Hiram Monserrate Watch: Then Fall Caesar Edition

In our ongoing quest to track the downfall of New York State's douchiest public servant,* this story brings a smile to us:

The State Senate on Tuesday expelled a senator convicted of domestic assault, the first time in nearly a century that the Legislature has forced a member from office.

The Senate voted 53-to-8 to immediately oust the senator, Hiram Monserrate, a Queens Democrat convicted last fall of a misdemeanor for dragging his companion down the hallway of his apartment building.

Monserrate has vowed to fight the expulsion, and his lawyers are expected to file a restraining order today, if they can make it through the snow. Sadly, one of them is Norman Siegel, past head of the New York Civil Liberties Union and candidate for Public Advocate; a guy, in fact, that I voted for. Not so happy to see his name there.

Still, the Senate voting to expel somebody for a misdemeanor--normally in Albany, you get a mulligan on your first five or six of those--is a welcome change, and the fact that it was mainly because of the specific crime he was convicted for--battering a woman--is an even more welcome change. This being Albany, however, who knows how this will end. Probably with the Monster Rat as majority leader.

*At the state level. There's a lot of competition above and below him.

In Unexpected Delights

Hey, the takedown of that London Times article I did over at Tiger Beatdown got included in the 13th Carnival of Feminists! Drop by to read the other stuff, you know it's good!

And in other unexpected pleasures, I haven't been flayed to pieces in the comments section at the Guardian. And Julie Bindel replied to me! And I replied back! Wow!

Ron Gold, Choice, And The End Of The Affair

So on further reveiw, the infamous Ron Gold post was taken down and he had his contributor status revoked. This was the proper step to take: one doesn't run a blog that supposedly caters to every letter in the LGBT spectrum and then publish something like that.

In the past I've found Bilerico to be pretty approachable for trans people and trans bloggers, which makes this failure hurt so much more than if it had been on a blog that didn't have that reputation. It revealed an enormous blind spot in the editor's outlook. One thing is certain: nothing that attacked the gay and lesbian identity in such a way would have been posted there.

However, one must wonder about the screening process over there. Were they aware that Ron Gold had previously claimed that being gay was largely a matter of "imprinting"?

First, about the science of the thing.  My reading of the literature gives me no cause (despite highly publicized research by Simon LeVay and others) to believe that there is any physical, chemical or genetic difference between heterosexuals and homosexuals.  Indeed, I think the current data leads to the inescapable conclusion that all human beings are born with the capacity for both homosexual and heterosexual responses.  Preferences for one or the other seem, in most cases, to be fairly fixed by the age of six, but within the species homosexuality and heterosexuality do not appear to be discrete entities, with preferences running the continuum from exclusivity at both ends to genuine bisexuality in the middle.  Even within individuals there is ample evidence that people can and do change, whether situationally (as in same-sex settings like prisons) or culturally (as in virulently homophobic societies).

So what causes sexual orientation?  My guess is that preferences for one gender or another is much like preferences for people who are dark or fair, young or old, tall or short; imprinted patterns that are usually formed quite early in life.  How these imprints occur has yet to be discovered, principally, I think because the bulk of the research has been looking for "the cause of homosexuality" rather than the cause of sexual preferences in general.  Do we choose our imprints?  No, but we do choose not only whether to act on them but whether our feelings are appropriate for our self-image.  It really isn't too hard to repress feelings that embarrass us or make us feel guilty.  It's a bit harder to try, as I've tried, to expand my imprints beyond young, short, dark men to others I might like just as well if I gave it a chance.

You should go and read the whole thing, because it's remarkable how this presaged the line of argument he used in his anti-transgender piece--with the exception that he was respectful of gay identities, but didn't deliver the same courtesy to trans folk.

I should note that one of the few good things about this mess is how many LGB and straight cis folk defended transgendered people and decried the bigotry of the Gold article. Peterson Toscano has a nice post about this, with many wonderful replies. (h/t to helen boyd, with a side order of snark.)

It should be noted too that not every trans person in the world acquitted themselves spotlessly. Our old friends the HBSers leaped in to score their usual desiccated points about "the transgender." There were some posts of fail in the various comment threads--even having bigotry shoved in your face shouldn't be an excuse to shove bigotry right back. These were few and far between, and somewhat ameliorated by the shocking level of insult Gold heaped out.

And by the fact that, well, we've heard it all before. Bil Browning said he wanted to "challenge" the readers of The Project, but how the fuck was the latest reiteration of the same old argument I've heard for all my life from all kinds of cis people, queer or not, challenging? Would Peter LaBarbera be allowed to be a contributor to The Bilerico Project? He'd certainly "challenge" the views of many in the gay community.

I think Lisa Harney of Questioning Transphobia said it best in the comments thread to the non-apology apology:

Don't you think trans people are constantly challenged already? Why do we need to be shocked out of a comfort zone that we largely do not have access to? [...] Would you honestly allow a post that called all LGB people deluded and unnatural, and said that same-sex attraction doesn't really exist? And when your commenters respond predictably (that is, with anger), would you deliver this same apology?

And with that, let's put L'Affaire Ron Gold to bed. I'm sure by tomorrow morning the world will have found a new champion to tell me that I don't exist.

Cahiers Parisiens: les derniers jours

My last three days in Paris, I went to museums twice; since on Tuesdays most of the museums are closed, I stayed in and worked that day. (Pity, it was another beautiful day--but at least I went out and had some Senegalese food that night. Chicken Yassa is incredibly yummy!)

