Welcome to Social (in)Queery!

Have you ever wished there was a more publicly accessible queer social science? Well, now there is! Social (in)Queery is a collaborative project that seeks to expand the range of solid, empirically informed intellectual discourse on issues relevant to contemporary LGBTQI life. In the coming months, we plan to offer a range of commentary from some of the leading university-based researchers in the social sciences. So, sit back and relax (or get riled up, if that’s your thing). And to all our colleagues out there with burning social issues or questions you’d like to explore, be sure to drop us a line and tell us you’d like to contribute! We’d love to have you join in the conversation!

Tey Meadow, CJ Pascoe and Jane Ward

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Banality of Evil, American Style

Reblogged from Arlene Stein:

Margarethe von Trotta frames her new bio-pic, Hannah Arendt, around the philosopher's coverage of the trial of Adolf Eichmann. Arendt is perhaps best known for describing the "banality of evil" at the heart of Nazism, and von Trotta's film focuses on Arendt's coverage of the Eichmann trial for The New Yorker, in which she argued against the popular view of Eichmann as evil genius.

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The End of Normal? We're Not There Yet

Reblogged from Arlene Stein:

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Being normal isn't all that its cracked up to be. In 1963, Betty Friedan exposed the dark underside of "normal" femininity in a book that helped launched the women's movement, The Feminine Mystique. Michael Warner's 1999 polemic, The Trouble with Normal, made an impassioned case for how queer people, unencumbered by marriage, subvert gender and sexual norms.

The collapse of normal gender and sexuality has rapidly progressed, according to some observers. 

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Ambivalence at the Altar

by Arlene Stein

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Cross-posted from Arlene Stein’s blog.

 

Last week, the man who washed my hair in a beauty parlor –he was perhaps 30– nonchalantly referred to the person he shares a home with as his “husband.” That term, along with “wife” and “fiance” are rolling off the tongues of more and more people I encounter, suggesting that “girlfriend,” “boyfriend,” and “partner” or “lover,” may soon be quaint reminders of an age before gays and lesbians could marry.

I’ve been thinking a lot about marriage–and the fact that I’m not really the marrying kind, even if long-term monogamy seems to suit me fairly well. I was domestically partnered for over 20 years, and am the nonbiological mother of a 15 year old. I’m no radical queer, at least in relation to the broad contours of my life. But neither have I harbored the belief that marriage would make me more secure, respectable, or complete.

I am, in short, ambivalent about the whole thing.

The other day, at a Mother’s Day brunch with my ex, her fiance, her fiance’s ex, my current partner, and our kids (it takes a lesbian village to raise a child!) we sipped mimosas and discussed the impending wedding of my ex and her fiance, whose ring finger is now graced by a glittering diamond.

“Do you think it’s a radical act to get married?” her fiance asked me.

“No,” I replied. “It’s a liberal act.” It doesn’t exactly strike a blow against male domination, or class inequality. It does, however, open up a powerful institution to a group of people–gays and lesbians– who have been excluded from it.

For most of us the urge to be married is not about changing the world, but about gaining access to the same rights, privileges, and social affirmation that coupled, middle class people enjoy in this country. Because of the centrality of marriage in our culture –as a route to gaining decent health care, inheritance rights, and community membership– I can’t begrudge anyone for wanting that.

Even in relatively liberal parts of the country, such as the suburban New Jersey town where I lived for many years, we’re still marginalized. Several years ago, when our son was in middle school, he was asked to fill out forms that asked him for his mother’s name, his father’s name, and their respective telephone numbers. The configuration of this form assumed that all children have a mother and a father, and also that both parents share one address. There were many, many more mundane instances of a how we went unrecognized as a family.

In a soon-to-be-published volume, I’ve contributed an article, “Who’s Your Daddy?: Intimacy, Recognition, and the Queer Family Story,” about how nonrecognition and misrecognition impacts gay and lesbian parents, particularly our children–and threatens our sense of worth.

http://www.routledge.com/books/details/9780415626903/

In the piece, I describe the ways many of us have improvised rituals and objects to represent our families. In my own queer family, for example, we made our son a book which tells the story of how he came to be. With the right to marry, such improvisations would no longer be necessary. It would accord many of us instant recognition, belonging and ease, furthering what some have described as the “normalization” of homosexuality.

