To Be and Not To Be (Paper)

I finished that paper. Here it is:

Joshua Sleutel
LIB 380 – Dialectics
Final Paper
21 December 2009

To Be and Not To Be

Ποταμοῖς τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἐμβαίνομέν τε καὶ οὐκ ἐμβαίνομεν, εἶμέν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶμεν.
We both step and do not step in the same rivers. We are and are not.
-Heraclitus

Identity is plagued by the passage of time. Just when we think we’ve got things – the self, the other – figured out, the next moment sweeps us away into difference. Imagining the passage of time as the flow of a river, Heraclitus famously said that you couldn’t step in the same river twice. It’s always moving, nothing is the same as it was the moment before. A student, one who really got it, replied that you couldn’t even step in the same river once. This assertion has profound implications for the ways we think about ourselves, and how we come to terms with the socially constructed aspects of our identity.

This paper will explore a word that seems to embody this very problem in its polysemy: queer. Queer began as a derogatory term, transitioning from the simple sense as “weird,” to appeal to the normativity and homophobia of Western culture in denigrating gays. Later, it was adopted as a term of pride for all those wierdos who defy this normativity, and an academic discourse emerged around the term that both seeks to validate these transgressive practices/identities, and contests the static nature of gender and sexuality. Somewhere in the mix, the term came to be a convenient umbrella under which minority gender and sexual identities could neatly fit, defying the discourse that helped cement it as such a catchall. In the spirit of dialectics, I’ll analyze how these two meanings – umbrella term, and theoretical outlook – relate to one another, and address the problem of what it means to be queer and Queer, that is, for me, to both claim a gay, masculine identity, and one as a Queer theorist[1].

Queer Theory and the Problem of Anarchy
In a way, this dialectical relationship is a lot like the dialectic one finds in Marxism between the ideal of progressing toward a weak state, rife with democracy, and the present need for governance. Conveniently, one thinker, named Jamie Heckert, does a very tidy job of describing the correlation between queer theory and anarchy in her dissertation Resisting Orientation: On the Complexities of Desire and the Limits of Identity Politics (2005). In the third chapter, “Anarchism, Poststructuralism and the Politics of Sexuality: 'Sexual Orientation' as State-Form,” Heckert uses anarchy theory to discuss the Queer politics, and problemitizes the queer identities behind “the movement” toward LGBT equality. She associates these identity structures with the governing structures of a state, and draws on Bakunin, an intellectual sparring partner of Marx, to make some of her argument. Discussing the emergence of the categorical ideas of sexual orientations, Heckert writes:

Heterosexuality developed as a new state-form, one in which a variety of practices were compressed into a single psychiatric category. Homosexuality and bisexuality have been constructed as variations on a theme. Sexual orientation can be understood as a set of state-forms in that a wide variety of practices (including sexual, romantic and gendered) are defined and judged in terms of their capacity to be categorised within, or association with, one of three boxes. (p. 75)

She goes on to suggest that Queer theory, as a type of anarchism, provides a possible answer to these problems. Just as Bakunin advocates for abandoning the oppressive structure of the State, Heckert hopes that stepping away from concrete identities altogether is more progressive than opting for one of the few Other orientations. Rather than be limited by the boundaries of an orientation, a Queer outlook frees one from the state-like structures of sexual orientation (and gender, by extension).

This debate between Marx and Bakunin, that is, the contention between Anarchism and Marxism, has its roots deep in the substructures of their philosophies. According to Ann Robertson (2006), Bakunin held a “fixed, natural human essence,” where Marx saw a contrast between humanity’s animalistic past and its modern condition. In a Marxist view, humanity has created and recreated structures of production to satisfy their basic needs, each recreation marking a step away from our animal past. In contrast, following what he perceived as “natural” (read: “good”), Bakunin advocated for accelerating toward anarchism as a means of returning to humanity’s natural state. Marx, finding no justice in natural law, saw an active state as the best next-step. For to him, there were stark and necessary differences to be drawn between the natural order of things, and that of humans.

In conjunction, according to Robertson, Marx’s concept of history leads him to his fidelity to the State. He saw a strict division between natural history and human history: at a point in natural history, humanity differentiated itself from the perpetual struggle to satisfy its basic needs, and endeavored to create a new narrative of mutual harmony, rather than the previous one of “survival of the fittest.”

Finally, Robertson writes, Marx and Bakunin had different concepts of freedom. Where Marx found freedom to be acting in accordance with rationality and collective consciousness, Bakunin’s freedom is one’s freedom to follow her own spontaneous impulses. Marx, as quoted by Robertson, retorts:

Precisely the slavery of civil society is in appearance the greatest freedom because it is in appearance the fully developed independence of the individual, who considers as his own freedom the uncurbed movement, no longer bound by a common bond or by man, of the estranged elements of his life, such as property, industry, religion, etc., whereas actually this is his fully developed slavery and inhumanity.

Marx’s freedom had more to do with the freedom to exist within the structures that fostered human community.

Returning to the question of queerness, then, the correlations may be obvious. The tension between having one of the many queer identities and forsaking these for a Queer outlook is analogous to that between Marxism and Anarchism. Politically, both push for a similar goal in the long term, advocating for equality and mutual subjectivity with heterosexuality. But, based on foundational substructures, their practical applications are quite divergent. Their contentions fall on similar themes to those that differentiated anarchism and Marxism, characterized most directly by the questions of progress and individualism.

Throughout the course of this semester, I’ve wrestled with the idea of progress. Shortsightedly, I assumed that because I did not read progress into my experience, progress was somewhat of a farce. Despite looking at trans-historical narratives, somehow I remained averse to the notion that humanity had progressed up to the present, let alone that it would progress toward something better some-when in the future. But reading Marx in this way, I’ve found that I can value the trans-historical accomplishments of humanity as progress in the mere ability to think abstractly in the advent of language, or to make music instead of forever toiling to feed and shelter oneself.