That Monday I went to the Louvre. Because, as I said last time, you just have to. Since I've been sharing my favorite paintings with you, I guess I should include my favorite painting in the Louvre not named La Gioconde (or the Mona Lisa, if you're feeling vulgar, heh.) It's by Caravaggio--I just love the voluptuousness of his canvases:

It's an astonishing work, although I understand why the monks who commissioned it ended up rejecting the painting--there's absolutely nothing transcendent about it at all, except for the all-too-human transcendence of grief. No halos (well, just a tiny one), no angels, no heavenly light, just a corpse and mourners. Amazing.

Then Wednesday, my last day in Paris...I wrote a post that you may remember, then headed out to the newest museum in the city, the Musée du Quai Branly. This is an ethnography museum. (We call it history if you can beat us in a war, and ethnography when you can't.) And it's a stunning place: beautifully designed, with a wonderful garden surrounding a modern building with a pleasantly chunky, open interior. Of course, given that it's an ethnography museum, everything is done up in shades of brown and ocher, with plenty of shadows and dim lighting; c'est normal.

I don't want to run the place down too much, because it really has an amazing collection. But there were amusing moments. If you follow the suggested path, you start in Oceania, and right at the start they have a lot of items having to do with the initiation into the various men's societies that are a rite of adolescence in New Guinea. And I was reading one of the placards about these rites, which mentioned in passing: "women's societies are known to exist, but very little is known about them." Which surprised me--not. Because I'm sure the male anthropologists were a) not able to gain access to the rites and b) really didn't care too much, either.

I get bitey sometimes.

The one part of the museum that truly stunned me, though, was a temporary exhibit on Tarzan. Being of an occasionally pulpy mindset, I thought that might be an interesting thing to see: especially because there's certainly a lot to be looked at in the Tarzan mythos, and how it relates to Western perceptions of Africa, and African perceptions of those perceptions. And while there does indeed remain a lot to be said, this exhibit sure the fuck wasn't going to say it.

Oh no, ducks. Instead, it started out comparing Tarzan to the heroes of ancient Greek and Roman myths, and actually went downhill from there. There were plenty of blown up pages from Tarzan comics (continuous salient feature: Africa had a lot of people in it, but almost none of them were black--there were lost Romans, lost Egyptians--drawn as Caucasians, natch--lost explorers, lost elephants, but damn few not-lost-at-all-because-we-live-here Africans.) There were video exhibits of King Kong (uncommented upon: the, uh, racism?) and in general an astonishing avoidance of the fact that the Tarzan myth is about a white English lord who rules over a kingdom of black apes. No metaphors for colonialization there, no sir, just keep on walking!

And of course this is--surprising? Maybe not really?--for a country that once claimed a significant portion of sub-Saharan Africa as its territory. And has remained uncomfortable with that legacy ever since.

That chewed up most of the day. For dinner, I went to a bistro called Boullion Chartier in the 9th. It was recommended by my exchange mate as a very traditional French bistro--so traditional that they actually keep track of your check by writing it on the tablecloth. Since I was alone, they seated me with somebody--the place was empty, but it fills up quickly. He turned out to be a montréalais who spoke excellent English, so I had one last anglophone conversation in Paris over my steak au poivre and profiteroles. Then I went home and watched the last episode of Heroes, Season 1: my exchange mate had a copy, which I was able to switch over to English, except for the subtitles for the Japanese characters; those I had to read, quickly, in French (and French as it's spoken, at that: but now I know that Je l'ai reussi! means "I did it!" in French.)

So that was my Paris sojourn, my attempt to find out what it would be like to live in the City of Light. And I think I succeeded; it was a good fit, though I recognize to really live there I'd have to truly immerse myself in the language and not spend so much time in self-created anglophone spaces. And of course I found privilege there, expected and unexpected, much that was the same as home, and a few that were quite different.

But you knew that already; heck, it's really not even fair: I always find privilege.

Nonsense is as Nonsense Does

As a companion to my new post on Below the Belt about use of the term "cis," I thought I'd amplify my issues with helen boyd's recent post on (en)Gender ("Jeez Louise this cisgendered nonsese": nothing dismissive there, nope!) about her objections to the term, as I found the post highly problematic for a number of reasons.

First, she claims that "cis" is unclear, because you can't tell if it means cisgendered or cissexual:

[...]I’m going to claim a difference between cisgender & cissexual. Cisgender, the problem seems to me, is not the easy opposite of transgender. Cisgender implies, or means, or could mean (depending on who you talk to), that someone’s sex and gender are concordant. So your average butch woman, who is not trans, or is, depending on how she feels about it (see Bear Bergman), is now somehow cisgender. So is someone like me. So is a femme-y gay man who maybe performs a more gender normative masculinity for his job. That is, those of us who have variable genders, who maybe are gender fluid or gender neutral but who don’t identify as trans, are now somehow cisgender.

I have a number of issues with this. For one thing, she does not make the same objection about "trans": that is, when we use trans, there's no clear indication as to what kind of trans person you are talking about: crossdresser, drag queen (yes, some are trans), transsexual, etc. So it demands something more from the term cis than is demanded from trans, which in of itself is an act of privilege.

But I also don't think that the division between cissexual and cisgender is clear, or even as important as helen (and Julia Serano) make it out to be. Yes, I know, it seems so logical: we make a division between sex and gender, so we should make a similar axis for trans and cis.

