaking, activism, and beauty to discuss how we are different from hetero people and how there are more similarities than the heteronormative system of power would ever want to admit. There is a disappearing understanding in white gay culture especially of the deep connection between gender and sexuality. Many years ago, our community understood the fluidity between maleness and femaleness and how that impacted our lives as queer people; that is where drag came from. It was a way for us to reflect our realities for our own eyes, out of reach of the hetero cis world that would rather see us dead. There were no gay tv shows, no trans people on magazines. There were drag stages. That was all we had. When I was coming out, it was all I had.

Language: By the mid-late 1960s and 1970s the trans movement was starting to take visible shape. By the 80s, the word “transgender” was slowly gaining more recognition and at its creation “transgender” included not just trans folks as we know them today (women, men, and non-binary folks) but also drag performers, gender non-conforming cis people (butch lesbians for example), and anyone else who transgressed gender. Drag performers, who were trans women and cis men or trans men and cis women, where considered linguistically interchangeable because, at the time, gender was defined by expression, not identity. Back then, it was impossible to draw a line between drag performers and trans people as a group – it could only be done by individuals (a good cultural example of this is Candy, who associated with Andy Warhol). The line did exist, and could be considered to exist as early as the 1950s, but it was squiggly, dashed, and in some points invisible; in some communities it is still like this today. It was not until the mid-2000s (after 2006) that transgender truly became focused on gender identity over gender expression. In addition to this, we MUST remember that trans is not a universal term. There are many folks, particularly in communities of color where gender and sexuality are not as cut apart as in white cultures, where trans is not used. There are masses of people (countless) who from an external view would be called trans (in particular, would be called trans women) but they call themselves drag queens. Many of these people live as women every day, take estrogen and have gender affirming surgeries; they are women, but they never call themselves trans. To rigidly consider drag as transmisogynistic is to erase the identities of people who are a part of our community. This issue of erasure causes significant obstacles in accessing resources, in particular for poor trans women of color who do not use the language doctors and government offices want to hear when asking for resources. We must also remember the role classism plays here. Many trans women, whether they self identity as that or not, make a living from being drag performers. Performing drag does not make a person any less trans or any less of themselves; we are no different from other trans people… except we may be more theatrically talented… :P  Anyway, it is critical that we continue to unpack the word “trans” and recognize that the definition and the experience is not the same for everyone.

Systems of Oppression: The connection of drag to transmisogyny primarily comes from, no surprise here, cissexist systems that refuse the realness of trans people, most visibly trans women. The “men in dresses” issue is very old, but the connection between drag and trans women is relatively new. Trans identities where not generally visible to society until the 60s, and not even by much then. During that time, and as transgender branched from transsexual, drag performers and now identified trans folks visibly populated the same spaces. This proximity lead oppressors (straight and gay) to use drag as a method of attack on trans women, and to a lesser degree trans men (there where no words for non-binary back then). Oppression has also been promoted by cis-gay communities and cis drag performers. A sticking point that is often mentioned is the use of the T-word which we see unapologetically used in drag spaces more than nearly anywhere else (it bothers me too). The reason for this (note I say reason, not excuse) comes from two sources.

1- As I mentioned, trans historically belongs to both what we consider modern trans people AND drag performers which meant that at one time the t-word was owned by both. (When looking at the use of the t-word in porn-exploitation, it is likely that cis people got the t-word from trans people themselves and then began to fetishize it.) This is why so many drag performers, in particular queens, hold on to the t-word with their teeth and aggressively think they can use it/claim it. One would think that people would recognize that language evolves… one would hope folks would understand that what was “ok” 20-40 years ago is not necessarily “ok” today, but unfortunately some people have not figured that out yet…much to our chagrin.  Which leads me to the 2nd primary reason oppression can be found buried within drag culture…

2 – Basic cissexist privilege; Most drag performers feel a deep connection to their drag characters and they were/are unable/unwilling to understand how someone, often who was/is a fellow performer, may be different from them. Essentially, “I’m wearing the same outfit as you and I’m not a woman which means you can’t be one either. So, I’m gonna say whatever I want and invalidate you – but it’s all in good funnnneeeehhhhhh-barf…” Male privilege rears it head in horrific, twisted ways in drag communities, which many find ironic considering that the people expressing this male privilege are men expressing as women – and some folks are actually trans women and trans men. There are many layers of privilege, sexism, racism, (all the isms) in drag culture; to those of us within that culture, it is a never-ending fight and conversation about how we can do right by our people through drag. In order for us to continue this important, historical craft as a method of empowerment, we have to push it to grow in social justice.

One other system of oppression that helped develop concerns of drag = transmisogyny is the heteronormative gender binary. A significant root for the vilification of drag as a weapon upon trans people is from transsexual separatists. Transsexual separatists do not want any form of gender non-conformity present in the community; they feel that if the identities of others do not perfectly align with their own, their personal identities are invalidated. They also feel that any non-binary or genderbending identity or expression will destroy their own legitimacy in the eyes of greater society. When I came out, this was usually manifested in the phrase, “You’re fucking it up for the rest of us.” Many transsexual separatists took an active role in demonizing drag as a threat to trans women and even carried it as far as demonizing any trans woman who where queer or visible trans activist, including people like Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson. The saddest part about this is that many of the people they targeted where trans women themselves, albeit ones who were poor, queer, and people of color who either where no able or did not wish to “transition” in the way power systems saw as legitimate. Sound familiar to anyone? Cause it should.

