Bisexual erasure is the tendency to deny the existence or legitimacy of bisexuality and bisexual individuals. The most common forms of bi erasure include simply ignoring bisexual identity, and also believing that bisexuals are going through a phase and that they will eventually realize they are either homosexual or heterosexual. Extreme forms of bi erasure involve denial that bisexuality actually exists, removing or falsifying evidence of bisexuality from history, and ignoring bisexuals the news media (even from LGBT media).
Bi erasure is furthered by the misconception that sexuality is a binary with only homosexual and heterosexual orientations. For some folks, it is inconceivable that there are people out there attracted to both men and women (the idea that gender is a strict binary is perhaps a topic for a later article). Believing in the binary model validates the experiences and perceived legitimacy of many who identify strictly as either heterosexual or homosexual. Gay people can be just as guilty of bi erasure as straight people. Many bisexual people feel pressured and ignored by both the straight and gay communities.
In the 1940s and 1950s, Alfred Kinsey and other sex researchers interviewed thousands of men and women about their sexual attractions and practices. Out of their research came a tool known as the Kinsey Scale (also called the Heterosexual-Homosexual Rating Scale). Kinsey and his colleagues discovered that sexual orientation falls on a spectrum rather than a strict binary. This spectrum is often visualized as a bell curve. This curve can be skewed for a variety of reasons, such as social conditioning and peer pressure, which affect whether someone identifies as or acts on their bisexuality, homosexuality, or heterosexuality. Heterosexual people have the most support and affirmation from society. Those outside factors aside, most of the population falls into varying degrees of bisexuality regardless of whether they acknowledge or identify their bisexual attractions and regardless of whether they act on them. For many, sexuality is fluid and attractions can change at different points in one’s life. Bisexual people are not necessarily attracted to both sexes and genders equally either. They can fall at various points on the Kinsey scale and not necessarily at the exact center.
Some examples of bi erasure and misconceptions that support this erasure include:
- Believing that bisexuality is a phase and that the bisexual person will eventually choose to be gay or straight.
- Believing that bisexuals are simply straight folks experimenting with their sexuality.
- Believing that bisexuals are actually gay, but not ready to admit it.
- Omitting a person’s bisexuality from historical reports or media stories.
- Leaving bisexuals out of discussions on LGBT rights and not giving them a voice in LGBT organizations.
- Assuming that all same-sex couples are completely gay or that all other-sex couples are completely straight.
- Assuming someone’s sexual orientation as either gay or straight based on the gender of their partner.
- Believing that bisexual people are protected by passing privilege.
- Believing that bisexual people are indecisive or confused.
- Assuming that bisexual people aren’t affected by same-sex marriage debates.
- Assuming that all bisexuals are in polyamorous or open relationships, but also assuming that some bisexuals are not.
- If you are bisexual, calling yourself gay, straight, queer or some term other than bisexual because it’s less complicated than calling yourself bi.
Mainstreaming is the act of incorporating a social or cultural group into the mainstream society, but it is also the adopting of mainstream values and sensibilities by that same social or cultural group.
The modern LGBTQ movement is said to have begun with the Stonewall Riot that started on June 27, 1969. At the time, it was common for gay bars to be raided by police and it was also common for those who frequented those bars to have their lives destroyed when their names were printed in the newspapers the following day. On that particular night at the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, New York, a handful of Drag Queens, Transgender people, sex workers, and other folks resisted the police and a movement was born.
While they may have been overly idealistic and utopian in their ideas, the early LGBTQ movement was not just about freeing the world from homophobia, it was also about making the world a better place for everyone. They challenged sexual puritanism and sex-shaming; the concepts of marriage and enforced monogamy; patriarchal institutions that held back women; classism and racism; and a host of other concerns. Their aim was never to be “normal” or status quo, but to remake society in such a way as to end the oppression of all communities and so that people could be who or what they were without shame or censure.
Over the decades these ideals were sidelined by folks in the movement who just wanted to be seen as normal and who wanted to be accepted in polite society. Additional factors, too, have had an impact on the mainstreaming of the LGBTQ movement and culture. These include more positive portrayals of LGBTQ folks on television and in the movies and the embrace of LGBTQ employees and customers by large corporations. While this mainstreaming has helped us make gains in such things as the right to serve in the military, same-sex marriage, and a growing acceptance of LGBTQ folks by society at large, these gains have only really been extended to the “right” type of people – those who can pass in polite mainstream, heterosexual, white, cisgender, monogamous society. The mainstreaming of LGBTQ culture helps those who are white, cisgender, male, affluent, and vanilla, but it does little to address rights and privileges denied to the more marginalized parts of our community – LGBTQ People of Color, Lesbians and Bisexual Women, Transgender folks, Drag Queens and Kings, the LGBTQ working class, folks in open and polyamorous relationships, fetish communities, and sex workers. The mainstreaming of LGBTQ people only perpetuates the inequalities, assumptions, and sexual prudery of the larger society and incorporates these into our own.