On closer inspection, however, it simply does not hold up. There are trans people, for example, who live fulltime in a gender other than the one they were assigned at birth, with legal recognition of that gender, who have never had either hormones or surgery. Yet I feel more than comfortable calling them transsexual. And this just points out another issue: it puts so much focus on a transsexual's body, and not his or her gender--and that plays far too easily into the very ways that anti-trans people attempt to invalidate trans people's genders. Finally, I've met many trans people of all stripes, and all have had some sort of body issue that the cis people I know simply don't have--the motivations are completely different. Both a straight man and a heterosexual crossdresser might pluck their eyebrows: but only the crossdresser does it to look more like a woman. So even if we were to accept that cissexual is a valid distinction, it is experienced quite differently by cis- and transgendered people.

The key point for me is that you have to be transgendered to be transsexual. That is, transsexuality is a phenomenon within the larger trans condition. It is a variety of trans experience, not an essential axis of being. Therefore, I think it is safe to say that in the absence of other qualifiers, "cis" means cisgendered and "trans" means transgendered.

So, taking helen's two examples, can we call them "cisgendered"? I think we can, because both a butch lesbian and an effeminate gay man don't ever identify as a gender other than they were assigned. That is, a butch calls herself a woman, a queeny gay man calls himself a man. And when they stop--we call them something else.

Telling me, & other partners whose lives are profoundly impacted by the legal rights / cultural perceptions of trans people, that we are “not trans” implies that we are also not part of the trans community. I’ve been saying for years now that we are. When trans people are killed, harassed, not hired, fired due to discrimination, denied health care, etc. etc. etc., their loved ones suffer along with them. Their families, their lovers, their kids especially. We are not just “allies.” We are vested, dammit, & a part of the trans community, so when “cisgender” comes to mean, or is used to mean, “not part of the trans community,” we are once again left out in the dark.

And...wow. This is an extraordinary statement and I am struggling to understand why it was said.

First, I'd have a lot easier time figuring it out had helen not ended her post with this:

I have lots of genders, but I’m not trans.

So...this is only a problem if trans people say it?

Second, replace "trans" with "in a wheelchair" in that paragraph and you can see how this starts to get queasy for me.

What do we mean by "community"? When we say "gay community" or "deaf community," do we mean allies and families of gay or deaf people, or only those who are gay or deaf? I think the usage is often contextual, but most commonly we mean only those members who have the trait being discussed. And with good reason, because while an ally may simply stop being an ally--friendships can end, married people can be divorced, a person's political alignment may change--for the person with the trait it is extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible, to remove that trait. I don't think it is uncalled for to make the primary meaning of community those people who have the greatest self-interest in it.

This leads us to another of helen's points:

Likewise, cisgender seems to get used a lot in place of “ignorant or unsympathetic to trans issues” which is also bullshit. Being cisgender or experiencing cissexual privilege – say by having a doctor assume correctly that I have a uterus – is not the same thing as being ignorant or unsympathetic to trans issues.

The exclusion and silencing of allies is a problem for all progressive movements, not just trans movements: witness the problematic relationships between men and feminists, for example. Some people certainly make attempts to cold-shoulder cis people from trans discussions, and often this is hurtful and unnecessary. At the same time, however, we should recognize that a movement needs both safe spaces and leaders from within its primary constituency: I call this the "no male president of NOW" theory. And just as straight or white people can condescend, obstruct, or even derail gay or black rights movements, cis people can do the same in trans movements, and trans people are well within their rights to talk about it and safeguard the goals of their movements.

This doesn't mean, however, that use of the term cis means open season on trashing allies. Trashing is a serious problem for any movement; bell hooks talks at length about this in Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center. Trans people have a responsibility to make sure that they use the term responsibly, and not just as a shorthand for "bigot." But cis people have a responsibility too--to listen to trans people, and not get so caught up on a point of terminology that they use silencing tactics wholesale to shut down discussion. Men didn't like the term "male privilege" but feminists insisted on it because it was a valuable concept that made visible a previously invisible prejudice; and while sometimes people used it in an irresponsible or even hateful way, the term has entered our discourse and is an important part of everyday discussions about gender.

i guess the point is that there are women, & gay men, who actually have legitimate & well thought out reasons for objecting to the term [...] so if all these explanations of why some people criticize the term or how it’s used, only convinces some trans people that anyone who is uncomfortable being called cis is (1) ignorant, (2) unhip, and (3) unwittingly transphobic, then i guess there’s been no point whatsoever in explaining that maybe people have their reasons, & that none of them have anything to do with being any of those things.

which i suppose means i should go ahead & go back to using “tranny” since i think it’s playful & sweet, & to hell with any trans people who don’t like being called that, because obviously they’re just (1) unhip, (2) ignorant, and (3) self hating.

This comment was addressed to me on the discussion boards at helen's site. But the thing is, and as I argued there, there really haven't been any good reasons to object: just people who feel that they're being called bigots, or saying that they don't identify as cis and thus the term shouldn't be used--on them, or really, on anyone.

But both arguments fail. First, it is not clear that every use of the term cis is conflated with "transphobic bigot"; plenty of feminist and progressive sites use the word every day in its primary meaning, "the opposite of trans." And yet I don't see posts by helen directed at Liss McEwan at Shakespeare's Sister, for example. It only seems to be problematic when trans people use the term. Now, the argument can be made that trans people use it the most more often in a problematic way. And I'll agree, but always with the caveat that trans people are also going to be the ones with the greatest understanding of cis privilege, and will call people out on it more frequently than others will. After all, who uses male privilege more often? Feminists or non-feminist guys? So yes, the most problematic uses of "male privilege" will be by feminists, but there will also be a much higher volume of overall use.

And it's not as if there isn't any oppression here or anything. That can make people upset.