Yet I can’t help but think about those who are left out of the wedding party– such as single people, people whose material circumstances prevent them from marrying, and couples who choose, for any number of reasons, not to do so. (I’ll write about this in future posts). That’s why, for my own part, I’ll continue to the use “girlfriend” or “partner” to describe my significant other–blurring the distinction between those who marry, and those who do not.

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Nonsexual Community in Sexual Communities

(Note: This post first appeared on Queer Metropolis)

Conferences are lonely. Two years ago, Cameron Macdonald and I flew out to the Eastern Sociology Society meeting in Philadelphia to sit on a panel with Myra Marx Ferree to discuss to the sociological implications of the Wisconsin Uprising, give an on-the-ground ethnographic perspective of the events, and solicit donations for the ongoing occupation efforts. Besides Myra and Cameron, I knew almost no one else there. However, a gay man with an iPhone is always connected to the gay community. As soon as the conference events for the day were over, I launched Grindr, changed my profile text, and began looking for friends.

From Promotional Materials

From Promotional Materials

People often talk about Grindr as a sexual field. Indeed, it is one. Tristan Bridges, here at Social (In)Queery, recently asked us to consider a sociology of Grindr. If Grindr is a sexual field, how is it different from the sexual fields of competing applications? How do the hookup rules and interaction look differently from other venues?

However, one area that I seldom see discussed when looking at Grindr is the many ways that gay men use it non-sexually. Grindr is undoubtedly a venue for people to hookup and find sexual partners. Competing applications treat it as a place only for “one-off relationships,” as Thomas McAfee, member of competing application Distinc.tt said on a comment to Bridges’s piece. “We are currently working on a redesign to focus more on community building/place discovery as we feel that being gay is about a lot more than just sex,” McAfee said.

However, many gay men use these sexual fields not only for sexual activity, but also to find community. They are also places where gay men go in order to talk with other gay men, form friendships and pen pals, and find events to attend. Distinc.tt then is coming in to fill an explicit service that gay men have already been finding through their sexualized communities. I argue that as gay bars and neighborhoods are increasingly assimilated and sexually diversified, places like Grindr that are more explicitly sexual are taking on some of the community functions that were previously fulfilled by happy hours out at the bars. Similar to the desexualizing of gay bars, applications like Distinc.tt try to tease out the nonsexual community from these sexual communities.

At ESS, I went to a local cocktail lounge nearby. This was the beginning of the craft cocktail phase, with prohibition-era drinks and secrecy to add to the allure. From the bar at the Franklin Mortgage and Investment, named for the business that served as a front for Philadelphia mobsters to distill moonshine, I talked with several locals about the best place for a young gay man to go in Philly. After about 30 minutes, I decided to meet Luis and a few of his friends for dinner. It would be a trial run for one of the many ways that I would meet participants in my future project in Boystown.

I shouldn’t overly cleanse the record though. I received my fair share of headless torsos and unsolicited pictures of strangers’ penises. However, I was in a monogamous relationship with my now ex-boyfriend Andrew at the time and turned them down politely. As I’ve discussed elsewhere, it probably also helped my quick turnaround that I was a young able-bodied white guy that suddenly appeared in the area. One can hardly write about gay hookup sexual fields without discussing the sexual racism that infuses all of them in different ways.

However, I want to focus on the sense of community that Grindr enabled that night. I was a lonely guy in a new city, friendless and bored. My iPhone connected me to a local world full of people to talk to and possible new friends. Luis, his friends and I hung out until 2 in the morning, swinging between a few local bars and the tastefully decorated home of one of his friends that lived in their little gayborhood. Grindr enabled me to find a fun group of people, connecting us initially through only our shared gay identity and the happenstance of being on Grindr at the same place and same time.

Without Grindr, perhaps I would have showed up to one of the gay bars alone. Here in Chicago, that certainly worked plenty of times for meeting new people when I first moved to Boystown. Of the groups that I’ve followed regularly, I met 3 of 4 just by showing up alone at a bar and making friends with those sitting nearby.

