Considering Trans and Queer Appropriation
Within the activist circles I run in, I routinely hear
people accuse others of appropriation,
or claim that certain behaviors or endeavors are appropriative. I myself have written about how certain people
(e.g., cisgender academics and media producers) sometimes appropriate transgender
identities and experiences (discussed more below). So I am certainly
sympathetic to the concept.
At the same time, however, I have seen the concept of
appropriation used (or misused) in order to undermine marginalized groups as
well. For instance, cisgender feminists have long accused trans women of “appropriating female dress” or “appropriating women’s identities”—indeed, if you click
the link you will see that this was part of the justification for why Sylvia
Rivera was kicked off the stage at a 1973 Pride rally in New York City. On
Cathy Brennan’s anti-trans-dyke website “Pretendbians” (which I refuse to link
to), the byline at the top of the webpage says: “We don't hate you, we hate
appropriation”—the implication being that trans women cannot ever be actual
lesbians, but rather we can only appropriate lesbian identities and culture.
Recently, on several occasions, I have heard trans people claim
that cisgender people who perform drag, or who crossdress as part of a
Halloween costume, appropriate trans people’s identities and culture. Such
statements surprised me, in part, because they are so eerily similar to the
aforementioned accusations of appropriation that trans-exclusive radical
feminists have levied against us. But what struck me even more was how such
claims represent a complete about face from the direction that transgender
activism had been taking during the ’90s and early ’00s. During that era, we tended
to celebrate binary-shattering activities. Trans activists didn’t merely discuss
our own gender-non-conformity, but we emphasized the fact that most of us
(whether trans or not) transgress gender norms at some points in our lives. Indeed,
trans activists often encouraged forms of gender transgression in the cisgender
majority, as it was generally believed that such expressions would help undermine
binary gender norms throughout society.
And suddenly now in 2013, some trans people are essentially taking
the exact opposite approach by discouraging cisgender people from transgressing
gender norms (via accusations that such actions represent an appropriation of
transgender identities and culture).
In the wake of all these claims, I have done a lot of
thinking about appropriation over the last year. And I have come to the
conclusion that the issue is way more complicated than the cut-and-dried “appropriation-is-always-bad”
perspective that seems to predominate in activist settings. While we should be concerned
about appropriation (especially certain manifestations of it), we should also be
cognizant of some of the negative ramifications that can arise from the indiscriminate
or overzealous use of the concept. In this essay, I will share some of my
thoughts on this matter.
For the record, my main focus here will be accusations of
appropriation with regards to gender and sexuality, and what they mean for transgender
and queer (e.g., LGBTQIA+) communities and activism. Some of what I say may
have import for thinking about other instances of cultural appropriation (e.g.,
with regards to ethnicity, class, religion, nationality, etc.). However, LGBTQIA+
identities and cultures are unique in a number of ways (which I will address
toward the end of the piece), and this may limit the usefulness of applying
what I say here to other such instances of appropriation.
What is
“appropriation,” and why (or perhaps when) is it bad?
In the most general sense, appropriation occurs when we take
something that somebody else has created and use it for our own purposes. For
example, I can appropriate a certain chord progression others have previously
used in order to create a new song. Or I could appropriate another person’s
theory and apply it to a new problem. If I like your fashion-sense, I may
appropriate your style. Humans beings are highly social animals: We are
imitators, and we learn language, fashion, traditions, expressions, and ideas
from one another. As the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun. Almost
everything we create has its origins elsewhere—we are constantly adopting, adapting,
and repurposing other people’s past creations and reconstructing them in novel
ways. So appropriation—in the most general sense—is an everyday part of human
life.
Within social justice movements, we typically use the word “appropriation”
in a more specific sense: to describe instances where a dominant and/or majority
group takes up some tangible or intangible aspect of a marginalized and/or minority
community. Sometimes it is the marginalized/minority group’s identity that gets
appropriated—for instance, members of the dominant/majority group may claim
that identity for themselves, or create their own depictions of members of that
group (which typically resemble the dominant/majority group’s assumptions and
stereotypes rather than the marginalized/minority group’s lived realities). Other
times, it is the minority group’s culture (e.g., their language, art, beliefs,
religions, traditions, rituals, and fashions) that gets appropriated. Often
cited examples include when Western countries appropriate art and artifacts
from nations they have colonized, or appropriate their spiritual practices and
traditions (as seen with the popularity of Yoga and Buddhism here in the U.S.).
Or in how white America has historically appropriated musical styles that had
their origins in African-American communities (e.g., jazz, rock-n-roll,
hip-hop). And so on.
So if appropriation (in the most general sense) is a basic
human tendency, why is it considered to be bad when dominant/majority groups
appropriate from marginalized/minority groups? I would argue that there are at
least three non-mutually-exclusive reasons why this is so:
Erasure: Marginalized/minority groups have little power or
voice in society. Therefore, when the dominant/majority group takes up their
identities, ideas, and other cultural creations, it tends to undermine or erase
the context in which they were created, and the original meanings and symbolism
that underlie them. In other words, the dominant/majority typically takes up
the marginalized/minority group’s creations while disregarding their
perspective. Sometimes the fact that the appropriated items had their origins
within the marginalized/minority group (rather than the dominant/majority) gets
overlooked or forgotten.
Exploitation: Sometimes members of the dominant/majority group will
materially profit from aspects or acts that they have appropriated from a
marginalized/minority group without ever giving anything back to that community.
This tends to further exacerbate economic disparities that may already exist
between the two groups.
Denigration: This can refer to a couple different things.
Denigration can mean “to treat or represent as lacking in value or importance;
belittle,” which applies to instances where important or sacred aspects of the
marginalized/minority group’s identity or culture are appropriated by the
dominant/majority group in an irreverent or disrespectful manner. Denigration
can also mean “to speak damagingly of; criticize in a derogatory manner; sully;
defame: to denigrate someone's character,” which applies to instances where the
dominant/majority group appropriates some aspect of the marginalized/minority
group’s identity or culture in order to purposefully ridicule, parody, or insult
members of that group.[1]
As I mentioned earlier, in my past writings (specifically in
Whipping Girl ), I have critiqued the
way in which cisgender media producers and academic researchers have
appropriated trans people in their art and theories, for instance, when they
hold us up as examples of gender ambiguity or liminality.[2] Such instances are
problematic because:
They erase the marginalized group’s voice and perspective (as trans people are depicted as merely symbols or metaphors, while our real-life circumstances and issues as a marginalized population are completely ignored).
They exploit the marginalized group (as many a cisgender media producers have made lots of money capitalizing on the exoticness of gender variant lives, and some cisgender gender theorist have garnered success and built their careers upon interpreting trans people’s bodies and identities, without giving anything back to the trans community).
They denigrate the marginalized group (in that cisgender media producers and academic researchers often outright dismiss or discount trans people’s self-accounts, fail to take trans people’s struggles seriously, and sometimes even blatantly ridicule or demean trans people in the process).
I believe that these three phenomena—erasure, exploitation,
and denigration (or “EED” for short)—encapsulate most, if not all, of what typically
concerns activists when they critique instances of appropriation.
Once we recognize EED, it becomes clear why
dominant/majority groups’ appropriation of marginalized/minority identities and
cultures can be a bad thing, but not vice versa. After all, marginalized/minority
groups have relatively little power or voice in society, and thus are not in a
position to erase or exploit the identity and culture of the dominant/majority
group. And while marginalized/minority groups may choose to denigrate the dominant/majority
group, it will only have a limited effect, as the dominant/majority group is
already taken for granted, respected, and viewed as the norm throughout
society.
