Last year, during my recovery from surgery, I met an insightful fellow named Carl, and mentioned him in this blog post. Now, in response to my most recent post, he engaged me in an intriguing conversation, leading to his reflection below.
I thank Desmond for providing me the space to print this essay, with the hopes that it helps in all of our efforts to bring to reality the Dream that Martin Luther King shared with America so many years ago. At times, I have felt that we may never get there, not just because of the persistence of racism and bigotry, and the robbery of dignity and justice which they bring. No, it is the polarization into combative camps, and the cycle of wounding and scarring by all kinds of folk, even when there is good intention.
When I was growing up, in the wake of the era of Civil Rights, people of all backgrounds were cautioned to avoid stereotypes of each other, even good ones. We were to be seen as human beings instead of as categories, and while this did not mean we were to ignore skin color or gender or other differences, we were not to link them prejudicially. Not all Blacks are lazy, not all women are bad with math and science, not all gays are flamboyant, and so on and so forth. Human beings, individuals, embracing differences both between and within our diverse communities.
Now we're seeing this reversed, and it upsets me, not least of which because I've been guilty myself of this change. I heard other Black folk talk in generalizations about Whites, or other GLBTQ folk talking negatively about straights as a group, and I've found myself nodding and responding to the call, even when I know plenty of whites and straights who don't fit what they're saying. Meanwhile, as a man, I am tempted to respond to negative categorizations of men by women, yet trying my best to understand what is being said in those messages, just as those similar messages about whites and straights have resonated within me as someone proudly Black and gay.
"Not all men … "
"Not all Whites … "
"Not all heterosexuals … "
My thoughts here, however, are as much about the responses to these responses, and the assumptions behind them. Those who voice a "Not all … " find themselves accused of "taking it personally," or of "derailing the conversation," and silenced just as women, Blacks, GLBTQ folk and others were often silenced. But is it always about that? Could it be about what psychologists call cognitive dissonance, where progressive-minded folk who have learned not to stereotype and categorize then hear what seems like sweeping stereotyping and categorizing of them, and, just as they would argue against it for anyone else, feel compelled to do so for the group to which they identify? I do not mean to deride the impact of sexism, racism, homophobia and other oppressions on our collective soul, but to question the language that is used in trying to bring those truths to light, language which seems as a proud sister once cautioned to be "using the master's tools to dismantle the master’s house."
As a counselor and educator, working for conflict resolution, I have thusly endeavored in my own choice of words to avoid attaching traits to distinct groups, not so much to avoid offending, but to better speak truth to power, to illuminate that oppression entraps us all, and to encourage all of us to finds ways to escape that trap towards more justice. Our culture and social structure teaches those in privileged groups to talk about, think about, and act towards those "outside" in certain ways, and even those with good intentions will repeat unconsciously those patterns. How do we break the cycle, instead of merely reflecting it back on one another?
I am sure there are folk who will argue that we must "comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable." By the same token, I would argue that each of us are all afflicted to some degree, and enjoy some degree of comfort. As a gay person of color, I am daily afflicted by racism and homophobia; as a cisgender man, I am comforted by the privilege of my gender in relation to women and transfolk. Shall we sit and compare notes to see who is more oppressed than whom? Or shall we work together to remove those shackles, however long it takes?
Thank you, Carl.
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Friday, July 1, 2016
Sunday, June 26, 2016
"More Radical Than Thou"?: A Toxicology of Social Justice Advocacy
I've been meaning to write this post for some time, even before my departure from UU-dom. By doing so now, I'm sure I'll face accusations of betrayal, even personal attacks and insults. More's the pity.
What I've observed in so-called progressive circles – both secular politics and theological communities – is a poisoning of language and relationships that is driving too many individuals to disillusionment and desertion. Just as many women have abandoned the feminist label while still embracing its basic values and goals, I foresee an increasing number of folks leaving the organizations and networks established by social justice advocates, not because they have given up on the ideals of social justice, but because they find the means being employed as harmful to both the collective ends and individual psychology.