However, Grindr enables an “augmented reality,” an overlay of the physical world with additional information and meaning derived from digital applications. With it, I can hook into the sea of gay men that are around me at any time. Out at a gay bar, it is the norm to see men alone at the bar chatting on their phone, sometimes with men only feet away. At my apartment in Boystown, a few are listed only 0 feet away, almost certainly living somewhere in my building or the next. But in rural Iowa? The nearest gay person on Grindr might be 20 miles away, but still available to chat.

A participant, Frank, wakes up every morning, shuts off his alarm, and logs onto Grindr to wish a good morning to the fleet of men he’s met around the country on his travels. To him, the community of Grindr is even more important than the hookups available. No matter where he is, there are other gay men to talk to. Standing in line at the bank or on the train, there are men a thousand miles away and men only feet away. No need for gaydar. He knows these ones are gay.

Beyond the sociology of Grindr as a sexual field, Grindr and other online applications are transforming the way that gay men form and interact with gay communities. Grindr, like so many sexual fields and institutions, interacts with the other communities, fields, and structures that pervade 21st century gay life. Let’s not take a “digital dualist” perspective on Grindr, splitting it from the trends that are influencing gay communities today. The nonsexual communities that form within the sexual fields of online applications are similar to the offline nonsexual communities that formed in the sexual fields of gay bars. The splitting of these nonsexual functions off into applications like Distinc.tt follows the wider trend of desexualizing and assimilating gay male spaces. As Bridges notes, these feed changes feed into sexual stratification by race and class. Grindr’s sexual field has unique aspects, but sits within the constellation of fields that gay men navigate to find friends and sexual partners.

Jason Orne is a PhD candidate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. His research focuses on assimilation and sexual racism in gay male and queer communities. Currently, he is conducting an ethnography of Chicago’s Boystown gayborhood. He blogs about his ethnography, sexualities, and race at Queer Metropolis.

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On Queering Parenting and Gender-Neutrality

by: D’Lane Compton and Tristan Bridges

–Cross-posted at Inequality by (Interior) Design and Your Queer Prof

Becoming a parent is fascinating, but becoming a parent who studies gender and sexuality, and—for one of us—identifies as queer… well let’s just say that creates a whole different level of awareness and curiosity. Prior to becoming parents, we both had a fine-tuned appreciation of the ways that gender and sexuality structure our experiences and opportunities. Anne Fausto-Sterling draws a great metaphor comparing the onset of gender binaries to the process of water erosion. river formation diagramAt first, the erosion (read: gender) may not be visible. Small watery tributaries begin to form—the arms of future rivers that could, at this stage, easily change route. Gradually, streams emerge, slowly becoming rivers. And before long, you end up with something like the Grand Canyon. Yet, looking at the Grand Canyon disguises all of the crises that the fledgling streams navigated—a watery path whose flow, course, and geography were yet to be determined. Gender, said Fausto-Sterling, is no different. It takes time to learn to think of it as permanent and predetermined when it is actually anything but.

Just to put this in context, let us provide an example illustrating this issue as well as the sociological imagination of children at work. It involves a trip to the grocery store, a bold 3-year-old girl and her mother. At the checkout line, the girl trotted up to Tristan’s cart with her mother, pointed at Tristan’s son, and asked her mother, “Is that little baby a boy or a baby girl?” The mother looked at Tristan. He smiled, revealing nothing. “That’s… um… a boy, honey,” the mother responded, with a questioning tone (guarding, I’m assuming for the possibility of having mistaken a him for a her). “Why?” the little girl asked. Rolling her eyes at Tristan, the mother looked down and gave that classic parenting response—“Because!” she said. “Will he always be a boy?” she continued. The mother awkwardly chuckled, shrugging her shoulders, grinning and shaking her head at Tristan. “Yes, honey,” she laughed, “He’ll always be a boy.” And with that, they moved on.