The other argument is that cis is an identity. But it's not; as I said on Below the Belt, it's a descriptive term, like trans. That trans has more in common with an identity is purely a function of the oppression and disprivileging of trans people, just as it is with being black, or disabled. We use terms like "identify as trans" because there is a step you have to take, an identification you have to make: you have to reject the dominant culture's discourse about who you are--perverted, subhuman, crippled, and instead find a positive strength in who you are. Trans isn't an identity: it is the act of being trans, of being unashamed for what you are, that is the act of identification.

I mean, we don't talk about whiteness or being able as identities: and neither is being cis.

So all we are left with, then, is a really elaborate tone argument. And a tone argument is never an acceptable objection--it's a silencing technique. (As is helen's idea that the word only be used in an "appropriate" context, like a classroom.) And make no mistake, that's what's happening here. By telling trans people that there can be no word for people who aren't trans, we are being told that we are so unique and so different that we are the pure exception of the human race; that every other oppressed group gets to have de-centering language (sighted, able, hearing, straight) but we don't. That it is impossible to talk about not being trans without mentioning being trans. (Quick: I can write an article about dating as a straight woman, put straight in the title or the first paragraph, and never mention lesbians anywhere; that is impossible to do with a term like "non-trans.") And what happens when there is no term for non-trans? Simple. All too often, when people are talking about being non-trans, they will simply not even mention it: they will remain comfortably normal.

I am neither alien nor monster. I am not permanently othered by the accident of being born. And I will not accept a permanent second-class existence in the world simply because a three-letter word pisses some people off.

Cahiers Parisiens: les Autres, les Etrangres, le Moi

Last night I was having a somewhat dismal (in Paris, that means it was actually decent) meal over on République when I think I saw the mostly iconic image of 21st century Paris I've ever seen: a guy on a rented bicycle, smoking a cigarette as he rode down the boulevards.

Paris, of course, has an uncomfortable relationship with the modern world. It retains it's preeminent place in the world of fashion, is a major political and business center for Europe, and remains the center of gravity of the francophone world. And, of course, it is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

But so much of that comes from its curious sense of being frozen in time: the perfection of the nineteenth-century vision of Good City Life, the architecture frozen in place, the parks looking almost identitical to the images on the canvases of the Musée d'Orsay. It's static the way New York, my other favorite city in the world, never is: New York reinvents itself every day, in a furious pace of rebuilding, modifying, reconsidering, reconfiguring. Paris sedately glides by, asleep in the long belle rêve of Haussman.

Sometimes I think only Paris' status as the capital of a major country in Europe keeps it a living city. That, and the changing face of the French world.

I am staying in the Oberkampf district, on the northeastern edge of the city. I'm guessing it's going through a gentrification cycle; it's close to the Marais, the former Jewish ghetto that has become not only the heart of gay and lesbian Paris, but the home of most forward-looking fashion designers. It's an area of former factories being transformed into a residential district.

Out here, not quite in the periphery (let alone the banlieues, the suburbs that ring Paris), I still see more people of color than you do in central Paris, tourist Paris: Africans and Berbers from the old colonies, Indians, Vietnamese, Chinese, Arabs. It makes me homesick and feel at home at the same time, resembling my ethnically mixed neighborhood in the Great American Metropolis. (Also a rapidly gentrifying area with great restaurants.)

I won't rehearse for you the litany of troubles the changing population of France has brought on: the difficulties in assimilating different ethnicities into the French self-conception, the poverty and racism and rioting in the banlieues, the fact that the President of France once threatened retributary violence on those same rioters, before he was elected. France bans the veil at school, championing the cause of secularism and human rights, and we are left with profoundly mixed feelings about exactly what liberties are being abridged, and who has the right to do that. Etre Muslulman en France, screams the headline of one magazine I see advertised: being Muslim in France. What is it like, I, they, wonder, to be marooned in a culture that regards you cautiously, obliged to help you because of the mythic ideals of its own past, but not sure how to come to terms with being more than it was in the past: plural, multiple, different. How it is to be Other until that happens, if it ever does.

I could claim some parcel of this terrain, as both a woman and trans, but I really doubt it's the same: here, as in America, the swath my privilege as a white, able-bodied, educated person cuts through most hindrances.

Still: Tuesday night I went to an aikido class. The dojo has a very different style compared to my dojo back home: much harder, more concerned with proper form than movement. A good experience, but too much like my original aikido dojo for my taste.

I've talked about my French being better on this trip, but the truth is, it's still very weak, comparatively. I can read it passably well (today I was reading the "Declaration of the Rights of Man" in French and getting most of it), but anyone who speaks even moderately fast will have me in the dust. So, when the teacher would explain the technique, I would be...lost. I have almost no vocabulary for body parts: no word for wrist, barely able to recognize "leg" or "knee." I would get a word in every so often, and occasionally a general sense, but for the most part I'd be lost, and have to rely only on what I could see.

Which is the best way to learn, actually. But in those moments...I was the other. I was the one lost in a sea of incomprehension, struggling to use all my wits to figure things out, almost mute, ignorent. (There are times I grow so frustrated with how I speak, because my mind leaps so far out in front of what I actually know how to say: and I know I must sound stupid, with my mangled syntax and wonky accent.) And this is a valuable lesson to learn, to hold to myself the next time I get frustrated with someone else.

We never learn more about our privilege than when we are called on it. Or made to see the other side of it.

The Varieties of Transphobic Experience

Let's wade once again, ducks (good thing you can float!) into the wonderful world of...transphobia.

Let us consider the case of Lily McBeth.*

In 2006, after her transition, she beat back protests and bigotry to keep her job as a substitute teacher in New Jersey. It was widely and rightfully hailed as an important victory for tolerance.

That, of course, was then.