The major tendency behind this toxic environment is an increasing demand for perfectionism. It's no longer enough to work for a better world; activists must now work for utopia, and settle for nothing less. The mentality of the "Bernie or Bust" tendency is an obvious example of this, but I've witnessed even more insidious manifestations. As one former activist recounted to me: "Nothing is ever good enough. The slightest thing will get you thrown under the bus, even the way you apologize for what you've said or done, or failed to say or do." This attitude, I believe, stems from the goal of "overcoming false consciousness" – first promulgated in Marxist circles, then within radical feminism, and now more widely. Gone, however, is the patience required to facilitate such changes; just as utopian goals must be achieved all at once, utopian consciousness must be similarly adopted.
This has in turn led to a culture of constant criticism within activist circles. I'm not speaking of criticism in the academic and political sense, but the vernacular sense of negative fault-finding. This is employed not only in seeing the outside world almost entirely as "intersectional systems of oppression," but directed internally at one another, even at oneself. Nothing escapes such persistent fault-finding, and rarely are constructive alternatives given. Regardless of the intended political and/or theological goal desired, such an environment inevitably causes psychological harm. For one thing, the barrage of criticisms eventually begin to contradict one another, leading to double binds and cognitive dissonance. This is assuming, of course, that the individual in question hasn't decided: "If nothing I do or say is ever good enough here, why am I bothering to stay?"
Just as criticism may be well-intentioned, excessive use of jargon by social justice advocates is rooted in the intention of expressing this community's ideas and values in convenient shorthand. Unfortunately, just as technical language in other areas may create a barrier between its users and those "outside," so the jargon of social justice tends to set them apart from so-called "ordinary" folks, especially when using words and phrases which sound overly academic. Even worse, when combined with the tendencies of perfectionism and constant criticism, certain terms of art become used to attack, belittle and silence people. Thus "privilege" may be misused as a synonym for "arrogant" or "clueless"; any male who attempts to answer a question put to them may be accused of "mansplaining"; or merely leaving to go to the bathroom gets one "called out" for their "microaggression", and the explanation rejected as "white/male/cis/hetero/ableist fragility".
In the past, I've half-jokingly referred to religious liberals embracing the idea of "protest as sacrament"; now, I fear it's become all too serious. Engaging in protest has become less about strategy and tactics, or even about sending a message – it has become an end in itself, and participation in protest an essential test of commitment. Thus the contradiction is created when someone who uses their connections and influence to affect genuine change are ignored or even looked down upon, while those who picket and chant are lifted up even if their actions lead nowhere or serve only to alienate.
I don't question the intentions or desires of those in the social justice community who have fallen into these traps. I believe they are sincere in their shared vision for a more equitable and sustainable society. Why, then, have these issues come about, and why do they persist? If I may hazard a guess, they are rooted in three problems of approach:
What I've observed in so-called progressive circles – both secular politics and theological communities – is a poisoning of language and relationships that is driving too many individuals to disillusionment and desertion. Just as many women have abandoned the feminist label while still embracing its basic values and goals, I foresee an increasing number of folks leaving the organizations and networks established by social justice advocates, not because they have given up on the ideals of social justice, but because they find the means being employed as harmful to both the collective ends and individual psychology.
The major tendency behind this toxic environment is an increasing demand for perfectionism. It's no longer enough to work for a better world; activists must now work for utopia, and settle for nothing less. The mentality of the "Bernie or Bust" tendency is an obvious example of this, but I've witnessed even more insidious manifestations. As one former activist recounted to me: "Nothing is ever good enough. The slightest thing will get you thrown under the bus, even the way you apologize for what you've said or done, or failed to say or do." This attitude, I believe, stems from the goal of "overcoming false consciousness" – first promulgated in Marxist circles, then within radical feminism, and now more widely. Gone, however, is the patience required to facilitate such changes; just as utopian goals must be achieved all at once, utopian consciousness must be similarly adopted.