The questions seemed odd to the mother, but the little girl clearly wasn’t joking. And she learned something significant in the interaction, even if her mother wasn’t actively teaching a lesson. In fact, some of the most important lessons we teach children are probably not on purpose—showing them what’s worthy of attention, what to ignore, what should be noticed but not discussed, and more. This little girl learned one of the ways that we think about gender in this culture—as a permanent state of being. To think otherwise, she learned, is laughable. This little girl seemed to understand gender as a young stream capable of becoming many different rivers. Her mother seemed equally sure that the stream had a predetermined path. And here’s where things get tricky—they’re both right. It’s likely Tristan’s son will identify as a boy (and later on, as a man). Most boys do. GenderBut treating this process as inevitable disguises the fact that… well… it’s not. This question came out of a 3-year-old because she’s actually in the process of acquiring what psychologists refer to as “gender constancy”—an understanding of gender as a permanent state of being. She’s not there yet, but interactions like the one discussed above are fast helping her along. These beliefs are institutionalized throughout our culture in ways that don’t make interactions like these completely predetermined, but make them much more likely.

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No One is Born Gay (or Straight): Here Are 5 Reasons Why

1.  Just because an argument is politically strategic, does not make it true:  A couple of years ago, the Human Rights Campaign, arguably the country’s most powerful lesbian and gay organization, responded to politician Herman Cain’s assertion that being gay is a choice.  They asked their members to “Tell Herman Cain to get with the times! Being gay is not a choice!”  They reasoned that Cain’s remarks were “dangerous.”  Why?  “Because implying that homosexuality is a choice gives unwarranted credence to roundly disproven practices such as ‘conversion’ or ‘reparative’ therapy. The risks associated with attempts to consciously change one’s sexual orientation include depression, anxiety and self-destructive behavior.”

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Cynthia Nixon (right) and wife Christine Marinoni (left)

The problem with such statements is that they infuse biological accounts with an obligatory and nearly coercive force, suggesting that anyone who describes homosexual desire as a choice or social construction is playing into the hands of the enemy.  In 2012, the extent to which gay biology had become a moral and political imperative came into full view when actress Cynthia Nixon, after commenting to a New York Times Magazine reporter that she “chose” to pursue a lesbian relationship after many years as a content heterosexual, was met with outrage by lesbian and gay activists.  As one horrified gay male writer proclaimed, “[Nixon] just fell into a right-wing trap, willingly. …Every religious right hatemonger is now going to quote this woman every single time they want to deny us our civil rights.”  Under considerable pressure from lesbian and gay advocacy groups, Nixon recanted her statement a few weeks later, stating instead that she must have been born with bisexual potential.

Yes, it’s true that straight people are more tolerant when they believe that lesbian and gay people have no choice in the matter.  If homosexual desire is hardwired, then we cannot change it; we must live with this condition, and it would be unfair to judge us for that which we cannot change.  By implication, if we could choose, of course we would choose to be heterosexual.  Any sane person would choose heterosexuality (not so. see here). And when homophobic people come to the opposite conclusion—that homosexual desire is something we can choose—then they want to help us make the right choice, the heterosexual choice.  And they are willing to offer this help in the form of violent shock therapy and other “conversion” techniques.  So I can absolutely understand why it feels much, much safer to believe that we are born this way, and then to circulate this idea like our lives depend on it (because, for some people, this really is a matter of life and death).  Indeed, most progressive straight people and most gay and bi people–including Lady Gaga herself–hold the conviction that our sexual orientation is innate.  They have taken their lead from the mainstream gay and lesbian movement, which has powerfully advocated for this view.

But the fact that the “born this way” hypothesis has resulted in greater political returns for gay and lesbian people doesn’t have anything to do with whether it is true.  Maybe, as gay people, we want to get together and pretend it is true because it is politically strategic.  That would be interesting.  But still, it wouldn’t make the idea true.