Recently she announced that she was retiring, frustrated at not getting many assignments. There is the appearance of transphobia, although the article cites other possible explanations. Explanations that make perfect sense.

The thing is, they always do. There's always some excuse when a disprivileged person tries to call people out on their privilege.

There was a nice column about the situation by Joseph Wardy that concludes with this uplifting paragraph:

What is the reason for the opposition of transsexuals in the workplace or in society? A person born black has no choice. Neither is a transsexual who was also born that way. The range of bias from rejection to physical violence is punishing these people for their condition and not their behavior. A transsexual is a person equal to the rest of society who happened through no fault of their own to be born in the wrong body. What don't we get about this reality?

Of course, the comments are something else entirely.

I have to tell you, in my 60 plus years, I have never heard a transsexual being bashed. It just never happened in my presence. Is this really a serious societal issue or a one in 100 million type problem? I feel sorry for anyone that is born so far out of the mainstream that it requires surgery, but there is a fix apparently, so why can't we leave it at that?

This stuff makes me want to puke. Transgender is a made up word about nothing. You are a man or a woman. You either have a penis or a vagina. There is NO other option. If you have a penis, then you are a man. If you have a vagina, then you are a women. THAT'S IT. This I am a man, but feel like a women crap is disgusting. What the eff is wrong with these people. My kids are not going anywhere near these perverts. Forget having them be my kid's teacher.

Cutting off your wang voluntarily is just wrong. And no, I don't want that freak teaching my children.

So far, your garden-variety hate. But then there's this:

You have done a great job of differentiating between homosexuality and transsexuality, so now would be a great opportunity to differentiate between classic transsexuality and trangenderism; there is a huge, huge difference.

Most transsexuals abhor the term transgender...

Well, now, whoa there. Most? Is there a survey on that? I personally know a bunch of transsexual women who gladly use the name transgendered.

..When Mara Keisling says:

"A survey her group helped to conduct this year of 6,500 transgendered Americans found 91 percent had faced bias at work."

I don't doubt it, but most transgendered are crossdressers, transvestites, gender queer, and every other conceivable form of gender variance on the planet...transsexuals are simply female, nothing more or less. The vast majority of that group transition, have their surgery, and then blend into the mainstream leading exceedingly normal lives, suffering no more discrimination than the next person.

Which, you know, can be quite a bit: that's why there's such things as feminism, the civil rights movement, gay pride...

The truth of the matter is that though there have been some attacks on gender variant people under the scenario you allude to, history has revealed that is an extremely small percentage of them. A review of the Transgender Day of Remembrance stie, which tracks deaths of anyone transgendered, (you can Google it if interested) shows that most of the attacks are on sex workers and others who put themselves at extreme risk. Most are not transsexual, but transgender. There is no excuse for murder or violence in society, regardless of who it is, where they are, or what the circumstances...nonetheless, it is prudent that one takes responsibility for their own safety and not put themselves in situations in which puts that safety at risk...many on the DOR site didn't heed that warning.

"You see your honor, the bitch was asking for it!"

Now that's a feminist defense! No privilege showing there, nope!

Of course, many people on the DOR website did identify as transsexual, or would have. If they'd only had time. (It's tragic to see so many young faces there.)

I've run into this kind of transsexual separatism around the Net, and it always seems to be about division: I'm not like them, those awful crossdressers/transgenders/folks who don't pass/whatever--I was born differently, I'm intersexed, I'm a classic transsexual, I have Harry Benjamin Syndrome. It's a kind of sandcastling, building yourself up at the cost of others who are more or less like yourself: of stressing division instead of unity, of accomplishing the tasks of the kyriarchy, not resisting it.

Maybe it's because I spent so much time as a crossdresser, but I just don't get it; I've talked to a lot of different trans people in my life, and most of them were gender dysphoric, whether or not they were transsexual. And I'm not really convinced how pushing some people under the bus is going to help anyone--HRC did that to trans people in general (yeah, including you classic transsexuals) last year in the ENDA debacle, and look how well that worked out.

Plus it seems to me that the transsexual separatists seem perfectly content to let the umbrella-definition (i.e., transgender includes transsexuals, crossdressers, genderqueers, people who transition socially but not surgically, etc.) trangender people go out and do a lot of the activism, win rights for trans people (almost invariably favoring transsexuals, at least at first) without doing much activism of their own. (There are some exceptions.) And I think that's ultimately what I don't get about them: it's this need to retrench privilege, rather than letting it go, to come through the crucible of transition and only want to build kyriachies-in-miniature.

But there's one thing I know: separating yourself from people on the basis of accidents of birth has never really done a damn thing to help make people free.


*Here at TSA we will not mention the birth name of a trans person unless it is of vital interest to the story

Letter to a Young Commentor, Part II

Greetings, Ducks! Sorry I fell off the face of the earth for a bit. But while I was away, reader Tamogochi was kind enough to respond to my reply to his previous comments.

I would like to answer you on why I'm not outraged.

That is because I see mistreatment as universal problem in our world: it happens in families, at workplaces, due to gender, race, social status, religious differences and ultimately between nations. It begins when one side expresses some kind of want/need towards the other. For example some people of the white race wanted to have free labor and had enforced slavery on another race. Similarly some men had been oppressing towards individual or all women. For them it didn't seem like a problem at all because they felt entitled to that (I think your term "privilege" might fit here). The other side wanted quite a different thing - not to be oppressed and equal rights. That seemed quite reasonable and fair to them but presented a real problem to the oppressors. And thus a conflict was born.

