Читать книгу Freedom to Differ - Diane Helene Miller - Страница 13

On June 28, 1969, in an event that had become commonplace in New York’s Greenwich Village, police raided a popular gay bar known as the Stonewall Inn. What distinguished this raid from hundreds of other raids of gay bars was that on this night the patrons responded not only with resistance but with confrontation, turning a routine police action into a two-day riot. Gay men, lesbians, and transvestites, some patrons of the bar and others who came to support their fight, battled physically and psychologically with police to defend their right to the same freedom of assembly enjoyed by heterosexuals. While these men and women were not the first to argue for their right to fair and equal treatment, what has come to be known as the Stonewall Rebellion remains a landmark event in the fight for lesbian and gay liberation. This event is often identified as the official beginning of the social movement for gay and lesbian rights.⁸

The Stonewall Rebellion marked a new kind of visibility for gays and lesbians, whose everyday lives were otherwise defined by a careful monitoring of self-expression. What erupted during the riots at Stoewall was, certainly, a claim for equal rights. However, it was also something more: the beginning of a movement not just for equality but also for liberation and social change. The participants in this movement aimed to intervene not only in police procedure and the legal system but also in the public and private discourses that regulated their identities and circumscribed their lives. On that night, and through the days and nights that followed, many gays and lesbians refused to remain hidden any longer in deference to these constraints, insisting on being seen and heard in ways they had not previously demanded. Rather than disguise who they were to avoid social ostracism and police persecution, they “came out”—out of their individual and collective “closets” as well as literally out of the bar and into the streets—to demand acknowledgment of their existence and humanity. In their move from private to public space, this small group stood up for itself and, in the process, spoke out for many others who had lived for too long behind shrouds of invisibility, silence, and shame.

The contemporary lesbian and gay rights movement has come a long way in the nearly thirty years since Stonewall, bringing about political change and social acceptance for gays and lesbians that was unimagined, and unimaginable, just a short time ago. Gay men and lesbians are, as both our supporters and opponents are eager to note, more visible than ever before. “Out” gays and lesbians occupy positions of power in a variety of fields, including the entertainment industry, journalism, sports, politics, and even religion. Debates over gay and lesbian rights consume many pages of local and national publications, appearing on the covers of magazines with widespread circulation and popular appeal, such as Time, Newsweek, U.S. News and World Report, and the New Republic. In addition, a burgeoning industry of gay- and lesbian-produced mass media has emerged, with a proliferation of local and national newsletters, newspapers, magazines, journals, films, and television programs produced specifically by and for gay and lesbian audiences.

Within the legal realm, domestic partner benefits for cohabiting gay and lesbian couples have become available in some cities. Such benefits are also offered by an increasing number of businesses, including universities such as Emory and Northwestern and major corporations such as IBM, Apple Computer, Microsoft, Bank of America, Walt Disney, and the San Francisco 49ers. The legalization of same-sex marriage is being pursued in Hawaii’s courts, with some signs of success. The Supreme Court overturned Colorado’s Amendment 2, an anti-gay rights initiative passed by state voters, stemming the tide of anti-gay initiatives on ballots across the country. The Clinton presidency, though fraught with disappointments for lesbian and gay rights activists, has nonetheless brought questions of gay and lesbian rights to the forefront of American consciousness, as the hotly debated “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy forced military personnel and civilians of all sexual orientations to examine their views on a formerly taboo subject.

Yet, while the gains of the lesbian and gay rights movement have been substantial, a right-wing backlash has emerged, predictably, to swing the pendulum back. In response to efforts to legalize same-sex marriage in Hawaii, state legislatures across the country have rushed to outlaw same-sex marriage in their states. The Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which limits the definition of marriage to a union between a man and a woman, was easily passed by Congress in 1996. In the midst of what has been nicknamed the “lesbian baby boom,” legislatures have taken steps to prevent gays and lesbians from becoming foster parents or adopting children, while gay and lesbian parents are being denied custody of their biological children at an alarming rate. The military has stepped up its dismissal of gays and lesbians despite the implementation of the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. The Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA), a federal bill that would have prohibited discrimination against lesbians and gays in the workplace, was narrowly defeated by Congress in 1996. In addition, violence against gay men and lesbians continues at an alarming rate, in incidents ranging from the fatal beating of naval officer Allen Schindler by his shipmates in 1992, to attacks on lesbian and gay high school students by their peers, to the bombing of a lesbian bar in Atlanta in February 1997 (which remains, to date, unsolved).

