Читать книгу Freedom to Differ - Diane Helene Miller - Страница 12

Since the 1970s, the feminist and lesbian/gay rights movements have made substantial progress in advancing their struggles for equality.² At times, the two movements’ goals have coincided, and they have joined together to pursue mutually beneficial ends. These include challenging gender stereotypes, broadening narrow gender roles for women and men, and affirming the right of all individuals to control their own bodies. On other occasions, the two groups have worked with a complete disregard for each other or even at cross-purposes. At such moments, each has been insensitive to the oppression experienced by the other and to the ways in which each has participated in and benefited from the other’s oppression. Caught in the middle are those women who belong in, yet are frequently marginalized by, both movements: gay women, or lesbians, whose existence has often been disregarded or concealed by the leaders of both social movements.

To examine the status of lesbians within and between these movements is to engage feminist theory, gay studies, and public discourse at a powerful and controversial crosscurrent. The feminist movement continues to raise many of the major ongoing debates of our time, forcing public confrontation of issues as broad-ranging as rape, domestic violence, abortion, sexual harassment, and the feminization of poverty. Anyone who doubts the dissent that still rages around feminism need only observe the broad-based support for the current conservative Republican Congress or the vast radio and television audiences who avidly follow Rush Limbaugh’s diatribes. As the right-wing backlash continues to spread, the perceived feminist attack on “family values” is overshadowed by a group seen as even more threatening: gays and lesbians. The gay and lesbian claim to equal rights has produced one of the most explosive public debates in progress today.

The arguments surrounding gay and lesbian rights constitute crucial public debates, not only because they are conducted through public channels and institutions but also because they directly engage questions about the relationship between public discourse and minority identities. As the military’s current “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy attests, the very formation of identities is based in part on their assertion: who we are depends in part on how we represent ourselves, and on how others represent us, through language and visual images (Shotter and Gergen 1989, ix). The point is not simply that giving the name to gay or lesbian individuals and communities affirms our existence. More broadly, by highlighting certain facets of gay and lesbian lives and obscuring others, the discussions produced by gay and lesbian rights controversies help constitute identities. They do so by providing particular frameworks within which gays and lesbians may be seen and understood, by ourselves and by others.

In relation to these frameworks, lesbians occupy a tenuous position that places us both within and outside the feminist and lesbian/gay rights movements. We are multiply silenced, our existence doubly erased. First, we are negated by a dominant culture for whom we are emphatically “Other” by virtue of being neither men nor heterosexual. Second, we are often forgotten or ignored by groups of gay men and heterosexual women, for whom we are neither wholly insiders nor outsiders. For lesbians who are also marginalized with respect to race, class, age, physical ability, or other elements of identity, experiences of exclusion are further intensified through a dynamic that has been called “multiple jeopardy” (King 1988).³ Perhaps because of this multiple marginality, even those scholars who specifically set out to reclaim silenced or “lost” public voices have frequently neglected the study of lesbians.

Among scholars who study communication, for example, attention to women’s speech or “women’s issues” has gradually grown more prevalent and more accepted, although this change has occurred at a painfully slow pace. Nonetheless, these scholars by and large continue to ignore the prodigious public discourse on gay and lesbian rights generated in this country in recent years. While the American public and the mass media in particular widely debate the implications of gay and lesbian rights struggles, those who study public discourse have remained unusually silent on the subject.⁴ Such neglect is striking in relation to an issue that currently constitutes one of the most widespread topics of public debate in this country and is likely to become even more contentious in the coming years.

If communication scholars have been reluctant to address gay issues generally, however, they have been hesitant to the point of nearly unbroken silence to broach the specific issues of lesbian speech or lesbian rights struggles. Those wishing to research any facet of communication about lesbians often find themselves scanning the indexes of books with gay, feminist, or women in the title, hoping to find an entry for lesbians. Frequently, they find none. In fact, those wishing to do lesbian scholarship are immediately confronted with a number of obstacles. First is the fear of discrimination and prejudice against one’s work or oneself when one pursues a research project about lesbians, regardless of one’s own sexual orientation. Second, materials are often not easily accessible, as much of the writing that does exist is published by alternative presses or small journals that are unavailable even in the libraries of large research institutions. Finally, the considerations of publishing and academic job security discourage scholars from writing about lesbians. As both a marginalized and a stigmatized minority, lesbians are considered at best a “special interest group” and at worst a threat to family values and the American social fabric.