Non-EED appropriation
Thus far, I have argued that appropriation is a bad thing
when it leads to erasure, exploitation, and/or denigration of the
marginalized/minority group. And most activists (including myself) would agree
that instances of EED appropriation should be challenged and critiqued. However,
there are other occurrences where appropriation (in the most general sense)
occurs, but it does not necessarily erase, exploit, or denigrate the
marginalized/minority group—I will refer to these instances as non-EED appropriation.
Here are a few examples of non-EED appropriation of trans
people:
A cisgender academic could carry out a research project that focuses on issues and obstacles that trans people are most concerned about. This project could be done in a way that respects trans people’s perspectives and opinions, and portrays us in a realistic manner (rather than relying on stereotypes or reducing us to metaphors). The final product (e.g., an article or book) could be described as appropriative in that it uses trans people’s realities, ideas, perspectives, and experiences, despite the fact that it amplifies trans voices and has the potential to create positive change for trans communities.
There have been several instances in which cisgender students have attended school crossdressed in order to show support for a transgender classmate. Such acts could be described as appropriative, yet they are done out of respect and in support of trans people. Much like students who shave their heads in support of a student who is going through chemotherapy, such acts can help de-stigmatize and lend legitimacy toward the marginalized/minority group in question.
Over the years, I have met a number of cisgender people who appreciate transgender perspectives and culture. For instance, they might have learned a lot from trans authors, and they may recommend those books to others. They might enjoy performances by transgender spectrum artists or patronize transgender film festivals. They do this out of genuine respect, and their actions do help to promote trans voices and to put money into the hands of trans performers and writers. Yet the person in question could be described as appropriating trans culture in a non-EED sense.
Cisgender people who are partners of trans people sometimes start their own support or discussion groups. While such groups may focus a lot on partner-specific issues, they will also discuss how to be supportive of the trans people in their lives and how to challenge societal cissexism. Such groups may have a net-positive effect on trans communities, by directly supporting relationships in which trans people are involved, and by demystifying and de-stigmatizing trans sexualities and relationships. Despite these benefits, some trans people may claim that the group members appropriate trans identities (by positioning themselves as “trans partners”) and/or appropriate the oppression trans people face by discussing how it impacts their own lives.
·
Now it is quite likely that these four examples have evoked
a range of feelings among trans people who read this. Some may have positive
feelings about the cisgender people in question—they may be described as allies
or advocates, and their actions (while arguably appropriative in the most
general sense) may be welcomed with open arms. Other trans activists might have
a negative view of said people, dismissing them as “tourists” who are
privileged in ways that trans people are not, and who are reaping the benefits of
a marginalized/minority population while not having to endure the harsh
realities of actually being trans themselves. (Indeed, I have heard these
latter critiques made with increasing frequency lately.)
In other words, while most activists would agree that EED
appropriation is a bad thing, there is significant disagreement about whether
non-EED appropriation is bad, neutral, or good. In thinking through these
differences of opinion, it seems to me that whether a marginalized/minority
group member has a positive or negative view of non-EED appropriation hinges on
two interrelated axes: stigma-versus-acceptance, and integration-versus-separatism.
Stigma versus
acceptance
The more highly stigmatized a group is, the less likely it
is that the dominant/majority group will even attempt to appropriate aspects of
their identity or culture, as doing so will only lead to them becoming tainted
by said stigma. However, if the marginalized/minority group becomes more
accepted over time, there will be less of a social price to pay for associating
oneself with that group. Thus, as acceptance of the group increases, so do the
chances that others will engage in non-EED appropriation.
From the marginalized/minority group’s perspective, non-EED
appropriation is often welcomed when the group is highly stigmatized, as the
group appreciates any genuine outsider interest and support they can get. But
as the group becomes more established and accepted in society, such
appropriation starts to feel more like an invasion, as more and more
dominant/majority members seemingly want to associate with their identity and take
part in their culture.
When I was a young adult (e.g., in the ’80s and ’90s), there
was a ton of stigma associated with being trans—way more than there is today.
Because of that stigma, very few cis people would have dared to go to a
transgender event or taken part in a trans-related demonstration, as the
cisgender majority would likely have viewed them as suspect as a result. The
rare cis people who were willing to associate with trans people back then were
often viewed in a positive light and welcomed into the community. For instance,
the first transgender spectrum support/social group that I belonged to had the
phrase “and friends” tacked onto the end of the title, and partners, family,
and friends were regularly welcome to attend meetings.[3] Even in the early
’00s, when I was active in the San Francisco Bay Area’s trans community, there
was a sense that cis partners and close friends of trans folks were a part of our
community too, and they would often take the stage at trans events. I’m sure
today that some people would dismiss this as “cis people using their privilege
in order to take up space at trans events,” but that would overlook the very
different reality of that time. Back then, very few people supported trans
people, and those that genuinely did were embraced as part of our community.
Things are very different now. There is still quite a lot of
cissexism out there, but in certain segments in our culture (e.g., especially
in queer, feminist, and social justice circles) there is an acknowledgement
that trans people are legitimate, and that cisgender people should be good
allies to gender variant folks. In such settings, being aware of transgender politics
and culture may be seen as a sign that a person is a good progressive or
activist. Indeed, this may lead to an increase in what might be called “faux
allies”—people who are not especially concerned with trans people and issues,
nor personally invested in trans communities, yet who nevertheless regard
themselves as allies of trans people because to do otherwise would potentially
garner disdain from other progressives or activists.
Furthermore, the fact that we currently exist in an era
where there is a mix of both societal cissexism and trans acceptance—and where
the former is viewed as conservative and close-minded, and the latter viewed as
progressive and open-minded—means that an awareness of trans culture and politics
can allow a person to be seen by others as worldly, cutting edge, or “hip.” Thus,
just as hipster straight folks began to appropriate aspects of gay and lesbian
identity and culture during the ’90s and ’00s, more and more cisgender people
are now appropriating aspects of trans identities and culture.
It would be relatively easy for someone like myself, who
lives in a very progressive part of the country, to pan the influx of cisgender
people who suddenly seem interested in trans people and culture. While it may
potentially be annoying, it is also a sign of our increasing legitimacy in the
eyes of society. And frankly, having lived through the past, I would much
rather be in our current situation than where we were several decades ago (or where
other trans folks in more conservative parts of the country remain today) where
trans people are viewed as pariahs, and nobody wants anything to do with us,
appropriation or otherwise.
Integration versus
separatism
Activists who have a positive or neutral view of non-EED
appropriation often imagine the ultimate goal of their activism as being the complete
integration of their group within mainstream
society. By integration, I mean that the group’s identity, perspectives, and
culture are viewed as unique, but also as a legitimate part of the culture at
large.
One can see examples of integration in how certain groups
that have immigrated to the U.S. from other countries are now seen as both
distinct yet legitimately part of the culture. For example, I am of Italian (father’s
side) and Irish (mother’s side) heritage. A century ago, when my grandparents
and great-grandparents lived in the U.S., they were highly marginalized. The dominant/majority
(primarily Protestants of Northern European ancestry) blatantly discriminated
against them with regards to employment and housing, and used derogatory slang
terms to refer to them. They were routinely ridiculed for their religion
(Catholicism), and stereotyped as criminals, drunkards, lazy, etc. Some of my
older relatives have told me about how, when they were young, neighborhood parents
wouldn’t let their children play with them because of their ethnicity. Even
during my parent’s generation (in the ’50s), many in the dominant/majority wouldn’t
have approved of their children marrying someone of Irish or Italian descent.
Nowadays, Irish- and Italian-Americans are generally seen as
part of U.S. culture, and this integration is due to both U.S. culture rubbing
of on Irish- and Italian-Americans, as well as Irish- and Italian-Americans
influencing U.S. culture.[4] Americans of various persuasions eat at Pizza parlors
and drink at Irish pubs; we all watch Martin Scorsese films and celebrate St.