The resurgence of right-wing efforts to halt and reverse social change, the persistence of anti-gay violence, and ongoing discrimination against gays and lesbians in areas such as housing, employment, child custody, and military service have all galvanized the lesbian and gay rights movement to renewed social and political struggle in the 1990s. Partly as a result of the movement’s battles, victories, and defeats, media coverage of gay and lesbian issues has proliferated. American public discourse has returned again and again to discussions of homosexuality: what “causes” it; what should be “done” about it; and to what degree it should be accepted or tolerated in families, schools, communities, the arts, religious institutions, and the military. As a result, “in place of the silence that once encased the lives of homosexuals, there is now a loud argument” (Sullivan 1993, 24).

Lesbian and gay rights are undoubtedly among the most contentious and widely debated issues of our time. These debates reach into the heart of individual and community values, raising questions about gender roles, love, sexuality, and the family. Inevitably, then, the discussions generated around such issues have been numerous, heartfelt, and heated. Gay and lesbian issues, like gays and lesbians themselves, continue to grow both more central to and more controversial within American public discourse. How we talk about such issues, and how we hear others talk about them, influences our sense of self, our perceptions of one another, and our vision of the society we want to live in, now and in the future. Just as various views of women have influenced the fate of women’s rights throughout history, so today competing portrayals of gays and lesbians call for different political strategies and produce varied social consequences. The public discourse generated today around gay and lesbian issues will have lasting effects on how we see ourselves, sexually and otherwise, well into the next century.

At one level, what is at issue for gays and lesbians today is whether and where we will “fit” in a heterosexist, patriarchal society, as evidenced by the struggle for control over laws and other forms of public influence. Yet beneath this level of struggle lie issues of representation and self-definition, crucial questions about who we are, how we want to be perceived, and how much we are willing to sacrifice as the price of “tolerance.” The interaction of public and private discourse in debates over gay and lesbian rights may encourage, erase, liberate, or regulate gay and lesbian identities. In doing so, such speech may enrich or impoverish the range of available opportunities for gay and lesbian lives. It can present us with possibilities we had not previously imagined, or conversely, it can construct barriers that limit the potential we see in our lives. These questions thus involve not only the present but also the future of the gay and lesbian movement.

Given the importance of language in influencing the strategies and success of the movement, as well as the quality of gay and lesbian lives, my investigation seeks to answer two broad questions. First, what kinds of lesbian representations emerge from the competing discourses in each of these case studies? How are “lesbians” and “lesbianism” constructed, represented, and understood within these contexts of American public life? The second and related question examines the effects of these representations. How do the strategies of supporters and opponents broaden the possibilities for lesbian self-definition and enable a wider range of lesbian identities and politics? How do these rhetorical choices constrict or eliminate such possibilities?

This book investigates the construction of the category “lesbians” in political and military discourse. The relationship between language and identity in lesbian representations is of particular interest because homosexuality represents a “limit case” of the range of invisibility experienced by marginalized groups. Members of nondominant groups experience varying degrees of invisibility in relation to the dominant group (Sedgwick 1990). Some minority individuals are literally “visible” to others, due to characteristics such as gender, skin pigmentation, facial features, or physical disability. However, these individuals may nevertheless be ignored by members of the dominant culture, treated individually or collectively as though they cannot be seen or do not exist. Others may be able to “pass” as members of the dominant culture in some situations, as they may or may not be recognized as members of a marginalized group; examples include many Jews, lightskinned African Americans, and those who are physically disabled in ways that are not apparent in all situations. Still other marginalized individuals and groups are rarely or never identifiable by outward characteristics. For them, visibility requires an act of will, and invisibility may become a strategy for survival. Members of these groups, whose nonconformity to the assumptions of the dominant culture is not visually marked, are constantly misrecognized unless they take steps to counter such assumptions (Taylor 1995).

It is in this last category that lesbian identity is most often located, because despite popular stereotypes, lesbians are not reliably recognizable from external features (particularly to nonlesbians). Lesbian identity is most often invisible unless specifically acknowledged by the lesbian herself. Such a revelation is referred to as “coming out of the closet,” or simply “coming out.” Coming out is the act of making one’s sexual identity known to oneself and others. Because of the prevailing assumption of heterosexuality, revealing one’s lesbian identity frequently requires a deliberate act of verbal or nonverbal communication. Moreover, the paucity of lesbian representations in the mass media and the lack of role models in the experience of most lesbians mean that creating a lesbian identity depends heavily on the transmission of experiences either interpersonally or from available books and other resources (Lynch 1990; Plummer 1995;Trebilcot 1994).