The neglect of lesbian issues within speech communication has persisted despite growing bodies of lesbian feminist work in related areas such as literary studies, cultural studies, history, and psychology.⁵ Because these fields have led the way in developing lesbian studies, their disciplinary perspectives predominate in this emerging field. The result has been a relative flourishing of scholarship that focuses on fictional accounts, personal narratives, and other artistic and cultural endeavors, highlighting self-expression and the sharing of personal experience. Still needed, however, is another framework, crucial to any movement for social change: a method for examining public expression as communication, representations as political strategies, and messages in terms of their effects.

Such a framework would highlight self-identification as a distinct mode of communication. Declarations of identity serve several functions: they are at once powerful individual expressions, reinforcing one’s sense of belonging to a particular group; communicative messages, conveying that identification to others; and representations, offering particular portrayals of the individual and his or her group to the public. Statements of self-identity can modify public understandings and portrayals of a group, while a group’s public representations can influence individual and collective self-identities. This mutual interaction of language and identity may either extend or abridge the available range of identities for a given group (Shotter and Gergen 1989, ix). Such consequences may be particularly striking for lesbians and gays, who are, as a group, “consciously involved in creating [their] own identity and purpose,” and whose public representations remain hotly contested (Fejes and Petrich 1993, 397).

To understand how various uses of language expand or restrict gay and lesbian identities, access to rhetorical approaches becomes vital. The word rhetoric is often used disparagingly to refer to language that is all ornament and little substance (Foss 1996). However, the term also refers to the art of using language effectively and persuasively. More broadly, rhetoric refers to the use of symbols, such as language and visual images, for the purpose of communication. Those who study rhetoric examine how speakers and writers use such symbols not only to represent reality but to create it. “Rhetoric is not simply the translation of some knowledge that we acquired somewhere else into a communicable form. It is the process by which our reality or our world comes into being; reality or knowledge of what is in the world is the result of communicating about it” (Foss 1996, 6).

From a rhetorical perspective, investigating the effects of language is a crucial form of inquiry because “what we count as ‘real’ or as ‘knowledge’ about the world depends on how we choose to label and talk about things” (Foss 1996, 6). The term rhetorical criticism describes the process of analyzing persuasive symbols and their effects in a given situation or context. Rhetorical critics analyze how persuasive appeals are constructed to create particular understandings of the world and to affect a given audience in a specific way. Such critics are therefore able to suggest how certain kinds of “knowledge” and versions of “reality” come to be widely accepted, and how others come to be devalued or erased, through the strategic use of symbols. Rhetorical approaches focus on how language and images function in concrete situations. They thereby enhance our ability to become more thoughtful, discerning, and critical consumers of public discourse.

Although those who study rhetoric have not granted the issue of gay and lesbian rights the attention it deserves, given its social significance, a rhetorical approach does have a valuable and needed perspective to add to those that are contributed by other disciplinary and interdisciplinary standpoints. Rhetorical perspectives can make a dual contribution to the analysis of lesbian and gay rights initiatives. First, they take as their texts persuasive, nonfictional public discourse, which enables them to analyze representations that proliferate in some of today’s most widespread and influential discussions. Second, they illuminate not only the intentions that motivate such discourse but also the consequences of particular uses of language for various audiences. Rhetorical analysis allows us to set aside questions of “positive” or “negative” images. It allows us to examine, instead, how particular language and images function in a given context and for a designated audience.