Another downside to this mainstreaming is the diluting and “de-gaying” of LGBTQ identity and culture. Our community used to have a fire in its belly and a strong idealism. We had many things that held us together as a community – shared experiences (like coming out), a need for safe and secure alternative spaces (like LGBTQ bars, bookstores, and community centers), common causes (fighting homophobia, discrimination, and harassment), empathy and solidarity with other marginalized communities, and even an appreciation of divas and campiness. As LGBTQ people and institutions are becoming more mainstream, we are losing those institutions that have helped us and defined us. LGBTQ folks are getting more of their LGBTQ news from mainstream media, so we are losing LGBTQ papers and publications. Along with those, we also lose an LGBTQ-centered perspective. LGBTQ folks are meeting people and finding dates and hookups online and through apps like Grinder. As we do so, LGBTQ bars, community centers, and social organizations are getting less patronage. The combined effects of mainstreaming and gentrification are pushing many LGBTQ institutions out of business. Many of these LGBTQ institutions were once strong and thriving in our community. They provided safe secure places for us to be ourselves. They especially provided shelter and safety to those of us who are less likely to pass in mainstream society. Institutions such as LGBTQ Bars, community centers, and papers also provided us places to share our unique history, culture, sensibilities, and values and norms that sometimes diverge from those of mainstream heterosexual society.
Gentrification and mainstreaming are complex issues. They have both their positives and their negatives. Ultimately, they end up benefiting only certain privileged demographics within the LGBTQ community at the expense of the poor and the marginalized. For better or for worse, gentrification and mainstreaming are also decimating longstanding LGBTQ community institutions and sensibilities.
This is a continuation of my last post: Making Sense of #MeToo, Part 2
The other problem I see with #MeToo, at least as it currently stands in the media, is that it’s divisive – whether or not it is intended that way. It’s largely pitting women and men against each other. Instead of being everyone against rape and sexual assault, it’s coming across as women against men who have or show any kind of sexual interest. I know… I know… patriarchy has put women in that position for years… correction… centuries. I get that, but two wrongs don’t make a right and two extremes don’t make for a fair, balanced, and equal society. It also raises everyone’s fears and anxieties over sexuality. For women this might mean raising fears that there are predators and pedophiles around every corner. For men it raises fears that any outward expressions of interest or sexuality could lead to public shaming, even job loss.
When the movement starts ousting men for the slightest expressions of sexuality because they don’t hold up to the highest ideals of sexual purity or for past incidents that maybe they’ve grown from, eventually you’ve got a lot of men on the outside. When it gets to that point it really does become a battle between women’s sexuality and men’s sexuality – rival sexualities and possibly rival moralities. Keeping on task and showing forgiveness for minor or unintended transgressions (especially if the accused makes a public apology) would mitigate some of this and ensure that the movement doesn’t lose its male allies. Right now, even seemingly sincere apologies are being met with hostility. A total zero-tolerance, zero-forgiveness stance will only lead to ongoing backlash against the movement.
While women are less likely to hold positions of power over men in our society, the #MeToo movement should also hold women accountable for sexual abuses against men in the workplace. It may not be as common, but it still happens. And just look at all the female high school teachers accused of sex with underage male students in the news. By shining the spotlight on women, not just men, such an action would show that the movement isn’t just a witch hunt against men. Right now almost all of those accused in #MeToo stories are men. They might be straight or gay, but they’re almost exclusively men.
Perhaps a problem too with the movement is that #MeToo isn’t really a proper movement per se, it’s really a large number of people telling their stories. Those stories are mainly about abuses and alleged abuses by celebrities and public figures. There is value in that because it raises awareness of the challenges that women endure in our society. It might also provide many with relief that their story is finally being told and heard. Seeing all these cases also raises awareness that men, even the “woke” guy next door, might not be immune to the impulses of their sexuality or to the institutionalized differences of sex and power between men and women in our society.
If #MeToo is to become a real movement and not just a means of revenge and shaming, I feel like the #MeToo folks should come up with some kind of unified platform or policy. Such a policy could keep the media from fully dominating the dialogue on these issues where the media currently interviews people and picks stories that are likely to provoke controversy and increase their ratings. Such a policy could outline levels of sexual abuse from the severe to the trivial and decide what actions are appropriate for each. The movement should also have a designated spokeswoman to weigh in on the issues. That would also help alleviate many of the mixed messages about the movement coming from media interviews with random women. Even prominent female celebrities and public figures might have different views on the movement and each case brought forward. Perhaps the movement could start a legal fund to help women who are currently or recently victims of abuse; and perhaps too the movement could work toward helping mitigate counseling costs for those who have been traumatized by sexual abuses. Perhaps the movement could host workshops on better communication about dating and sex for both men and women. Hopefully, the movement would distinguish between positive sexual expression and negative sexual abuse. Hopefully too, the movement would extend forgiveness to well-meaning men who have made trivial offenses or who made larger offenses in their past, but have since learned and grown from them.