Patrick’s Day. While such activities are clearly examples of non-EED
appropriation, they are not viewed by most people (both within and outside of
Irish- and Italian-American communities) as “appropriation” in the negative
sense. Rather, they are viewed more as “cultural appreciation” than “cultural
appropriation.”[5]
One can also see this integration and growing cultural
appreciation in mainstream attitudes toward gays and lesbians, at least in some
sectors of the country. The first Gay Pride events in the ’70s were far more
like protests or demonstrations rather than celebrations, and the average
straight person wouldn’t dare set a foot anywhere near them. Nowadays, Queer
Pride parades are (for better or for worse) endorsed by mainstream
corporations, covered by the mainstream media, and many (if not most) of the
audience members are straight (not unlike the countless people of non-Irish
heritage who show up to New York’s annual St. Patrick’s Day parade). This non-EED
appropriation/cultural appreciation can also be seen in the rise in popularity of
gay-themed TV shows and movies, the embrace of gay artists and celebrities, and
so on.
As these examples illustrate, when marginalized/minority
groups are highly stigmatized (as Irish- and Italian-Americans were in the
early 1900’s, and as gay people were in the ’60s and ’70s), they tend to be
relegated to their own communities, and there is not much culture permeability between them and the dominant/majority group.
But as stigma lessens and integration begins to occur, the marginalized/minority
group and the dominant/majority groups inevitably become somewhat culturally permeable.
And non-EED appropriation plays a major role in this process, as both a contributing
factor to, and the net result of, that permeability.
Of course, not all members within a particular
marginalized/minority group will strive for integration, or welcome the
cultural permeability that comes with it. Some individuals may feel that their
unique identities, language, and traditions are being watered down or made
impure by mainstream non-EED appropriation. Such people may want to keep their
culture pure via taking a more separatist stance, such as discouraging or limiting
the dominant/majority group’s access to their culture. Such people are way more
likely to critique non-EED appropriation as “oppressive appropriation” rather
than “cultural appreciation,” and to view it as just as bad as (or as merely an
extension of) EED appropriation.
It should be noted that people who take on more separatist
stances typically look down upon members of their own group who strive for
integration, often dismissing them as being “assimilationists.” For example, separatist-oriented
queers who complain about straight mainstream folks who appropriate Queer Pride
and queer culture more generally are also likely to dismiss LGBTQIA+ people who
dress gender-normatively, or same-sex couples who seek out legal recognition of
their marriages, as being assimilationist. This usage of the word
“assimilationist” is meant to be pejorative, and synonymous with the words “sell
out” or “traitor.”
This conflating of integration with assimilation is rather
off the mark. After all, true assimilation would be to completely blend in with
straight culture—to be “closeted” or “stealth.” In contrast, someone who moves
through the world as an out queer person (regardless of how they dress), and
who is part of a visibly same-sex marriage, isn’t engaging in assimilation by
any means. Rather, they are part of an integration process.
So one might ask: What purpose do these accusations of
“assimilation” serve? It seems to me that they are meant to undermine members
of one’s own community who strive for integration, by insinuating that such
individuals are traitors, and thus illegitimate or inauthentic members of the
group. This sort of identity policing helps to maintain a level of cultural
impermeability between the marginalized/minority group and the
dominant/majority group. Indeed, understanding this allows one to recognize that
accusations of “assimilation” and non-EED “appropriation” are essentially flip
sides of the same coin: the latter maintains cultural impermeability by
delegitimizing members of the dominant/majority group who cross identity or community
boundaries, while the former delegitimizes members of the marginalized/minority
group who are perceived as doing the same.
Now, I could make some grandiose claim like, “Integration is
the righteous path, whereas separatism will ultimately lead to our doom” (or
vice versa), but I am not about to. In my book Excluded: Making Feminist and Queer Movements More Inclusive ,
I decry such one-size-fits-all approaches to activism. The truth is that both
approaches have some negative drawbacks. Separatism generally favors sameness
over difference, and in doing so, it leaves behind many members of the marginalized/minority
group in question. For instance, separatist-oriented queers who decry
assimilationists and instances straight people engaging in non-EED
appropriation seem to want to preserve some kind of idealistic notion of queer
culture that they have experienced, enjoyed, and/or felt empowered by in the
past. That version of queer culture probably resonated with them because they were accepted within that culture.
In contrast, while I am politically queer, I have never felt fully welcome in
queer communities and spaces, mostly because I am a transsexual woman, but also
because I am bisexual and femme—three identities that often lead me to be
dismissed as an inauthentic or illegitimate queer in those spaces.
Of course, I could turn around and create (or participate
in) femme, or bisexual, or trans woman separatist movements. But even if I did
feel welcome and empowered in such communities, there would inevitably be many other members of my marginalized/minority group who would feel excluded from them.
While I tend to fall on the integrationist side of the
spectrum, I do understand why separatist tendencies exist. Some
marginalized/minority group members may feel irrevocably injured or violated by
the dominant/majority group, and as a result, they may not want to have
anything to do with them. As a result, they might view people (like myself) who
seem to blur strict distinctions between queer and straight (on the basis that
I am bisexual, femme, and/or trans), and who strive for integration rather than
separatism, as potentially threatening because we “undermine the movement.” (And
of course, whenever people refer to “the movement,” what they really mean is “their movement.”)
Furthermore, while I will never feel welcome or relevant in certain
queer spaces—such as the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival,
which explicitly excludes trans women from attending—I nevertheless recognize
that such separatist communities do develop their own unique culture, and that the
cultural permeability that comes with integration and non-EED appropriation
would inevitably change that culture. While I might view such an evolution in a
positive light, I understand that others would view it negatively, and perceive
any such changes as a loss of the original culture that they very much cherished.
So rather than frame integration and separatism in terms of
a good-versus-bad binary, I believe that it is more useful to recognize them as
two general tendencies that always seem to arise within marginalized/minority
groups. And while we (i.e., integrationists and separatists) might agree that
EED appropriation is a bad thing that should be challenged, we will invariably
view instances of non-EED appropriation very differently.
The case for cultural
permeability with regards to gender and sexuality
While disagreements about integration versus separatism exist
within most marginalized/minority groups, there are a few additional reasons
why those of us who are marginalized because of our genders and/or sexualities should
think twice before enforcing cultural impermeability via accusations of non-EED
appropriation.
The first has to do with what I refer to in Excluded as the insider/outsider myth. The myth assumes that some of us (for instance, members
of a particular LGBTQIA+ subgroup) are legitimate members of the group—that is,
“insiders”—who are allowed to freely participate in queer cultures, whereas
other people (e.g., the straight majority) are “outsiders” who can only
appropriate our identities and culture.
This sort of insider/outsider mentality may make some sense
in thinking about cultural appropriation based on nationality, ethnicity,
religion, etc., where some people are born into and socialized within that
culture, whereas others are not. Of course, even in such cases, there will
always be people who are of mixed nationality, ethnicity, religion, etc.—people
who Gloria Anzaldúa famously described as living in the borderlands
between two identities or cultures.
However, this insider/outsider framing completely falls
apart when considering the identities and cultures of gender and sexual
minorities. After all, almost all of us grow up in straight families and
communities. While we may have experienced ourselves as different from the
straight majority in some way as young children, we did not initially have LGBTQIA+
identities or culture to help us make sense of our lives. Rather, we tend to discover
these identities over time: We hear someone mention the identity, we seek out
books and websites to learn more about them, we try these identities on for
size ourselves, we connect with other people who we believe are “like us” in
that way, and so on. The first time we enter a particular LGBTQIA+ space (whether
it be a gay bar, a trans support group, or an asexual online discussion group)
we often feel like outsiders, and we experience a steep learning curve in
trying to understand the language and customs associated with the group.