This has in turn led to a culture of constant criticism within activist circles. I'm not speaking of criticism in the academic and political sense, but the vernacular sense of negative fault-finding. This is employed not only in seeing the outside world almost entirely as "intersectional systems of oppression," but directed internally at one another, even at oneself. Nothing escapes such persistent fault-finding, and rarely are constructive alternatives given. Regardless of the intended political and/or theological goal desired, such an environment inevitably causes psychological harm. For one thing, the barrage of criticisms eventually begin to contradict one another, leading to double binds and cognitive dissonance. This is assuming, of course, that the individual in question hasn't decided: "If nothing I do or say is ever good enough here, why am I bothering to stay?"
Just as criticism may be well-intentioned, excessive use of jargon by social justice advocates is rooted in the intention of expressing this community's ideas and values in convenient shorthand. Unfortunately, just as technical language in other areas may create a barrier between its users and those "outside," so the jargon of social justice tends to set them apart from so-called "ordinary" folks, especially when using words and phrases which sound overly academic. Even worse, when combined with the tendencies of perfectionism and constant criticism, certain terms of art become used to attack, belittle and silence people. Thus "privilege" may be misused as a synonym for "arrogant" or "clueless"; any male who attempts to answer a question put to them may be accused of "mansplaining"; or merely leaving to go to the bathroom gets one "called out" for their "microaggression", and the explanation rejected as "white/male/cis/hetero/ableist fragility".
In the past, I've half-jokingly referred to religious liberals embracing the idea of "protest as sacrament"; now, I fear it's become all too serious. Engaging in protest has become less about strategy and tactics, or even about sending a message – it has become an end in itself, and participation in protest an essential test of commitment. Thus the contradiction is created when someone who uses their connections and influence to affect genuine change are ignored or even looked down upon, while those who picket and chant are lifted up even if their actions lead nowhere or serve only to alienate.
I don't question the intentions or desires of those in the social justice community who have fallen into these traps. I believe they are sincere in their shared vision for a more equitable and sustainable society. Why, then, have these issues come about, and why do they persist? If I may hazard a guess, they are rooted in three problems of approach:
- a lack of understanding of human psychology, especially regarding motivation and communication;
- a lack of patience, leading to high demands for both personal and social change;
- a confusion of means and ends, specifically where adopting the terminology and behavior of other activists in order to fit in diverts attention and resources.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
When a Word Becomes Useless
For me, language is a spiritual thing. There is something grand about how we bestow meaning to certain sounds and symbols, to the point that they seem to take on a life of their own. And when a word is misused or abused to the point of losing its meaning, that seems to me practically sacrilegious.
To that end, I've decided to abandon the use of a particular verb and its derivative forms. What makes it unusual is how common they are to English speakers. Yet I fear they've become too common, dare I say "dead common." The verb in question is can, or perhaps more specifically, its negating counterpart cannot and the contraction can't.
Some of you may have grown up experiencing an exchange such as this:
Unfortunately, not only has this distinction been lost on many, it has grown worse. "Can" and "cannot" have also been conflated with "want to" and "don’t want to". I've heard people who were perfectly capable of sending an email, or saying a few words to the right person, and with no impediment in terms of supervisory permission, still insist that they "can't" do so. The only reasons I'm able to see for their "can't" are that they are not willing to do so, due to being either unmotivated, uncomfortable, or some combination thereof.
It is at once confusing, exasperating and infuriating, especially for someone like me who takes language – and clarity in language use – as seriously as I do. Imagine the sentence: "We can't issue such a clarifying memo." Now imagine it's possible meanings to include:
What to do about such conundrums? Well, transforming organizations and social interactions is not within my purview, but one thing within my power is to at least attempt to abandon my own usage of "can" and "cannot/can't" (and their simple past-tense forms "could/couldn’t") in favor of more precise references to ability, permission and willingness. At least my own speech and correspondence will be less vague.
As for others, the best recourse that comes to mind is, whenever they use these words, to insist on clarification: "Are you saying you're unable, unwilling, or forbidden? If unable, how so? If forbidden, by whom? And if unwilling, to what degree and for what reason?"