Again, I feel it is up to the individual to decide their feelings and opinions. I readily agree that there are parts of the drag community that are transmisogynistic and that many cis views of drag and trans women are often transmisogynistic. That doesn’t mean that drag as a cultural practice, or a historical experience, is by default transmisogynistic. And through I have directly experienced a lot of transphobia and cissexism in the drag community (and I mean A LOT), I still speak from my own place of privilege as a DFAB person. The history of trans misogyny has had less of an impact on my experience than it has on my friends who are trans women. All of that said, I still think it is very important that as our community gets younger, we continue to look back at our history. It is critical for us all to understand where we came from, which includes the importance of drag in a historical context as well as a modern craft. Different strokes for different folks, but we are all within the same community.”

For anyone who is curious; yes, I do have two workshop lectures on this subject so that is why this post is so thorough and organized. lol”

Trans Community Disappointed in City's Response to Police LGBT Newsletter

Trans Community Disappointed in City’s Response to Police LGBT Newsletter

Posted on by JAC

Op Ed originally posted on the Cincinnati and Kentucky Enquirer’s website, February 2nd, 2015.

“Last week, Cincinnati Police LGBT Liaison Officer Angela Vance was publicly reprimanded by Mayor John Cranley and Cincinnati Police Chief Jeffrey Blackwell for her inner-department newsletter that addressed the recent death of transgender teen Leelah Alcorn.

In the letter, Vance called her fellow officers to discuss the societal systems that influence transgender violence – specifically what can come from accepting vs. non-accepting religious groups. Of the 1,000 officers that receive this newsletter, four complained. This spurred Blackwell and Cranley to publicly apologize, admonishing Vance. Blackwell assured the public he will “review” Vance’s future writings before publication. Cranley speciously reframed Vance’s words as “the government telling people where to worship.” Whatever hints of support may be laced into these criticisms, there is a larger issue here: When even the slightest pressure is on, city officials aren’t up to the test.

Vance did her job, which is to educate her department about systems that impact LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer) people in Cincinnati. Vance goes above and beyond to support this city, and I am saddened that in turn, the city does not do the same for her. The emotion displayed in her newsletter is proof of how hard she works to draw attention to LGBTQ needs – a job she was asked to do. Now that she has people’s attention, the reaction further demonstrates the lack of LGBTQ cultural competency among city officials.

I was born and raised in Cincinnati. I am also a transgender person. Cincinnati is a very difficult and dangerous place for transgender, gender non-conforming, and non-heterosexual people to live. I founded an organization that serves transgender people, and even as a provider, I struggle to survive here. I met Vance when she was appointed as the LGBT liaison. Like any strong ally to the transgender community, she immediately reached out to collaborate. In the field, Vance and I meet youth whose stories mirror Leelah Alcorn’s every day. We don’t do this work because we are paid for it (which we aren’t). We do it because it is our passion, and passion can inspire as well as intimidate. Vance wrote her newsletter with a passion to inspire good deeds among her colleagues, and people got scared.

City officials have discussed transgender rights more in the last year than in all of Cincinnati’s history, but supporting transgender people also requires supporting those who speak up for us. It is not easy to discuss the transgender community when many people still oppose our right to live, let alone our right for civil inclusion. This is why we need people, especially those in power, to speak out. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “The ultimate measure of a (person) is not where (they) stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where (they) stand at times of challenge and controversy.” Cranley and Blackwell know that the four offended officers represent a larger anti-LGBTQ population which can, and realistically might, stir controversy. And so, they chose to coddle the feelings of the privileged rather than acknowledge the violence that impacts transgender people every day.

To stop violence, we must discuss how it is manifested as well as what role we may play in its progression. Rather than discipline Vance for starting the conversation, we must urge the city to continue it. We must call for dialogue, education, and acceptance among police officers and city workers. City Hall and Cincinnati Police must work with LGBTQ people to combat oppression. Vance is doing her part to create change. It is time for city officials to follow suit.”

Link to original article. 

Obama Could Do Better, But Better Him Than Me

Posted on by JAC

The gay community is a buzz over Obama’s mention of gay rights in his inaugural address, stating he wanted equality for “our gay brothers and sisters.” My internet feeds are full of “thank you, Obama” posts and happy memes are already flooding facebook and tumblr, but I won’t be reblogging them. Not to be that person who always finds something to pick at, but let’s be real: I am totally that person. At the risk of getting tiny, rainbow-colored USA flags thrown at me, I have to say I don’t think Obama’s speech was the best thing ever. Yes, it was good. I would even call it great, but I can think of at least one way that it could have been a whole lot better.