Unknown2. The science is wrong (Part 1): People like to cite “the overwhelming scientific evidence” that sexual orientation is biological in nature.  But show me a study that claims to have proven this, and I will show you a flawed research design.  Let’s take one example:  In 2000, a team of researchers at UC Berkeley conducted a study in which they found that lesbians were more likely than heterosexual women to have a “masculine” hand structure.  Presumably, most men have a longer ring finger than index finger, whereas most women have the opposite (or they have index and ring fingers of the same length).  Lesbians, according to this study, are more likely than straight women to have what we might call male pattern hands.  The researchers concluded that this finding supports their theory that lesbianism might be caused by a “fetal androgyn wash” in the womb—that is, when female fetuses are exposed to greater levels of a masculinizing hormone, it shows up later in the form of female masculinity:  male-pattern hands and… attraction to women.  But this study makes the same error that countless others have made: it does not properly distinguish between gender (whether one is masculine or feminine) and sexual orientation (heterosexuality or homosexuality).  Simply put, the fact that a woman is “masculine” (itself a social construction) or has been introduced to greater levels of a male hormone need not have anything to do with whether she is attracted to women.  We would only assume this if we had already accepted the heteronormative premise that masculine people (or men) are naturally attracted to femaleness and that normal (i.e., feminine) women are naturally attracted to men.  Herein lies the bias.   Many “masculine” women who are heterosexual (have you been to the rural South?) would like you to know that their gender does not line up with their sexual desire in any predictable way.  And many very feminine lesbians would like you to know this too.  The bottom line is that ideas about sexual desire are so bound up with misconceptions about gender and with the presumption that heterosexuality is nature’s default, that science has yet to approach this subject in an objective way.  For a comprehensive examination of the flaws in the most widely cited research on sexual orientation, see Rebecca Jordan-Young’s brilliant book Brain Storm: The Flaws in the Science of Sex Differences (Harvard University Press, 2011).

3.  The science is wrong (Part II): An even greater problem with the science of sexual orientation is that it seeks to find the genetic causes of gayness, as if we all agree about what gayness is.  To say that “being gay” is genetic is to engage in science that hinges on a very historically recent and specifically European-American understanding of what being gay means.  In Ancient Greece, sex between men was normative and widespread; it was considered the most praise-worthy, substantive and Godly form of love (whereas sex between a man and a woman was, for all intents and purposes, sex between a man and his slave).  If men having frequent and sincere sex with one another is what we mean by “gay,” then do we really believe that something so fundamentally different was happening in the Ancient Athenian gene pool?  Wow!  How did Plato’s ancestors later develop all of those heterosexual genes?  And what about native cultures in which all boys engage in homosexual rites of passage?  Do we imagine that we could identify some genetic evidence of propensity to ingest sperm as part of a cultural initiation into manhood?  What about all of the cultures around the globe in which male homosexual sex does not signal gayness except for under certain specific circumstances (e.g., you are only gay if you are the receptive sexual partner, or if you are feminine)?  And while I am on this subject, what about the fact the United States is precisely one of those cultures?  When young college women lick each other’s boobs at frat parties, or when young college men stick their fingers in each other’s butts while being hazed by their frat brothers, we don’t call this gay—we call this “girls (and boys) gone wild.”  My point here is that a lot of people engage in homosexual behavior, but somehow we talk about the genetic origins of homosexuality as if we are clear about who is gay and who is not, and as if it’s also clear that “gay genes” are possessed only by people who are culturally and politically gay (you know, the people who are seriously gay).  This is a bit arbitrary, don’t you think?

Just 150 years ago, scientists went searching for the physiological evidence that women were hysterical.  Hysteria, by Victorian medical definition, meant that a woman’s uteruses had become dislodged from its proper location and was floating around her body causing all sorts of trouble—like feminism and other matters of grave concern.  And guess what, they found the evidence, and they published books and articles to prove it.  They also looked for and found the evidence that all people of African and Asian ancestry were intellectually and morally inferior to people of European Ancestry.  Many books were published dedicated to establishing these obviously absurd and violent beliefs as legitimate and indisputable scientific facts.  Similarly, the science of sexual orientation has a long and disturbing history.  In the late 1800s and early 1900s, it was believed that homosexuals had beady eyes, particularly angular facial structures, and “bad blood.”  Today, we apparently have gender variant fingers and gay brains.

Is it possible that people who identify themselves as “gay” in the United States (again, keep in mind that “gay” is a culturally and historically specific concept), share some common physiology?  Perhaps.  But even if this is so, do we really know why?  Indeed, we may find (as Simon LeVay did) that men who identify as gay share a certain trait—a larger VIP SCN nucleus of the hypothalamus, for instance.  But how do we know that this “enlargement” is a symptom or cause of their homosexuality, and not, say, a symptom or cause of their general propensity for bravery, creativity, or rebellion?  In a homophobic culture, you need some bravery (and other awesome traits) to be queer.  Perhaps these personality traits are what are actually being observed under the microscope.

