Finding Out, Ch11: Queer Transgressive Aesthetics

Alexander, Gibson, and Meem ask, “if, as often happens in capitalist societies,  art is commodified and accepted as part of the popular culture, can it still be considered transgressive? Are there ways in which art popularized and commodified in a culture can transgress traditional boundaries  by reaching an audience that would not necessarily seek exposure to that which is more clearly transgressive?” (293). I believe that it definitely can. Art can still make people uncomfortable and urge them to question the values held by themselves and by society. If it is on the edge of acceptability, then it pushes the boundaries of what is appropriate. It may be a smaller resistance than more extreme, outrageous works, but it is still resistance. Even after something becomes acceptable, even taken for granted, the original work is still transgressive--as Alexander, Gibson, and Meem point out at the start of Finding Out, we cannot judge the past by pretending that events occurred in the present. In the late 19th century, some women, such as Victoria Woodhull, advocated “free love” in sexually restrictive Victorian society. Woodhull, refusing to take back her statement that she was a “free lover,” said, “I will supplement this by saying now: That I will love whom I may; that I will love as long or as short a period as I can; that I will change this love when the conditions to which I have referred indicate that it ought to be changed; and neither you nor any law you can make shall deter me” (Schneir 154). This “free love” is now accepted: nearly everyone in America follows this pattern in their relationships by dating. Is this, then, no longer transgressive? Much of our capitalist system relies on Woodhull’s idea of “free love” as it is enacted in society. The idea is sold to us on holidays, in television shows, movies, commercials, books, magazines. Dating services and speed dating events are sold to us, so that “free love” itself has been commodified. Although it no longer pushes the boundaries of social acceptability because it has been accepted into society--it has become the new boundary--“free love” and Woodhull’s actions are still transgressive as a product of the time and place in which she lived.

Schneir, Mariam. Feminism: The Essential Historical Writings. New York: Vintage Books, 1972.

Finding Out, Ch10: Lesbian Pulp Novels and Gay Physique Pictorials

Both physique pictorials and lesbian pulp novels were intended for heterosexual audiences. They encouraged the heterosexual constructions of work, family, and relationships and condemned homosexuality and deviance from gender norms. Bernarr Macfadden “publicly denounced his gay readers as ‘painted, perfumed, kohl-eyed, lisping, mincing youths’ whom he encouraged other men to ‘beat up’” (Bianco, quoted on 271); Lesbian pulp novels were “frequently homophobic” (274) and “[warned] of the dangers of lesbians and lesbianism” (269). Although lesbian pulp novels were written by and for straight males, actual lesbians found in them places for themselves. They discovered a space in which their desires could thrive, a space that allowed them to insert themselves into the story and live out their fantasies. This is similar to the way that many gay men and lesbians created a space in straight musicals (focused on heterosexual couples) where they could explore desire by imagining themselves and their experiences in heterosexual characters. For example, Stacy Wolf says that gay male scholars “appreciate how musical theater is built around a female star, which, they assert, allows gay male crossidentification” (Wolf 356). Despite the intentions of creators to erase homosexual desire and promote heterosexual ideals, these stories often became spaces in popular culture that gay men could take pleasure in. 1940s and 1950s musicals “enabled richer and more fulfilling fantasies for gay male spectators to read against the grain and to cross-identify with than the pallid representations of actual gays and lesbians in contemporary musical theater” (Wolf 356). The “lesbians of heterosexual male fantasies” (275) in pulp novels were, as Alexander, Gibson, and Meem explain, often used to label female same-sex desire as problematic, undesirable, and dangerous. Nonetheless, these women transformed these novels into lesbian spaces by writing them by and for themselves. Wolf says that Mary Martin did the same by bringing a possible lesbian reading to her acting roles in shows like Peter Pan and The Sound of Music. Gender deviance and intimate female-female moments and duets allowed the audience to read the characters, relationships, and interactions as lesbian.

Wolf, Stacy. “We’ll Always Be Bosom Buddies:” Female Duets and the Queering of Broadway Musical Theater. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies. Duke University Press, 2006. 351-376.

Finding Out, Ch9: Homosexed Art and Literature

With Whitman, Eakins, and Homer, there seems to be an emphasis on the difference (or uncertainty) between the homosexual and the homosocial. Homer “typically portrayed the camaraderie of men doing “masculine” things: hunting, laboring, boxing, and so on” (234). These men could not be seen as inverts because they were models of masculinity; their sexuality never brought into question their manliness--nor could a lack of manliness make them suspect in their sexuality. When John Addington Symonds asked Whitman about male-on-male sex, hoping “that Whitman was making a place for physical sex between men” (234), Whitman’s defense against what he may have seen as an accusation or a dangerous discovery leaves many possibilities. Was Whitman afraid of losing popularity? Was he reluctant to admit to himself that he was what we would label a gay man? If he called sex between men “damnable,” did he perhaps see it as something that was morally wrong while the emotional connection was okay? It is difficult to decipher his motives in the letter to Symonds without understanding the extent of the prosecution of “sexual inverts” or the various ideas about sex, sexuality, or gender in America at the time. 