In other words, we discover
LGBTQIA+ identities and cultures. And one could say that all gender and sexual
minorities are appropriators, as virtually all of us have adopted identities
and participate in cultures that others created before us, and which we were
not initially socialized into. Indeed, the only
people who are immersed in queer cultures from the start of their lives are
children of queer parents, and the majority of them turn out to be straight!
Permeability between straight and queer identities and
culture is essential for LGBTQIA+ self-actualization and empowerment.
Furthermore, when a straight person engages in a stereotypically queer
activity, it may be an act of appropriation, but it could also be experimenting
or questioning on their part. I have heard queer people accuse straight people
who make out with one another of “queer appropriation”—when I do, I often
reply, “Well how do you know that neither of them will come to identify as gay/lesbian
or bisexual someday?”[6] And even if the people in question do end up being
straight, isn’t the fact that nowadays people can engage in same-sex kissing without
being ostracized a sign that that heterosexist norm is eroding?
Along similar lines, don’t instances where cisgender people crossdress
or engage in other forms of non-EED gender-non-conformity help to deteriorate
binary gender norms? Shouldn’t we be celebrating such instances of permeability
between genders and sexualities rather than condemning them as appropriation?
And if we do decide to call out certain people’s genders and
sexualities as “appropriative,” then where exactly do we draw the line? And who
gets screwed as a result? Doesn’t the claim that heterosexuals-shouldn’t-appropriate-queer-culture
pretty much leave bisexual/pansexual folks especially vulnerable to accusations
of appropriation? And doesn’t the claim that men-shouldn’t-appropriate-women’s-oppression
leave trans women especially susceptible to similar criticism?
This leads us to another crucial point: Accusations of
appropriation are essentially claims about authenticity.[7] Specifically, they
create a binary wherein certain people (i.e., the marginalized/minority group)
are considered to be authentic when they engage in a particular activity,
whereas others (i.e., the dominant/majority group) cannot authentically engage
in that same act. Rather they can only appropriate it.
This specter of “inauthenticity” isn’t nearly so troubling
when it comes to other forms of cultural appropriation. For instance, the implication
that white folks/Westerners are “inauthentic” when they perform reggae or
practice Yoga is not meant to be an indictment of their natural abilities.
After all, nobody is born performing reggae or practicing Yoga—these are leaned
skills and traditions. Rather, the “authenticity” that is invoked simply refers
to whether one was socialized within the culture that originally created these
practices versus whether one was raised in an outsider culture and only discovered
and took up such practices later in life.
In sharp contrast, there is ample evidence that sex, gender,
and sexuality naturally vary in the population, not only because of culture and
environment, but also because of biological variation.[8] And all of us are
socialized into cultures where there are a multitude of different expressions
of gender and sexuality. Some of these expressions may be considered feminine,
masculine, or androgynous. They may be described as queer or straight, or as unusual
or normal. But regardless of what labels and meanings others might project onto
these different gender and sexual expressions, all of these variations exist within the society in which we are raised.
They are arguably all a part of our culture.
While sex, gender, and sexuality naturally vary within the
population, we live in a world where such expressions and identities are highly
policed. And they are primarily policed via the tropes of “authenticity” and “naturalness.”
In the culture at large, feminine gender expressions and
attraction toward men are viewed as authentic and natural when expressed by
women, but not by men. Masculine gender expressions and attraction toward women
are viewed as authentic and natural when expressed by men, but not by women.
Penile-vaginal penetration sex between monogamous partners is viewed as the
only authentic and natural form of sex, whereas most other sexual interests and
acts are dismissed as inauthentic and unnatural.
The concepts of “authentic,” “natural,” and “real” lie at
the heart of almost all manifestations of societal cissexism. The notion that
transsexuals are not “authentic” women or men, or that genderqueer people have
not chosen an “authentic” gender, enable the cisgender majority to dismiss our
identities as “inauthentic,” and thus misgender us as they see fit. The “trans
panic” phenomenon is steeped in assumption that trans people are deceivers who
pose as an “inauthentic” gender while hiding our supposed “real” gender. It is
commonly presumed that people who partner with trans people do not experience
“authentic” attraction to us, but rather that they are driven by some kind of
“fetish”—a word derived from the Portuguese word for “artificial.”
The point is that, while gender and sexuality naturally vary,
sexual- and gender-non-conformity is rigorously punished in our society via
accusations of inauthenticity, whether it be claims that trans people’s gender
identities are “inauthentic,” that asexual/bisexual/lesbian/gay people’s sexual
attractions (or lack thereof) are “unnatural,” or that straight cisgender
people are not “real women” or “real men” because of some relatively minor gender
transgression they may have committed (e.g., not shaving their legs, expressing
too much emotion, or having a gender atypical occupation). And calling
someone’s non-EED expressions of gender or sexuality “appropriative” is really
just another way of dismissing them as “inauthentic” (which is precisely why trans-exclusive
radical feminists so frequently accuse trans women of appropriation, as it
depicts us as merely fakes, pretenders, impersonators, and imposters).
There are no “authentic” expressions of gender and
sexuality. There are merely those that are deemed legitimate in society and
those that are dismissed as inauthentic. While I understand why some LGBTQIA+
people might be inclined to describe non-EED acts of sexual- and
gender-non-conformity as “appropriation” (especially when the person engaging
in them appears straight, cisgender, etc.), I fear that such accusations may only perpetuate the real/fake, natural/unnatural, and authentic/inauthentic binaries
that are so often used to undermine our own genders and sexualities.
Conclusion
This essay was intended to illustrate that the concept of
appropriation is way more complicated than many people seem to realize, and
that non-EED appropriation is not necessarily a bad thing, depending on your
politics and perspective. Furthermore, I hope that people will recognize that
cultural permeability is an absolute necessity for LGBTQIA+ communities to
exist and flourish, and that claims that certain non-EED expressions of gender
or sexuality are “appropriative” will only lend support to existing binary
gender norms and to the false notion that certain genders and sexualities are
more “natural,” “real,” or “authentic” than others.
Moving forward, I believe that we should continue to
critique instances of EED appropriation, but it would help if we were more
explicit about why such instances are bad. Specifically, rather than simply
crying “appropriation” (which often conflates EED and non-EED appropriation, and
can also implicate acts that merely resemble those that occur in
marginalized/minority groups), we should explicitly discuss how such acts either
erase, exploit, and/or denigrate the marginalized/minority group in question.
Notes:
1. Definitions from Dictionary.com .
2. See WhippingGirl , pages 195-212.
3. For the record, the group did occasionally have closed
meetings where only trans folks themselves could attend. But many, if not most,
of the meetings were open to partners and friends as well.
4. It must also be said that these groups were more easily able
to integrate because they are both white and Christian, and thus they did not
have to overcome the entrenched racism and Christian-centrism that continue to
proliferate in the U.S.
5. I have appropriated the phrase "cultural
appreciation" from Susan Scafidi, Who
Owns Culture?: Appropriation and Authenticity in American Law (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2005); see pages 6-11.
6. Here is a real life example of this: Way back before my
transition, I played in a band. And on a few occasions, a male friend
from another band and I would make out on stage during our set. We did it primarily
for the same reason that Kurt Cobain and Krist Novoselic of Nirvana famously
kissed on national TV—to make homophobes uncomfortable, to challenge
heterosexism. I suppose that some people in the audience could have viewed us
as two “straight dudes” who were trying to garner “indie-cred” by appropriating
queerness, but in reality, both of us had been sexual with men previously and
we both eventually wound up identifying as bisexual.
7. This is discussed in great length in Scafidi, Who Owns Culture?, especially pages
52-66.