This book investigates the representations of lesbians produced in two primary arenas of civil rights struggle: the United States political and military systems. It focuses on two case studies of discrimination against lesbians, examining how the language and images employed by advocates and opponents in each case shape available understandings of lesbian (and often gay) lives. More specifically, it examines how a focus on equal rights arguments, also referred to as civil rights strategies, constrains lesbian and gay identities and self-definitions; how such an approach regulates future liberatory endeavors; and how it prescribes a particular set of lesbian and gay public images that excludes certain individuals and communities. This book identifies those possibilities we create and those we exclude through an emphasis on civil rights strategies. It examines, finally, the role rhetoric can play in illuminating the heterosexual nature of institutions, both military and political, and in revealing the inherent inequalities on which such institutions are founded.

More broadly, this book points to the ways in which all categories of sexuality are shaped and delimited by language and in which sexual and other minority classifications may be produced by the very discourses that seek to regulate or protect them. These discourses at once assume the existence of such categories and create their parameters. In the process of constructing minority identities, dominant identities are also established and legitimated. Their boundaries are strengthened by the force of the binary opposition at work, and by the marginalization of the out-group. This process of group definition and differentiation solidifies distinctions between heterosexuality and homosexuality. The dividing line between categories is thereby strengthened, and sexual self-definition is limited on both sides. This process is thoroughly rhetorical and of the utmost importance. It influences at an intimate level the ways in which we are able to conceive of ourselves and others, touching on our most deeply held convictions about our own identities and the identities of those around us.

I begin this book by highlighting the exclusion of lesbians from much of feminist scholarship and gay studies. I offer a brief introduction to the mainstream lesbian/gay rights movement and its guiding civil rights agenda, examining how the specific oppression of lesbians challenges a number of this movement’s goals. A lesbian feminist analysis of lesbian/gay rights discourse enables us to consider both the advantages and the risks of two of the movement’s guiding objectives: voice and visibility. Voice refers to political participation and cultural influence, while visibility represents the right to acknowledge openly a gay or lesbian identity. To explore the complexity that is introduced into these concepts when lesbian specificity is taken into account, I examine the cases of Roberta Achtenberg and Grethe Cammermeyer. Their stories illustrate some of the ways in which lesbians have been represented in recent years through particular institutional discourses. I focus on the language and images used to characterize these women and to establish their relationship to the category “lesbian.” I also suggest how these representations might influence broader public understandings of lesbians as individuals and as a group.

I argue that when some level of lesbian and gay voice or visibility is achieved, as in these high-profile cases, another level of institutional oppression is imposed to maintain the dominant culture’s control over the images and language that proliferate around a controversial issue.⁶ Images and language are continually subject to the threat of misinterpretation or assimilation, and the gains associated with greater visibility are balanced with some attendant losses. Rhetorical criticism examines not only the value of expressing one’s identity but also the consequences of public discussions of identity. In this book, I analyze such discussions for their potential to extend or limit opportunities for self-definition and the formation of individual and group identities. Metaphors of visibility and voice convey the importance of self-expression as a form of individual empowerment, independent of its public consequences. However, social movements must concern themselves not only with individual self-realization but also with identifying broadly effective political strategies and creating coherent visions for liberation. These imperatives call for a rhetorical perspective, grounded in textual analysis, to examine how various discursive strategies produce particular outcomes. Rhetorical analysis, drawing on the theoretical insights of feminist, gay, and lesbian studies, can bring these insights to bear on the concrete circumstances that directly affect the lives of millions of gays and lesbians every day.

As I begin this investigation, a few qualifications will help clarify my terminology, my intentions, and the scope of my analysis. Throughout this book I refer to a “dominant” American culture, an identifiable “mainstream,” and “dominant” groups of people whose views have shaped traditional institutions. Yet it is important to recognize that such references are inevitably problematic and oversimplified. Our identification as insiders or outsiders in relation to a “dominant” culture is constantly shifting, so that nearly all of us feel included based on some elements of identity and excluded based on others. We may be privileged by our gender, race, age, education, physical ability, religion, or social class, to name but a few variables; we may also be excluded based on any of these characteristics. Very few of us can identify consistently as either mainstream or marginalized, when all social stratifications are accounted for.

