sigelphoenix: (Default)
sigelphoenix ([personal profile] sigelphoenix) wrote2005-08-04 09:12 am

Equality, palatability, homogeneity?

How much should rights movement be concerned with what the dominant majority thinks? How much should we try to get along and be the same, and how much should we value difference?

I used to be a big proponent of 'equality,' and by 'equality' I meant that everyone should be treated the same. As I got older, I realized that it's a lot fairer (and more practical) to give everyone the same opportunities rather than trying to guarantee the same outcomes -- for example, merit-based advancement which begins with a level playing field, but may result in something of a hierarchy. (In other words, I am not for communism.) It's pointless to believe that we have the same strengths, desires, priorities, etc. -- and not only in economic or professional goals, but also larger life goals, personal values, and other areas. Advocating for an equal 'starting level' society in spite of, or because of, the possibility of these different outcomes is a viable aim. I also began to recognize the value, the vital importance, of difference in the movements themselves -- "difference" movements emphasize the unique perspectives of the minority groups, in contrast to classical liberal ideologies that focus on agreement between the majority and minority. This leads to the formation of women/black/gays/etc.-only groups to supplement more integrated groups of women's/black's/gays'/etc. rights activists. (Some people want these groups to *replace* the mixed groups, but, um, yeah. Not my thing.) The idea is that the unique experiences and voices of the specific minority group need to be preserved and applied to the fight against its oppression. Minority groups shouldn't have to try to fit in with the majority, just work with it.

I didn't like the idea at first -- hey, I want everyone to get along and have the same chance to contribute, and not be singled out for their color/gender/what have you -- but I recognize the fact that one can never completely understand another person's experience of prejudice. I will never know exactly how a gay person feels to be the target of homophobia because he or she is gay (even though I can be called a homophobic name, I won't understand what it feels like to be targeted because of my actual, rather than perceived, identity). A man will never know exactly how I feel under misogynist pressure. Anti-Chinese racism is different from anti-Latino racism, and so on. Also, a culture or sub-culture simply has different customs and values, which need to be recognized. However much I or another person will want to contribute to a movement for a group of which I am not a part, we will have to accept that there are some things we can't do, some understanding we don't have, and we will have to defer to the members of the group in question. This is particularly true in the cases of groups that traditionally don't have a voice in public discourse -- women fifty years ago, gays thirty years ago, aboriginal groups now. (Yes, it will be because of their race or gender or sexual orientation, but this is not a prejudiced, essentialist viewpoint -- the idea is to recognize the contributions an individual can make based on the actual experiences he or she has as a member of a group, rather than an assumption of what his or her identity is just because he or she fits a certain label.)

Anyway, with that long-winded introduction, here's what I actually wanted to talk about in the first place. :P



First off, this post from [insanejournal.com profile] feminist: it's about a GLBT ad campaign that features non-homosexuals in 'normal' contexts, with partners, children, pets, etc. It's a way of showing how non-homosexuals are not radically different from heterosexuals, an attempt to keep people from reducing them to a foreign, incomprehensible Other. The worry, however, is that non-heterosexuals who *don't* fit that 'normal' image will be left out of this theoretical acceptance, and still be treated as an Other. Instead of, "Ew, gay people are like that," we'd get something like, "Okay, most gay people are normal -- it's just those weirdos who are like that." Should non-heterosexuals have to conform to the standard lifestyles of the majority in order to be deemed palatable by the majority?

It's true that these images shake up the stereotypes of non-heterosexuals as being *only* wild or promiscuous or anti-family, and it's good to remind people that they're not. But what if this makes people think that the reason we should accept non-heterosexuals is because they're 'just like us'? (It's not. It's because, well, sexual activity has nothing to do with human rights, end of story.) What about those who aren't? What's wrong with being promiscuous (if you're safe) or anti-family (if you don't keep people from having theirs) or queer or trans or just plain weird? Why shouldn't we celebrate those differences? As I said above -- why not recognize the worth of these unique groups? Why do we have to please the majority for the sake of securing rights?

Practically, I know we can't just make the leap to unconditional acceptance. The question, I guess, is how much we're willing to risk perpetuating the above-mentioned skewed understanding (gay=normal=acceptable, instead of just gay=acceptable) for the sake of immediate results. I'm conflicted. (The comments in the abovementioned post are worth reading -- so far they're all thoughtful and civil -- but they certainly don't arrive at an easy consensus.)

Issue #2: UW recently appointed a male professor, David Allen, as head of the Women's Studies department. (Articles here and here.) Now, I have no issue with him being a women's studies professor, as he has been for many years -- to say he shouldn't or can't would be sexist and anti-feminist. I think I also read an article by him in my feminism class, which was very good; at the very least, I like the ideas he expresses in the articles I linked. But ... a man as prominent and influential of a leadership role? What should I think about that? I didn't even *have* a gut reaction -- as soon as I heard it, I felt my opinions pull in half and fly in opposite directions. Why not have a man as the leader, and show that anyone can be a feminist? On the other hand, does this move (as the one above) attempt to make feminism palatable to the masses by putting a 'safe' figure -- heterosexual white male -- up in front?

I like acknowledging variety in feminism -- I like knowing that, as a straight woman, a (relatively) wealthy woman, a woman who shaves her legs, I can be just as much of a feminist as someone who fits the stereotype of makeup-hating lesbian. But if we get too caught up in saying "don't worry, feminists don't have to be like this," to the point where we say "don't worry, feminists aren't like this," we will once again leave out those who are don't fit the dominant majority mold. If we push men and heterosexual women to the front of feminism, what will that do to the lesbians and other radicals being treated like a dirty secret?

Furthermore, there is still the question of whether a man should *lead* a women's studies department. (Remember what I said earlier: male+women's studies=okay. Okay? Okay.) As the head of the department, he'll be deciding, to some extent, what will be taught and how (I'm not sure just how influential the position is). But (and here's where I break away from liberal feminism) I can't ignore the fact that he, well, isn't a woman. That affects his perspective and decisions, no matter how much he learns; it affects the very background from which he comes *to* the learning. None of this is, objectively, bad. But it does mean that he will be distanced that much more from the woman's perspective (as if there were a single one ... I'm speaking very generally here). To me, it's a matter of degree more than a gender-based binary: a wealthy woman who has not faced much direct discrimination will be more distanced than a lesbian prostitute skirting the poverty line, and a man will typically be more distanced than a woman. And so my worry isn't so much "OMG men are bad!" (some men are, as some women are, but Allen, at least, is not), but rather that this is just another way that women's voices will be marginalized. This is not the fault of Professor Allen, or something that he should (or can) fix. This is just about the fact that women have historically been prevented from speaking about their own experiences, and it might be too soon for a man to take over the study of women's issues at the university.



My opinion remains unsettled. Give me input, please.