8. See Excluded: Making Feminist and Queer Movements MoreInclusive, pages 138-168, and references therein.
people accuse others of appropriation,
or claim that certain behaviors or endeavors are appropriative. I myself have written about how certain people
(e.g., cisgender academics and media producers) sometimes appropriate transgender
identities and experiences (discussed more below). So I am certainly
sympathetic to the concept.
At the same time, however, I have seen the concept of
appropriation used (or misused) in order to undermine marginalized groups as
well. For instance, cisgender feminists have long accused trans women of “appropriating female dress” or “appropriating women’s identities”—indeed, if you click
the link you will see that this was part of the justification for why Sylvia
Rivera was kicked off the stage at a 1973 Pride rally in New York City. On
Cathy Brennan’s anti-trans-dyke website “Pretendbians” (which I refuse to link
to), the byline at the top of the webpage says: “We don't hate you, we hate
appropriation”—the implication being that trans women cannot ever be actual
lesbians, but rather we can only appropriate lesbian identities and culture.
Recently, on several occasions, I have heard trans people claim
that cisgender people who perform drag, or who crossdress as part of a
Halloween costume, appropriate trans people’s identities and culture. Such
statements surprised me, in part, because they are so eerily similar to the
aforementioned accusations of appropriation that trans-exclusive radical
feminists have levied against us. But what struck me even more was how such
claims represent a complete about face from the direction that transgender
activism had been taking during the ’90s and early ’00s. During that era, we tended
to celebrate binary-shattering activities. Trans activists didn’t merely discuss
our own gender-non-conformity, but we emphasized the fact that most of us
(whether trans or not) transgress gender norms at some points in our lives. Indeed,
trans activists often encouraged forms of gender transgression in the cisgender
majority, as it was generally believed that such expressions would help undermine
binary gender norms throughout society.
And suddenly now in 2013, some trans people are essentially taking
the exact opposite approach by discouraging cisgender people from transgressing
gender norms (via accusations that such actions represent an appropriation of
transgender identities and culture).
In the wake of all these claims, I have done a lot of
thinking about appropriation over the last year. And I have come to the
conclusion that the issue is way more complicated than the cut-and-dried “appropriation-is-always-bad”
perspective that seems to predominate in activist settings. While we should be concerned
about appropriation (especially certain manifestations of it), we should also be
cognizant of some of the negative ramifications that can arise from the indiscriminate
or overzealous use of the concept. In this essay, I will share some of my
thoughts on this matter.
For the record, my main focus here will be accusations of
appropriation with regards to gender and sexuality, and what they mean for transgender
and queer (e.g., LGBTQIA+) communities and activism. Some of what I say may
have import for thinking about other instances of cultural appropriation (e.g.,
with regards to ethnicity, class, religion, nationality, etc.). However, LGBTQIA+
identities and cultures are unique in a number of ways (which I will address
toward the end of the piece), and this may limit the usefulness of applying
what I say here to other such instances of appropriation.
What is
“appropriation,” and why (or perhaps when) is it bad?
In the most general sense, appropriation occurs when we take
something that somebody else has created and use it for our own purposes. For
example, I can appropriate a certain chord progression others have previously
used in order to create a new song. Or I could appropriate another person’s
theory and apply it to a new problem. If I like your fashion-sense, I may
appropriate your style. Humans beings are highly social animals: We are
imitators, and we learn language, fashion, traditions, expressions, and ideas
from one another. As the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun. Almost
everything we create has its origins elsewhere—we are constantly adopting, adapting,
and repurposing other people’s past creations and reconstructing them in novel
ways. So appropriation—in the most general sense—is an everyday part of human
life.
Within social justice movements, we typically use the word “appropriation”
in a more specific sense: to describe instances where a dominant and/or majority
group takes up some tangible or intangible aspect of a marginalized and/or minority
community. Sometimes it is the marginalized/minority group’s identity that gets
appropriated—for instance, members of the dominant/majority group may claim
that identity for themselves, or create their own depictions of members of that
group (which typically resemble the dominant/majority group’s assumptions and
stereotypes rather than the marginalized/minority group’s lived realities). Other
times, it is the minority group’s culture (e.g., their language, art, beliefs,
religions, traditions, rituals, and fashions) that gets appropriated. Often
cited examples include when Western countries appropriate art and artifacts
from nations they have colonized, or appropriate their spiritual practices and
traditions (as seen with the popularity of Yoga and Buddhism here in the U.S.).
Or in how white America has historically appropriated musical styles that had
their origins in African-American communities (e.g., jazz, rock-n-roll,
hip-hop). And so on.
So if appropriation (in the most general sense) is a basic
human tendency, why is it considered to be bad when dominant/majority groups
appropriate from marginalized/minority groups? I would argue that there are at
least three non-mutually-exclusive reasons why this is so:
Erasure: Marginalized/minority groups have little power or
voice in society. Therefore, when the dominant/majority group takes up their
identities, ideas, and other cultural creations, it tends to undermine or erase
the context in which they were created, and the original meanings and symbolism
that underlie them. In other words, the dominant/majority typically takes up
the marginalized/minority group’s creations while disregarding their
perspective. Sometimes the fact that the appropriated items had their origins
within the marginalized/minority group (rather than the dominant/majority) gets
overlooked or forgotten.
Exploitation: Sometimes members of the dominant/majority group will
materially profit from aspects or acts that they have appropriated from a
marginalized/minority group without ever giving anything back to that community.
This tends to further exacerbate economic disparities that may already exist
between the two groups.
Denigration: This can refer to a couple different things.
Denigration can mean “to treat or represent as lacking in value or importance;
belittle,” which applies to instances where important or sacred aspects of the
marginalized/minority group’s identity or culture are appropriated by the
dominant/majority group in an irreverent or disrespectful manner. Denigration
can also mean “to speak damagingly of; criticize in a derogatory manner; sully;
defame: to denigrate someone's character,” which applies to instances where the
dominant/majority group appropriates some aspect of the marginalized/minority
group’s identity or culture in order to purposefully ridicule, parody, or insult
members of that group.[1]
As I mentioned earlier, in my past writings (specifically in
Whipping Girl ), I have critiqued the
way in which cisgender media producers and academic researchers have
appropriated trans people in their art and theories, for instance, when they
hold us up as examples of gender ambiguity or liminality.[2] Such instances are
problematic because:
They erase the marginalized group’s voice and perspective (as trans people are depicted as merely symbols or metaphors, while our real-life circumstances and issues as a marginalized population are completely ignored).
They exploit the marginalized group (as many a cisgender media producers have made lots of money capitalizing on the exoticness of gender variant lives, and some cisgender gender theorist have garnered success and built their careers upon interpreting trans people’s bodies and identities, without giving anything back to the trans community).
They denigrate the marginalized group (in that cisgender media producers and academic researchers often outright dismiss or discount trans people’s self-accounts, fail to take trans people’s struggles seriously, and sometimes even blatantly ridicule or demean trans people in the process).
I believe that these three phenomena—erasure, exploitation,
and denigration (or “EED” for short)—encapsulate most, if not all, of what typically
concerns activists when they critique instances of appropriation.
Once we recognize EED, it becomes clear why
dominant/majority groups’ appropriation of marginalized/minority identities and
cultures can be a bad thing, but not vice versa. After all, marginalized/minority
groups have relatively little power or voice in society, and thus are not in a
position to erase or exploit the identity and culture of the dominant/majority
group. And while marginalized/minority groups may choose to denigrate the dominant/majority
group, it will only have a limited effect, as the dominant/majority group is
already taken for granted, respected, and viewed as the norm throughout
society.