Today, male homosocial relationships are encouraged, even lauded as one of the greatest and most essential connections between any two people. In many places, we still see a delicate balance between the acceptable homosocial relationship and the unacceptable, contemptible homosexual relationship. We end up with homophobic language that divides a gesture that is meant to be homosocial from one that is perceived as homosexual; for example, many guys will use the phrase “no homo” after confessing something intimate or taking part in emotional bonding. While the act stays the same (and even the meaning, in most cases), the perception of the act changes with whether or not it is homosexual in nature. A more striking example of this division is in same-sex interaction in the military. Military recruits are automatically more masculine than others by justification of being in the military, and many acts committed as recruits are forgivable as homosocial acts--even those that would be problematic and ridiculed as homosexual in other contexts. In The Culture of Desire, Frank Browning notes that “homosexual acts in the military are often ignored as long as the participants do not acknowledge homosexual desire” (217). Acts, then, are not what is threatening. The threat must lie in the possibility of disturbing an important structure of homosocial environments--of camaraderie--that would allows men to be “real” men while indulging in emotional and even physical intimacy with other men. Additionally, Browning believes that “only by excluding the prospect of homosexuality in a homosocial setting is it possible to police and exclude desire, and even then it doesn’t always work” (217). The men who write off their sexual exploits as relief rather than desire are distancing themselves from homosexuality in order to maintain a homosocial atmosphere. In effect, they remain masculine, their relationships legitimate. Browning asks, “Could that barracks retain the same sort of esprit de corps, the same sense of homosocial bonding (or buddy love), that displaces desire with comradeship?” (217). Perhaps Whitman did the same in his disavowal of male sex: Browning even uses the same terms, as Whitman called himself “the poet of the comrades” (quoted on Alexander, Gibson, and Meem 233).

Browning, Frank. The Culture of Desire: Paradox and Perversity in Gay Lives Today. New York: Vintage Books, 1993.

Finding Out, Ch 8: Intersectionalities

Delany says that speaking “of gay oppression in the context of racial oppression always seemed an embarrassment” (quoted 204). Alexander, Gibson, and Meem note earlier in the chapter that “in an inclusive environment, individuals are encouraged to represent categories” (203). People are supposed to represent marginalized categories of sex, race, sexuality, class, ethnicity. Many of these people are also accused of selfishly shifting the focus to their own problems--problems seen as unimportant--at the consequence of “real problems.” For example, in businesses where it is rare for racial minorities and women to be promoted to high managerial ranks, they are accused of looking out for “their people” rather than the good of the company; their efforts to reward hard-workers are seen as favoritism, and if they bring up issues of sex or race, they are seen as personal concerns only, where a white male experience is the default. Delany may have felt the pressure to stay quiet about the intersectionality of identities and issues as they pertain specifically to him because of these kinds of attitudes. I think the word “embarrassment” is important, as many people are made to feel that their experiences are less important because of their race, class, age, sex, etc. Stereotypes help the attitude spread and persist by 1) creating one version of a group of people, and 2) depicting these people as deviations from the norm that shouldn’t be taken seriously. Delany also said that “somehow [to speak of gay oppression in the context of racial oppression] was to speak of the personal” (204), rather than the general. It was to speak of individual concerns rather than speaking of issues as they pertain to everyone. Delany also makes a clear connection, if not between sexuality and race, then at least between race and class. He describes racial oppression as “vast political and imperialist and nationalist  systemics” (perhaps a general definition of racial oppression) as well as “material deprivation,” defining it by the physical and economic suffering as a result of race discrimination. Race and class seem to be inseparable by Delany’s definition.

They are correct in saying that Delany “ignores the core feminist insight that ‘the personal is political’” (205); but I think that his use of past tense signifies that he may have learned this by the time of his statement. Despite being told from several sides that his individual experience matters little compared with the similarity between the experiences of all gay men or all black men (or all men), Delany seems now to understand that the total experience has value, too.