This is a continuation of my last post: Making Sense of #MeToo, Part 1
Another thing that has been thrown around a lot by #MeToo advocates is that victims of sexual assault, harassment, and even those less heinous sexual infractions are traumatized by their experiences. There’s no doubt that some things are inherently traumatizing – rape, assault of any kind, being the victim of violence. On the other side of things, being publically shamed, or losing one’s job or career can also be traumatizing, though perhaps some people deserve that trauma. There have been others who have argued that that you can’t really put a degree on trauma and that all trauma for victims of sexism is equal. In this view, it doesn’t really matter whether someone was raped or traumatized because another person got a little handsy or flashed out his privates.
I can’t buy that for a number of reasons. The main thing is that trauma is subjective and individual. What traumatizes one person might not phase another. I think emotional trauma is often caused by the crossing of one’s own individual issues and boundaries by another person. It can’t always be predicted, and sometimes the offender is an external mirror of one’s own shadow and subconscious fears. I had a co-worker once who was traumatized by the thought that the folks mowing grass outside on riding mowers were chasing her. I suppose they could have been, but they were likely just a little reckless and going the same direction. If our legal system saw all traumas to victims of crime as the same, someone might get the death penalty for jaywalking. Our courts of law weigh the trauma of the victims along with the rights of the accused and the severity of the crime.
I’m not a woman so I can’t weigh in on women’s experiences of sexism in our society, but I am a gay man and I can draw some parallels with my own experiences of homophobia. I don’t weigh all instances of homophobia as the same, nor can I say that all instances of homophobia were inherently traumatizing. Ironically, “innocent” uninformed homophobia from family, friends, and loved ones might have been more traumatizing for me than incidents that involved threats of violence. I once had my life threatened for being gay by a group of men standing outside my car with tire irons. That’s been far less traumatic for me than some friends I’ve lost because of their anti-gay religious beliefs. That doesn’t mean I believe these former friends should be publically shamed for being party to a homophobic religion, though perhaps the religion itself should be. I’m not even sure the guys with the tire irons should be shamed 30 or so years later. After all these years, I’d like to hope that both the guys with tire irons and the former friends have evolved on these issues and become more tolerant. I guess if they were still chasing LGBT folks with tire irons or if they were running for public office on a platform of hate that might be different.
This might be a good time to bring up my own story of being on the wrong side of a harassment claim. I’ve told this story before in my podcast in an episode on ageism in the gay community. I had just turned 30 and had been working for only two, maybe three, years as a staff person for the university where I graduated. I’d also been heavily involved in the gay student group on campus as a student and upon returning as a staff person I’d gotten back involved in the LGBT community on campus including showing my support for the student group. There was this guy in the group that I developed a sincere attraction toward. I’ll call this guy John. I made the mistake of mentioning my interest to another guy (I’ll call him Mike) who was involved with the group, and asking if he’d help set me up on a date with John. Mike was a graduate student and he was appalled because there was an age gap between me and John. Apparently all older gay men who are interested in younger ones are predators or so seemed to go the narrative going around at the time. This narrative was also used to shut down talks of an LGBT mentoring program. All the younger gay men needed to be protected from the older ones. To put this into perspective, I was 30 and John was in his early 20s. John was of legal age and at worst a decade younger than I was. When I was his age, I dated men in their late 20s and early 30s. The ironic thing was that Mike was dating a faculty member who was probably 20 or 30 years his senior, though I’m under the impression they started dating before coming to the University. After I let Mike know I was interested in John, I started feeling less and less welcome at events, some things I was doing for the group like updating their web page were pulled from me, and John’s friends seemed to block any efforts I made to just try to get to know him better.
Things got even more complicated when I wanted to go to an LGBT conference with the student group that was taking place in a faraway city. I was denied transportation with the group in the bus they were taking so I ended up driving the entire 700 mile trip on my own to attend the conference. I’d see John here and there and usually I got a smile and a friendly hello. At one event he even sat down across from me and we had a friendly conversation. I knew that he knew that I was interested. I had sent him a few e-mails enquiring about going out sometime. As someone kind of shy and awkward, e-mail was my preferred method of communication. I know I didn’t say anything lewd or make any kind of sexual references. That’s always seemed a bit crude to me, and I was interested in dating and not just sex. The e-mails and other messages were never answered so I didn’t know whether he was being coy, not interested, or if he was just a person who didn’t check e-mail. Looking back, I can see that I was somewhat persistent, but I don’t believe I did anything inherently wrong. I felt like his friends might have been pressuring him not to interact with me, but I don’t know whether or not he was actually interested. He never said he wasn’t and never himself implied that I was bothering him. I totally admit that I’m terrible about reading people.