How can it be resolved? The easiest and the most popular way throughout the history has been by the use of force. The predator eats the prey and the strong enforces the weak. Men had been doing it for ages and they enjoyed the privilege they granted themselves even if they did not admit to having it. But there's also another and a much better way - cooperation/symbiosis. It happens when parties peacefully agree: you provide us what we want and we provide you what you want. That way rights and responsibilities are born.

So far, I'm with you. I myself tend to believe that a more communalist society would probably work better than our current system that places so much emphasis on the individual, and specifically tends to value people by how much dominance they have acheived; it's often quite subtle, but it's a nearly-universal part of our society. Take, for example, how people who are highly talented and skilled at some kind of operation--programming computers, analyzing budgets, designing ad campaigns--are pressured to enter management (tellingly, to have people under them), where they will direct other people to do the things that they do instead of doing them themselves; and if they don't go into management, they ultimately lack the respect and/or compensation of people who do go into management. Dominance, not necessarily talent, it what commands respect; the recent fiscal crisis has exposed just how little talent some of these people had.

And now we come to the issues of feminism. The way that I understand it is this: it's an organization that focuses on the problems of women and tries to solve them. Whether actively standing for women rights when necessary or trying to encourage them to reach more and to realize their full potential. And here I see a fundamental problem: if you focus your attention only on one side of the conflict you become subjective and might start to mistreat others. Then it's very easy to slip into a mode: you give us (women) what we want (rights, respect, power) and we don't care about your (men) problems. And they can get away with it because now they have a real power of an organization at their side that no single man can oppose. The way of enforcement of privileges in other words and the very thing feminism swore to fight.

I'd not call feminism an organization. (It reminds me of Will Rogers' famous line: "I don't belong to an organized party; I'm a Democrat.") Feminism is (or ought to be) a movement, but as part of that movement there will be many organizations, and many different points of view.

I think you are building a strawfeminist here. Somehow we are to suppose that by advocating for the rights of a specific oppressed majority (sorry, here in the US women are 51% of the population), you must ignore or even oppress another group: as if equality was a zero-sum game where you can only win if everybody loses.

I don't believe that; I think that equality and freedom are things that can be shared with all people, and that taking away a privilege is not the same as oppressing people.

I also have a few issues with how you frame this paragraph. First, you have women asking to be given rights. Which isn't the case at all, at least how I see it: women are demanding that their rights be respected. That is, the rights already belong to us; they can't be given--only respected.

Second, isn't telling that in a discussion of women's rights you immediately start talking about how this affects men? I mean, for real? It's so frustrating to time and time again bring up the troubles of an oppressed group, troubles that get ignored because the dominant group marginalizes all issues that don't directly affect themselves, and then have the dominant group show up to make it all about themselves! (In the feminist blogosphere, this argument is called but what about teh menz?)

"But we don't oppress men and only want to have certain rights and responsibilities for women" you might say. Is it too much to ask after all we do for them? We want to cooperate but men sometimes are not willing to participate and we have no other option than to fight.

There must have been a less sexist way to phrase that, don't you think? Again: women aren't asking for rights because we serve some social role well; we demand the rights that belong to us as human beings.

Let's look at an example of what's really happening: a problem of verbal abuse at the workplace. The conflict is obvious: men want to use certain sexually loaded words towards the other gender and women don't want that happening (or to be more specific they want respect and equality for themselves). And the solution for it? Feminist movement gathers enough political strength and a law is passed that prohibits that kind of discrimination. A great victory for the human race. But is it really?

What most tend to overlook is that it has really solved the problem only for one side of the conflict. Men did not have a problem of verbal abuse from women so the law solves nothing for them. And did anyone care to listen to what they really wanted? What has caused them to be sexually abusive in the first place? Nobody was interested in that. It was much easier to put a label "animals", "primates" and not to care at all. What took place afterwards is that men pushed their unsolved problems deeper and it has resulted in a more sophisticated and undetectable ways to discriminate women. The women once again retaliated. And now I, as a man, am viewed as a potential abuser everywhere I go - like I am responsible for what others of my gender had done in the past. I constantly hear things "men are pigs, aggressive, insensitive, uncaring, unemotional, bloodthirsty" and so on. This passive form of discrimination hurts me and makes me feel like a second rate human even if I've never done an abusive thing towards women. Come to think of it I too might easily become outraged because of this. I might even go as far as join a movement of masculinists who fight feminists. But what another senseless war would ever accomplish?

There really must have been a less sexist way to put that. Sigh. Let's start from the beginning.

I'd love to have some real sympathy for how you feel. And in fact, I do: I don't like it when anyone is called names, or anyone has assumptions made about them because of how they look. But. In the specific case you cite--give me a break. If you think it's hard to be called a predator, try actually being the prey. You forget, perhaps, who you are talking to. I am a trans woman. I've walked down dark streets as a man, as a cross-dresser, and as a woman. I've been called a faggot, whistled at, had lewd suggestions made to me on the street. I'm a double target: first for being a woman, and then for being trans; for many women like me, rape is only the starting point.

You clearly don't understand that. I won't say can't, because I think you can--I think anyone with a conscience and the willingness to listen to other peoples' stories can gain an understanding of what it is like to feel constantly targeted.

And I have to ask the question: why are you angry at me, at feminists, at women for demanding that predatory behavior--even things as seemingly trivial as being called names--be punished? Why are you angry at us, instead of them--the predatory guys, the jerks, the ones who benefit from the threat of violence and violation that constantly surrounds women in this society? Don't act like you don't have a stake in this fight; you've already shown that you do, because you're complaining about the results.

I mean, why be angry about the last century of slow, very incremental female empowerment and not pissed off about the hundreds of centuries of female oppression? Why not take on the assholes who are ruining it for the rest of you?