Similarly, as regards freedom, it is easy to interpret society as an agreement between individuals to maximize their happiness or wellbeing. The capitalist narrative tells us that people come together to build a community and establish laws for their own benefit, ensuring that their individual rights are not imfringed upon. I find such value, though, in the expression of community that genuinely concerns the individual with the collective. Democracy, therefore, is not a goal to be sought so that my voice can be heard, but a system that seeks to provide governing power to all people equally. My freedom is not to act alone, but is found in the submission to a rational and collectivist ideal of interdependence, for progress can be better made together than individually.

So, while the ideal of the Queer provides a critical framework for the structures of gender and desire and their queer identities, and recognizes the fluidity of these identities, a politic that only acknowledges Queer theory (at the expense of queer identities) neglects the historical progress of LGBT politics. Bakunin advocated heavily for the quick dissolution of the state to a form of anarchy, but Marx recognized the historical context in which we find ourselves. Capitalism, according to Marx, could only be followed by socialism/communism. To progress too quickly could prove the whole endeavor of escaping capitalism to be futile, at best; and disastrous at worst.

Similarly, today, we observe a similar astuteness in the Marxist leadership of China. As Mahoney (2008) points out, China’s expressed goal is a concept of a utopian harmony they call Datong, or “Great Unity.” This is an almost utopian ideal of absolute and perfected cooperation. The country does not expect to arrive at this unity overnight, however, and in the meantime, has a policy of what is called Xiaokang, or “Small Tranquility.” Xiaokang’s goals are much more modest than the long-term hope of Datong, maintaining the employment of markets and feudalistic economic structures. The country recognizes the hegemony of global Capitalism and vestigial class system domestically, and, en route to the ideal, compromises to form a system that can work.

Applying these principles to the queer/Queer tension, the similarities begin to become clear. Just as China has a residual class system, and pervasive nepotism, the sexual political climate at present is markedly heterosexist. A Queer politic, like communism, offers an ideal, one toward which we can progress long term. In the meantime, however, the structures of gender and sexual orientation provide concrete platforms from which to counteract the oppression of heterosexism; to seek liberation from the structures of LGBT identities seems naïve to the pervasiveness of the overt oppression of queer people.

Like his idea about historical progress, Marx’s conception of freedom has implications beyond just Marxism. Many people I’ve talked to say that although they have a Queer theoretical outlook, their identity is primarily gay (or lesbian, or bisexual, or transgender, etc.). People outside the box of heteronormativity simply find relating to one another easier when a common identity can be expressed. A Queer identity is, in a way, quite isolating, and highly individualistic. It asserts everyone’s individual gender and sexuality are unique and complex, amassing highly divergent individuals into a world where the only similarity one can expect is that everyone’s unique. Conversely, by claiming concrete gender and sexuality, one asserts aspects of identity in a way that is comprehensible and relatable. In a way, LGBT identities are the parole of the Queer system of disjointed signifiers and signifieds. queer identities provide a vocabulary for the abstract and fluid idea-world behind a critical Queer perspective.

Moreover, it is no coincidence that much of Queer theorizing takes place in the global West. Collectivist cultures often find much more meaning in the expression of common identities. As Denis Altman (1997) puts it, “American ‘queer theory’ remains as relentlessly Atlantic-centric in its view of the world as the mainstream culture it critiques (p. 419).” In operating within the consumer-capitalist structure, Queer theory has the potential to neglect the diverse methods of meaning-making that can be found outside the hegemony of the global West.

The Politic of Integration
So far, I have discussed the tension between queer and Queer in light of a pivotal conjunction: “or.” In “To(o) Queer or Not? Queer Theory, Lesbian community, and the Functions of Sexual Identities” Dana Shugar (1999) engages with the perpetual contention between lesbian activists and Queer ones. She writes:

Depending upon each scholar’s position within the discourse, queer theory is cast as either the savior of lesbian sexuality because of its ability to endlessly expand the definitions of what it means to be a sexual lesbian...or, for similar reasons, as the demise of lesbians and lesbianism altogether… (p. 16)

A dialectical analysis, on the other hand, would seek to synthesize the contradiction into something new. Joshua Gamson’s article (1995) “Must Identity Movements Self Destruct?” addresses this very tension in terms of social movement theory. He uses a different conjunction, however.

The challenge for analysts… is not to determine which position is accurate, but to cope with the fact that both logics make sense. Queerness spotlights a dilemma shared by other identity movements (racial, ethnic, and gender movements, for example): Fixed identity categories are both the basis for oppression and the basis for political power. (p. 391, emphasis mine)

Gamson here astutely notes the contradictory nature of queer identities, but allows this tension to abide. In his perspective, Queerness adds another dimension to sexual identity, rather than obliterating it. Gamson does a good job of engaging with the political practicality of both queers.

He also observes, “the destabilization of collective identity is itself a goal and accomplishment of collective action (p. 403),” even while, earlier in the article, he notes that it has been theorized that one goal of identity movements is the formation and maintenance of these identities. The important thing to remember about this is that both of these interpretations are invaluable in making sense of desire.

In addition, the tension between queers is one analogous to the tension between the individual and the universal. Lacking in a Queer theoretical perspective leaves one at the mercy of gender- and orientation-based normatively: the self overwhelmed by the other. On the other hand, without a communicable identity, community can be hard to come by, and political efficacy is reduced. This could be thought of as the individual usurping the universal. Both approaches, although they contradict one another, must be held simultaneously, in spite of the tension between them. That is to say, if one allows either to supersede the other, or to refute the other, he runs the risk of having an incomplete relationship with his gender and desire, as well as himself and his Others.