Non-EED appropriation
Thus far, I have argued that appropriation is a bad thing
when it leads to erasure, exploitation, and/or denigration of the
marginalized/minority group. And most activists (including myself) would agree
that instances of EED appropriation should be challenged and critiqued. However,
there are other occurrences where appropriation (in the most general sense)
occurs, but it does not necessarily erase, exploit, or denigrate the
marginalized/minority group—I will refer to these instances as non-EED appropriation.
Here are a few examples of non-EED appropriation of trans
people:
A cisgender academic could carry out a research project that focuses on issues and obstacles that trans people are most concerned about. This project could be done in a way that respects trans people’s perspectives and opinions, and portrays us in a realistic manner (rather than relying on stereotypes or reducing us to metaphors). The final product (e.g., an article or book) could be described as appropriative in that it uses trans people’s realities, ideas, perspectives, and experiences, despite the fact that it amplifies trans voices and has the potential to create positive change for trans communities.
There have been several instances in which cisgender students have attended school crossdressed in order to show support for a transgender classmate. Such acts could be described as appropriative, yet they are done out of respect and in support of trans people. Much like students who shave their heads in support of a student who is going through chemotherapy, such acts can help de-stigmatize and lend legitimacy toward the marginalized/minority group in question.
Over the years, I have met a number of cisgender people who appreciate transgender perspectives and culture. For instance, they might have learned a lot from trans authors, and they may recommend those books to others. They might enjoy performances by transgender spectrum artists or patronize transgender film festivals. They do this out of genuine respect, and their actions do help to promote trans voices and to put money into the hands of trans performers and writers. Yet the person in question could be described as appropriating trans culture in a non-EED sense.
Cisgender people who are partners of trans people sometimes start their own support or discussion groups. While such groups may focus a lot on partner-specific issues, they will also discuss how to be supportive of the trans people in their lives and how to challenge societal cissexism. Such groups may have a net-positive effect on trans communities, by directly supporting relationships in which trans people are involved, and by demystifying and de-stigmatizing trans sexualities and relationships. Despite these benefits, some trans people may claim that the group members appropriate trans identities (by positioning themselves as “trans partners”) and/or appropriate the oppression trans people face by discussing how it impacts their own lives.
·
Now it is quite likely that these four examples have evoked
a range of feelings among trans people who read this. Some may have positive
feelings about the cisgender people in question—they may be described as allies
or advocates, and their actions (while arguably appropriative in the most
general sense) may be welcomed with open arms. Other trans activists might have
a negative view of said people, dismissing them as “tourists” who are
privileged in ways that trans people are not, and who are reaping the benefits of
a marginalized/minority population while not having to endure the harsh
realities of actually being trans themselves. (Indeed, I have heard these
latter critiques made with increasing frequency lately.)
In other words, while most activists would agree that EED
appropriation is a bad thing, there is significant disagreement about whether
non-EED appropriation is bad, neutral, or good. In thinking through these
differences of opinion, it seems to me that whether a marginalized/minority
group member has a positive or negative view of non-EED appropriation hinges on
two interrelated axes: stigma-versus-acceptance, and integration-versus-separatism.
Stigma versus
acceptance
The more highly stigmatized a group is, the less likely it
is that the dominant/majority group will even attempt to appropriate aspects of
their identity or culture, as doing so will only lead to them becoming tainted
by said stigma. However, if the marginalized/minority group becomes more
accepted over time, there will be less of a social price to pay for associating
oneself with that group. Thus, as acceptance of the group increases, so do the
chances that others will engage in non-EED appropriation.
From the marginalized/minority group’s perspective, non-EED
appropriation is often welcomed when the group is highly stigmatized, as the
group appreciates any genuine outsider interest and support they can get. But
as the group becomes more established and accepted in society, such
appropriation starts to feel more like an invasion, as more and more
dominant/majority members seemingly want to associate with their identity and take
part in their culture.
When I was a young adult (e.g., in the ’80s and ’90s), there
was a ton of stigma associated with being trans—way more than there is today.
Because of that stigma, very few cis people would have dared to go to a
transgender event or taken part in a trans-related demonstration, as the
cisgender majority would likely have viewed them as suspect as a result. The
rare cis people who were willing to associate with trans people back then were
often viewed in a positive light and welcomed into the community. For instance,
the first transgender spectrum support/social group that I belonged to had the
phrase “and friends” tacked onto the end of the title, and partners, family,
and friends were regularly welcome to attend meetings.[3] Even in the early
’00s, when I was active in the San Francisco Bay Area’s trans community, there
was a sense that cis partners and close friends of trans folks were a part of our
community too, and they would often take the stage at trans events. I’m sure
today that some people would dismiss this as “cis people using their privilege
in order to take up space at trans events,” but that would overlook the very
different reality of that time. Back then, very few people supported trans
people, and those that genuinely did were embraced as part of our community.
Things are very different now. There is still quite a lot of
cissexism out there, but in certain segments in our culture (e.g., especially
in queer, feminist, and social justice circles) there is an acknowledgement
that trans people are legitimate, and that cisgender people should be good
allies to gender variant folks. In such settings, being aware of transgender politics
and culture may be seen as a sign that a person is a good progressive or
activist. Indeed, this may lead to an increase in what might be called “faux
allies”—people who are not especially concerned with trans people and issues,
nor personally invested in trans communities, yet who nevertheless regard
themselves as allies of trans people because to do otherwise would potentially
garner disdain from other progressives or activists.
Furthermore, the fact that we currently exist in an era
where there is a mix of both societal cissexism and trans acceptance—and where
the former is viewed as conservative and close-minded, and the latter viewed as
progressive and open-minded—means that an awareness of trans culture and politics
can allow a person to be seen by others as worldly, cutting edge, or “hip.” Thus,
just as hipster straight folks began to appropriate aspects of gay and lesbian
identity and culture during the ’90s and ’00s, more and more cisgender people
are now appropriating aspects of trans identities and culture.
It would be relatively easy for someone like myself, who
lives in a very progressive part of the country, to pan the influx of cisgender
people who suddenly seem interested in trans people and culture. While it may
potentially be annoying, it is also a sign of our increasing legitimacy in the
eyes of society. And frankly, having lived through the past, I would much
rather be in our current situation than where we were several decades ago (or where
other trans folks in more conservative parts of the country remain today) where
trans people are viewed as pariahs, and nobody wants anything to do with us,
appropriation or otherwise.
Integration versus
separatism
Activists who have a positive or neutral view of non-EED
appropriation often imagine the ultimate goal of their activism as being the complete
integration of their group within mainstream
society. By integration, I mean that the group’s identity, perspectives, and
culture are viewed as unique, but also as a legitimate part of the culture at
large.
One can see examples of integration in how certain groups
that have immigrated to the U.S. from other countries are now seen as both
distinct yet legitimately part of the culture. For example, I am of Italian (father’s
side) and Irish (mother’s side) heritage. A century ago, when my grandparents
and great-grandparents lived in the U.S., they were highly marginalized. The dominant/majority
(primarily Protestants of Northern European ancestry) blatantly discriminated
against them with regards to employment and housing, and used derogatory slang
terms to refer to them. They were routinely ridiculed for their religion
(Catholicism), and stereotyped as criminals, drunkards, lazy, etc. Some of my
older relatives have told me about how, when they were young, neighborhood parents
wouldn’t let their children play with them because of their ethnicity. Even
during my parent’s generation (in the ’50s), many in the dominant/majority wouldn’t
have approved of their children marrying someone of Irish or Italian descent.
Nowadays, Irish- and Italian-Americans are generally seen as
part of U.S. culture, and this integration is due to both U.S. culture rubbing
of on Irish- and Italian-Americans, as well as Irish- and Italian-Americans
influencing U.S. culture.[4] Americans of various persuasions eat at Pizza parlors
and drink at Irish pubs; we all watch Martin Scorsese films and celebrate St.