I don't think it's fair that people are calling you names and making unfounded accusations. I also don't think it's fair that you're comparing what's happening to you to the kind of toxic environments that harrassing speech such as the kind that is prohibited by law, because that can be much, much worse. I don't think it's fair to compare the "outrage" you might feel about your treatment to the outrageous way that women continue to be treated throughout the world. As if because you don't get outraged over name-calling, I shouldn't be outraged over how one in four women in South Africa is raped before she even turns 16.

I don't get outraged because of name-calling; I get outraged about hate speech that damages men by making them think that it's okay to denigrate women, that it's okay to look upon women as things or objects, that it's okay to continue the fundamental inequality of the human race.

It could have been a much different outcome if both sides listened - men and women cooperated towards solving their shared problems. Maybe what was best in
the situation was not to punish the abusers but to provide them help in dealing with their emotional problems? Maybe what needs to be done is to change how women treat men (in removing that passive discrimination I spoke about) and how are they up-brought by their mothers by teaching them a value of empathy and compassion? If we really thought about it we would have probably came to even better ideas than that.

How was what happened not cooperation? I mean, the last time I checked, there's not a legislative body anywhere in the United States that isn't majority male, so somebody cooperated to write the laws. And why shouldn't we punish people for breaking the law? You won't get an argument from me that many laws (drug violations, for example) might benefit from alternatives to incarceration, but people don't generally go to jail for sexual harrassment. Instead, the company and individuals have to pay a person for causing her damage; it's a matter of civil, not criminal law.

I think you're the first person I've encountered who feels that girls aren't brought up to feel empathy. I mean, isn't that the stereotype? Guys aren't allowed to have feelings, but girls are supposed to be so good at them?

And again, seriously: if these are shared problems (they are), then why do so few dudes care about them?

That's why I feel being outraged is not good - it hinders our ability to listen and see the situation clearly and invites us to mistreat other people just as we have been mistreated ourselves. I don't consider myself feminist or masculinist - I would rather be humanist.

Well, I disagree--I think the natural response to seeing people being oppressed should be outrage, and that my outrage helps me, inspires me, keeps me working on helping people.

And I'm a humanist as well; I don't think there's a need to be either a feminist or a humanist. My advocacy for one part of the human race doesn't diminish my advocacy for the rest of it; it just shows where my main interest lies.

Thank you again for responding--I know English isn't your first language. I do hope you continue to think about these things.

Very best,

C.L. Minou

Bastille Day

1. At the Porte Saint-Antoine, 14 July 1789

Independence Day celebrates a revolution--however important its future would prove--that was inaugurated to protect the rights of the entitled. I prefer Bastille Day, the start of the French Revolution, the first struggle to try to break the shackles of the Agricultural Revolution, to radically reshape the human destiny. It is the French, not the American, Revolution that haunts the Western consciousness, a bloody ghost shrieking of ways not taken and tyrannies unfought.

The starving and enraged sans-coulottes who gathered near the Porte St. Antoine that hot July afternoon knew nothing of the finer points of either revolution or democracy. They knew not whether they were Rousseau's ennobled primitives or Hobbes' mindless mob. Nor did they care. They gave not a sou for the National Assembly's parliamentary debate on the proper techniques to constitutionally cage a monarch: they knew only that they were oppressed, and sick of it, and incapable of letting it stand any longer.

Behind the walls of the ancient fortress were only seven prisoners--but they were the symbols of an entire regime. Never extensively used as a prison, the Bastille remained nonetheless the notorious symbol of absolute monarchy, the place those who dared speak against the Crown were warehoused. It was against this symbol, more than anything else, that the mob struck; but they had a more immediate goal. The Bastille was also a gigantic gunpowder depot.

By 5:30 in the afternoon, after four hours of fighting, it was all over. The commander of the garrison--mostly disabled veterans and a small contingent of Swiss mercenaries--had surrendered, and then intentionally provoked his own lynching, apparently unable to live with the dishonor. The powder was seized, muskets were charged, and the Royal Army abandoned Paris to the sans-coulottes. In time, those muskets would carry the Revolution (and more, the Revolutionary spirit) across the Rhine and into the rest of Europe. Nor would the vintage laid down that day ever completely fail, even after the force of revolution was channeled into a new tyranny and the blood of patriots was wastefully spent in defence of Empire. As much as Bonaparte and his successors might try, the power unleashed that July afternoon could never fully serve autocrats.

I wonder, though: what did the garrison see that day, as the mob burst into the outer courtyard of the fort, as the air grew opaque with gunpowder smoke--what flashed accross the sky for them that day? Portents of the ceaseless wars France would plunge into? Of the civil unrest and the great Terror to come? Or a presentiment that the world would never again be the same, that from now on the voice of the oppressed would never be stilled, try as they might to suppress it?

Today I choose to make my witness.

2. The Patriarchy Is Not Enough

For feminists, for people who struggle against sexist oppression, that set of privileges and oppressions we call patriarchy looms like the Bastille over the landscape of our lives. The comparison is apt: because patriarchy is both more and less than it seems.

Patriarchy is claimed as the father of all oppressions, the most common prejudice, the heaviest burden, the source of all tyrannies. Patriarchy must be nearly transhistorical--it certainly must go back as least as far as the Agricultural Revolution--and like a dark star, it bends all other forms of oppression towards it, warping them into its own mold. But like the Bastille, its symbolic presence is greater than its actual oppression, vast as that may be.

This is not to minimize the pervasive and insidious force it exerts: nothing I say could alter that, because it is an inescapable fact of every society extant on the earth. But. Patriarchy is only one of the oppressions. Others exist, and still would exist even without it.

