Making strides toward equality almost always demands that people shift how they view their place in the world. Granting women the right to vote required that men step away from the idea that they’re superior. Ending slavery required seeing black Americans as people, not property.
But sometimes, even well-meaning people feel embattled when expanding a given definition means they lose a privileged position – sometimes one they achieved by fighting their own struggle for inclusion. Whether it’s gays and lesbians resisting the idea that their newfound marriage rights promote and reinforce a patriarchal institution or animal rights activists offended at the notion that they care more about a lion than a murdered black person, I’ve noticed that many people want to live in a world where their attachment to a deeply held belief or identity gives them a pass when it comes to confronting challenges to the values they hold dear.
I recently published an article in The New Inquiry where I discussed the Tony Award-winning musical Fun Home. I argued that advancing less rigid gender roles would lead to our culture’s current distinctions between sexuality and gender to overlap and intertwine, because sexuality can be seen as one part of an integrated gender system. This would create greater acceptance for both trans people and those who don’t conform to a hard gender binary.
A link to the article was featured in a roundup for The Toast, a feminist web site with generally smart and civil commenters, and a number of them objected to it. “I found that piece about Fun Home kind of upsetting you guys,” wrote catweazle, in a comment that was typical of the tone of the criticisms. “It’s frustrating because I want to agree with her because her end goal of acceptance of all forms of gender identity and expression is 100% great but her approach is to invalidate the experiences and identities of any number of queer people for whom sexual desire and gender identity are completely unrelated.”
A significant number of otherwise well-meaning people thus concluded that I was challenging the legitimacy of their experiences as queer people who don’t have to grapple with society’s insistence on gender norms – that is, people who aren’t punished for their gender, even if they have experienced prejudice against their sexual orientation. But what if I told you that in my native Philippines, up until quite recently, making the opposite claim – that being gay has nothing to do with gender expression – would have likely resulted in the exact same objections? There, men who are attracted to men were seen as a third distinct gender, making it impossible to tease gender and sexuality apart. This comparison shows how an identity that may feel natural and ingrained is actually a product of complex social forces.
Making a connection in our society between gender expression and sexuality allows trans and non-binary people easier access to the many advantages gays and lesbians currently enjoy, from protections against employment and education discrimination to much greater social tolerance. Queer people have the privilege of choosing whether or not to engage in questioning the relationship between their sexuality and their gender, because not engaging with the question still leaves them at a social and legal advantage. It’s in this way that not all deeply held beliefs and identities are created equal. It’s important even for minorities to reflect on the comparative advantage of their position over other minorities, and continue to strive for equality even if it means challenging their deeply held beliefs.
I recently confronted this issue in the other direction, when a good friend objected to another Filipina trans woman describing herself as a “woman of color.” My friend felt like the woman was using the term to count herself among a demographic of trans women who are vulnerable to violence, when the problem is much greater among black trans women. I was about to object on the basis that “woman of color” technically means all non-white women, but I stopped myself, because I realized that the meaning of the term has been shifting, often used as a synonym for “black women.” It’s a thorny issue, because transgender violence generally affects trans women of color disproportionately, but also black trans women at a much greater extreme, and the use of “woman of color” in situations when “black women” would be more apt has made matters even muddier.
I grew up in the Philippines, a former American colony, until age 15, where I internalized a feeling of inferiority from being non-white. Because of that struggle, my internal racial identity as a woman of color is deep and strong, even as the lightness of my skin often leads to people mistaking me for Caucasian. But at the same time, I know that the harassment and threats of violence against me as a trans woman would likely be much worse if other people perceived me the way I perceive myself.
My conversation with my friend made it clear to me that I can’t describe myself as a trans woman of color in contexts where people might interpret me as suggesting that I am under the same threat as black trans women, because doing so would inaccurately convey that I am speaking from a place of personal knowledge that I don’t have and could potentially undermine efforts to represent the perspectives of those who do have this experience. To create this important distinction, I needed to engage with rather than run from a challenge to my identity. This allowed me to contribute to bettering society for oppressed groups by, in this case, striving to make room for black trans women rather than giving the impression – deliberately or otherwise – that I can adequately speak from that urgent point of view.
Identity politics shouldn’t create a new societal hierarchy; when some people win more rights than others, everybody loses. In evaluating whether to engage with marginalized groups’ push for rights, the most important test is to ask whether the issue is tied to social or material benefits that advantage certain people over others, and whether continued allegiance to one’s beliefs promotes inequality. Because in many situations, this refusal to engage is not so far removed from denying more stark and obvious inequalities, like those between black and white people. It’s important, especially for those of us who want to work toward a more equitable world, to find ways to face rather than shy away from such challenges, even if it means having to question identities and beliefs we hold dear.