In my life, there have been times when I brought up aspects of race, sex, gender, or other identities in a conversation only to have others roll their eyes or tell me I’m over-reacting by pointing out that the issue has many parts and influences. I get the same response when I point out sexism, heterosexism, racism, or other problems in people’s language or behavior. Recently, someone told me that people who are against racist jokes don’t understand that it’s a joke. When I tried to explain to her that humor can still be used to perpetuate negative attitudes about groups of people and contribute to poor treatment, she discounted my input because she was a Psychology major--which apparently makes her better and more qualified to talk about social concerns than a Women’s Studies major completing a certificate in LGBT Studies. (She is also white discussing how racism impacts minority groups (or doesn’t, in her opinion) with a member of a racial minority). These things don’t even become an issue in a conversation until someone refuses to acknowledge that we have problems based on identity and perception.

Finding Out, Ch6: Inclusion and Equality

      What bothered me most about this chapter was the authors’ description of the differences between the strategies of the Human Rights Campaign and Queers. They start by saying that the “HRC and Queers strategies couldn’t be more different” (155). Considering that both seem to approach the situation with the same ideas about the nature of sex, gender, and sexuality, buying into the binary of sexuality, they could easily be “more different” if Queers followed their name and reasoned with ideas from queer theory instead. Meem, Gibson, and Alexander are clearly at least somewhat familiar with the difference between gay liberation’s and queer theory’s approaches to various issues, as evidenced  right after their description of the HRC’s and Queers’ strategies. They say that it is “important to look beyond the civil rights paradigm and critique institutional systems, asking who is served by them and who is excluded” (155), but they fail to explain that sexuality as a polarized binary is an institutional system. Despite dedicating the previous chapter entirely to the expansion of ideas about sexuality beyond the hetero-homo binary, they continue to treat sexuality as a definite and descriptive identity, ignoring the queering of sexuality and identity that many have pushed for before them. I hope this is just a way to keep the information simple enough for those new to the history and theory to understand. I realize that this textbook serves as an Introduction to LGBT Studies, but I don’t see how the authors can raise the distinctions between gay liberation and queer theory and then largely ignore the ideas behind queer theory. 

      It also seems odd that they would refer to someone whom they recognize as “[identifying] as gay, transgender, and ‘two-spirited’” as “he” from Martinez’ sex rather than gender identification. They make a big deal out of the school’s and the students’ refusal to recognize Martinez as a girl, but then they do the same themselves! They obviously treat trans-identification with more respect than the people in the case of Martinez’ murder, describing such cases in ways that sound empathetic with recognition of unfair victimization, but their use of what seems to be incorrectly gendered pronouns makes me doubt their experience with or acceptance of trans-identifying individuals.

      They do make a good point with their analysis of the situation: 

Social systems that impose standards of gender conformity. . . create a circumstance in which gender nonconformists are seen as deserving harassment and in which peers consider it their right (and perhaps subconsciously their responsibility) to police one another’s gender behaviors. Social restrictions on behavior related to gender and sexuality, as well as a perception that LGBT people are predatory outsiders, contribute to exclusionary attitudes based on a sense of the inherent inferiority of LGBT people as compared with gender conformists and heterosexuals. . . (158)

In this way, “gender/sexuality policing” takes on new meaning, where peers position themselves as agents who enforce the laws of the heterosexual matrix through punishment. Meem, Gibson, and Alexander never use the word, but these extreme reactions to gender nonconformity are very much based in homophobia and transphobia--although they do come near saying this when they explain that these reactions come from “a social structure that assumes that sexual and gender difference are threatening” (158).

      Lastly, I find it pleasing that, despite the idea that people still have that “An avowed homosexual wouldn’t be a role model for [traditional family] values” (159), Ellen can be supported as a spokesperson for JCPenny and prove this wrong.

Community Interaction 2

     I attended a drag queen workshop organized by the LGBT Center with Windy Breeze and Harmony Breeze. Windy Breeze has been performing for 10 years, with the UWM Drag Show as the first venue at 18 years old. Harmony Breeze is Windy’s “drag daughter,” performing for only three years so far but earning a place as Miss Wisconsin Unlimited at Large 2010-2012. Windy Breeze and Harmony Breeze demonstrated how they transform from everyday “boy face” to performance “girl face,” focusing on make-up application techniques. The make-up on just half of the face took two hours (with some time for explanation and interruptions to show the variety of color and product options). Both Windy Breeze and Harmony Breeze described drag as a second job because of the amount of time it takes to choose a number, coordinate an act, plan an outfit, match and design make-up, and then execute it all--regardless of whether or not they are paid for their performances. 

     I noticed that Harmony and Windy used pronouns differently. Windy Breeze switched between “he” and “she” when referring to Harmony, using both for in-drag and out-of-drag and calling her “girl” but never “man.” Harmony always used “she” to refer to Windy, and despite Windy’s insistence on being called Chris during the workshop (perhaps to make it more informal and comfortable?), Harmony still used the drag name. It seems that this is because of their close relationship, or maybe there is a difference in the way they see themselves when it comes to drag, but I don’t feel that I’ve been around them enough to say.