Imagine, if you will, that we could wake up tomorrow in a world where sexism had finally been eliminated and true equality of the sexes reigned. Certainly many other oppressions would be greatly mitigated, because in eradicating sexism, fundamental inequalities of privilege and access would have to be extirpated.

But would the world change all that much? Would not the great mass of people on the planet still be mired in poverty, disease, starvation, and near-slavery? Is it really patriarchy that keeps women and children bent over the clothing mills of Indonesia and Vietnam to satiate the developed world's lust for cheap clothing? Or is it not still the case that colonialism, racism, imperialism, classism, militarism and a host of other oppressions would stalk the earth even without sexism, their staunchest ally?

I think that they would.

This is not to diminish the importance of the struggle against sexism; as bell hooks says:

Sexist oppression is of primary importance not because it is the basis of all other oppression, but because it is the practice of domination most people experience, whether their role be that of the discriminator or discriminated against, exploiter or exploited. It is the practice of domination most people are socialized to accept before they even know that other forms of group oppression exist. This does not mean that eradicating sexist oppression would eliminate other forms of oppression. Since all forms of oppression are linked in our society because they are all supported by similar institutional and social structures, one system cannot be eradicated while the others remain intact. Challenging sexist oppression is a crucial step in the struggle to eliminate all forms of oppression. (Feminist Theory, pp. 36-7)

The struggle against patriarchy will necessarily be a struggle against other forms of oppression. But that does not mean that it is sufficient in of itself to struggle only against patriarchy, or that all forms of oppression can be reduced to questions of sexism. Oppression is not something that has a simple binary, top-down nature; oppression takes many forms and has many axes of attack. To force all analysis of privilege to that of patriarchy is to engage in a privileged behavior: the privilege to ignore the effects of other oppressions. It is not accidental that much work in this vein has been done by people who are white, Western, and middle-classed, for that very reason.

The struggle against sexism is a vital step in liberating the human race; but it is not the only one or even always the most important one. The patriarchy is not enough.

3. A Wrinkle In Privilege

I use the term kyriarchy somewhat differently than most people.

Kyriarchy--"a neologism coined by Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza and derived from the Greek words for "lord" or "master" (kyrios) and "to rule or dominate" (archein)"--is usually defined like this, (courtesy of Sudy at A Woman's Ecdysis ):

When people talk about patriarchy and then it divulges into a complex conversation about the shifting circles of privilege, power, and domination -- they're talking about kyriarchy. When you talk about power assertion of a White woman over a Brown man, that's kyriarchy. When you talk about a Black man dominating a Brown womyn, that's kyriarchy. It's about the human tendency for everyone trying to take the role of lord/master within a pyramid. At it best heights, studying kyriarchy displays that it's more than just rich, white Christian men at the tip top and, personally, they're not the ones I find most dangerous. There's a helluva lot more people a few levels down the pyramid who are more interested in keeping their place in the structure than to turning the pyramid upside down.

Most people tend to visualize this as intersecting pyramids of power, which certainly follows the meaning of the word. But I tend to think of a different geometric form: the tesseract or hypercube, a four-dimensional cube.

Take a line in space; that's one dimension. Draw a square; now you have two dimensions. Now make it a cube; that's three dimensions. Add another dimension, and you have a tesseract:



Even though it is a difficult image to grasp, I like to use it--not the least because it is a difficult image, and our privileges often are just a difficult to analyze. I like it too because it exists, like we do, in four-dimensional space--and forgetting about our fourth dimension, time, often leads to mistakes in analyses of privilege. And maybe most of all, I like it because it is impossible to accurately visualize in three-dimensional space--and I think the same about privilege.

That is, it is possible to draw a tesseract or even make a three-dimensional model of it--but that will only be one way of looking at it. Likewise, we can analyze a person's relative oppression in terms of all sorts of axes: racism, sexism, religous bigotry, etc. But that will only be one way of looking at it, one way of rotating the tesseract; for another person, in another time, it will look completely different. All forms of oppression are linked.

And that is the essence of kyriarchy: we are all emeshed in it, all trapped not only by our oppressions but our privileges as well. If oppression is the negative force, pushing us down, privilege is the positive force, raising us up; both of them keep us tied to the system itself. The only escape is to break free of it all: to fight oppression and to abjure privilege. To break the fierce equilibrium and experiment for the first time in radical freedom.

Some feel that the way to do this is homogeneity: to end sexism by abolishing gender, to end religious bigotry by abolishing religion, etc. I disagree. I think that diversity is an essential element not only in the biological success of all species, but an important component of human creativity. I think the world is heightened by distinctions--as Hopkins says:

All things counter, original spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim...

What I want is a world where those differences are as about important as the music you prefer to listen to: something you might get passionate about, something that might inspire you or help you find other like-minded people to form a community with, but never something that you would kill or die for, or use to oppress other people.

I'm not sure that a human society truly free of hierarchy is possible or even desirable (even I think there is a place for some kind of privilege, just not unearned privilege.) But my fervent hope for the human species is a radical restructuring of how we organize ourselves, and soon too: because we've gone so far to destroy ourselves and now our planet with us.

4. Bastille Day

Two hundred twenty years ago, after the spasm of violence, order improbably returned. The National Assembly resumed its deliberations, and wisely stood by while the people of Paris dismantled the fallen prison, stone by stone and brick by brick, until nothing remained except a few foundation stones that lay buried for more than a hundred years.

Reached at Versailles a few days later, the King reacted to the news with a start. "Is it a revolt?" he asked.

"No, Sire," was the response. "It is a revolution."