The crashing culmination to this story was when I was called in to talk with someone at the Human Resources Department at the college. The resource officer repeatedly talked down at me for having an interest in a student, despite the fact that I was literally only a few years from being a student myself. At the same time, despite the harsh condemnation, she affirmed a number of times that I’d done nothing wrong. I wasn’t in a supervisory position over the student. I hadn’t forced myself on him. I hadn’t said or done anything inappropriate sexually. She justified her condemnation by saying that the college looks down on relationships between staff and students. Things might be different at an isolated rural college, but at an urban institution where there is so much overlap between the university and the community that doesn’t even seem a reasonable thing to say. It’s very common for staff to have spouses, family, and friends who attend as students. Our college has a number of older and non-traditional and returning students. There are also plenty of opportunities for folks to meet in the outside community and then discover that one person is staff and another person a student. Such condemnation would be different if one party was a professor or supervisor and the other party was a student in their class or an employee under their supervision. None of this applied to me.
The thing about this situation is, if John had simply been upfront and direct, if he had told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested, I would have moved on. Perhaps I was expected to be a mind reader or to pick up on unspoken signals. Aside from not being good at that in the first place, this situation was complex and I do feel at times I got mixed signals from John, even if his circle of friends seemed hostile toward me.
This experience was extremely traumatic for me. I felt humiliated and shamed. After all these years, I have the maturity to understand that ultimately it was miscommunication between me and John that led to the event, and I have enough respect for him (and even his close circle of friends) to change their names for this post.
It was after this that I dropped out of all my involvements with the LGBT community on campus and even off campus. It was over a decade before I’d even went back to a gay bar or gay event. Even now, I probably err too far on the side of caution by rarely asking anyone out at all. I have a friend who frequently suggests “what’s the worse” that could happen if I ask someone out that I’m interested in, that maybe they’d say “no.” I know it can get far worse than that.
As someone who’s introverted, socially awkward, and a little geeky, I also know the toll it takes on one’s self-esteem to be rejected on a regular basis by people I’ve taken a romantic interest in. For many this could lead to desperate attempts to get their emotional and sexual needs met. While I’ve never forced myself on anyone sexually, I do admit that in my past (especially in my 20s) there were many awkward attempts to win someone over that I’m not especially proud of. Mostly I was just overly persistent because I bought into those movies about the socially awkward guy winning his love interest in the end. Sometimes I let my imagination run loose when trying to impress someone (Justin, I’m not really a Timelord… or am I?). And because of my shyness, there were lots of notes and e-mails expressing my interest, often before I’d developed a real connection with the person I was interested in.
I guess what I’m really trying to suggest in this post is that people are human on all sides of this issue. We all have potential for trauma, and it’s not always rational. And sometimes the real issue is miscommunication and differences in expectations.
To be continued…
I’ve been watching the #MeToo news over the past few months, and I have to confess that I have mixed feelings about the movement. While I tend to consider myself very liberal on social issues and a supporter of women’s rights, I also believe in finding a fair, rational, and balanced view of things. I’m also a strong supporter of sexual freedom so long as one’s sexual expression is consensual and everyone involved is of legal age. Where my views tend to differ from a number of feminists (but not all feminists) is that I don’t believe sexuality and expressions of sexuality are inherently negative or to be repressed or closeted. I don’t believe that appreciation of naked bodies is necessarily objectification. And I also believe that it’s okay for men and women to have separate groups and events (as well as coed groups and events) so long as these groups aren’t about bashing the other gender and so long as we live in a free and pluralistic society.
On the positive side of the #MeToo movement, a number of really sleazy and predatory men (and possibly even a few women) have been called out for some pretty heinous things like rape, sexual assault, predatory behavior, and using positions of power to force women (and some men) into having sex with them. On the negative side, there has been the public shaming of men for minor (and sometimes unintended infractions) and for just being having an interest in sex and beautiful women (and again in some cases – men). I’ve seen a number of denials that #MeToo is about shaming men for such minor transgressions and declarations that it’s only about going after the big and monstrous cases. But for every denial, there’s also a news story shaming a male celebrity or public figure for something like putting his hand on a coworkers leg during an television interview, being a little touchy feely, being overly insistent about going on a date or sex, or not picking up on signals that a woman (or man) isn’t interested in more. And, of course, what happens when you have someone who generally supports women’s issues, but then gets called out for something that wasn’t rape or assault, but still involves following their sexual impulses? Is it unfathomable to believe that a man can support women’s rights and still be interested in sex, not to mention fallibly human?