Coming out by publicly identifying oneself as a lesbian has long been, and remains today, an important means of combating both sexism and heterosexism.⁹ Although much has changed in the discourses of gay rights and lesbian feminism since the 1970s, the importance of reclaiming a marginalized identity remains fundamental to many gays and lesbians. Where our identities have been used as weapons against us, many believe, we are empowered by reclaiming those identities and organizing around them to produce social change. Such a view has been continually asserted by many in the lesbian/gay rights movement, as well as by members of other social movements. Affirming one’s love for a member of the same sex in the context of a homophobic society is such a radical and transformational act that it has generally been viewed as a cornerstone of gay and lesbian liberation.

The act of coming out, for this highly invisible group, is not a one-time occurrence but an ongoing concern. In every situation and with each new person encountered, the choice must be made whether or not to acknowledge one’s minority identity (Sedgwick 1990; Zimmerman 1982). Hiddenness and visibility are rarely absolute, so that for most of us, secrecy and openness coexist, in various combinations and with differing degrees of comfort or unease. Most of us are out to someone significant in our lives: a friend, a family member, a counselor, or another lesbian or gay man. Yet, because of the stigma and the material disadvantages imposed on gays and lesbians, “there are remarkably few of even the most openly gay people who are not deliberately in the closet with someone personally or economically or institutionally important to them” (Sedgwick 1990, 67-68).

Moreover, given “the deadly elasticity of heterosexist presumption,” even gays and lesbians who make a concerted effort to be out in all situations “find new walls springing up around them even as they drowse.” Each day requires a renewed commitment to self-disclosure, for “every encounter with a new classful of students, to say nothing of a new boss, social worker, loan officer, landlord, [or] doctor, erects new closets” (Sedgwick 1990, 68). Like communication itself, the act of coming out is a continual process. It occurs in an endless variety of contexts, and its effects depend on numerous situational variables. Though little studied, the coming-out process may represent a central mode of interpersonal and public communication in contemporary societies, where multiple differences abound but dominant cultural assumptions remain entrenched.

The figure of the closet and its attendant rebellion of coming out originated in the lesbian and gay community. However, it has been borrowed by other marginalized groups to refer to any act of acknowledging or revealing a marginalized identity, regardless of its degree of visibility. For example, one can come out as a Jew (Bennett 1982; Sedgwick 1990), but one can also come out with pride as a fat woman (Sedgwick 1990). Thus the rhetorical processes that produce lesbian and gay identities do not exist in a vacuum but are related to the processes that shape other minority identities. For this reason, the study of lesbian representations may help us understand how metaphors of voice and visibility influence the self-identities of other marginalized groups.

The lesbian and gay rights movement that has evolved over the past three decades shares some characteristics with lesbian feminism, while differing in other respects. The predominance of metaphors of visibility and voice and the emphasis on a close connection between being seen and being heard are shared by many minority groups. Yet strategies for addressing these issues often differ. For example, some lesbian feminists are committed to developing and valuing a space along the margins of society from which to challenge patriarchal institutions and develop a culture of their own. Such efforts may be located on a spectrum of possibilities, bounded on one end by absolute separatism and on the other by the goal of complete assimilation. The mainstream lesbian and gay rights movement often falls nearer the latter end, striving to attain equality within existing institutions. Patterned implicitly and often explicitly after the model of change established by the black Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, the movement for lesbian and gay rights argues for the recognition of its members as constituting a “suspect class” as defined by law and thereby entitled to the protections granted to other minority classes based on characteristics such as race, religion, or disability (Robson 1992).

Lesbian legal theorist Ruthann Robson provides a helpful definition of the concept of suspect class status as it relates to sexual orientation:

The hallmarks of a suspect class are … derived from legal notions of race. Traditionally, a suspect class must be a social minority that has been historically discriminated against and continues to be relatively politically powerless, and its members must possess immutable characteristics that are identifiable. Although these criteria are certainly not absolute, arguments that lesbians are within a suspect class based on sexual orientation must work within the traditional hallmarks. The most troublesome factor is the immutable identifiable characteristic. Discussions of the applicability of this factor lead to debates whether lesbianism is an identity or an activity. For legal protection, it must be an identity, and a relatively unchanging one. (1992, 82)

By appealing to the still-controversial claim of an innate and immutable lesbian or gay identity, the argument for suspect class status places issues of identity in the forefront of gay and lesbian civil rights efforts.