Correlative Conclusion

In Carl Jung’s introduction to the Yi Jing (1967) provides some culminating insight into this tension. In it, he expounds upon what he calls synchronicity, which he posits as a way of conceiving the world that is an alternative to linear, causative logic. As an exercise in practicing the synchronicity, Jung “asks” the Yi Jing about the outcome of his writing the introduction, and interprets the answers he receives from dropping coins and following the corresponding oracles in the Yi Jing. He explains how the fortunes to which he is led by the coins are relevant to his situation, but not from a causative, liner logic perspective. Instead, his fortune is meaningful from the perspective of synchronicity. The milieu of events surrounding his dropping the coins did not cause the outcomes he observed, he suggests, but rather all were present and to be considered in the interpretation of the fortune: most critically, the self that he brings to the endeavor. Furthermore, as he points out, any further attempts to seek a fortune for the same question would be different in that they follow the initial dropping of coins. It is not that the nature of the universe caused the coins to fall as they did, but rather that the circumstances surrounding the dropping of coins, including the self, his concept of the other, what he had for lunch, and about what one is seeking insight, all contribute to the meaningfulness of the moment of dropping the coins and receiving the fortune.

On the one hand, Queer theory tells us that gender and thus sexual orientation are socially constructed, and fundamentally arbitrary. The structures of gender are just that: structures. Following the post-structuralist shift in thought, we can put gender in its place among other systems that we construct, such as capitalism, the fashion world, or how we communicate recipes. Each of these follows conventions that have been creatively negotiated between members of a community, within the constraints of their material situation. A recipe’s system of measurements, its literary structure, and the combinations of flavors described within – all of these are fundamentally arbitrary. But, because the measurements are in the context of a community of cooks with a common system of measurements, for example, the arbitrary cups and teaspoons are meaningful, and contribute greatly to the outcome of the dish. Jung, in his introduction notes of his interpretations of the Yi Jing that, “Anyone of sound mind can turn the whole thing around and show how I have projected my subjective contents into the symbolism of the hexagrams.” But this is precisely the point: that the meaning that we collectively construct, and the character of the participants and aspects surrounding these seemingly random structures turns the chance emergence of such structures – a measurement system, the outcome of a coin-toss, or a system of rationalizing gender and desire – into an important and intensely significant method of existence.

So, the question of how to be both queer and Queer takes one down a highly dialectical path. The debate between Marx and Bakunin concerning anarchy provides a good look into the tension between these two systems that seek similar goals. A Marxist idea of human progress, both as a step away from the primitivism of the animal kingdom, and as an idea requiring a politic prudent to the historical situation in which we find ourselves, defines his affinity with the state, and paints the presence of concrete gender/sexual identities as necessary given our place in time. Still, Bakunin’s affinity with the ideal of anarchy can be admired and applied to Queer theory, which positions Queer theory as a notion of a long-term goal or an essential way to perceive gender and sexuality. We’ve seen a real example of the personal as the political, and the political as the personal in that the absolutely local (locus, even, i.e. identity) becomes the basis for both political oppression and efficacy. At the same time, though, the two queers inform one another, so much so that a perspective lacking in either causes one to lack a completeness of critical understanding of gender and desire. In other words, a chord must be struck between the stark and definite note at which the individual identity vibrates, and the harmonic of Queer theory, which provides a more esoteric, and universal truth about gender and desire. Finally, reconciliation between the two can be found in correlative thinking, and Jung’s synchronicity. Queer theory tells us that the structures of gender and desire are constructed, fluid, and transient, while this perspective only exists because of the concrete identities with which we approach these structures. And now to step forward, in the context of the flowing of time, exploring further the complexities – and contradictions – of the Queer State we find ourselves in.

References

Altman, D. (1997). Global Gaze/global gays. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian & Gay Studies, 3(4), 417. Retrieved from http://ezproxy.gvsu.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=qth&AN=9985863&site=ehost-live&scope=site

Gamson, J. (1995). Must identity movements self-destruct? A queer dilemma. Social Problems, 42(3), 390-407. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/3096854

Heckert, J. (2005). Resisting orientation: On the complexities of desire and the limits of identity politics. Unpublished PhD, University of Edinburgh,

Jung, C. G. (1967). Foreward. Yi Jing or Book of Changes (Richard Wilhelm, Cary F. Baynes Trans.). (pp. xxi-xxxix). New York: Penguin Books.

Mahoney, J. G. (2008). On the way to harmony: Marxism, confucianism, and Hu Jintao's Hexie concept. In S. Guo, & B. Guo (Eds.), China in search of a harmonious society (pp. 99-128). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.

Robertson, A. (2006). Marxism and anarchism: The philosophical roots of the Marx-Bakunin conflict – part one. Retrieved 21 December, 2009, from http://www.marxist.com/marxism-anarchism-marx-bakunin-conflict090606.htm

Shugar, D. (1999). To(o) queer or not? queer theory, lesbian community, and the functions of sexual identities. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 3(3), 11.

[1] I’ll use ‘queer’ to denote the umbrella term sense, and ‘Queer’ to denote the academic theoretical framework, in full awareness of the hierarchy that this imposes.

To Be and Not To Be

This paper I wrote is really good, I think. Some weak points, but it'll be polished a bit and put in my portfolio, I think.