You all know what I’m going to say, and I am sure most of you already thought of this yourselves. Obama’s quote “gay brothers and sisters” doesn’t include trans* people, among others. I know, I know. I am sure he was using ‘gay’ to represent the big acronym, but still; If you’re gonna talk about inclusion, your language should be inclusive. Obama has used the expression LGBT before, and he has used the words transgender and gender identity and expression. He knows what they are, and based on his work, conceptually understands the difference. Still, he cut corners and said “gay” and that is annoying. I’ve already run into some folks talking down at me saying “well, you shouldn’t negate the significance of this… The language isn’t that important…” But that is really easy to say if you got counted. If you didn’t, you’re gonna be sitting on the sidelines saying “WTF?” Like I said, I understand the significance of what he said. That doesn’t mean it was significant enough to make me feel recognized. Not trying to sound greedy, but he is MY president who is running MY country. I voted for him, so I think I have a right to want more. Gay is a big word and, like Queer, it means a lot. I use Queer to wrap trans* and “gay” together commonly, but if I am teaching a lecture, writing a speech, or promoting an argument, you better believe I am sure to note the differences between the communities. It may sound picky, but it is relevant. Relevance is what counts in an argument  and when Obama did his speech, he was promoting the argument that “gay” rights mattered. He was speaking to the nation, but he was also attempting to speak to our community and say “I see you.”  But for a transgender person who is straight and doesn’t mesh with the LGBT umbrella, that speech did not speak to them. To a person who is genderqueer and the gendered words “brothers and sisters” feels more erasing than embracing, that speech did not speak to them. For a trans* person who sees “gay” as close to their heart, but not a descriptor of their own identity, that speech did not speak to them. I could create the same argument for pansexuals, asexuals, bisexuals, intersex people, fluid folks, the list goes on because there is a lot about our language that is lacking. My point isn’t about tiny details of what isn’t ‘correct’ in his speech. It is that the Trans* community is a separate community from gay, despite how we may overlap. So if we talk about inclusion, we we have to recognize relevant differences. We won’t ever accomplish change if we don’t continue to lovingly push ourselves and others to do better.

Overall, I dig Obama. And when I say I “dig” Obama, that is with the disclaimer that I can never “dig” a president without clarifying that I know that, above all, Obama is a politician. When I was a baby-activist working in the  early 2000s anti-war movement, politicians burned me. I can’t say I ever really put my faith in the governmental system, but there was a time when I was really invested in it, and it broke my heart. I can’t feel mad about it now because the scar I got then spurred me into a lifelong dedication to grassroots, community focused organizing. I learned that while we can technically never trust anyone to do what we know to be right, there are value systems we can work inside to enhance our chances.  I can 100% stand behind a cause or a movement because it is about values, but when you talk about backing a person who is fallible and corruptible, it’s a whole different story. In order to find trust in another person, we must find common values. In activism, the foundational value is making change for the greater good. Politicians are different animal, more dependent on the ebb and flow of society, their political party, and their funders than one would find advisable for a so-called impartial representative of the masses. I’m not trying to outright hate on politicians and say that they are too soulless to be activists. Many politicians are also activists and there are many activists who work in politics. There are also plenty (too many) activists that are really politicians (and are in the wrong field). I find that often we make the mistake of assuming that politicians are by default activists. They are not. Activists and politicians have many shared qualities; Both conceptually work for the greater good by using their intellectual power and social talents to gain resources and accomplish change, and most foundationally, they are serving something larger than themselves. The difference is the end game;  For politicians, the winning goal is look out for #1. Politicians can be bought and sold, they can be controlled, and they can be destroyed. Not every president is an activist, but every President is a politician. Politicians work for themselves, and they work for their party. They can only go as far as their political advisers will let them. Obama surely has his own interests (personal and professional) in supporting the “gay” community, but you better believe that if it started to cause too much trouble he would drop us like a hot coal. It is entirely possible that he purposefully didn’t use the word “transgender” because he considered it to be too controversial. Politicians may have inner ethics, but they have to challenge them to the point of erasing them sometimes. Admittedly, activists are not inherently “good” either. The KKK is an activist organization (shudder). But if we aim this conversation at a drive to succeed for the “greater good” as we, social justice advocates, understand it, then we can talk about activism as a positive force. Now, I am speaking as an activist  so I am without a doubt glorifying the trade, but someone’s gotta do it. Unlike politicians, your average activist goes about their work speaking loudly for about a cause and staying relatively silent about themselves. Activists are not about #1; they are about #10000000000001. It is about making the big see the small, helping the quiet be loud, and showing the weak that weakness is just another kind of strength. Now you might argue that a politician can do all those things too, and you’d be right. But as you can see by my beautiful graph, the differences between politicians and activists are small, but significant. Also, there is a significant overlap between politicians and non-profit organizations, which can result in more positive or negative effects depending on how the organization is run. Politics and activism are woven together, and also placed far apart.