Patrick’s Day. While such activities are clearly examples of non-EED
appropriation, they are not viewed by most people (both within and outside of
Irish- and Italian-American communities) as “appropriation” in the negative
sense. Rather, they are viewed more as “cultural appreciation” than “cultural
appropriation.”[5]
One can also see this integration and growing cultural
appreciation in mainstream attitudes toward gays and lesbians, at least in some
sectors of the country. The first Gay Pride events in the ’70s were far more
like protests or demonstrations rather than celebrations, and the average
straight person wouldn’t dare set a foot anywhere near them. Nowadays, Queer
Pride parades are (for better or for worse) endorsed by mainstream
corporations, covered by the mainstream media, and many (if not most) of the
audience members are straight (not unlike the countless people of non-Irish
heritage who show up to New York’s annual St. Patrick’s Day parade). This non-EED
appropriation/cultural appreciation can also be seen in the rise in popularity of
gay-themed TV shows and movies, the embrace of gay artists and celebrities, and
so on.
As these examples illustrate, when marginalized/minority
groups are highly stigmatized (as Irish- and Italian-Americans were in the
early 1900’s, and as gay people were in the ’60s and ’70s), they tend to be
relegated to their own communities, and there is not much culture permeability between them and the dominant/majority group.
But as stigma lessens and integration begins to occur, the marginalized/minority
group and the dominant/majority groups inevitably become somewhat culturally permeable.
And non-EED appropriation plays a major role in this process, as both a contributing
factor to, and the net result of, that permeability.
Of course, not all members within a particular
marginalized/minority group will strive for integration, or welcome the
cultural permeability that comes with it. Some individuals may feel that their
unique identities, language, and traditions are being watered down or made
impure by mainstream non-EED appropriation. Such people may want to keep their
culture pure via taking a more separatist stance, such as discouraging or limiting
the dominant/majority group’s access to their culture. Such people are way more
likely to critique non-EED appropriation as “oppressive appropriation” rather
than “cultural appreciation,” and to view it as just as bad as (or as merely an
extension of) EED appropriation.
It should be noted that people who take on more separatist
stances typically look down upon members of their own group who strive for
integration, often dismissing them as being “assimilationists.” For example, separatist-oriented
queers who complain about straight mainstream folks who appropriate Queer Pride
and queer culture more generally are also likely to dismiss LGBTQIA+ people who
dress gender-normatively, or same-sex couples who seek out legal recognition of
their marriages, as being assimilationist. This usage of the word
“assimilationist” is meant to be pejorative, and synonymous with the words “sell
out” or “traitor.”
This conflating of integration with assimilation is rather
off the mark. After all, true assimilation would be to completely blend in with
straight culture—to be “closeted” or “stealth.” In contrast, someone who moves
through the world as an out queer person (regardless of how they dress), and
who is part of a visibly same-sex marriage, isn’t engaging in assimilation by
any means. Rather, they are part of an integration process.
So one might ask: What purpose do these accusations of
“assimilation” serve? It seems to me that they are meant to undermine members
of one’s own community who strive for integration, by insinuating that such
individuals are traitors, and thus illegitimate or inauthentic members of the
group. This sort of identity policing helps to maintain a level of cultural
impermeability between the marginalized/minority group and the
dominant/majority group. Indeed, understanding this allows one to recognize that
accusations of “assimilation” and non-EED “appropriation” are essentially flip
sides of the same coin: the latter maintains cultural impermeability by
delegitimizing members of the dominant/majority group who cross identity or community
boundaries, while the former delegitimizes members of the marginalized/minority
group who are perceived as doing the same.
Now, I could make some grandiose claim like, “Integration is
the righteous path, whereas separatism will ultimately lead to our doom” (or
vice versa), but I am not about to. In my book Excluded: Making Feminist and Queer Movements More Inclusive ,
I decry such one-size-fits-all approaches to activism. The truth is that both
approaches have some negative drawbacks. Separatism generally favors sameness
over difference, and in doing so, it leaves behind many members of the marginalized/minority
group in question. For instance, separatist-oriented queers who decry
assimilationists and instances straight people engaging in non-EED
appropriation seem to want to preserve some kind of idealistic notion of queer
culture that they have experienced, enjoyed, and/or felt empowered by in the
past. That version of queer culture probably resonated with them because they were accepted within that culture.
In contrast, while I am politically queer, I have never felt fully welcome in
queer communities and spaces, mostly because I am a transsexual woman, but also
because I am bisexual and femme—three identities that often lead me to be
dismissed as an inauthentic or illegitimate queer in those spaces.
Of course, I could turn around and create (or participate
in) femme, or bisexual, or trans woman separatist movements. But even if I did
feel welcome and empowered in such communities, there would inevitably be many other members of my marginalized/minority group who would feel excluded from them.
While I tend to fall on the integrationist side of the
spectrum, I do understand why separatist tendencies exist. Some
marginalized/minority group members may feel irrevocably injured or violated by
the dominant/majority group, and as a result, they may not want to have
anything to do with them. As a result, they might view people (like myself) who
seem to blur strict distinctions between queer and straight (on the basis that
I am bisexual, femme, and/or trans), and who strive for integration rather than
separatism, as potentially threatening because we “undermine the movement.” (And
of course, whenever people refer to “the movement,” what they really mean is “their movement.”)
Furthermore, while I will never feel welcome or relevant in certain
queer spaces—such as the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival,
which explicitly excludes trans women from attending—I nevertheless recognize
that such separatist communities do develop their own unique culture, and that the
cultural permeability that comes with integration and non-EED appropriation
would inevitably change that culture. While I might view such an evolution in a
positive light, I understand that others would view it negatively, and perceive
any such changes as a loss of the original culture that they very much cherished.
So rather than frame integration and separatism in terms of
a good-versus-bad binary, I believe that it is more useful to recognize them as
two general tendencies that always seem to arise within marginalized/minority
groups. And while we (i.e., integrationists and separatists) might agree that
EED appropriation is a bad thing that should be challenged, we will invariably
view instances of non-EED appropriation very differently.
The case for cultural
permeability with regards to gender and sexuality
While disagreements about integration versus separatism exist
within most marginalized/minority groups, there are a few additional reasons
why those of us who are marginalized because of our genders and/or sexualities should
think twice before enforcing cultural impermeability via accusations of non-EED
appropriation.
The first has to do with what I refer to in Excluded as the insider/outsider myth. The myth assumes that some of us (for instance, members
of a particular LGBTQIA+ subgroup) are legitimate members of the group—that is,
“insiders”—who are allowed to freely participate in queer cultures, whereas
other people (e.g., the straight majority) are “outsiders” who can only
appropriate our identities and culture.
This sort of insider/outsider mentality may make some sense
in thinking about cultural appropriation based on nationality, ethnicity,
religion, etc., where some people are born into and socialized within that
culture, whereas others are not. Of course, even in such cases, there will
always be people who are of mixed nationality, ethnicity, religion, etc.—people
who Gloria Anzaldúa famously described as living in the borderlands
between two identities or cultures.
However, this insider/outsider framing completely falls
apart when considering the identities and cultures of gender and sexual
minorities. After all, almost all of us grow up in straight families and
communities. While we may have experienced ourselves as different from the
straight majority in some way as young children, we did not initially have LGBTQIA+
identities or culture to help us make sense of our lives. Rather, we tend to discover
these identities over time: We hear someone mention the identity, we seek out
books and websites to learn more about them, we try these identities on for
size ourselves, we connect with other people who we believe are “like us” in
that way, and so on. The first time we enter a particular LGBTQIA+ space (whether
it be a gay bar, a trans support group, or an asexual online discussion group)
we often feel like outsiders, and we experience a steep learning curve in
trying to understand the language and customs associated with the group.
