Monday, November 12, 2012

5 Common Mistakes Made by Well-Meaning Allies

In every minority community, allies are an instrumental part of the fight for equal rights.  Becoming an ally is a choice and a commitment, as well as an act of bravery.  Unlike members of minority communities, who advocate for equality to better their own lives, allies do so in order to raise awareness of what they perceive to be an injustice that does not directly affect them. 

I recently presented at Transcending Boundaries about common mistakes made by well-meaning allies of the GSRM (gender, sexual, and relationship minorities) community.  This community includes transgender, genderqueer, intersex, gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual, pansexual, polyamorous, and kinky individuals.  This presentation stemmed from the premise that allies have the responsibility to educate themselves and to have the humility and willingness to learn from their mistakes.  Following is the information from that presentation. 

  1. Making Assumptions
Heteronormativity is the belief that people fall into two distinct and complementary genders, and that male people and female people have defined “roles.”  Additionally, it is the assumption that heterosexuality is the “normal” sexual orientation and that anything else is deviant.  This is not usually a malicious mindset, but it is one that most heterosexual, cisgender people hold until they think to question it. 

This often reveals itself when asking about partners – for example, asking a male-presenting person if he has a girlfriend or wife.  While these questions are well-intended, they reinforce a non-heterosexual person’s idea that he or she is part of an outgroup, and it is usually safer to ask about a person’s “partner” or “significant other.”  A person also has the right to define his or her own identity, and it might not always be what it appears.  For example, a male-bodied human who is attracted to other males is not necessarily gay – he may be bisexual, pansexual, or a heterosexual MtF (male to female) transgender woman.  Similarly, a woman not attracted to men is not necessarily a lesbian – she might be any of the aforementioned, or perhaps asexual.

Additionally, making assumptions about gender and related pronouns can be hurtful, and when in doubt, it is polite to ask.  This can be tricky, because this isn’t always the right course of action to take.  For example, you’re unlikely to ask the checkout person at a grocery store what his or her preferred pronouns are.  On the other hand, if you meet someone in a social situation where many gender-variant people are present, or if someone presents somewhat ambiguously, the best thing to do is directly ask the person what he or she prefers.  While some people prefer male pronouns and others female, still others prefer gender-neutral pronouns, such as “they” or “hir” and “ze”.

Perhaps the most insidious kind of assumption is stereotypes.  Being an ally does not give you the right to perpetuate stereotypes; on the contrary, it gives you the obligation to keep others informed that these stereotypes are not always true.  One common stereotype about this community is that everyone – especially gay men and bisexual individuals – is promiscuous.  While many LGBT people may be polyamorous or have open relationships, many are also monogamous.  The converse assumption – that everyone wants to pair-bond, get married, and have children – is also not always accurate.

  1. Outing People
Allies often have many GSRM friends and acquaintances, and because of this it is easy to become desensitized to the level of sensitivity involved in a person’s coming out process.  The world of an ally is often a safe place where people are open-minded and understanding of a wide variety of sexual, gender, and relationship orientations, but unfortunately there are still a lot of places where that does not hold true, and where outing someone could seriously compromise their safety. 

Furthermore, coming out is a lifelong process, and something that people have to make a decision about every time they meet a new person.  When a person does come out and is met with a positive response, this can be very empowering.  If you out someone, you take that power away from them. 
Words can be warped as rumors travel, and once something is said, it can’t be unsaid.   For these reasons, it’s important to seriously consider the ramifications of your words before telling a third party that your friend is gay, transgender, polyamorous, etc. 

  1. Invasive Questions
Allies are sometimes given very personal information about a friend, including details about a person’s sexual activities or genitalia, but no one ever has the obligation to answer questions about these things.  When asking questions of a friend, or especially a stranger, it’s very important to be respectful.  It’s very disconcerting for a person to become a case study, and subjected to a barrage of questions about what lesbians do in bed, or what is in a transwoman’s pants.

If you do decide to ask some of these questions, there are a lot of things to consider.  The first is whether you have properly built a rapport with this person.  Next, think about what you would be comfortable disclosing in a similar situation.  For example, if a person asked you to describe the most intimate parts of your body, how would you feel?  Lastly, if you are going to ask a personal question, acknowledge that you don’t have the right to the information by saying something like, “look, you don’t have to answer this, and if I’m overstepping a boundary, please let me know.”  And if the other person says they’re not comfortable answering your question, respect that.

  1. Us/Them Mentality
In some ways, being an ally is a huge responsibility, but in other ways, it can be very easy.  When you’re with your GSRM friends, you’re able to talk about fighting the good fight, but when you’re at work, you can be just another straight guy.  But the problem with this is that it ignores the parts of you that are not 100% heterosexual.  Sexuality and gender are a spectrum, and a lot of people fall in the 99% range of heterosexuality and cisgenderness.  However, most people can acknowledge that there are parts of them that do have same-sex attractions or that stray from their “traditional gender roles.”  Acknowledging these parts of oneself can increase empathy for people within the minority.