activists vs politicians

I know I’m giving politicians a hard time here, but there is a reason for it. We all know the saying that politics are dirty, and so politicians, who engage in politics, by default must be even dirtier. And while I would consider (possibly with some self-serving naivete) that Obama is one of the “cleaner” presidents our country has had, I’m not fooled. He is a US President; he is going to kill people, buy weapons, ignore problems; he is going to bargain (healthcare bill), he is going to compromise (troops overseas), and he is going to play games in the fucked up playground that is the international market/war field. No US President is a perfect humanitarian. The way we run the world makes it impossible and until we, the human race, find ourselves able to value humanity over money or power or fear, it will always be that way. Since I have no direct sense of control of how Obama, or any other politician will act, how honorable they will be, if what they say is what they mean, or if they mean what they say, I’ll always be giving politicians the sideways eye unless they can prove otherwise, which FYI a couple folks have. Still, I will never 100% stand behind a true politician, no matter how many vocab words they know. And no matter how much I may work in policy, lobby, campaign, and canoodle in the politics game, I will never be a politician. However, I will vote for one because I understand that in this system, change can not live by activism alone. Someone has to be willing to not only play the politics game, but become an actual political player, and just like anything, it is a balance of gifts and sacrifices. I can, will, and do sacrifice a lot for the sake of activism, and the things I can and won’t do, people like Obama will. And in his own facilitation of the politician craft, Obama has been able to do what no one else has. His inaugural speech, and his administration in general,  have majorly recognized and supported the intersectional LGBTQPIA movement(s). He has been steering his administration far beyond lip-service that other presidents rarely even attempted. He has proven to be more that just a one-trick pony by continuing to promote the conversation and actively participating in significant policy changes as well as promoting cultural changes that make people, including trans* people, trust him. This past year, many trans* organizers, myself included, worked to re-elect Obama, not just because the alternative would set back our movement, but because we actually believe that for the first time a president could realistically help propel it forward.  While I am a realist about who and what Obama is, I appreciate the unprecedented effort Obama has made for us. He does all the shit I can’t and won’t do, and he’s made it to a pretty good place. Now, do it better.

Back to School; Grudges, People, and Progress

Posted on by JAC

I’ve never been very dedicated to school. As a non-traditional learner with typical ‘atypical’ learning (dis)abilities, I was never very adept at the “learning environment” as it was presented to me. I entered grad school with two primary motivations: hope and desperation.  I was hoping to become better; to become more skilled and learn the things I hadn’t been able to teach myself. I was desperate for more; I wanted to do more to help my community. I wanted  more authority over the systems that ruled over me. I wanted more power, and power comes from getting that paper.

I really don’t like my university; And not just because it is an exemplary representation of the corporate college industrial complex; its sick sports obsession; its gross financial incompetence; or its staunch conservatism. I don’t like it because I’ve got a grudge. It was there I first put faith in my ability to change a system, and was first truly let down. I was used to being rejected by the learning process, but this was the first place I actively decided I would do something – not wanted to it or hoped to; I decided I would change it, no matter what.  Contrary to the stories I flung at administrators, I didn’t work for change out of  school spirit. My activism was aimed more at thwarting the institution’s dynamic, rather than supporting it. The institution pushed back, and hard, until I ended up spending all my time doing activism, not studying. The school was a system I was trapped inside and making resources felt like the only way out. Activism was my education, the classes were auxiliary. When I look back, I’m still amazed I graduated; only took me 6 straight years… And when I was done, I prepared my activist projects for new leaders and I got the hell out. I don’t think I thought I would ever come back, but here I am.

This winter, I attended an open house for the campus’ brand new LGBTQ Center. It was surreal for me to walk into the (exact) space that six years ago, I ignited the (long smoldering) fight to get. I came to the event feeling happy about the space being built, but still angry about my own blood in the bricks. But when I walked in the door, all I felt was nervous relief; a mix of retreating anxiety and seething frustrations. The small program started and I listened to the administrators ramble about how great their work was for this space. I wondered if they were really as delusional as they seemed. Looking them in the face, they didn’t remember me as the frustrated student activist in front of their desk. I was just another student they “helped.” I felt even more disconnected from the institution, and just as jaded about the administration. I listened to the last speaker with low expectations. There was a lot of disappointment in our joint past. Years ago, she was both a hurdle and a step in my work to get a queer center. I felt like she could never see past her desk, though perhaps not from a lack of trying. She always loved to compliment the faculty and staff, forgetting to mention the reason they were all there: the students. In my years as an organizer, it was a huge point of contention between us. I respected her for listening to my complaints; I judged her for not acting on them. When she stood in front of the room, I was shocked to see, through the folds of her papers, the names of student organizations. After all these years, she thanked the students first – in fact it was the only thing she talked about. You could tell she was a little out of her element, but her intention was clear. She was the only speaker that day who mentioned students in any context that was not a direct compliment to themselves. She made a point to show the students had done the work, and I made a point to thank her for that. In the after-program crowd, a dean walked past me. I recognized him as one of the many talking heads I had met as an undergrad; another face behind a desk, saying he wanted to help, but mostly powerless to do anything about it. As he came by me, he smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you again.” he said, “I glad you were hear for this.” I have to admit it. I was shocked. I smiled and shook his hand, but I doubt he knew why I was so glad to do it. I was grateful that someone cared enough to remember me. Sometimes we have to be reminded that administrators are people too. I guess I should know that, considering I was one for a short time. And if working in a college environment (as an activist and again as a professional) taught me anything, it was that administrators are not all suits behind desks; there are ones who really care about the students. Being in front of the desk showed me the red tape; being behind the desk made me feel it. An administrator can be a wrench in the gears, yes, but the machine is the real problem. “Higher Education” “Student Life” is a machine; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. That day, it worked, in more ways than one.