As an officer of my congregation, and as the spokesperson for a constituent group within Unitarian Universalism, I am often in the position of having to advocate and negotiate on behalf of others. That, in my mind, requires clarity in my expression. I hope those with whom I attempt to communicate in these contexts realize, see and do likewise.
To that end, I've decided to abandon the use of a particular verb and its derivative forms. What makes it unusual is how common they are to English speakers. Yet I fear they've become too common, dare I say "dead common." The verb in question is can, or perhaps more specifically, its negating counterpart cannot and the contraction can't.
Some of you may have grown up experiencing an exchange such as this:
"Mom, can I go out and play?"
"Well, you may go out and play … "Both my parents did something like that to convey that "can" and "could" referred to ability, while "may" and "might" referred to permission. Anyone is able to have a cookie, but we're not always allowed to.
Unfortunately, not only has this distinction been lost on many, it has grown worse. "Can" and "cannot" have also been conflated with "want to" and "don’t want to". I've heard people who were perfectly capable of sending an email, or saying a few words to the right person, and with no impediment in terms of supervisory permission, still insist that they "can't" do so. The only reasons I'm able to see for their "can't" are that they are not willing to do so, due to being either unmotivated, uncomfortable, or some combination thereof.
It is at once confusing, exasperating and infuriating, especially for someone like me who takes language – and clarity in language use – as seriously as I do. Imagine the sentence: "We can't issue such a clarifying memo." Now imagine it's possible meanings to include:
- We're not able to do that.
- We need explicit permission before we can do that.
- We have been explicitly prohibited from doing that.
- We're not in the mood to do that.
- We have bad feelings about doing that.
- The person or group saying "can't" has computers and printers and email access, and people who know how to use them, and even a proposed draft for the memo, so they are certainly able to print and distribute it.
- The person has sufficient authority in the organization, and the organization has made no explicit rule prohibiting such a statement, so it has nothing to do with permission.
- Therefore, we can only conclude that the person is unwilling to do so, despite indicating a willingness to do so beforehand, which … well, you get the idea.
What to do about such conundrums? Well, transforming organizations and social interactions is not within my purview, but one thing within my power is to at least attempt to abandon my own usage of "can" and "cannot/can't" (and their simple past-tense forms "could/couldn’t") in favor of more precise references to ability, permission and willingness. At least my own speech and correspondence will be less vague.
As for others, the best recourse that comes to mind is, whenever they use these words, to insist on clarification: "Are you saying you're unable, unwilling, or forbidden? If unable, how so? If forbidden, by whom? And if unwilling, to what degree and for what reason?"
As an officer of my congregation, and as the spokesperson for a constituent group within Unitarian Universalism, I am often in the position of having to advocate and negotiate on behalf of others. That, in my mind, requires clarity in my expression. I hope those with whom I attempt to communicate in these contexts realize, see and do likewise.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
An Open Response to Peter Morales
Dear Reverend Morales:
I handle complaints and questions a lot. My work involves providing medical supplies to people with multiple chronic conditions, including many instances of mental illness. Things sometimes go wrong, and I have to deal with them. As Co-Moderator of my congregation, I’ve put myself in the position of hearing out other people’s ideas and concerns regarding governance and other issues. And as Moderator of Leather & Grace, I’m constantly hearing from both kink-oriented UUs and others in our faith.
I’m no stranger to this, having served in student government from junior high through college, and as an activist on many issues since my senior year in high school. And yes, sometimes I get annoyed by someone who seems overly petty or fault-finding. But one thing I’ve learned is that even someone who comes with a seemingly endless list of complaints can still have something useful to contribute. So I strive as best I can to pay careful attention to the other person, and to respond in a way that still holds up both their intention and the potential for the two of us to work together.
That’s why I’m writing to you now. Imagine, please, that you have a family member who is seriously ill. You’re trying to get a hold of some supplies which your family physician says will help this person recover, or at least ease their pain. Getting the insurance to pay for it, however, is frustrating. Now imagine that you can choose between two supply companies. The first one you call, the representative explains what needs to be done, answers all your questions, and does her best to walk you through the process. When you express the frustration you feel having to jump through hoops just to care for your loved one, she responds: “I understand, and you’re not alone. I hear this all the time from other clients. But I’ll do my best to help you all I can.”