More broadly, “suspect classifications” are defined by law as “acts of classification that are suspicious under equal protection doctrine” (Halley 1991, 354). The establishment of a group as belonging to a suspect classification is the first step in protecting its members under this doctrine. Equal protection laws scrutinize government acts that appear to disadvantage a group based on an irrelevant characteristic of their identity. For example, it is legal for the government to distinguish between classes of individuals according to their annual income, and to tax them at different rates based on this distinction, without violating the equal protection clause. It is illegal, however, for the government to impose different rates of taxation on individuals of different races who earn the same annual income, because race constitutes a suspect classification and therefore is not an appropriate basis for such distinctions (Wolinsky and Sherrill 1993). The suspect classification designation is intended to protect all citizens against decision making based on certain protected characteristics.

This emphasis on decision making or “acts of classification,” rather than on minority individuals themselves, highlights a frequently misunderstood element of anti-discrimination laws. In relation to racial discrimination, for example, “the fact that most race-based suits are brought by people of color does not change the fact that anti-discrimination provisions protect all citizens of all races” (Fajer 1996, 211). The scope of such laws is therefore not limited to protecting the members of minority groups. “A landlord does not violate the Fair Housing Act by refusing to rent to an African-American, but rather by refusing to rent to anyone on the basis of their race.” This distinction is important because an individual who is not a member of such a group but who is discriminated against because he or she is perceived as belonging to that group is still protected under such laws. Thus “firing someone because you incorrectly believe them to be Jewish ought to be illegal, even if the person is not a member of the ‘protected class’ of Jews” (Fajer 1996, 210). This clarification suggests that gaining protections based on sexual orientation is not just an issue of concern to gays and lesbians. Such a change in the law would benefit not only self-identified gays and lesbians but also a much broader range of men and women whose appearance or behavior does not conform to traditional gender roles. Because they may be perceived as gay or lesbian, they, too, are at high risk for discrimination. Heterosexuals would also be protected under such laws from decision making that would exclude them from privileges based on their heterosexuality, if such protection were needed.

The reality of the need for civil rights is unavoidable in the face of rampant institutionalized discrimination against lesbians. Like gay men, lesbians can still be legally harassed in the workplace, fired from jobs, discharged from military service, evicted from homes, and denied custody of children on the basis of sexual orientation alone (Phelan 1994). The question, then, is not whether lesbians should engage in civil rights initiatives but, rather, what is gained and what is lost in specific examples of such endeavors. This book focuses that question on the potential for lesbian self-definition and representation, examining how these possibilities are shaped by the language of civil rights arguments. This approach shifts the question of civil rights away from wearying debates about the nature or “origins” of homosexuality. It concentrates instead on how “lesbianism” and homosexuality in general are constructed through language in two interconnected arenas of civil rights struggle.

The cases of Roberta Achtenberg and Grethe Cammermeyer illustrate various dimensions of the public debate over lesbian civil rights. These women’s stories are unusual in that both received national media coverage rarely accorded to gay rights cases generally, and to lesbian rights cases especially. Such high-profile cases are particularly significant because they make visible the struggle for control over meanings of lesbianism as it occurs within some of the most influential realms of American public life. At the same time, the cases thrust these particular lesbians into the limelight “as lesbians” and thus establish them, with or without the blessing of gay and lesbian communities, as representatives of a much larger but far less visible constituency.

This work adds to a growing body of scholarship on lesbians that has been largely concentrated in the fields of literature and history. Lesbian fiction and poetry have been the subject of an increasing number of articles and books, yet virtually no scholarship outside of law reviews looks at the nonfictional discourse surrounding lesbian issues. Even though Achtenberg and Cammermeyer are nationally known figures whose words and actions place them at the forefront of the public debate over lesbian and gay rights, to date no scholarly work (other than law articles) has been published about either woman. Yet what is said about them and the language used to portray them—whether by supporters or opponents, whether in a Senate chamber, military board hearing, or court of law—will have profound effects on public perceptions and understandings of lesbians. Of equal, if not greater, significance is the fact that because many lesbians themselves lack representations or role models, what we come to know and understand about these public figures through the discourse that surrounds them may deeply affect lesbians’ self-images and identities. These include, importantly, the self-images of young women just beginning to identify themselves as lesbians. For these reasons, it is vital to examine the rhetorical strategies employed in these debates and the key terms of voice and visibility, highlighting both the emancipatory and the regulatory potential of these strategies.