All of this didn’t sell me on the institution. Call me a judgey mcjudgerface if you like, but it takes more than a couple warm fuzzies to win me over – though it is a good start. And though I wasn’t feeling any strong sense of kinship with the admins, I did sense was a bond with the students. I watched them sitting on the floor, smiling, happy to have their own space; a place where they could feel safe and be themselves. They have a LGBTQ center. It isn’t perfect, and I know I’ll soon decide it still isn’t good enough, but it is there – it exists. When I was in undergrad, that was just about all I wanted… Standing there, seeing the reality that I had only dreamed about, it reminded me of how I used to feel: that passion I felt, and the desperation; how tirelessly I worked, how much it hurt every time I was kicked down, and how much stronger I felt every time I got back up. I was filled by a humbling sense that I played a small part in something bigger. It reminded me of how important campus activism can be, how many people it can reach, and how many lives it can change. It may seem like an organizing “small fish,” but when the pond is a puddle, a small fish is pretty damn big.

Why Almost Everyone is Queer

Posted on by JAC

More than once, and at a growing rate, people ask me about my uses of the words queer and genderqueer, raising concerns that I may be encouraging appropriation of these terms. It is a fascinating topic and I’m always glad to discuss it, but I’ll admit that it pains me a little whenever it is brought up.  Why would anyone not want to share the word queer? Now, you might be thinking “JAC, you know it is not that simple.” And yes, I know it isn’t a simple situation, but is complicated or just complex? Unexpectedly, as a response to a question someone asked me on Tumblr, I formulated a response that does a decent job at encompassing my thoughts on it, but I felt the need to expand on it more.

Queer is a word that, in the most general sense, represents a lack of normalcy and cultural recognition/legitimization – most often directly related to personal sexuality and/or gender identity and expression. When I say “almost everyone is queer”, what I mean is that despite the projected norm, the majority of people have/are non-normative behaviors, expressions, and/or identities. An easy example of this is found in the sexuality research of Kinsey and Kline (whose studies have been repeated globally with the same results). Their research showed that the average person was somewhere on the non-heterosexual (or “queer”) spectrum. Is it considered normal for two people with similar bodies to partner with one another? No. Is it more normal for two people of increasingly different bodies to recognize the legitimacy of variance? No. Gender thickens the plot because there is such an immeasurable variance within gender identities and expressions. Is it normal for someone to identify outside the binary or as something other than what they were assigned at birth? Is that more or less normal than a male assigned at birth, male identified person who really loves to shop, make crafts, and is inclined to cry? Who is less normal? Who is more queer?

Now, even though it is probable that most people are objectively queer in some, that doesn’t mean that they are subjectivelyqueer – and in when speaking about identity, subjectivity is all that matters. No one can define our identity for us. I think that people don’t own queerness either because 1) they don’t feel it applies because of their proximity to normalcy and/or 2) they don’t know it could apply because of our culture’s rigid use of labels and related negative views personal exploration/flexibility of identity. This leads us to the other half of your comment about levels of oppression in experience. You ask if someone can be queer if they haven’t experienced certain oppressions. My question is who defines what oppressive experiences are required to be “queer?” We all experience varying levels of oppression and privileges – some more of one than the other. I think the issue is not whether or not someone is allowed to claim the identity of queer based on experiences of oppression, but whether a person recognizes their own experiences of oppression and privilege based on their identities. If you are appropriating something then you are claiming something that is not yours. Unlike cultural traits/practices or community words like tranny or fag, queer has no real definitive property other than a lack of normalcy (generally applied to gender/sexuality, but not always). Difference is a spectrum that no group or person can exclusively own which means there are an infinite number of ways to be queer. Because of this, I feel that queer is a word that is rarely appropriated. There is no way to decide that someone is not the identity they claim. You can assume they are not, you can even decide they are not based on your own definitions, but that doesn’t change the other person.

I’ll be honest, I am not as saintly as I appear, always welcoming people to come under the queer umbrella. I have hang-ups about what queer “should be” too. To me, being queer is more than having a non-normative sexuality/gender identity or expression; it is also about personal politic. Queer is more than LGBT; it is radical, proactive, and socially just. If someone claims queer but I don’t think they fit the bill, I will totally be a secret Judgey McJudgerface about it but I will challenge myself to be open-minded. To that person, queer may not include personal politic and I have no right to tell them otherwise. Queer is about more than what I think it is, whether I like it or not.

Many people seem feel that if words are more widely used they lose meaning but I think, if anything, it puts more meaning into them. It’s like people are worried that if we aren’t careful, our language will spin out of control and go beyond our reach, but that fear is a little too 2nd wave for my comfort. As long as we use it, own it, educate about it, this language is ours. People will change words to mean varying things because that is what language does; it grows and changes to better fit a growing and changing community.  And yes, that means that some more words may not always be used in the exact same way that applies to you, but community isn’t just about YOU, it’s all about US. Community has an I and a U in it. (It also has an O for OMG he just made a horrible 3rd grade”letter” joke.) No, I don’t want someone to ‘steal’ my communities’ words or misuse our language; some might say I’m pretty damn picky about it. I think that when people appropriate things they should be held accountable. This isn’t about allowing language to be misused, or to become some foreign, meaningless thing. It is about helping it grow into something that is truly useful for our community.  We must be flexible: we must try to understand intentions and recognize privileges to promote the most inclusive and accessible community we can. Sometimes I want, no I need boundaries and safe spaces; somewhere I can go where I know everyone else there will be very similar to me. I want to listen and understand; I want to speak and feel understood. Closed spaces are very valuable, but they are not the only things we need. A community can not be a closed space.