To Be and Not To Be

Ποταμοῖς τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἐμβαίνομέν τε καὶ οὐκ ἐμβαίνομεν, εἶμέν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶμεν.
We both step and do not step in the same rivers. We are and are not.
-Heraclitus

Identity is plagued by the passage of time. Just when we think we’ve got things – the self, the other – figured out, the next moment sweeps us away into difference. Imagining the passage of time as the flow of a river, Heraclitus famously said that you couldn’t step in the same river twice. It’s always moving, nothing is the same as it was the moment before. A student, one who really got it, replied that you couldn’t even step in the same river once. This assertion has profound implications for the ways we think about ourselves, and how we come to terms with the socially constructed aspects of our identity.

This paper will explore a word that seems to embody this very problem in its polysemy: queer. Queer began as a derogatory term, transitioning from the simple sense as “weird,” to appeal to the normativity and homophobia of Western culture in denigrating gays. Later, it was adopted as a term of pride for all those wierdos who defy this normativity, and an academic discourse emerged around the term that both seeks to validate these transgressive practices/identities, and contests the static nature of gender and sexuality. Somewhere in the mix, the term came to be a convenient umbrella under which minority gender and sexual identities could neatly fit, defying the discourse that helped cement it as such a catchall. In the spirit of dialectics, I’ll analyze how these two meanings – umbrella term, and theoretical outlook – relate to one another, and address the problem of what it means to be queer and Queer, that is, for me, to both claim a gay, masculine identity, and one as a Queer theorist[1].

Queer Theory and the Problem of Anarchy

In a way, this dialectical relationship is a lot like the dialectic one finds in Marxism between the ideal of progressing toward a weak state, rife with democracy, and the present need for governance. Conveniently, one thinker, named Jamie Heckert, does a very tidy job of describing the correlation between queer theory and anarchy in her thesis Resisting Orientation: On the Complexities of Desire and the Limits of Identity Politics (2005). In the third chapter, “Anarchism, Poststructuralism and the Politics of Sexuality: 'Sexual Orientation' as State-Form,” Heckert uses anarchy theory to discuss the Queer politics, and problemitizes the queer identities behind “the movement” toward LGBT equality. She associates these identity structures with the governing structures of a state, and draws on Bakunin, an intellectual sparring partner of Marx, to make some of her argument. Discussing the emergence of the categorical ideas of sexual orientations, Heckert writes:

Heterosexuality developed as a new state-form, one in which a variety of practices were compressed into a single psychiatric category. Homosexuality and bisexuality have been constructed as variations on a theme. Sexual orientation can be understood as a set of state-forms in that a wide variety of practices (including sexual, romantic and gendered) are defined and judged in terms of their capacity to be categorised within, or association with, one of three boxes. (p. 75)

She goes on to suggest that Queer theory, as a type of anarchism, provides a possible answer to these problems. Just as Bakunin advocates for abandoning the oppressive structure of the State, Heckert hopes that stepping away from concrete identities altogether is more progressive than opting for one of the few Other orientations. Rather than be limited by the boundaries of an orientation, a Queer outlook frees one from the state-like structures of sexual orientation (and gender, by extension).

This debate between Marx and Bakunin, that is, the contention between Anarchism and Marxism, has its roots deep in the substructures of their philosophies. According to Ann Robertson (2006), Bakunin held a “fixed, natural human essence,” where Marx saw a contrast between humanity’s animalistic past and its modern condition. In a Marxist view, humanity has created and recreated structures of production to satisfy their basic needs, each recreation marking a step away from our animal past. In contrast, following what he perceived as “natural” (read: “good”), Bakunin advocated for accelerating toward anarchism as a means of returning to humanity’s natural state. Marx, finding no justice in natural law, saw an active state as the best next-step. For to him, there were stark and necessary differences to be drawn between the natural order of things, and that of humans.

In conjunction, according to Robertson, Marx’s concept of history leads him to his fidelity to the State. He saw a strict division between natural history and human history: at a point in natural history, humanity differentiated itself from the perpetual struggle to satisfy its basic needs, and endeavored to create a new narrative of mutual harmony, rather than the previous one of “survival of the fittest.”

Finally, Robertson writes, Marx and Bakunin had different concepts of freedom. Where Marx found freedom to be acting in accordance with rationality and collective consciousness, Bakunin’s freedom is one’s freedom to follow her own spontaneous impulses. Marx, as quoted by Robertson, retorts:

Precisely the slavery of civil society is in appearance the greatest freedom because it is in appearance the fully developed independence of the individual, who considers as his own freedom the uncurbed movement, no longer bound by a common bond or by man, of the estranged elements of his life, such as property, industry, religion, etc., whereas actually this is his fully developed slavery and inhumanity.

Marx’s freedom had more to do with the freedom to exist within the structures that fostered human community.

Returning to the question of queerness, the correlations may be obvious. The tension between having one of the many queer identities and forsaking these for a Queer outlook is analogous to that between Marxism and Anarchism. Politically, both push for a similar goal in the long term, advocating for equality and mutual subjectivity with heterosexuality. But, based on foundational substructures, their practical applications are quite divergent. Their contentions fall on similar themes to those that differentiated anarchism and Marxism, characterized most directly by the questions of progress and individualism.

Throughout the course of this semester, I’ve wrestled with the idea of progress. Shortsightedly, I assumed that because I did not read progress into my experience, progress was somewhat of a farce. Despite looking at trans-historical narratives, somehow I remained averse to the notion that humanity had progressed up to the present, let alone that it would progress toward something better somewhen in the future. But reading Marx in this way, I’ve found that I can value the trans-historical accomplishments of humanity as progress, the mere ability to think abstractly in the advent of language, or to make music instead of forever toiling to feed and shelter oneself as obvious examples.