Now imagine you call the other company, and the conversation proceeds the same way, up to the point where you express your frustrations, and this person responds with a rant of his own, accusing and blaming you and others for carrying a chip on your collective shoulder, “bullying” people like him and “trivializing” other people’s “real” problems, perhaps even dismissing your worries as “silly.”
Wouldn’t you feel like hanging up on the second person? But, more importantly … does this sound rather familiar?
When some Unitarian Universalists, concerned about classism and ableism within our faith movement, raised the issue of language that was chosen as a holiday message from the UUA, did you not use the term “pre-offended” as a description? You then talked of working together – but on whose terms, and to what ends?
Just as many people become frustrated at the numerous rules imposed by insurance companies, so it is that the culture and institutions around us impose rules as to who has privilege and who is on the margins. That is where groups like ours – and leaders like you – come in. Should we as progressive people of faith, strive to work with and help those who are frustrated by all of this, and do our part to make things better, even if just a little? Shouldn’t that also include thinking more carefully of what we say, whether in a holiday greeting, or in response to an attempt to raise awareness? Lastly, given your choice of words, can you see how some would now be hesitant to approach you with any question, concern or idea, regardless of its merit?
Please give what I've said here careful thought, and thank you.
I handle complaints and questions a lot. My work involves providing medical supplies to people with multiple chronic conditions, including many instances of mental illness. Things sometimes go wrong, and I have to deal with them. As Co-Moderator of my congregation, I’ve put myself in the position of hearing out other people’s ideas and concerns regarding governance and other issues. And as Moderator of Leather & Grace, I’m constantly hearing from both kink-oriented UUs and others in our faith.
I’m no stranger to this, having served in student government from junior high through college, and as an activist on many issues since my senior year in high school. And yes, sometimes I get annoyed by someone who seems overly petty or fault-finding. But one thing I’ve learned is that even someone who comes with a seemingly endless list of complaints can still have something useful to contribute. So I strive as best I can to pay careful attention to the other person, and to respond in a way that still holds up both their intention and the potential for the two of us to work together.
That’s why I’m writing to you now. Imagine, please, that you have a family member who is seriously ill. You’re trying to get a hold of some supplies which your family physician says will help this person recover, or at least ease their pain. Getting the insurance to pay for it, however, is frustrating. Now imagine that you can choose between two supply companies. The first one you call, the representative explains what needs to be done, answers all your questions, and does her best to walk you through the process. When you express the frustration you feel having to jump through hoops just to care for your loved one, she responds: “I understand, and you’re not alone. I hear this all the time from other clients. But I’ll do my best to help you all I can.”
Now imagine you call the other company, and the conversation proceeds the same way, up to the point where you express your frustrations, and this person responds with a rant of his own, accusing and blaming you and others for carrying a chip on your collective shoulder, “bullying” people like him and “trivializing” other people’s “real” problems, perhaps even dismissing your worries as “silly.”
Wouldn’t you feel like hanging up on the second person? But, more importantly … does this sound rather familiar?
When some Unitarian Universalists, concerned about classism and ableism within our faith movement, raised the issue of language that was chosen as a holiday message from the UUA, did you not use the term “pre-offended” as a description? You then talked of working together – but on whose terms, and to what ends?
Just as many people become frustrated at the numerous rules imposed by insurance companies, so it is that the culture and institutions around us impose rules as to who has privilege and who is on the margins. That is where groups like ours – and leaders like you – come in. Should we as progressive people of faith, strive to work with and help those who are frustrated by all of this, and do our part to make things better, even if just a little? Shouldn’t that also include thinking more carefully of what we say, whether in a holiday greeting, or in response to an attempt to raise awareness? Lastly, given your choice of words, can you see how some would now be hesitant to approach you with any question, concern or idea, regardless of its merit?