I’ve been repeatedly told that I’m not queer enough, not trans enough, not genderqueer enough, femme enough, not ‘insert identity here’ enough… Someone else can’t define me; that’s my job. Their job is to listen and try to understand and in turn, I must do the same for them. Instituting hierarchies and requirements disempowers others and that is the opposite of what queer is all about. Boundary policing is one of the more significant inter-community oppressions we must overcome in order to obtain our equal rights and recognition in this world. We can not continue to separate each other out of frustrations that one may have it easier than we do. We are all scrambling for limited resources, but legitimacy is not one of them. There is enough for everyone if we are willing to fight for it. So, if someone tells me they are queer, I’ll take it; not just because I can’t prove otherwise (nor would I want to) and not just because there are not enough of us, but also because by using the word “queer” they are saying “I see the need for radical change and I want to be a part of it.” If I meet someone who thinks they might be queer, I will gladly state that queer could be for them what it has been for me; empowerment. I’m not just inclusive, I’m a fucking recruiter. I want as many queers as possible, and that is not just my Midwestern isolation talking. With so many people, even within our own “LGBTQ” community, counting us out, I want to be the one counting people in. That is why I say “most people are queer.” I believe that if you feel different and want a place to call home, if you want change and you are willing to fight for it, then you count. In this movement, if you are here, you’re queer.

Ohio Queer Youth Bullied, Beaten; Who is Fighting Back?

Posted on by JAC

October 17th, in Chillicothe, Ohio a teenage boy was jumped and brutally beaten by his classmates because of his perceived queer sexual orientation. One boy attacked the 15 year old freshman while a second filmed the incident. The video has gone viral, but since I tend to find the promotion of such things without the express consent of those involved to be exploitative and sickening you will not find it on this blog (no matter how ‘moving’ it may be to the audience looking on from the safety of the present). The story didn’t break until a few days ago, and just after it did another attack happened in the central Ohio town of Westerville. We talk about bullying a lot now days, but what do we actually do about it? Facebook blasts, Tumblr reblogs, and attention from national organizations are good for visibility but how can we touch the reality of those who are out in literal fields battling oppression and violence?

Three weeks ago: I cut through the Appalachian hills of my beautiful Ohio. On my way home from a gig, I planned a somewhat impromptu pit stop to visit a dear friend and activist colleague who lived in Chillicothe. I drove into the town, taking in the Fall air and quaint scenery through my open window. I turned the corner toward the small town “Main Street” and was immediately hit with muffled shouts from the street: “What…. pink hair! Fucking gay! …Sick!” Not five minutes later it happened again, this time from a passing truck. It’s the same every time. You feel it in your gut; the panic and fear washes over you leaving behind tough-guy thoughts and extreme hyper-vigilance… you get used to it in that weird way where you never really get used to it. Just the sight of my friend brought me some relief.  I watched her walk down the street without apology, surrounded by overall clad factory workers and towering historic buildings worn from wind and winter. She wasn’t afraid like I was. To her, Chillicothe is her her ancestral home town and her backwoods battlefield. Her fight: to make a safe place to live with her partner, to raise her children, and to foster her community. The two of us are bonded for a lot of reasons, one being that she and I often commiserate with each other about the over all conservative hellishness of where we live… But Cincinnati is one thing, Chillicothe is another.  I listen to her talk about her daughter dealing with a bully (who assaulted her and made continual threats including being calling her a lesbian and a dyke) and how the school’s administration would do nothing to help her. Sound familiar? It should because it is the same cry for help the mother of the boy beaten this past month is voicing, and that of most parents of bullied kids. This is not an isolated problem, and it is not the fault of one child, one school, or one administrator. This is a historical, systematic problem.

I was bullied growing up, but I was lucky. I was lucky that any insult I heard I got over and any fight I was thrown into I ‘won.’ I was lucky that I found a way to survive the hatred of other people as well as the hatred the built up inside myself. Still, here I am as an adult; back in school and I am afraid. I am afraid to walk down the hall by myself, afraid to talk to my classmates about my life, I am afraid to call out others (including professors) when they speak/act in ways that are harmful to me and my people. I am afraid of being physically and emotionally hurt because of something I can not change: Who I am. Imagine what that must be like for a kid; someone with no power, no voice, and no way out. Now days people are coming out younger and younger, but in this world of homophobia and transphobia we think that Glee, Lady Gaga, and Facebook are enough make things right.  And while I appreciate the visibility of national media attention and seeing local organizations posting ONE article on facebook, it isn’t enough.