And, of course, there is the time-eternal question: why aren’t scientists looking for the genetic causes of heterosexuality?  Or masturbation?  Or interest in oral sex?  The reason is that none of these sex acts currently violate social norms, at least not strongly enough to be perceived as sexual aberrations.  But this was not always true.  In the 19th century, scientists were interested in the biological origins of the “masturbation perversion.”  They were interested because they believed it was pathological, and because they wanted to know whether it could be repaired.

At the end of the day, what we can count on is that the science of sexual orientation will produce data that simply mirror the most crass and sexist gender binarisms circulating in the popular imagination.  This research will report that women are innately more sexually fluid than men, capable of being turned-on by almost anything and everything (hmmm…. other than in Lisa Diamond’s research, where have I seen that idea before?  Ah yes, heterosexual pornography.)   It will report that men are sexually rigid, their desires impermeable.  It will tell us that straight men simply cannot be aroused by men and that gay men are virtually hardwired to be repulsed by the thought of sex with women.  Regardless of what else we might say about the soundness of these studies, what is evident to me is that they have been used to authorize many a straight man’s homophobia, and many a gay man’s misogyny.

4.  Just because you have had homosexual or heterosexual feelings for as long as you can remember, does not mean you were born a homosexual or heterosexual.   There are many things I have felt or done for as long as I can remember.  I have always liked to argue.  I have always loved drawing feet and shoes.  I have always craved cheddar cheese.  I have always felt a strong connection with happy, trashy pop music.  These have been aspects of myself for as long as I can remember, and each represents a very strong impulse in me.  But was I born with a desire to eat cheddar cheese or make drawings of feet?  Are these desires that can be identified somewhere in my body, like on one of my genes?  It would be hard to make these claims, because I could have been born and raised in China, let’s say, where cheddar cheese is basically non-existent and would not have been part of my life.  And while I may have been born with some general artistic potential, surely our genetic material is not so specific as to determine that I would love to draw platform shoes.  The point here is that what we desire in childhood is far more complex and multifaceted than the biological sciences can account for, and this goes for our sexual desires as well.  Some basic raw material is in place (like a general potential for creativity), but the details—well, those are ours to discover.

5.  Secretly, you already know that people’s sexual desires are shaped by their social and cultural context.  Lots of adults worry that if we allow little boys to wear princess dresses and paint their nails with polish, they might later be more inclined to be gay.  Even some liberal parents (including gay and lesbian parents) worry that if they introduce their child to “too much” in the way of queer material, this could be a way of “pushing” homosexuality on them.  Similarly, many people worry that if young women are introduced to feminism in college, and if they become too angry or independent, they may just decide to be lesbians.  But if we all really believed that sexual orientation was congenital—or present at birth—then no one would ever worry that social influences could have an effect on our sexual orientation.  But I think that in reality, we all know that sexual desire is deeply subject to social, cultural, and historical forces.  We know that if the world today were a different place, a place where homosexuality was culturally normative (like, say, Ancient Greece), we would see far more people embracing their homosexual desires.  And if this were the case, it would have nothing to do with genetics.

The concept of “sexual orientation” is itself less than 150 years old, and almost equally recent is the notion that people should partner based on romantic attraction.  Most of what feels so natural and unchangeable about our desires—including the bodies and personalities we are attracted to—is conditioned by our respective cultures.  The majority of straight American men, for instance, will tell you that they have a strong, visceral aversion to women with bushy armpit hair.  But this aversion, no matter how deep it may now run in men’s psyches and no matter how nonnegotiable it may feel, is hardly genetic.  Up until the last century, the entire world’s female population had armpit hair, and somehow, heterosexual sex survived.

People like to use the failure of “gay conversion” therapies as evidence that homosexuality is innate.  First of all, these conversions do not always fail; if you make someone feel disgusted enough by their desires, you can change their desires.  Call it a tragedy of repression, or call it a religious awakening—regardless, the point is that we can and do change.  For instance, in high school and early in college, my sexual desires were deeply bound up with sexism.  I wanted to be a hot girl, and I wanted powerful men to desire me.  I was as authentically heterosexual as any woman I knew.  But later, several years into my exploration of feminist politics, what I once found desirable (heterosexuality and sexism) became utterly unappealing.  I became critical of homophobia and sexism in ways that allowed these forces far less power to determine the shape of my desires.  If this had not happened, no doubt I’d be married to a man.  And if he wasn’t a complete asshole, I’d probably be happy enough.  But instead, I was drawn to queerness for various political and emotional reasons, and from my vantage point today, I believe it to be one of the best desires I ever cultivated. [Does this mean that your daughter may decide to be a lesbian if she takes some women's studies courses? Yes. Whatcha gonna do now?!]