The good thing about the #MeToo movement is that it’s opening up dialogues between men and women about what’s appropriate behavior, except I’m not sure it really is. Any disagreement with aspects of the #MeToo movement is seen (and shamed) as defending sexism and sexual assault, preserving a sexist patriarchal system, or as being on the same level as our conservative and not so enlightened social and political adversaries.
I’m not so quick to turn every man accused of something into a monster, nor am I quick to discount the stories and experiences of women as nothing more than overreaction and hysterics. At the same time, some of these men are monsters, and some women are jumping on board #MeToo over seemingly trivial offenses. Reality often falls somewhere between the extremes.
One of the criticisms I have of #MeToo is that it comes across as a mob mentality. The politically incorrect comedian, Bill Maher, even dubbed it #MeCarthyism. We live in a country where people are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, but #MeToo shames alleged perpetrators, even destroying their reputations and careers, based on accusations and hearsay. Admittedly in some cases, patterns of abuse come out, but in others only a few accusations stand. There’s also the point brought out in my recent “Trouble with Normal” post that there are differing attitudes about sexual morality and even rival moralities. Not all views of sexuality involve puritanical and heterocentric ideas involving monogamy, family units, or the idea that sexual expression in and of itself is negative. While we might all agree that rape and assault are bad (not to mention illegal), we might not all agree that patting someone on the leg, appreciating someone’s beauty, being a little persistent, or being attracted to someone in a different age group (so long as they are past the legal age of consent) is necessarily predatory behavior.
As a gay man (and as someone who hangs out with poly folks and fetish people), I’m very sensitive to the public shaming of people for their sexual inclinations. There was a time when LGBT folks were shamed. Many poly and fetish folks still worry about being shamed. Such shaming was part of mid-20th century McCarthyism that sought to root out not just communists, but homosexuals and sexual “deviants.” This included crusades against a number of Hollywood celebrities at the time. Often an accusation, regardless of hard evidence, was enough to cost someone their reputation and career. Back in the day, LGBT folks were also shamed in lists in the newspapers as criminals and sexual deviants after police raids of gay establishments. Many lost their jobs, families, and reputations. Compare this to some #MeToo lists of alleged predators that have sprung up on the internet. As a Pagan, I’m also aware that many folks had their reputations and lives destroyed during the Witch Trials, often based on flimsy or unsubstantiated accusations. Often these rumors included accusations of sexual deviance. Some of these folks even paid the price with their lives.
One of the big questions I have about #MeToo is: Are we really that surprised that men like sex and will go to great lengths to get it? Or that men like looking at naked women (and sometimes men)? Likewise, are we really surprised that women have different expectations about sexuality than men? Back in the 90’s there was that book claiming “Men are from Mars, and Women are from Venus.” And of course, there are differences in expectations and socialization for men and women. Men have been traditionally socialized to be the initiators in dating and sexual relations; while women have traditionally been socialized to be on the receiving end of date requests and so forth. Men have traditionally been given greater freedom and encouragement to have more sex and more partners, while women have traditionally been expected to save their virginity for the one special man they marry. Of course, women with multiple sex partners are shamed as “sluts”, while men who have multiple partners before marriage are seen as “virile” and to have a positive sexual prowess. Popular culture – including television, movies, and music – often even reflects these expectations. How many romantic comedies show the unlikely, but persistent, guy winning over his reluctant female love interest? How many songs talk about winning someone’s love? How many romance novels (even those written by women) portray women swooning over the strong, masculine, aggressive, virile, and possibly even dangerous male?
What is at issue too is that men and women have never really learned to communicate with each other, especially over issues of sexuality. Some have, and they probably have great relationships, but many others have not. There are a great many men out there who have no clue when it comes to communicating with or attracting women. There are a great number of women out there who never learned to set boundaries or to assertively say “no” when needed. Then, of course, there are even more folks who never learned to read body language and subtle signals. If they had, perhaps there would be fewer women who find themselves in compromising situations and more men who could pick up that a woman just isn’t interested.
I’ve often thought that maybe there should be a class in high school where folks learn appropriate behavior for dating and interacting. I remember getting the sex education part describing all the biology and mechanics, but don’t remember learning the ins and outs of dating behavior. Maybe some folks had these kinds of classes. Some folks might argue that teenagers get this through extracurricular activities like dances and formals, or just learning to date each other. Perhaps early dating is an indicator of being better able to date and interact as adults, but not everyone gets this experience. As a gay person, I really didn’t have the opportunity to start dating until college and by then dating was even more complex. I was also the nerdy and socially awkward bookworm in high school, so even if I’d been straight, that’s not a guarantee I would have been dating.