Yes, I live in a conservative mire full of complacency and incompetency. It is frustrating, and a lot of times I want to give up. Even with that, I was lucky to be born in a city – no not lucky, privileged. I complain about being the “only one” in my city, and while in some ways that may be true, overall I am not alone. My friend in Chillicothe can not say the same thing: she really is the only one. Most of us will never fully understand what it is like to experience the level of isolation, fear, and frustration that rural trans* and queer folks deal with every day. For this reason, I admire and respect my friend more than most people I have met. Standing alone, she keeps fighting. It may sound sad, but to me it is a message of hope. For almost a year she has been trying to found a local LGBTQ group but she could not find a single business or church willing to host it out of fear of “being burned down.” This week she told me that finally the Chillicothe LGBTQ Peer Group is launching (see plug below). This is the example to follow. We must be in our communities fighting, working to building something real  It starts at home, and whether you live in a small town or big city, there are things you can do that influence everyone in your state. The more visibility, support, and education we have the less people will hate us, attack us, and misunderstand us. One person being attacked is too many and one person fighting back is not enough. We need to get off our computers and start talking to one another, talking to our representatives, and talking to our children about how to make the real world better. We need community groups, we need legislation (see Ohio House (155 & 208) and the Senate (127)), we need it enforced, and we need it now.

If you would like to do more to help Ohio become safer for our communities’ youth, you can sign this petition for Ohio Safe Schools but remember that an online petition is not enough. We must make phone calls, write letters, and lobby directly in the offices of those who are supposed to be our voice in government.

 

For Resources and Support:
Chillicothe LGBTQ Peer Group
1st and 3rd Thursdays of Every Month from 7 to 9pm,
Fellowship Hall of Orchard Hill United Church of Christ, 105 N. Courtland Dr.
*The Chillicothe LGBTQ Peer Group is a secular (nonreligious) peer led support group for lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans*, and queer identified individuals to discuss their experiences living in the Chillicothe and surrounding areas, to share resources, and to create a greater sense of community and support for all.  For more information contact us at LGBTQ45601@gmail.com.

Day of Action: Stop Medical Oppression of Trans* Communities

Posted on by JAC

I’ll be the first to admit that I have high standards. A cupcake shop recently opened up in my city, and I finally got to stop by. I took a bite and got a wash of disappointment from the flavorless, cake-mix mound in my hands. I knew it seemed silly to be so upset over a cupcake, but if I’m going to spend $2.50 on a cupcake, it better be a fucking awesome cupcake. If I’m going to spend time, energy, and money on something, it better be worth it. Same goes with life, if someone is going to try to give something to me, I’ll only take it if it is worth taking; if I’m going to live my life, I’m going to make it worth living.

Trans* gets dressed up a lot now days, from Chaz Bono to TV characters, the public is becoming more and more interested in our community, one way or another. And as conversations about trans* identities grow, what isn’t being said is one of the most important issues we face; the fact that around the world trans* and gender variant people are considered to be mentally ill. We are told we have Gender Identity Disorders (GID), a disempowering system that promotes the continual stigmitization of mental health variance and the pathologization of difference. The result is a continual lack of access, safety, education, and inclusion on a global scale. After 30 years a growing outcry from trans* and non -trans* communities have pushed medical and social organizations to slowly, but surely, denounce GID. Last month the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH) relaxed the Standards of Care for trans patients in an attempt to minimize pathologization and increase access; a significant change but not a solution.  In 2012, the global psychiatric community plans to maintain trans* people’s place in the list of mental health conditions through a revised version of GID called Gender Dysphoria (or Gender Incongruence -see also GD in Children) and an even more problematic version of  Transvestic Disorder. WPATH quotes these changes as “a step in the right direction” but to me, and for many others, a step in the right direction is not enough movement. At this point, we are beyond taking steps. We are ready for a jump. I know what you’re thinking – we can’t just jump in unprepared, and I agree. The truth is that we are prepared. We have been working internationally to create policies to medicalize care and provide regulation, accessibility, and safety for a new age of trans* health.

This is about more than health care; This is an issue about quality of life; about respect, justice, and humanity. It is about the fact that trans* people are not allowed to be ourselves without the consent of someone else. We recognize ‘my body, my choice’ in terms of reproductive rights, but it is not only there that the phrase is relevant.  I know that members of the medical and psychological community mean well, but just as good intentions don’t make a delicious cupcake, they also are not capable of keeping me safe or labeling me sane. I have many mental health conditions, my trans identity is not one of them. I have high standards, and I refuse to be treated less than because my identity is not considered “normal.” If society gives me something that I’m not satisfied with, I have the right to ask for my (metaphorical) money back. Today, October 22nd, is an international day of action to Stop Trans* Pathologization. If you have never talked about trans* pathologization before, start today. Tell your friends, your partner(s), your family; ask your physicians if they support accessible health care for trans* people, educate yourself and others on the need for change. This shackle on the trans* community influences us all. Stand up with us.

Stop Trans Pathologization 2011 (English) from Stop Trans Pathologization on Vimeo.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and Don’t be Trans

Posted on by JAC

History is being made today for the lesbian, gay, bi, and respective non-heterosexual communities. The US Military policy Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT) officially has been repealed. Everyone is celebrating, and I’m celebrating too, but I have to admit I’m more jaded than joyful. Today as the LGB military is coming out, trans* military is being left out.

As an activist rooted in the anti-war/anti-military movement, even I recognize the significance of the USA’s largest employer (the federal government) removing a grossly discriminatory policy that theoretically places sexually queer people on equal footing with non-queer people. That’s a big deal. And I think it is an even bigger deal that this momentously important event for the “LGBT” community completely leaves off  the T. One would like to believe that if high schools can create gender identity and expression inclusive policies then congress can too, but apparently not. An early Department of Defense report on DADT, referenced by several blogs and articles, stated: “Transgender and transsexual individuals are not permitted to join the Military Services. The repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has no effect on these policies.”  After media attention the report was removed from the government’s website. According to the US Military, trans* people are “unfit to serve” primarily (categorically) because of our good friend, Gender Identity Disorder. As mentally ill people, trans* communities are not medically fit to serve.