Conversely, it’s important to recognize where you are “privileged.”  What this means is that as part of the dominant culture (in other words, the part of you that allows you to be “that straight guy” at work), you are afforded certain advantages that the people to whom you are an ally lack.  Peggy McIntosh developed a theory of race called the Invisible Knapsack, in which she listed 27 “privileges” that are unknowingly held by Caucasian individuals.  Many of these are adaptable to be relevant to the GSRM community, such as:

  • I can if I wish arrange to be in the company of people of my sexual orientation most of the time.
  • If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure that my neighbors will be neutral or pleasant to me.
  • I can go shopping alone most of the time (for clothing of my correct gender), pretty well assured that I will not be followed or harassed.
  • I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my sexual orientation or gender identity widely represented.
  • When I am told about our national heritage or about “civilization,” I am shown that people of my sexual orientation and/or gender identity made it what it is.
  • I can arrange to protect my children most of the time from people who might not like them.
  • I can swear or not answer letters without having people attribute these choices to the bad morals of my sexual orientation or gender identity.
  • I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my sexual or gender identity.
  • I am never asked to speak for all the people of my sexual orientation or gender identity.
  • I can criticize our government and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider.
  • If a traffic cop pulls me over, I can be sure I haven’t been singled out because of my sexual orientation or gender identity.
  • I can easily buy posters, postcards, picture books, greeting cards, dolls, toys, and children’s magazine featuring people of my sexual orientation or gender identity.
  • I can go home from most meetings of organizations I belong to feeling somewhat tied in, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance, or feared.
  • I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having co-workers on the job suspect that I got it because of sexual orientation.
  • I can choose public accommodation without fearing that people of my gender identity cannot get in or will be mistreated in the places I have chosen.
  • I can be sure that if I need legal or medical help, my sexual orientation or gender identity will not work against me.
  • If my day, week, or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether it has discriminatory overtones.
Additionally, we developed a few that are specific to GSRM individuals:
  • I can have a child without being judged.
  • I can hold hands with a partner in public without fear of discriminatory remarks or violence.
  • I never have trouble knowing which bathroom to use.
  • I can post details about my relationship status on Facebook without worrying about who will see it.
  • If my partner gets sick, I can visit them in the hospital without anyone intervening.  If they pass away, I can rest assured that our children will remain with me.
  • I can get married without it being viewed as a “political” act.

Because of this unique position of holding privilege but also being aware of the challenges faced by GSRM people, allies are able to form a bridge between these communities and those who are less informed about issues related to them.

  1. Social Loafing
If you have chosen to be an ally, you have chosen to be an advocate.

In the 1960s, a woman named KittyGenovese was brutally murdered outside her Queens apartment while many of her neighbors observed.  This event resulted in the development of a psychological theory called “social loafing” or “diffusion of responsibility.”  What this means is that the greater the number of people witnessing an event, the less likely any one person is to intervene.  It’s easy for allies to view themselves as “just an ally” and not become involved, but advocacy is one of the most important roles of allies.  It’s easy to stand in silence in response to the “white guy nudge” when an injustice has occurred or an insensitive joke has been made, but it is the role of every ally to stand up for equality, sensitivity, and what is right.

Being an ally does not just mean saying you have gay friends.  It means helping to further the rights of gender, sexual, and relationship minorities so that they can enjoy the same rights and privileges that we do.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

There's no place like...



I lived in a house in California until I was 5.  Then I lived in another until I was 18.  Then I spent the summer with my long-distance boyfriend in Georgia before starting my freshman year of college in Ohio.  I remember, upon arriving in Ohio, sitting down in front of a computer to lament on my Livejournal (a blog before blogs were a thing) that nowhere felt like home.  California was left behind.  Many of my valued people were in Georgia.  And all my stuff was in Ohio.  I remember pontificating on what I probably believed at the time were very deep thoughts about the nature and meaning of home, and how it was all three places, but simultaneously none of them.

Fastforward ten years, and at least as many living spaces.  In my four years of college, I lived in ten different places - three dorm rooms (first in Ohio, then in Georgia) and seven apartments with my then-boyfriend who was from a military family and had therefore never learned the benefits of housing stability.  Then I moved back in with my parents during graduate school, went to a "starter apartment" in Boston, and a year later moved to a wonderful apartment in the quasi-suburbs. 

The last of these apartments was incredible, and I was certain I would live there until I was ready to buy a house.  But then my partner and I received an unwelcome visit from our until-that-moment-wonderful landlord, who informed us that he had sold the building where we lived, and we had one month to find another home.

Why am I recounting such a personal story on a blog that is supposed to be about therapy issues?  Because this entire incident has me thinking a great deal about displacement, moving, and the associated stressors.  The moment we were told we had to move, I immediately felt homeless and unstable.  I had been floating comfortably among the top three layers of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs (image below, more of an explanation behind the link) and now I was knocked down to level 1, wondering where I would sleep!



Then I went through a grief process, akin to the stages developed by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.  First I felt denial.  "Absolutely not!" I declared.  "We are staying right here.  We are not going anywhere.  I will magically stumble upon enough money to outbid the buyers and we will buy this house and we are going to keep living in this apartment!"  Then anger: "I hate the landlord!  I hate the buyers!  I hate the construction workers!  I will scream hateful words at them all!"  Next, bargaining: "I'd be willing to pack all our stuff, put it outside, then move it back in and set it up.  But I'm not moving to another place."  Then depression, where I became rather quiet and negative.  Finally, reluctant acceptance: "Ok, let's start looking for another place..."

(It's worth noting that grief can actually be much more complicated and individualized than the Kubler-Ross model, but in this case, it wasn't.)

So we found another apartment, and it's big, and it's quirky, and it has most of what we were looking for, and it's within our budget.  So that was good - we packed and moved all of our belongings, and we've been here for about a week.  But I still drive on autopilot to the old place.  When I'm at work, picturing myself relaxing at the end of the day, I picture my old living room or kitchen.  I'm sure it will feel like I live here eventually, but in the meantime, I'm just trying to navigate the psychology of moving and the instability and upheaval it brings, and to figure out how long it will take for it to feel like I live here.

I'm curious about other people's experiences... if you don't mind, I'd love to hear your stories about moving to a new apartment and how long it took for them to feel like home.  Please leave them in comments below.