Beenie Said Knock You Out. (And That's Not The Half Of It.)

Reggae star's lyrics say that lesbians should be hanged.

So the link goes to an article from the UK Times Online that concisely introduces the “new” story of overt homophobia in reggae and dancehall songs from Jamaican artists. I feel the need to cavil just a tad because this sort of story really isn’t new at all, and I’m disappointed that some publications are just now picking up on it. I took a class last fall called “Homophobia in the Black World”, and the professor had us listen to some songs, including the Beenie Man songs named in the article. Although the reporter calls this a “new offence”, it seems like it’s been in the homophobia discourse for easily a decade and probably longer.

But, anyway, it’s an interesting part of cultural homophobia. While it’s really easy for me, for some reason, to grumble about the homophobic lyrics of Eminem and other U.S. hip hop artists, I have a little more difficulty with these reggae artists. I mean, the lyrics are reprehensible to be sure. There is little to like about “Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope,” and the “Batty Man Fi Dead” lyrics had me agape when I first read them. (And I can’t find them anywhere now to reference. I’ll work on that. Needless to say? Scary stuff.) But music is such a rich part of Jamaican culture, or at least that’s what I gathered from my professor who is from Jamaica and has done public health work there. It brings up questions of what is considered a form of art, and can it still be art if it is hateful? I don’t know if I would call Beenie Man’s songs art per se, but I can’t stand it when people make overarching statements about reggae or hip-hop music being so awful because it’s homophobic (or misogynistic). I think it denies the artistic merits of those genres to do that, and it denies the homophobia that are present in other music genres.

So it’s clear that homophobia, in the example of these songs, is operating at a fairly broad, cultural, and explicit level. Explicit, at least, for those in Jamaica, and it doesn’t exactly seem like the best place to be out about being gay there. Not to say that the things expressed in these songs are characteristic of the culture, but it’s my sense that there is a homophobia there that operates more overtly and menacingly than what I am familiar with in the U.S. Okay, now I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole here. I guess I have to honestly say that I have some presumptions about Jamaican culture vis-à-vis homophobia. Much of it is because of music like this. I think it’s good that gay rights activists are fighting against homophobia in popular music, but I have this overwhelming feeling that maybe attentions should be focused…elsewhere maybe? Maybe it’s just that I don’t feel like the oppression I receive is from homophobic lyrics; it’s more about the overall lack of positive and honest gay representation in entertainment media. However, because music is such a part of Jamaica’s culture, it makes sense for gay activists to work within that area there. I just wonder if efforts should be made to build alliances in Jamaica, though, since change might be more effectively if it’s not coming from activists based in other countries. Homophobia is everyone’s fight, but I think change in a culture is most valuable from the people in that culture.

Culture Shock

If I may share a personal experience, I always feel a bit of a conflict when I go home for the holidays. Being from central Pennsylvania, I often experience a small amount of culture shock when I return home from New York or my previous residence in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I wouldn’t exactly say that the people in central PA are cultural troglodytes compared to my peers in New York or Michigan, but I definitely set my expectations high for my friends and family in terms of political correctness and sensitivity around issues of social identity.

So the first incident happened while I was driving to a gay club with my friends, who are all hetero-identified. One of my closest friends, K, commented that she was glad another friend, A, was going with us to the club because, “That way [K] won’t be the only dyke-y looking one there.” I was more than a little jarred by K’s language, but not as much as A who was also in the car at the time and was far from happy with the comparison. After seeing A’s reaction, K apologized for offending her, and I didn’t say anything about K’s choice of language because the atmosphere was already uncomfortable enough. At least, that was how I rationalized my decision at the time.

The other, much less incendiary comment that I heard while at home was made by my older step-brother. Truthfully, I don’t remember what warranted the remark (football?), but he called someone or something on the television “queer”. I didn’t say anything, and no one else seemed to react, though I think my mother was a little uncomfortable if only because I was in the room. My lack of response, I think, came from my natural aversion to confrontation as well as the fact that I don’t know my step-brother very well since I only see him one or two days a year.

So these are both clearly examples of individual-level, vocal acts of homophobia, though I would hesitate to call either my friend or my step-brother actively “homophobic” since I know them fairly well. As I continue to think about these comments, I’m increasingly unnerved by the lack of reactions from the people who were around me at the time. But, of course, I did not show much of a reaction either, so is it really my place to admonish my friends and family? I guess, I don’t think I should always have to defend myself, and I consider my peers to be at a level where they should be able to confront or intervene in the overt instances as well. For example, my mother has told me about how she will not put up with homophobic language at her office, and she will even throw my name out as a reason why she is personally upset by certain words. Nonetheless, I realize this is an area for me to work on. I think that if I was to vocally express how such language affects me, like my mother does at work, it would provide more of an incentive for my friends and family to confront instances both when I am present and when I’m not. In fact, it makes me wonder how often my friends or my extended family say things when I’m not around, and if they are reining it in while I’m in the room or the car or whatever.

Taking my weekend at home as a whole, I guess I feel a little uncomfortable when I’m out of my usual, safe, very gay and gay-friendly milieu. The context of homophobia is certainly worth considering when looking at one’s decision to confront or not to confront certain overt acts.