A common thought about DADT, or now in this case with trans* people in the military, is that the “military problem” isn’t really a problem because it is better if our people don’t join up – it’s better to protect our precious queers. I can’t help but think this sometimes… or most of the time… but I force myself to remember that there are people out there who actually like the military (like a pre-teen Midwest GenderQueer who associated fighter pilots with a desirable yet (continually) unobtainable masculinity – thank you Top Gun).  My freshman year of college, I met a guy who was determined to have a military career; he said it was his calling. He was also gay. This was years before I came out but even a “straight girl” could see how problematic the situation was. I remember asking him why he wanted a job where he would have to hide who he was his entire life. He looked very sad, yet very determined and said “It’s not ideal, but I can do it.” Now he doesn’t have to, but no such luck if it were me.

Revisiting the “military problem,” in my experience people think that it is easy to fix: If you don’t like the military, then don’t join. This is the number one pillar upholding the classist, global mirage that choosing to join the military is always a choice.  Speaking strictly for America, our economic system promotes dependency and servitude towards positions in power. We tell our people to succeed, but don’t enable them to do it. With jobs disappearing and public funds being non-existent, we’re left with a mass population of the under-educated, unsupported, and unemployed. Our trans* community is especially vulnerable because, like other oppressed groups, we are more likely to be poor, unemployed/underemployed, and more likely to lack personal and/or societal support and resources. In other words, we are a population in need and in comes the secure, sturdy military to solve all our problems. I have personally known several young trans* folks who can’t pay for groceries let alone for college; who may struggle to get a job because they are gender non-conforming; sometimes they are trying to escape an unaccepting home;  maybe they are desperate to get money to physically transition… They are people willing to give up everything to get a better life, and that’s exactly what they do by joining up. It was not a choice for them. They felt they had no other options, and perhaps they didn’t. Being  trans* in the military has it’s own unique issues that no one talks about. A fascinating  2008 study by Transgender American Veterans Association (TAVA) showed that all military branches have trans* people, the Army being highest at 38%. The survey also showed that 40% of trans*military personnel stated they were unhappy with their lives. If you’re trans* in the military you live in fear of being outed (resulting in losing your job, your home, and/or friends and chosen family). You can’t transition in any form, medical or otherwise, and rigidly sexist uniform codes forbid expressing your actual gender (you can even be court-martialed for “cross-dressing”). If you’ve taken hormones or had surgery before enlisting but don’t report it (which you wouldn’t because it would keep you from being admitted) you will be discharged when it was inevitably found in your records.  The military has no protections against harassment over gender expression or perceived gender identity and if you went to complain to a higher up (that is, if it wasn’t the higher up who was harassing you) their solution is to tell you that “if you aren’t trans, you have nothing to worry about.” You also can not confide in religious or medical personnel because, as military employees, they are not required to practice confidentiality on the subject. Quiet the opposite; they may be required to report it. 

I also believe that repealing DADT won’t change much for your average LGB (or perceived to be LGB) military employee. It’s against military law to harass, beat, and rape people, but it still happens; and like everywhere in society, it is extremely under-reported and often left without any reprisal. Rules changing doesn’t mean that people change, and people are who you see every day. Just like any place of business (and it is a business) without an aggressive campaign of combined education and no-tolerance policies the military will never be a safe place for anyone, “gay” or not. We must continue to address the military industrial complex for what it is, as an institutional system of oppression that preys upon our poor, our young, our disenfranchised, and our communities of color. It is a presence that manipulates the global society in order to serve a small percentage, and that is the top 1% of the US elite.

What bothers me more than the issues within the military is the greater “LGB” community’s reaction, or lack their of, to the exclusion of trans* communities. I’m so glad today is here so I won’t be invited to another “Yay DADT! All Our Problems are Over!” facebook event; after months of it I’m fed up. Yes, we should be celebrating, but its downright lousy to rub it in trans* people’s faces saying “we don’t have to worry anymore” and “problem solved.” If you’re going to go that far you might as well just call today what it is, yet another “We Forgot You, Again” day, or “We Matter More” day. And yes, I do have to remind people that our problems are not over. I’m not a downer, I’m an activist. I’m not bitter, I’m fucking furious. The LGB community knows what it’s like to be ignored, passed over, discriminated against, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of  taking their rights and privileges for granted. The LGB community makes strides with the help of the trans* community, the trans* community is booted out, and what should be our joy becomes a part of our pain. But in of every disappointment there is room for action. It holds me together when people do speak out and recognize that we are not done yet. We must continue to work, continue to fight, and never be satisfied until we all are equal.

I’ve heard today described as “the light at the end of the tunnel.” If this is your truth, I celebrate joyously for you. And as you reach that light at the end of the tunnel, I hope you remember that some of us have been left behind and we are still working in the dark.

 

xposted: AmplifyYourVoice, TransGroupBlog