Similarly, as regards freedom, it is easy to interpret society as an agreement between individuals to maximize their happiness or wellbeing. The capitalist narrative tells us that people come together to build a community and establish laws for their own benefit, ensuring that their rights are not impinged upon. I find such value, though, in the expression of community that genuinely concerns the individual with the collective. Democracy, therefore, is not a goal to be sought so that my voice can be heard, but a system that seeks to provide governing power to all people equally. My freedom is not to act alone, but is found in the submission to a rational and collectivist ideal of interdependence, for progress can be better made together than individually.

So, while the ideal of the Queer provides a critical framework for the structures of gender and desire and their queer identities, and recognizes the fluidity of these identities, a politic that only acknowledges Queer theory (at the expense of queer identities) neglects the historical progress of LGBT politics. Bakunin advocated heavily for the quick dissolution of the state to a form of anarchy, but Marx recognized the historical context in which we find ourselves. Capitalism, according to Marx, could only be followed by socialism/communism. To progress too quickly could prove the whole endeavor of escaping capitalism to be futile, at best; and disastrous at worst.

Similarly, today, we observe a similar astuteness in the Marxist leadership of China. As Mahoney (2008) points out, China’s express goal is a concept of a utopian harmony they call Datong, or “Great Unity.” This is an almost utopian ideal of absolute and perfected cooperation. The country does not expect to arrive at this unity overnight, however, and in the meantime, has a policy of what is called Xiaokang, or “Small Tranquility.” Xiaokang’s goals are much more modest than the long-term hope of Datong, maintaining the employment of markets and feudalistic economic structures. The country recognizes the hegemony of global Capitalism and vestigial class system domestically, and, en route to the ideal, compromises to form a system that can work.

Applying these principles to the queer/Queer tension, the similarities begin to become clear. Just as China has a residual class system, and pervasive nepotism, the sexual political climate at present is markedly heterosexist. A Queer politic, like communism, offers an ideal, one toward which we can progress long term. In the meantime, however, the structures of gender and sexual orientation provide concrete platforms from which to counteract the oppression of heterosexism; to seek liberation from the structures of LGBT identities seems naïve to the pervasiveness of the overt oppression of queer people.

Like his idea about historical progress, Marx’s conception of freedom has implications beyond just Marxism. Many people I’ve talked to say that although they have a Queer theoretical outlook, their identity is primarily gay (or lesbian, or bisexual, or transgender, etc.) People outside the box of heteronormativity simply find relating to one another easier when a common identity can be expressed. A Queer identity is, in a way, quite isolating, and highly individualistic. It asserts everyone’s individual gender and sexuality are unique and complex, amassing highly divergent individuals into a world where the only similarity one can expect is that everyone’s unique. Conversely, by claiming concrete gender and sexuality, one asserts aspects of identity in a way that is comprehensible and relatable. In a way, LGBT identities are the parole of the Queer Langue, providing a vocabulary for the abstract and fluid idea-world behind a critical Queer perspective.

Moreover, it is no coincidence that much of Queer theorizing takes place in the global West. Collectivist cultures often find much more meaning in the expression of common identities. As Denis Altman (1997) puts it, “American ‘queer theory’ remains as relentlessly Atlantic-centric in its view of the world as the mainstream culture it critiques (p. 419).” In operating within the consumer-capitalist structure, Queer theory has the potential to neglect the diverse methods of meaning-making that can be found outside the hegemony of the global West.

The Politic of Integration

So far, I have discussed the tension between queer and Queer in light of a pivotal conjunction: “or.” In “To(o) Queer or Not? Queer Theory, Lesbian community, and the Functions of Sexual Identities” Dana Shugar (1999) engages with the perpetual contention between lesbian activists and Queer ones. She writes:

Depending upon each scholar’s position within the discourse, queer theory is cast as either the savior of lesbian sexuality because of its ability to endlessly expand the definitions of what it means to be a sexual lesbian...or, for similar reasons, as the demise of lesbians and lesbianism altogether… (p. 16)

A dialectical analysis, on the other hand, would seek to synthesize the contradiction into something new. Joshua Gamson’s article (1995) “Must Identity Movements Self Destruct?” addresses this very tension in terms of social movement theory. He uses a different conjunction, however.

The challenge for analysts… is not to determine which position is accurate, but to cope with the fact that both logics make sense. Queerness spotlights a dilemma shared by other identity movements (racial, ethnic, and gender movements, for example): Fixed identity categories are both the basis for oppression and the basis for political power. (p. 391, emphasis mine)

Gamson here astutely notes the contradictory nature of queer identities, but allows this tension to abide. In his perspective, Queerness adds another dimension to sexual identity, rather than obliterating it. Gamson does a good job of engaging with the political practicality of both queers.

He also observes, “the destabilization of collective identity is itself a goal and accomplishment of collective action (p. 403),” even while, earlier in the article, he notes that it has been theorized that one goal of identity movements is the formation and maintenance of these identities. The important thing to remember about this is that both of these interpretations are invaluable in making sense of desire.

In addition, the tension between queers is one analogous to the tension between the individual and the universal. Lacking in a Queer theoretical perspective leaves one at the mercy of gender- and orientation-based normatively: the self overwhelmed by the other. On the other hand, without a communicable identity, community can be hard to come by, and political efficacy is reduced. This could be thought of as the individual usurping the universal. Both approaches, although they contradict one another, must be held simultaneously, in spite of the tension between them. That is to say, if one allows either to supersede the other, or to refute the other, he runs the risk of having an incomplete relationship with his gender and desire, as well as himself and his Others.