Backward Christian Soldiers

Miller Jr., R. L. (2007). Legacy denied: African american gay men, AIDS, and the black church. Social Work, 52(1), 51-61.

I’ve linked to the full article via ProQuest, so you need some sort of authorization to hack through that little bit of academic red tape.

Miller, Jr. gathered qualitative data from ten participants on their experiences with being gay, HIV-positive, and involved in primarily African American churches. The general pattern that emerged from the participant’s narratives was that they feel a conundrum since they receive spiritual support and education while simultaneously experiencing ostracism from the congregation because of their orientation and HIV status. It’s refreshing for me to read the study since I think that so much worthwhile data can be gathered from these kinds of qualitative interviewing, and I think it’s important for the visibility of these issues in the larger academic community. Additionally, I find it remarkable that these men, despite all of their examples of homophobia in their congregations, remained in their churches for as long as they did. It’s difficult for me to understand, I suppose, because I do not come from that kind of spiritual community. My first reaction is over-simplistic: Why don’t they just leave if they don’t want to be proselytized to about their sexuality? Clearly, these men were not attending out of some perfunctory response for their community; they really enjoy the spiritual guidance.

What was most jarring for me reading the article was the discrimination received due to the AIDS crisis. One participant discusses how, following the death of his partner due to AIDS-related illness, the preacher in his congregation told everyone that the partner’s soul is lost and that he is in hell. I just find that sort of behavior appalling, particularly because it carries a religious sanction and it’s coming from a person who is supposed to provide support and guidance. I worry that I have such a strong, condemnatory reaction toward that kind of speech because it’s a cultural, religious, and racial context that I have absolutely no personal overlap with. I feel like it’s not really my place to shake my head at this form of homophobia, but as a gay person I’m completely offended and outraged.

At the same time, I can hear Keith Boykin’s words running through my head about the assumptions many people make about African Americans regarding homophobia. Now I bristle every time I hear a queer person or ally tsk-tsk about the rampant homophobia in the black religious community. There seem to be issues specific to African Americans regarding ideas of liberation and masculinity that often stand in opposition to gay or HIV-positive identities, but to say that blacks as a whole are more homophobic is ridiculous, I think. And it’s never explicitly stated whom they are allegedly more homophobic than. More homophobic than…whites? Than other, more accepting people of color? It’s so frustrating how these issues of homophobia often boil down to these judgments of who is the most or least homophobic.

Christianity is a messy issue for me to think about, so I often don’t. I’ve often thought in my interactions with Christian gay men that I have absolutely nothing in common with this person. I guess it speaks to the enormous blanket that the LGBT label puts on the community since listening to someone speak of their devout Christian beliefs is often like hearing an unfamiliar language. I still have a lot of work to do regarding my presumptions and discomfort about religion, and I think most of it comes from my sexuality. It’s one of my more overt areas of prejudice. I’m certainly becoming more conscious of it in the context of studying isms.

Varsity Blues

Osborne, D. & Wagner, III, W. E. (2007). Exploring the relationship between homophobia and participation in core sports among high school students. Sociological Perspectives, 50(4), 597-613.

The link goes to the article, via ProQuest, so you need to be logged in to view it.

Osborne and Wagner, in brief, interviewed 1470 public high school students in Philadelphia. The interview consisted of questions asking about their involvement in extracurricular activites, both athletic and nonathletic, and their feelings about gay people and discrimination against them. As the researchers predicted, male students who participated in athletic activities were three times more likely to demonstrate homophobic beliefs than those who were not. Additionally, female students involved in nonathletic activities were half as likely to demonstrate homophobia than those who were not. Male students were also more likely to have homophobic beliefs than female students overall.

It’s difficult for me not to have a “duh” reaction to these findings because they unerringly confirm my assumptions of homophobia among high school athletes. Speaking personally, I went to high school not terribly long ago and, though I wasn’t the victim of any extreme homophobia, I know that the male sports team, and particularly the varsity football team, was known for it’s absurd culture of hyper-masculinity. I also had the joy of four years of mandated physical education classes (thanks, Pennsylvania!), so I have some idea of what kind of talk happens in high school locker rooms despite my noninvolvement in high school athletics. It’s nothing surprising, just your typical derogatory comments.

I guess the study raises the question for me of, why is it assumed that this is part of high school athletic culture? Does assuming it will be there make it easier to ignore or accept it? Homophobia among high school students typically happens between individually, but does it also occur at the institutional level among schools who do not have policies against these sorts of actions? I would say so. I would say it happened at the level of the faculty, at least, at my school since many teacher would outright ignore or offer an indulgent “Now, guys…” in nauseating efforts to ingratiate themselves with the popular students.

I also have a reaction of just what are the effects of this homophobia. If homophobia is more likely to be found among the athletic boys, then, and this is just me making an unfounded conjecture, it’s probably likely to exist disproportionately among the more popular students. And, typically, popular students tend to be those that come from wealthier families; hence, they have greater resources in place to further their education or acquire more influential jobs. Then aren’t we, as a culture, really allowing the students who have the most tangible resources and likely potential enter the world with the greatest amount of homophobia? I realize I probably just made no less than a dozen errors in logic and I have no research to back me up, but it’s disheartening nonetheless for me to think about.