In other words, we discover
LGBTQIA+ identities and cultures. And one could say that all gender and sexual
minorities are appropriators, as virtually all of us have adopted identities
and participate in cultures that others created before us, and which we were
not initially socialized into. Indeed, the only
people who are immersed in queer cultures from the start of their lives are
children of queer parents, and the majority of them turn out to be straight!
Permeability between straight and queer identities and
culture is essential for LGBTQIA+ self-actualization and empowerment.
Furthermore, when a straight person engages in a stereotypically queer
activity, it may be an act of appropriation, but it could also be experimenting
or questioning on their part. I have heard queer people accuse straight people
who make out with one another of “queer appropriation”—when I do, I often
reply, “Well how do you know that neither of them will come to identify as gay/lesbian
or bisexual someday?”[6] And even if the people in question do end up being
straight, isn’t the fact that nowadays people can engage in same-sex kissing without
being ostracized a sign that that heterosexist norm is eroding?
Along similar lines, don’t instances where cisgender people crossdress
or engage in other forms of non-EED gender-non-conformity help to deteriorate
binary gender norms? Shouldn’t we be celebrating such instances of permeability
between genders and sexualities rather than condemning them as appropriation?
And if we do decide to call out certain people’s genders and
sexualities as “appropriative,” then where exactly do we draw the line? And who
gets screwed as a result? Doesn’t the claim that heterosexuals-shouldn’t-appropriate-queer-culture
pretty much leave bisexual/pansexual folks especially vulnerable to accusations
of appropriation? And doesn’t the claim that men-shouldn’t-appropriate-women’s-oppression
leave trans women especially susceptible to similar criticism?
This leads us to another crucial point: Accusations of
appropriation are essentially claims about authenticity.[7] Specifically, they
create a binary wherein certain people (i.e., the marginalized/minority group)
are considered to be authentic when they engage in a particular activity,
whereas others (i.e., the dominant/majority group) cannot authentically engage
in that same act. Rather they can only appropriate it.
This specter of “inauthenticity” isn’t nearly so troubling
when it comes to other forms of cultural appropriation. For instance, the implication
that white folks/Westerners are “inauthentic” when they perform reggae or
practice Yoga is not meant to be an indictment of their natural abilities.
After all, nobody is born performing reggae or practicing Yoga—these are leaned
skills and traditions. Rather, the “authenticity” that is invoked simply refers
to whether one was socialized within the culture that originally created these
practices versus whether one was raised in an outsider culture and only discovered
and took up such practices later in life.
In sharp contrast, there is ample evidence that sex, gender,
and sexuality naturally vary in the population, not only because of culture and
environment, but also because of biological variation.[8] And all of us are
socialized into cultures where there are a multitude of different expressions
of gender and sexuality. Some of these expressions may be considered feminine,
masculine, or androgynous. They may be described as queer or straight, or as unusual
or normal. But regardless of what labels and meanings others might project onto
these different gender and sexual expressions, all of these variations exist within the society in which we are raised.
They are arguably all a part of our culture.
While sex, gender, and sexuality naturally vary within the
population, we live in a world where such expressions and identities are highly
policed. And they are primarily policed via the tropes of “authenticity” and “naturalness.”
In the culture at large, feminine gender expressions and
attraction toward men are viewed as authentic and natural when expressed by
women, but not by men. Masculine gender expressions and attraction toward women
are viewed as authentic and natural when expressed by men, but not by women.
Penile-vaginal penetration sex between monogamous partners is viewed as the
only authentic and natural form of sex, whereas most other sexual interests and
acts are dismissed as inauthentic and unnatural.
The concepts of “authentic,” “natural,” and “real” lie at
the heart of almost all manifestations of societal cissexism. The notion that
transsexuals are not “authentic” women or men, or that genderqueer people have
not chosen an “authentic” gender, enable the cisgender majority to dismiss our
identities as “inauthentic,” and thus misgender us as they see fit. The “trans
panic” phenomenon is steeped in assumption that trans people are deceivers who
pose as an “inauthentic” gender while hiding our supposed “real” gender. It is
commonly presumed that people who partner with trans people do not experience
“authentic” attraction to us, but rather that they are driven by some kind of
“fetish”—a word derived from the Portuguese word for “artificial.”
The point is that, while gender and sexuality naturally vary,
sexual- and gender-non-conformity is rigorously punished in our society via
accusations of inauthenticity, whether it be claims that trans people’s gender
identities are “inauthentic,” that asexual/bisexual/lesbian/gay people’s sexual
attractions (or lack thereof) are “unnatural,” or that straight cisgender
people are not “real women” or “real men” because of some relatively minor gender
transgression they may have committed (e.g., not shaving their legs, expressing
too much emotion, or having a gender atypical occupation). And calling
someone’s non-EED expressions of gender or sexuality “appropriative” is really
just another way of dismissing them as “inauthentic” (which is precisely why trans-exclusive
radical feminists so frequently accuse trans women of appropriation, as it
depicts us as merely fakes, pretenders, impersonators, and imposters).
There are no “authentic” expressions of gender and
sexuality. There are merely those that are deemed legitimate in society and
those that are dismissed as inauthentic. While I understand why some LGBTQIA+
people might be inclined to describe non-EED acts of sexual- and
gender-non-conformity as “appropriation” (especially when the person engaging
in them appears straight, cisgender, etc.), I fear that such accusations may only perpetuate the real/fake, natural/unnatural, and authentic/inauthentic binaries
that are so often used to undermine our own genders and sexualities.
Conclusion
This essay was intended to illustrate that the concept of
appropriation is way more complicated than many people seem to realize, and
that non-EED appropriation is not necessarily a bad thing, depending on your
politics and perspective. Furthermore, I hope that people will recognize that
cultural permeability is an absolute necessity for LGBTQIA+ communities to
exist and flourish, and that claims that certain non-EED expressions of gender
or sexuality are “appropriative” will only lend support to existing binary
gender norms and to the false notion that certain genders and sexualities are
more “natural,” “real,” or “authentic” than others.
Moving forward, I believe that we should continue to
critique instances of EED appropriation, but it would help if we were more
explicit about why such instances are bad. Specifically, rather than simply
crying “appropriation” (which often conflates EED and non-EED appropriation, and
can also implicate acts that merely resemble those that occur in
marginalized/minority groups), we should explicitly discuss how such acts either
erase, exploit, and/or denigrate the marginalized/minority group in question.
Notes:
1. Definitions from Dictionary.com .
2. See WhippingGirl , pages 195-212.
3. For the record, the group did occasionally have closed
meetings where only trans folks themselves could attend. But many, if not most,
of the meetings were open to partners and friends as well.
4. It must also be said that these groups were more easily able
to integrate because they are both white and Christian, and thus they did not
have to overcome the entrenched racism and Christian-centrism that continue to
proliferate in the U.S.
5. I have appropriated the phrase "cultural
appreciation" from Susan Scafidi, Who
Owns Culture?: Appropriation and Authenticity in American Law (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2005); see pages 6-11.
6. Here is a real life example of this: Way back before my
transition, I played in a band. And on a few occasions, a male friend
from another band and I would make out on stage during our set. We did it primarily
for the same reason that Kurt Cobain and Krist Novoselic of Nirvana famously
kissed on national TV—to make homophobes uncomfortable, to challenge
heterosexism. I suppose that some people in the audience could have viewed us
as two “straight dudes” who were trying to garner “indie-cred” by appropriating
queerness, but in reality, both of us had been sexual with men previously and
we both eventually wound up identifying as bisexual.
7. This is discussed in great length in Scafidi, Who Owns Culture?, especially pages
52-66.
8. See Excluded: Making Feminist and Queer Movements MoreInclusive, pages 138-168, and references therein.
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