Correlative Conclusion

In Carl Jung’s introduction to the Yi Jing (1967) provides some culminating insight into this tension. In it, he expounds upon what he calls synchronicity, which he posits as a way of conceiving the world that is an alternative to linear, causative logic. As an exercise in practicing the synchronicity, Jung “asks” the Yi Jing about the outcome of his writing the introduction, and interprets the answers he receives from dropping coins and following the corresponding oracles in the Yi Jing. He explains how the fortunes to which he is led by the coins are relevant to his situation, but not from a causative, liner logic perspective. Instead, his fortune is meaningful from the perspective of synchronicity. The milieu of events surrounding his dropping the coins did not cause the outcomes he observed, he suggests, but rather all were present and to be considered in the interpretation of the fortune: most critically, the self that he brings to the endeavor. Furthermore, as he points out, any further attempts to seek a fortune for the same question would be different in that they follow the initial dropping of coins. It is not that the nature of the universe caused the coins to fall as they did, but rather that the circumstances surrounding the dropping of coins, including the self, his concept of the other, what he had for lunch, and about what one is seeking insight.

On the one hand, Queer theory tells us that gender and thus sexual orientation are socially constructed, and fundamentally arbitrary. The structures of gender are just that: structures. Following the post-structuralist shift in thought, we can put gender in its place among other systems that we construct, such as capitalism, the fashion world, or how we communicate recipes. Each of these follows conventions that have been creatively negotiated between members of a community, within the constraints of their material situation. A recipe’s system of measurements, its literary structure, and the combinations of flavors described within – all of these are fundamentally arbitrary. But, because the measurements are in the context of a community of cooks with a common system of measurements, for example, the arbitrary cups and teaspoons are meaningful, and contribute greatly to the outcome of the dish. Jung, in his introduction notes of his interpretations of the Yi Jing that, “Anyone of sound mind can turn the whole thing around and show how I have projected my subjective contents into the symbolism of the hexagrams.” But this is precisely the point: that the meaning that we collectively construct, and the character of the participants and aspects surrounding these seemingly random structures turns the chance emergence of such structures – a measurement system, the outcome of a coin-toss, or a system of rationalizing gender and desire – into an important and intensely significant method of existence.

So, the question of how to be both queer and Queer takes one down a highly dialectical path. The debate between Marx and Bakunin concerning anarchy provides a good look into the tension between these two systems that seek similar goals. A Marxist idea of human progress, both as a step away from the primitivism of the animal kingdom, and as an idea requiring a politic prudent to the historical situation in which we find ourselves, defines his affinity with the state, and paints the presence of concrete gender/sexual identities as necessary given our place in time. Still, Bakunin’s affinity with the ideal of anarchy can be admired and applied to Queer theory, which positions Queer theory as a notion of a long-term goal or an essential way to perceive gender and sexuality. We’ve seen a real example of the personal as the political, and the political as the personal in that the absolutely local (locus, even, i.e. identity) becomes the basis for both political oppression and efficacy. At the same time, though, the two queers inform one another, so much so that a perspective lacking in either causes one to lack a completeness of critical understanding of gender and desire. In other words, a chord must be struck between the stark and definite note at which the individual identity vibrates, and the harmonic of Queer theory, which provides a more esoteric, and universal truth about gender and desire. Finally, reconciliation between the two can be found in correlative thinking, and Jung’s synchronicity. Queer theory tells us that the structures of gender and desire are constructed, fluid, and transient, while this perspective only exists because of the concrete identities with which we approach these structures. And not to step forward, in the context of the flowing of time, exploring further the complexities – and contradictions – of the Queer State we find ourselves in.

References

Altman, D. (1997). Global Gaze/global gays. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian & Gay Studies, 3(4), 417. Retrieved from http://ezproxy.gvsu.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=qth&AN=9985863&site=ehost-live&scope=site

Gamson, J. (1995). Must identity movements self-destruct? A queer dilemma. Social Problems, 42(3), 390-407. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/3096854

Heckert, J. (2005). Resisting orientation: On the complexities of desire and the limits of identity politics. Unpublished PhD, University of Edinburgh,

Jung, C. G. (1967). Foreward. Yi Jing or Book of Changes (Richard Wilhelm, Cary F. Baynes Trans.). (pp. xxi-xxxix). New York: Penguin Books.

Mahoney, J. G. (2008). On the way to harmony: Marxism, confucianism, and Hu Jintao's Hexie concept. In S. Guo, & B. Guo (Eds.), China in search of a harmonious society (pp. 99-128). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.

Robertson, A. (2006). Marxism and anarchism: The philosophical roots of the Marx-Bakunin conflict – part one. Retrieved 21 December, 2009, from http://www.marxist.com/marxism-anarchism-marx-bakunin-conflict090606.htm

Shugar, D. (1999). To(o) queer or not? queer theory, lesbian community, and the functions of sexual identities. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 3(3), 11.

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[1] I’ll use ‘queer’ to denote the umbrella term sense, and ‘Queer’ to denote the academic theoretical framework, in full awareness of the hierarchy that this imposes.

Globalizing and Queering done in Concert

I will soon post a paper that I'm writing on globalization and queerness. I hope to explore the problems and features of cultural hegemony of (Western) LGBT identities over the indigenous gender/sexual constructs/culture in the (an?) "Asian" experience. For now, though, it is very important that we seek to understand this poem by Filipino-American poet R. Zamora Linmark. In doing so, perhaps we can understand more about ourselves.

They like you because you eat dog, goat and pig's blood . . .

They like you because you kneel hard, bend over quick and spread wide . . .

They like you because you're a potato queen . . .

They like you because you take it in, all the way down

They like you because you ask for it, adore it

They like you because you're a copycat, want to be just like them

They like you because, give it a couple more years, you'll be just like them

And when that time comes, will they like you more?

Perhaps this doesn't have the same impact if you're not in the same headspace as I am, but it's causing me profound angst and introspection...