Please give what I've said here careful thought, and thank you.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Stop "Having Sex" - Start Being Sexual
This coming Monday evening, I’ll be co-leading a workshop on safer sex, and one of the sections I’ll be doing is called “alternatives to intercourse” – and I’m beginning to feel some trepidation. Not the subject, but anticipation of the conversation…
“Oh, you mean ‘alternatives to having sex’?”
“No, intercourse.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“If that were true, then gay and lesbian couples never have sex. Right?”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Still,…”
Given a recent Kinsey Institute study, the debate over what constitutes “having sex” still rages on. Five percent of people interviewed did not consider vaginal intercourse as “having sex”; it gets worse if they’re told the man didn’t ejaculate (eleven percent) or if he used a condom (18 percent of men over 65).
Kind of explains the scores of teens and twenty-somethings, put through “abstinence-only” programs masquerading as sex education, and sincerely believing that they are still virgins because they did fellatio or cunnilingus or anal intercourse – none of which, in their minds, means “having sex.”
In my mind, the very phrase having sex is bothersome. Sex is not something you have or merely do, but something you experience and share. And sexuality is an integral part of who we are. I wonder if thinking about “having sex” in fact contributes to the ways in which we divorce sex and sexuality from our being, making it all to easy to further separate some forms of erotic and intimate expression from the very concept of sex.
So, here’s a rather bold proposal: Replace “having sex” with “being sexual.” Language changes all the time, and with it the way we think. So imagine, instead of saying: “We had sex,” the impact of saying: “We were sexual.” Think of the radical difference – the wonderful, essential difference – between the two, of merely having and actually being.
Some I’m sure would suggest “making love” as an alternative. But that seems almost euphemistic, as if trying to dodge the very question of sex via comfortable couching. I remember a celebrated singer giving a master class to young Julliard students, asking one fellow who’d been singing a torch song what he thought it meant. The young man talked wistfully about longing and yearning, and she simply shook her head, held up her hand, and told him bluntly: “It’s about sex.”
We need to be as blunt. Yet we also need to reintegrate the sexual back into our lives, to see the erotic and intimate not as mere things we can do in dissociated isolation, but as essential to our lives and life stories. We need to stop merely “having sex” and start “being sexual.” Let’s start by saying so, and work our way up from there.
“Oh, you mean ‘alternatives to having sex’?”
“No, intercourse.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“If that were true, then gay and lesbian couples never have sex. Right?”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Still,…”
Given a recent Kinsey Institute study, the debate over what constitutes “having sex” still rages on. Five percent of people interviewed did not consider vaginal intercourse as “having sex”; it gets worse if they’re told the man didn’t ejaculate (eleven percent) or if he used a condom (18 percent of men over 65).
Kind of explains the scores of teens and twenty-somethings, put through “abstinence-only” programs masquerading as sex education, and sincerely believing that they are still virgins because they did fellatio or cunnilingus or anal intercourse – none of which, in their minds, means “having sex.”
In my mind, the very phrase having sex is bothersome. Sex is not something you have or merely do, but something you experience and share. And sexuality is an integral part of who we are. I wonder if thinking about “having sex” in fact contributes to the ways in which we divorce sex and sexuality from our being, making it all to easy to further separate some forms of erotic and intimate expression from the very concept of sex.
So, here’s a rather bold proposal: Replace “having sex” with “being sexual.” Language changes all the time, and with it the way we think. So imagine, instead of saying: “We had sex,” the impact of saying: “We were sexual.” Think of the radical difference – the wonderful, essential difference – between the two, of merely having and actually being.
Some I’m sure would suggest “making love” as an alternative. But that seems almost euphemistic, as if trying to dodge the very question of sex via comfortable couching. I remember a celebrated singer giving a master class to young Julliard students, asking one fellow who’d been singing a torch song what he thought it meant. The young man talked wistfully about longing and yearning, and she simply shook her head, held up her hand, and told him bluntly: “It’s about sex.”
We need to be as blunt. Yet we also need to reintegrate the sexual back into our lives, to see the erotic and intimate not as mere things we can do in dissociated isolation, but as essential to our lives and life stories. We need to stop merely “having sex” and start “being sexual.” Let’s start by saying so, and work our way up from there.
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