That brings me to another point in this conversation about the #MeToo movement and sexuality. Sexism has largely come to the forefront in this movement, but what about other –isms related to sexuality. Some have argued that things like ageism and lookism have come into play in the accusations. I’m not sure there’s a word for it, but there’s also a prejudice against the nerdy, geeky, and socially and sexually awkward. While things like sexual assault and predatory behavior might be more cut and dry, there’s also this idea of “unwanted advances.” Aside from the fact that one cannot truly know if an advance is unwanted until one makes it and the other party clearly indicates they aren’t interested, “unwanted advances” can also indicate general undesirability on the part of the person making the advance. One can be undesirable if he is too old, not fit enough, differently abled, another race, socially or sexually awkward, or any other number of other subtle and not so subtle factors. I’m not at all indicating that someone should accept the advances of someone they are not attracted to or interested in, only that certain portions of the population are more likely than others to receive harsh contempt for simply making an advance or being assertive about dating or sex in the first place.
Too be continued…
While The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life written by Michael Warner was first published in 1999, I believe many of its core messages are still valid today. They are valid not only for LGBTQ people, but also anyone with non-mainstream ideas about sexuality or who otherwise doesn’t fit what is considered “normal” by society.
Warner starts with the premise that people like to control the sex lives of others and for many this is where their sense of morality begins. But Warner argues that controlling the sex lives of others is not only unethical, but that this attitude is actually moralism rather than any kind of ethics or true morality. Our culture governs sex, not just harmful sex like rape, but all sex by legally regulating what is and isn’t acceptable, prohibiting some forms of victimless sexuality and by restricting access to and information about sexuality. Society also claims one set of sexual values and practices as normal while vilifying all others. Those who fall outside the sexual norms might be humiliated, beaten, jailed, or stigmatized as deviants and criminals. Warner argues that what many would take for granted as immoral, criminal, or pathological might just be harmless difference and a rival morality. And society’s repression of sexuality may be the basis of pathology rather than sexuality itself.
Attitudes about sexuality have been tainted by the early Christian church’s fear and repulsion of the flesh and the belief that sex is only about procreation. As such, society dictates that certain things aren’t permissible and should be controlled including: homosexuality, sex outside the Holy institution of marriage, promiscuity, masturbation, group sex, casual sex, sex with someone outside your age group, public sex, pornography, BDSM sex, and virtually any other sex that doesn’t include the possibility of insemination. Traditionally, this even included birth control, and if you’re Catholic it still does.
All of these things are vilified and shamed by our society. LGBTQ people are particularly vulnerable to this shaming because we grow up in heterosexual families and with heterosexual peers who all assume we’re heterosexual. Our schools and religions assume the same and indoctrinate us to grow up to be normal, responsible heterosexual citizens. To those who grow up realizing they’re gay, this leads to a sense of estrangement and secrecy that further perpetuates those feelings of shame. Is it any wonder that many gay adults and even the gay movement itself seek validation and acceptance from the mainstream rather than sexual autonomy and difference? To embrace our difference and our sexuality would be to invite shame and our own feelings of inadequacy – of not being “normal.”
This creates ambivalence for many gay people. They want to feel normal and connected to the heterosexual world that includes their parents and family, but they’re also part of the gay world and the stigma associated with it. They may feel that their own feelings and actions are honorable, and so must blame this stigma on others in their group especially those that are further from straight norms and those who act in stereotyped ways. They may also feel a need to repudiate sex and to desexualize themselves, others, and the gay movement as a whole. This ambivalence plays out in the gay community with assimilationists seeking respectability and normalcy on the one end; and sex radicals embracing their sexual differences on the other end. Those seeking respectability are the most likely to be harboring sexual shame.
The trouble with normal according to Warner is many-fold but boils down to this. By trying to be “normal” we are only feeding into larger society’s stigma toward sex and sexuality and that when we take this attitude on as a movement the result is to reproduce a hierarchy of shame within our own community. Embracing normal throws shame on those further down the ladder or respectability including those who are effeminate or otherwise don’t act “straight,” those not in monogamous relationships whether bachelors or polyamorists, those into BDSM, sex workers, drag queens, those who actually admit to liking pornography, and so on. We do a disservice to ourselves and to society when we try too hard to win acceptance and respectability rather than challenging the faulty assumptions and ethics of the dominant culture. For gay people to disavow sex and sexuality in an effort to fight stigma is to reject the very thing that defines us.
Warner also points out that what we think of as normal is really what is statistically normal. People didn’t start worrying about normal until polling and statistics came into popularity. Being normal is not really a good reflection of desirability. It’s normal to have health problems and to be in debt. It’s not normal to be a genius or to be well endowed. People have come to see normal as meaning to be certified or approved, but in essence to be normal is to be common with nothing too special about you.
Warner spends an entire chapter with a compelling critique of gay marriage. This was long before same-sex marriage became legal in the U.S. Warner argued that while many believed same-sex marriage would somehow erase all the hate and intolerance existing in society toward LGBT people, it doesn’t address the real root of the problem which is society’s stigma and intolerance of sexual variation.