Perhaps most importantly, the fact that we might cultivate or “choose” something doesn’t mean that it is a trivial, temporary, or less a vital part of who we are.  For instance, is religion a choice?  Certainly it is if we define “choice” as anything that isn’t an immutable part of our physiology.  But many religious people would feel profoundly misunderstood and offended if I suggested that their religious beliefs were a phase, an experiment, or a less significant part of who they are then, say, their hair color.  Choices are complex. Choices run deep.  And yes, choices are both constrained and fluid–just like our bodies.

Post script: Ultimately, the terms set forward in the public debate about this subject–biology versus “choice”–are quite limited, mainly because “choice” is not the most useful term for describing all of the possibilities that sit apart from biology.  Several social, cultural, and structural factors can shape our embodied desires and erotic possibilities.  The fact that these factors are not physiological in origin does not mean that they aren’t coercive or subjectifying, resulting in a real or perceived condition of fixity or “no choice.”  We know that social factors also become embodied over time.  And yet, I remain somewhat committed to the concept of “choice”–or something like it–to describe the possibility of a critical and reflexive relationship to our sexual desires. Personally, the idea that I don’t have control over who or what I desire is a big turn-off to me, so I am constantly pushing back on what feel like the limits of my own desires. For instance, I went through a period of pushing myself to date femmes because I had some good reasons for being suspicious about why I had ruled them out from my dating pool. When it felt like I could never be nonmonogamous, I made it a goal to at least try. Then when I realized I only really felt attracted to alcoholic rebels, I nipped that in the bud too. Just when I thought I’d never think hairy men were hot, I allowed myself to face my attraction to Javier Bardem.  When my tastes and proclivities start to feel like they are solidifying, I get suspicious and disappointed. So, in the interests of full disclosure, I am writing from the perspective of someone who finds sexual fixity pretty uninteresting, and who believes that there are really good feminist and queer reasons to take regular, critical inventory of the parts of our sexuality that we believe we cannot or will not change.

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Can Living in the City Make you Gay?

Cross-posted at Inequality by (Interior) Design

Screen shot 2013-03-05 at 3.20.36 PMGallup recently published results from a new question garnering a nationally representative sample of more than 120,000 Americans: “Do you, personally, identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender?”  The results come out of interviews conducted in 2012 and confirm recent estimates by demographer Gary Gates on the size of the LGBT population in the U.S.  Combining data from a range of surveys, Gates suggested that approximately 3.5% of the adult population in the U.S. identifies as lesbian, gay, or bisexual, and an additional 0.3% identifies as transgendered.  Screen shot 2013-03-05 at 3.20.59 PMThe Gallup poll also found that around 3.5% of the U.S. adult population says “yes” when asked whether they “identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender.”

These findings are interesting and important for a number of reasons.  One issue that they bring up is simply the issue of actually measuring sexuality.*  It’s harder than you might assume.  For instance, Gallup asks how people identify themselves.  Questions about sexual identification produce some of the lowest percentage of LGBT responses on surveys.  Asking questions about  sexual desires and behaviors produces higher percentages.  Questions about same-sex attraction have found that as much as 11% of the U.S. population can be classified as LGB.  untitledSimilarly, questions concerning same-sex behaviors have produced numbers as high as 8.8% of the U.S. population.  This doesn’t mean that the Gallup findings are unimportant; it means that we need to recognize that sexuality is more dynamic that we might initially assume.

Subsequently, Gallup released a report documenting the relative prevalence of LGBT individuals throughout the U.S.  Simply put, LGBT individuals are not uniformly distributed throughout the country.  Some places have relatively high numbers, while other have lower numbers.  Gallup chose to break this down by state.  The state with the highest proportion is not actually a state at all; it’s a federal district—the District of Columbia (10%).  The state with the lowest proportion of “yes’s” to the question was North Dakota (1.7%).

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