Aches and Pains

My heart hurts today; love, it seems, is not enough.

I have a heart for the Church. I've tried so hard not to. I have spent a lot of time being resentful, bitter, and risked cynicism because I couldn't handle the silent oppression for being different. I heard a sermon last week in which the pastor said that you can't forgive institutions, you have to forgive people. What he meant by this, I think, is that it is individuals who make mistakes and it's inaccurate (at best) to indiscriminately blame a group for the failings of a few. In this case, however, I'm pretty upset with the whole lot. The lot of church leaders who are so aware of the nuance and uncertainty surrounding verses in Scripture, verses that are the foundation of long held Church teachings. And the lot of their congregants, the silent flocks who feel in their hearts the call to love, the call to listen... the call to wrestle with the nuance and uncertainty. Perhaps even the call to change.

I was talking to a friend recently. She's an adamant supporter of LGBT equality. I asked her what she knew about how the above church was handling the issue of minority gender and sexual identities. She told me that she'd had a meal with church leaders at the above church, and that they were very sympathetic. They had acknowledged that the issue needed to be dealt with, that LGBT folks needed to be invited and welcomed into the church. But, in the words of my friend, they had said, "There are 500 ways to screw this up, and only one way to do it right." Their fear is that the very discussion would divide the congregation.

I'm reminded of times not-so-long past, when some churches used Scripture to exclude other groups, openly denying other minorities the opportunity at loving community. People of color kept in the fringes, isolated into communities of outcasts, worshiping with one another. I see a similar trend today, with LGBT folks, their friends and allies all worshiping the same God that they've been told doesn't accept them.

I've also seen the deep hurt, the tears and the weary eyes of my LGBT friends who open their hearts so wide to a community that will not, perhaps cannot listen. The oppressed bending over backward to show that they're human, that they deserve to be loved. To be heeded. To be given the dignity of a listening ear.

Granted, LGBT folks have their share of patience to contribute; dialogue is a two-way street. But when the balance of power is weighted to one group, shouldn't it be that group that sacrifices a bit? Else it becomes the right of the oppressed to restore this balance?

I guess what I'm asking for is a little awe. I want the Church to open their eyes to the great sacrifice that it's calling LGBT folks to make. A call to celibacy, in some denominations, or, at the impasse of an unchanging gender/sexual identity, the forfeit of their church communities altogether. All this based on church teachings with a foundation on a few sketchy verses and a long history of heterocentrism and homophobia. Perhaps this will lead to a little respect, a lot more love, and some serious, long-overdue understanding.

I'm Coming Out -- You should too!

Hello, everyone. I have an announcement to make: I am a gay man.

Until recently, every time I said that, there was this twinge of fear, a fuzz of shame. I was slightly embarrassed, felt like I was telling a secret about myself that could spell disaster. I'd usually follow up with a comment that somehow defended my place as a "straight-acting" man, able to blend into the heteronormative society surrounding me. As time progresses, though, and as I progress along the path of coming-out, I feel less and less reservation about claiming my gay identity. The journey to this point has been long, a story about negotiating prestige, power, and gender and sexual identity amidst deep-felt fear and judgment from myself and my friends and family...

Yeah, you guessed it, I grew up in the Church. In fact, I was a staunch Christian; I asked my parents if I could attend a private Christian school for my last year of high school. I even offered to pay for half of the tuition with money I'd made working in a local coffee shop. Around this time, I began to know that I was gay, but back then, I called it "same-sex attractions." This term was used among myself and my counselor to describe the attractions that I had to men. My counselor was a Christian man, a psychologist -- a good one, actually. I have my misgivings about his Christian approach to my sexual orientation, but I certainly benefited from our interactions. We talked a lot about how gender expression didn't have to conform to the strictly structured gender norms of American culture. I could play the violin, write poetry, and sing, and it could be masculine just because I claimed a masculine identity. It was here, too, that I learned to differentiate between sexual desire and sexual expression, a distinction that has shaped my philosophies of romantic love, and sexual practice.

Perhaps I'm not critical enough of the way I was brought to think about sexuality early in my dealing with my sexual orientation, but the fact of the matter is that I identify a lot with Christians, especially when they humbly and honestly grapple with the reality of sexuality and their deeply-held faith. That's what I was engaged in around this time, as well. After attending counseling, I joined a group at a local church that was committed to engaging with the tension of being a Christian and finding oneself attracted to the same gender. Not ready to call my self gay yet, I would only ever admit to being attracted to men. I was careful, too, to place myself in the social world of males, and had a girlfriend, off-and-on, until my freshman year of college.

2005 found me at a small, private, Christian liberal arts college, stumbling around and getting in arguments with my peers about queer theology. I'd always make sure to distance myself from the argument a bit, hedging my words with, "Well, one argument to what you're asserting is that..." By the end of two years at this school, however, I found myself tired, my growth stunted, and my monetary funds depleted. It was time to transfer to another school, where I could figure myself out, cope with my orientation, and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I landed at Grand Valley State University, again not far from my hometown. Amidst my parents divorcing, and having increasingly negative experiences with hegemonic heterocentrism among my Christian friends, my faith was finally put to rest; I had shed the skin of the faith I grew up with to embrace a bigger, more mystical view of the metaphysical. With this came a process of becoming fully comfortable with myself, my gender expression, and my gay identity.