Opponents of gay marriage want their marriages to be holy at the expense of someone else. But that’s really the problem with the institution of marriage as a whole, and that doesn’t change much with the legalization of same-sex marriage. Marriage sanctifies and gives legitimacy to some relationships at the expense of others. It commends and privileges those who are married. It makes them special. If you don’t have it you and your relations are less than worthy. It’s kind of like being a single person on Valentine’s Day. Marriage confers a number of social and governmental benefits and privileges to married couples that are denied to single people, people in non-traditional relationships, and other types of cohabitating households. Warner argues that applying strict definitions of marriage onto same-sex relationships provides less freedom to LGBTQ people, not more.
Marriage might not be the right choice for gay people for other reasons as well. Historically marriage has been designed to define lineage and to perpetuate families by having and raising children, not to mention to indoctrinate and carry on a family’s religious beliefs – that’s why mixed religion marriages have traditionally be frowned upon and are still an issue in some families even today. As many feminists would point out, marriage has also historically been a way of dominating and trafficking women. A carry over from this can still be seen today when a bride’s father gives her away to the groom. Marriage allows the state to regulate and enforce the dictates and rules of marriage, as well as regulating and enforcing restrictions on sex in other contexts outside of marriage. Marriage gives power over to the state and third parties to legitimize and affirm the status of a relationship rather than letting that come from within the relationship itself.
Instead of gay marriage, Warner offers other solutions. These include extending the special legal privileges currently defined narrowly within marriage into wider contexts including domestic partnerships, common law marriages, and alternative forms of families. Rather than trying to force the plethora of gay relationships and even many straight relationships into the mold of marriage, it might be better to take the forms of relationships already existing and extend benefits and rights to those making them available and accessible to gay and straight people alike. Rather than trying to make gay relationships more straight, perhaps we should be trying to allow straight relationships to be more queer.
I’ve been a long-time fan of Doctor Who since long before it was cool. I started watching the adventures of the 4th Doctor back when I was 9 or 10 years old in the late 1970s. I followed him through his 5th, 6th, and 7th incarnations and also at some point caught up on Doctors 1 through 3. When the show went off the air, I followed the Doctor’s adventures through books and audio adventures. I watched the 8th Doctor’s television movie in 1996, and have followed every episode of the show since it’s revival in 2005. Doctor Who and one other show, Knight Rider, were defining and pivotal shows of my youth that have forever had an impact on my life and values. Doctor Who fights injustice wherever he goes. He doesn’t use guns, but uses knowledge, intellect, and technology instead. Knight Rider was similar in its own way – fighting injustice with intellect and technology rather than guns.
When I saw Sunday’s announcement that the upcoming Doctor will be a woman, I’ll just be honest and say I have mixed feelings. I’m not in the camp that the Doctor shouldn’t be a woman at all, but I’m also not in the camp that the Doctor should be female solely in the interests of diversity and representation either. I fall somewhere in the middle. I don’t feel that everyone against a female doctor is a misogynist bro-flake. In fact, some of my female friends also have mixed feelings about the Doctor being a woman. I don’t think everyone who wants a female Doctor is a left-wing, radical, hippie extremist either. I think some women want a Doctor who can be their own role model. As a male, I’ve experienced what it’s like for the Doctor to be like “me,” and I know many women want to have the same experience. The same could be said for folks of other ethnicities and backgrounds looking for regenerational representation.
The reasons for my mixed feelings are complex. Doctor Who has always been male and essentially British. In the classic series, the Timelords were portrayed as stuffy, traditional, and sexless, so the idea of them changing gender seems a bit of a stretch to me. It’s only been since Missy showed up a few seasons ago that we even got the idea that Timelords could regenerate into the other sex. I was actually rooting for her to be the Rani, a strong female villain Timelady who showed up a few times in the classic series. The Rani was a good character on her own, so why not take her character and run with it instead of taking a classically male character and turning him into her. In my own opinion, Missy would have worked much better as the Rani – everything from the life-after-death experiments from Season 8 to the fact that her character was more amoral than outright evil. The Doctor himself while being of the male gender, has mostly been portrayed as sexless, being above relationships and sexuality – whether by choice, temperament, or necessity. Sure there was once that fling with that Aztec woman in his first incarnation, the 8th Doctor’s kiss with Grace in the television movie, and many of the new companions such as Rose, Martha, and Amy have had crushes on the Doctor, but time and time again he’s deflected focus away from his own sexuality. There was also that dance between the 9th Doctor and Captain Jack. In the series, I’ve enjoyed a number of strong female companions – Romana (a Timelady of equal stature to the Doctor), Ace, Donna, Amy, Riversong, and others.