Thus, while I want to account for the effects of oppression on marginalized individuals and groups, I do not want to perpetuate the fiction that we can identify a single, powerful group of individuals who constitute a societal mainstream (Clausen 1997). I am not suggesting that a particular individual or group can be identified either as omnipotent or as entirely without power. Nor do I wish to homogenize individuals based on their group identification, and so fail to acknowledge, for example, feminist men, antiracist whites, gay- and lesbian-friendly heterosexuals, and others for whom privilege has not blunted social consciousness.

Likewise, by identifying the political strategies favored by a powerful or “dominant” group of mostly white, middle-class or affluent gay men within the lesbian/gay rights movement, I do not wish to deny or discount the presence of more radical gay men. Groups of gay men such as the Radical Faeries or Black and White Men Together are often denied the publicity granted to those in the movement who present more mainstream or “acceptable” media images. I do not wish to minimize, either, the presence and influence of outspoken lesbian feminists throughout the history of the movement. Even my use of the phrase “lesbian and gay rights movement” represents a distortion. Rather than having one cohesive political center, the movement has always been a divided, contested site. Conflicts have occurred within the movement both historically and currently. Thus, although the themes of assimilation and equality have predominated, they have never been exclusive themes. My use of this phrase, while necessary, nevertheless obscures and artificially unifies a multitude of perspectives, priorities, identities, and strategies for the purposes of clarity and convenience. At the same time, it obscures the vital contributions of numerous bisexual, transsexual, and transgender men and women to the movement. I use this distortion consciously, although reluctantly, because of the danger of portraying the movement as monolithic and obscuring the rich diversity that is one of its greatest strengths. I hesitate, moreover, to represent our movement as a straw person that is easily attacked, wishing instead to provide a thoughtful and nuanced critique of the movement in all its complexity.⁷

Finally, I acknowledge the limitations of choosing to focus on these particular case studies. Both Roberta Achtenberg and Grethe Cammermeyer are white, professional lesbians, privileged by race and class (although Achtenberg is Jewish, another marginalizing factor). Because they are members of the dominant race and class, these features of their identities go unmarked, and unremarked upon, in the context of these debates. As a result, within their struggles “questions of discrimination based on race or class, and the interconnectedness of these forms of oppression with homophobia, are bracketed” (Phelan 1994, 117). The hiddenness of race and class in these discussions may tempt us to neglect or discount their impact. Nevertheless, such factors are always implicitly present, interwoven throughout these debates with conceptions of gender and sexual orientation.

Even the movement’s focus on silencing as a hallmark of lesbian oppression is deficient when it fails to account for the varying configurations of silence and voice available to women in different ethnic communities. Thus, whereas lesbians are silenced in the wider societal context “as lesbians,” this silencing may vary in form and intensity among different groups of lesbians. For example, in contrast to the historical division of public and private spheres that has denied white, middle-class women a public voice, “the distinct division between male and female spheres of activity … has never been prevalent in black speech communities.” Perhaps as a result, “black women have been described as generally outspoken and self-assertive speakers. … There is a fundamental tendency toward male-female communicative parity in black culture which starkly contrasts to the tendency toward communicative asymmetry which scholars emphasize for white women and men” (Stanback 1985, 181, 182; see also Collins 1991). The constraints on African American women’s speech must therefore be distinguished from those that affect white women. “In black communities (and diverse ethnic communities), women have not been silent. Their voices can be heard. Certainly for black women, our struggle has not been to emerge from silence into speech but to change the nature and direction of our speech, to make a speech that compels listeners, one that is heard” (hooks 1989, 6).

In light of such differences, I am mindful of the ways in which choosing to focus on the cases of two white, professional women risks homogenizing gays and lesbians by portraying “a false unity among what is in fact a tremendously diverse collectivity” (Phelan 1994, 117). Examining the stories of such women is an indispensable part of assessing the overall consequences of civil rights-based approaches. However, these women should not be viewed as representative of gays or lesbians as a group, nor should the importance of their relative privilege be overlooked. Their stories are significant, provocative, and inspiring. Yet they must also serve as a constant reminder of the vast number and endless variety of stories we have yet to hear. This book is only a beginning.