Today, I see many of my gay friends at the place that I was a couple of very short years ago. I'm brought back to what it was like to consider my feelings "not okay." I remember thinking that while God may not have had a problem with my sexual orientation, the attractions I felt were due to some systemic brokenness of society or spirit. It may not have been a condemnable sin, but to me, homosexuality was the product of sin. I wasn't able to see it then, but this headspace was so oppressive! It contributed to my stunted growth, hindering me from pursuing actualization. I thought I was in need of fixing. That, or I faced a lifetime of coping with the fact that my attractions could never be as pure as those of my heterosexual friends. Since becoming convinced of the validity of my gay identity, I have never felt freer, lighter, more able to take on the world. But it was only through a long, painful process of coming out that this was possible.

All that to say this: It is almost as oppressive to witness many of my friends in this a similar headspace. I see it on their faces, hear it in their words, and it distresses me. In a recent Gay.com story, the author wrote about being unwilling to date men who were not out. At first, one might react negatively to this discrimination, asserting that we're all in various stages of the coming out process, as some commenters did. In evaluating my own response, though, I found myself agreeing with the author, but not on the grounds that he cited. I'm fully willing to be a support in the coming out process. I must admit, though that on this topic, I'm impatient; I'd have a very hard time adjusting to seeing someone with whom I'm close internalize the oppression of homophobia and heteronormativity. I say this not to warn potential suitors of my requirements. Rather, this is to illustrate the level of urgency that I feel about this. It is from this place that I implore my fellow queers to blurt it out, blush like hell, and begin the process of being open with themselves and others about their noble identities as LGBTQI people.

Meaning, Hermeneutics, and A Season in Hell

Hello, all.

Here's something different: a link to a podcast about (and dramatic reading of) a piece of queer poetry by Arthur Rimbaud (Louise Varèse, tr.) titled A Season in Hell. The discussion is specifically about Delirium I, a small part of the much large poem, and questionable usefulness of history/enquiry into the life of the author in understanding the meaning of a text. Big topics discussed include the Death of the Author, and the Fusion of Horizons.

This podcast was produced to fulfill a requirement for a class I took during the winter semester of 2009 called Meaning. In it, we studied and discussed the construction and deconstruction and reconstruction meaning in light of structuralism, post-structuralism, deconstructionism (Derrida, mostly), and Gadamerian philosophical hermeneutics, (among others). Enjoy!

Language Variety--Even in America

This was an extra credit response in my Sociolinguistics class. Seeing as it was internet based, I thought I'd share.
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For a country that has no official language, the American system sure can push English. Many of my family members, for example, still get offended when hearing people speak Spanish in public. Silly as this may be, the sentiment is shared by many Americans who perceive that English is, was, and should be the country’s only language. Listening to their rhetoric (or lack thereof), a power differential usually emerges, with the English speaker’s linguistic toes being stepped on by the utterance of a foreign tongue, and their imposition of a presumed English monolingualism in this country. However, this view, it could easily be argued, does not fit with the democratic ideals to which this nation claims to adhere. That’s why it is so good to see, hear, and experience a pluralism of manners of speaking in links such as the one to the MLA Language Map or the International Dialects of English Archive site.

The MLA Language map is very helpful in revealing the full extent of the US’s language diversity. A full 18% of speakers in America, it reports, use a language other than English. While ten percent of these speakers use Spanish or a Creole thereof, the other eight are a hodge-podge of languages like Chinese, Arabic, Russian, and Gujarathi. This diversity does not just point to a cultural or ethnic diversity, but a plurality of expression. Because our worldview is expressed largely through language, our processing takes on different structure, mood, or connotation based on our choice of expression. In my Sociolinguistics class, for example we looked at The Bilingual’s Creativity (1987) by Kachru (sorry, couldn't find a link to the full text outside of my school's library). It's a study of the discourse and stylistic features of dialects of English that emerge out of contact with other languages. It shows the abounding depth and texture to the English of bilingual speakers. Language plurality, therefore, is instrumental in maintaining a diversity of perspectives often neglected under the hegemony of English’s ubiquity.

Ironically, because of this ubiquity, English has been stretched into many different dialects the world over. The International Dialects of English Archive indicates the full extent to which English varies, while the Dictionary of American Regional English and Michigan Corpus of Academic Spoken English both show hearty variation on more domestic and local scales. English’s marked adaptability has been a huge part of its success. Because it is so widely used, it’s assimilated words from all over the world, with some 25+% derived from French languages. English’s ability to accommodate new vocabulary, and even calques, has been cited as “an adaptive strategy undertaken by speakers to enrich certain registers of a language, rather than having to switch to the new language for that register. (Mesthrie et. al. 2000)” Furthermore, despite efforts toward standardization, English continues to be used in new ways by speakers applying their native language's semantic and grammatical structures to English, and insodoing, contributing to variation within English itself. It is due to its plasticity that English enjoys the place it does today.

Notwithstanding, the prestige of English lends itself to pride and a strongly dominant posture among its speakers. American non-English speakers are often stigmatized for their lack of fluency.* But homogeny has never made for a realistic (let alone healthy) goal. Moreover, existing in community is inherently pluralistic, as no individual expresses in the same way, nor could they have the same ideologies, exactly. Then, to participate fully in this community, we go beyond what seems familiar, and exercise patience with something new, perhaps uncomfortable, and recognize the great value in someone else’s linguistic ways. In short, English’s prestigious speakers could learn a lesson from their language’s history, and then turn an ear to learn from the tongue of another.

[*Sometimes, even, they're assumed to be much less fluent than they might actually be, just because of a thick accent. Accents can be virtually impossible to eradicate from one's language outside having learned another before the speaker hits puberty.]

REFERENCES

• Baker, W., & Eggington W. G. (1999). Bilingual Creativity, Multidimensional Analysis, and World Englishes. World Englishes, 18(3), 343-358.
• Mesthrie, R., Swann, J., Deumert, A, and Leap, W. (2000). Introducting sociolinguistics. Philadelphia: John Benjamins.