So why exactly do so many people want the Doctor to be female? I think essentially it comes down to the Doctor being like “me.” That’s also the reason so many folks want a female Doctor. Many of the female fans want a Doctor they can relate to and can internalize as a part of themselves (not to mention cosplay). The same applies to fans of color or other demographics. The Doctor’s regeneration has always been about change and about bringing in someone different (sometimes radically different) than the one before. We balance out old with young, reserved with brash, serious with fun, humble with self-important, and so on and so forth. In that tradition, it’s really not that big a stretch to replace male with female.
As much as I loved David Tennant and Matt Smith in the role, I’m actually glad they didn’t bring in yet another Tennant-Smith clone. Those two Doctors were more alike than different, especially in the way they looked. That said, David Tennant, Matt Smith, and even Christopher Eccleston drew in a larger female audience to the show, and many of those young women weren’t interested in being the Doctor per se. They wanted to date him. I won’t lie. As a gay man, I did my own swooning even though I never thought of the Doctor sexually or romantically in the classic series – Peter Davison maybe, but not so much the other Doctors. As a man, the Doctor could be me. As a gay man, the Doctor could also be that mysterious, handsome, heroic, and unavailable stranger I could crush on. The same reasons attracted many young straight women who joined the fandom, but they couldn’t claim a male Doctor was like them. Therein lies the problem.
When I saw the announcement for a female Doctor, my biggest fear is that I won’t be able to relate to her and also that many of the show’s straight male fans may have a harder time relating than I do. If male viewers start turning off the show, will there be enough viewers to keep it going. Also, will the many straight female viewers who called for a woman Doctor be disappointed that the Doctor is no longer crush worthy? I know I will be, but the Doctor remaining male doesn’t guarantee this. Look at the falling demographics under Peter Capaldi. He wasn’t as sexy as his recent predecessors. Many of the women who liked Tennant and Smith and the borderline romantic relationships they had with their female companions tuned out under an older Doctor. With a female Doctor, I hope we’ll at least have some cute male companions or go back to a larger TARDIS team that is both male and female.
The biggest problem to me isn’t whether the Doctor is male or female. It’s why there’s such a call for him to be female, a person of color, etc. For me on some level it just bothers me to start changing demographics on an iconic character. It bothered me in the 2008 Knight Rider remake when they allowed KITT to transform into a truck. I wasn’t bothered that the new KITT was a Ford Mustang and not a Pontiac Trans Am. With a car, it really isn’t about race or gender, though I do have to point out that KITT has always been black. Changing types of car was fine for me, but there was something about KITT being able to change into an F-150 pickup that just felt wrong somehow. I have the same feelings about making Doctor Who a woman, or when they made Starbuck a woman in the new Battlestar Galactica. To me, it was about taking an iconic character that I’d grown up with and making them into something they weren’t originally. At the same time, I was pleasantly surprised by the all-female Ghostbusters remake, and I was able to totally crush on Chris Hemsworth’s “Kevin” character in a way I really didn’t feel about anyone in the original Ghostbusters cast.
As I was saying, the problem isn’t the gender or color of the Doctor, but why there are so few iconic and successful shows featuring female characters (or characters of color). We had Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Charmed Sisters, Xena, Wonder Woman, Captain Janeway, and Agent Carter, but I really haven’t been able to think of that many sci-fi and fantasy shows that were carried by a central female character. The numbers are less when you start looking at spacefaring and time traveling heroines. Of course, the gender of these strong female characters was an important part of their charm. Buffy wouldn’t have been as strong or complex a character if she’d been male, Xena would have been just another sword and sandal warrior, the Halliwell sisters might not have cut it as brothers, and Wonder Woman wouldn’t be the same if she was a transgender male.
Instead of rewriting classic characters as someone of a different gender or color, why don’t we have more original female and ethnic characters leading their own shows? I thought Star Trek did this wonderfully with Star Trek Voyager. They didn’t remake Captain Kirk as a woman. They created a new show in the Star Trek universe with a strong, original female lead. I loved Voyager and Captain Janeway brought something to the franchise that wouldn’t be there if they’d simply recast Kirk as a woman. Deep Space Nine brought in a strong African American lead in the form of Commander Sisko. These characters added to the Star Trek universe and the unfolding Star Trek story in a way that recasting the original characters never could have done. The same could be done in the Whoniverse. I’d love to see the adventures of Romana in her own TARDIS, or what about Riversong, Clara and Me in their stolen TARDIS, or some of the other new series companions, or even classic series companions. I loved the Sarah Jane Adventures. Could something similar, but unique in its own right, be done with other female companions?
Regardless of the gender, race, age, or other characteristics of the Doctor, I will continue to watch the show and give each new actor / actress the chance to win me over. I’m looking forward to seeing what the new Doctor and the new producer bring to Doctor Who. Hopefully it will be something good.