      They commented that performing for audiences at free shows are actually more rewarding because the audience is more appreciative: they know that the performers are working harder than if they were paid to go on stage. This may be partly because the only compensation they receive is from tips and perhaps future bookings, but I think it’s also because a free performance is done for the illusion, for the enjoyment of the art, rather than for monetary rewards only.

      Obviously, drag queens, like other performers, take part in the work for different reasons. Windy Breeze said that drag has always been interesting and even natural to her; she started in middle school when her mother’s friends put on drag and visited. Sh decided to try it, loved entertaining, found drag performance particularly fun and free. For her, the fans’ appreciation and reactions validate the hours of work she puts into drag. Harmony Breeze said that a huge factor in her enjoyment of drag is that she likes the illusion--she likes “to be someone else.” Drag allows her a creative outlet as well as a way to explore other identities. 

While drag is treated much differently, in the way it allows people to adopt and perform other personas, it is similar to many activities people take part in, such as gaming, role-playing, or even being active on the Internet. So why is drag considered so  extremely different from anything in mainstream pop culture? How unusual is it really for people to pretend to be someone else, to exaggerate aspects of themselves to play a role, often a cross-gender role? And yet many of the people who take part in cross-gender acting are also homophobic and criticize drag queens (and less often, kings), using words like “fag” to police them when they themselves are violating the same rules.

Finding Out, Ch5: Nature, Nurture, and Identity

      I love Kinsey’s statement that “only the human mind invents categories and tries to force facts into separate pigeon-holes” (quoted on 123). We categorize everything--bodies, clothing, gender, occupations, sexual desire. Whenever something comes up that blurs the categories or fits into none of the established categories, people tend to ignore them instead of changing or adding or eliminating categories. Most institutions only recognize male and female bodies, despite the fact that a large portion of the population possesses characteristics that fit into neither or both categories. According to the Intersex Society of North America, 1 in 100 individuals are born intersex--the same frequency as that of individuals born with red hair. Many people feel the need to surgically alter intersex bodies to conform to the binary of sex, even at the risk of drastic or complete loss of sexual sensation in addition to normal risks of surgery. In many cases, ambiguous genitalia are assigned female because the procedure is easier to accomplish; but when asked, every person I spoke with said that they would prefer to have a small penis than a vulva with no sexual sensation. The gender binary and the idea that gender is sex-linked can also cause individuals physical, as well as emotional, pain as they try to conform to set categories (not to mention financial costs). Even the work that people do is linked to beliefs about sex and gender, from unpaid domestic work to paid professions. 

     Where something comes from only matters when people want to cause it, cure it, or justify action for or against it. Kinsey’s focus on sexuality as it is practiced rather than its cause (or morality) was a step in a positive direction that allowed people to reconsider their ideas about it. While Hirschfield’s concept of bisexuality disrupts the rigid binary of sexuality, it leaves little room for people to find a place that accurately describes them. When there are rigid categories, the categories often come to define individuals because the system is set up so that no one can cross categories--one category is defined against the others. Unlike Hirschfield, “Kinsey saw homosexuality as a fluid position on a continuum of possible sexual experiences” (124). Sexuality as a continuum provides more leniency for people to find a place that is descriptive of their sexual feelings and behaviors than the binary or even Hirschfield’s version of sexuality. 

      Interestingly, the Benjamin standards, though just as varied as the Kinsey scale, are just as confining as the heteronormative structure of the gender/sex/sexuality binaries. By linking sexual desire and gender roles (and, therefore, sex), Benjamin plays into compulsory heterosexuality in several ways:

1. it allows individuals to define themselves only within the already-existing binaries, acknowledging only an unfortunate disconnect between gender and sex, 
2. it was a way to measure the need for “curing” cross-gender identity, thereby ignoring the legitimacy of identities beyond the heterosexual matrix and forcing them to conform,
3. it assumes that all relationships must be defined by a superior and an inferior subject,  eliminating the possibility of an egalitarian relationship,
4. while supposedly acknowledging the Kinsey scale, it actually disregards the continuum that Kinsey describes--by defining individuals with the binaries again.

These problems persist today; even with the acknowledgement of same-sex couples without thinking that they need to be cured, the prominence of these ideas can be seen in such questions as, “Who wears the pants in the relationship?” Clearly, people still assume that there are only two roles for subjects to play in a relationship, that those roles are unequal and opposite, that both roles must be filled at all times, and that nether the roles nor the individual playing the roles are fluid.