So, now determined to end on an optimistic note on this Friday, at least these teenagers are still teenagers and there is plenty of time for programming interventions to help mitigate this homophobia. Moreover, I’ve neglected to discuss the other major finding of the study that girls in nonathletic activities displayed less homophobia. I think that I can sleep a little better knowing that the students in the yearbook and science club are less homophobic.

Obligatory School-Related Post

I’ve been determined since undertaking this project to find heterosexist microaggressions in the school. And, (un?)fortunately, I’m coming up a little dry. I think part of it, honestly, is that the School of Social Work lives up to its reputation to being an environment of social justice. I think maybe a bigger part may be that I’ve sort of trained myself not to notice microaggressions. It’s uncomfortable for me to encounter and process them, and, not to psychoanalyze myself too much, I think I use it as a defense mechanism so that I can go on liking my school and my classmates.

That said, I’m noticing that on an interpersonal level it’s difficult for me to relate to a lot of my predominantly heterosexual and female classmates. I think it’s because there are bi-directional expectations at work based on gender on sexuality. On one hand, I feel like classmates are expecting me to fulfill gay male stereotypes about mannerisms, behavior, and dating. On the other hand, I expect them to have those expectations, so it stands out to me when I think they are acting in accordance with that. In short: they expect me to be Will, I expect them to be Grace. Those feelings aside, I would have to be completely oblivious not to notice all of the talk about boyfriends and husbands and hetero-relationships that, kind of inexplicably, makes me feel left out.

In the classroom, the most common theme I notice is the assumption of heterosexuality in any sort of therapeutic vignette or hypothetical situation. Whenever discussing the case of a gay person, it’s always explicitly stated, but if it is not then the client is always presumed to be heterosexual. Which, I think, is fair of the students to think that since it might not be a client population they have had much experience with. Still, it doesn’t take the professor much time or energy to mention sexuality and the similar or varying implications for a client depending on her or his orientation.

Mention of “gay issues” in classes is a double-edged sword. It needs to be there, but when it does get mentioned, I always feel like attention is directed at me and that it’s my responsibility to say something. Part of that is because I’m located at a gay agency, but I don’t think that’s why I feel an expectation to give my homo-sanction to the discussion. I find myself worrying a lot if these feelings I have are unfounded and are simply a result of some kind of heterosexist minority threat. I will say, though, that I think I can make a completely tenable claim that there is little LGBT-related material in the overall curriculum. Cultural competence is (somewhat) discussed with respect to race and ethnicity and gender, but there is nothing I have been taught about considerations for LGBT clients. Every day I’m at SAGE I think, what on earth would this be like for a straight student who has had no experience with gay people? And, because of this gap in the curriculum, I feel like my experiences are not always applicable to lessons or class discussions. I know the gay students are starting to sound like broken records at the school, but there is really a disservice to both gay and straight students in the area of queer ally building.

I guess that’s a lot of talking without a concrete, recent example for the portfolio. So here is one from a week or two ago that I’ll let speak for itself:

Student: Where is your field placement?

Mike: Oh, at an agency that provides counseling for gay elders.

Student: Oh…[voice going up an octave] Oh, that’s great!

Okay, I won’t let it speak for itself. Students should not be uncomfortable at the mere thought of gay people! ARGH.

Something Borrowed, Something Blah

Fred Thompson Quizzed On Civil Unions

The link goes to a short story about Fred Thompson getting confused about the state of same-sex marriages and civil unions. Thompson’s campaign supports states’ rights to decide on civil unions and he is against recognizing full faith and credit with respect to same-sex unions.

I’ve intentionally skirted around the political arena up to this point because, well, with politics comes the same-sex marriage debate, and with the same-sex marriage debate comes my utter exhaustion. I don’t think it’s particularly homophobic to not to be up-to-date with the current state of same-sex marriage in the U.S. I, however, think there is some heterosexism in some of the way that the issue is handled in a lot of my interactions. For one, people always assume that I support same-sex marriage. I don’t. I support the right for all people of all sexualities to get married, but I have no intention to get married, nor do I even like the institution as a whole.

I’m thinking, too, that a classmate of mine flashed me her engagement ring the other day and I couldn’t help but feel a little…alienated, maybe? Like, she made a choice to become part of an institution that I cannot be a part of (even though I don’t want to, but whatever) and that is a conscious choice to perpetuate the privileges awarded to heterosexuality. I’m sure she didn’t intend to upset me or anything, and truthfully she didn’t, but I always feel that way when I’m so directly confronted by marriage. It just confounds me how many socially liberal and pro-gay straight people get married, and it’s not like I’m seeing a lot of “bring the institution down from the inside” sort of behavior going on. Maybe if culturally we focused more on the experiences of actual gay people inside and outside of relationships, there would be more interpersonal consideration from straight people on how they may or may not be committing microaggressions in this area.