At a time when American politics have shifted abruptly to the right and conservative groups have succeeded in reversing the civil rights gains of other minorities, there is an urgent need to assess the direction of the lesbian and gay rights movement (Vaid 1995). The juxtaposition of lesbian visibility—witness the capitalist production of “lesbian chic”—with the evident power of the religious right forces us to examine existing representations in order to ascertain whether all increases in visibility mark progress. If not, we need to ask whether and when the aims of lesbians and gay men are undermined by the achievement of minor concessions and provisional tolerance that stave off larger demands. Likewise, we need to examine these representations with an eye to discovering what the newfound and widely hailed “inclusion” of gays and lesbians in the mainstream represents. We need to determine whether, in fact, it is only the “whitest and brightest” who are accepted or, more likely, tolerated, while those who are unable to pass for all but sexually straight are excluded. The mainstreaming of a few powerful figures at the expense of, rather than for the benefit of, other gays and lesbians should be a matter of concern for all of us (Hollibaugh 1993; Smith 1993).

From a legal standpoint, we must assess the limits of existing institutional frameworks for the purposes of lesbian liberation. The fragility of civil rights gains has been demonstrated by the crumbling of affirmative action initiatives in the mid-1990s, and some observers have argued that the Civil Rights movement never accomplished for African Americans all that it was credited with achieving (Bumiller 1988). The legal system, along with other mainstream institutions, may be inherently unable to advance minority rights precisely because it is founded on the very principles of exclusion and hierarchy that those who desire such rights seek to overturn (Becker 1995; Robson 1992; Smart 1989; Wilson 1995). If inequality is built into the system itself, those who seek parity within its framework will be forced to adapt themselves and amend their objectives in relation to it. In doing so, they inadvertently reinforce its authority, hierarchies, and injustices.

Recognizing these limitations invites a shift of focus from looking at lesbian identities as a puzzle or problem to examining homophobic social institutions as the problem. It encourages us to ask how the discourse of these institutions constructs lesbians in a way that deems us both “sick” and “scandalous” (Phelan 1993, 775). By viewing institutional structures as problematic and contestable, we are reminded that gains and losses, victories and defeats, are rarely unambiguous in relation to such systems. In examining the consequences that ensue when we do and when we do not achieve our ends, we must consider not only the gains of victory and the losses of defeat. We must also consider the possibility of advancement through our apparent losses, as well as the failures that may accompany even our most celebrated victories. We need to take a broader, macroscopic view of the political landscape, examining how our strategies contribute to an overall vision of a more egalitarian society. Only then can we identify which strategies we need to rethink, refine, or reject in response to counterattacks or attempts at assimilation.

Finally, we must examine the liberal discourse through which civil rights initiatives are expressed, looking carefully at what it says and does for us. What kinds of self-definitions and self-understandings does liberal discourse construct for lesbians? What happens to lesbian voices under the aegis of liberal politics? What roles are available and what kinds of visibility and empowerment can lesbians access within a liberal framework? Equally important, to whom is this visibility and empowerment available within lesbian communities? If we choose to work within existing institutions, we must examine the kinds of identities available to us through the language of these institutions and the degree to which we can successfully challenge and broaden institutional limits. Otherwise, our efforts to confront institutions and demand inclusivity may inadvertently validate the legitimacy and authority of these structures, reestablishing the dominance of homophobic thought and language in the larger social structure.

Issues of lesbian representation, like other lesbian issues, have rarely been addressed in scholarly literature as valid questions in their own right, to the great detriment of lesbian studies. “As soon as the lesbian is lumped in—for better or for worse—with her male homosexual counterpart, the singularity of her experience (sexual and otherwise) tends to become obscured. We ‘forget’ about the lesbian by focusing instead on gay men” (Castle 1993, 12). The experiences of lesbians differentiate us in important ways from both heterosexual women and gay men. Yet these differences are unaccounted for in analyses of feminist or gay discourse (Wolfe and Penelope 1993). While issues of lesbian identity clearly overlap with questions of heterosexual female and gay male identities, then, lesbian identities exceed the bounds of both. They therefore deserve and demand independent consideration (Zimmerman 1992).

A comprehensive understanding of the discourse surrounding lesbian oppression and lesbian rights remains some distance in the future. Scholarship about lesbians is still scarce, and the need for research is pressing. It can be overwhelming to consider how little is known about these and other marginalized women and to recognize the degree to which we are impoverished by our lack of knowledge about such groups. Speech communication is but one academic discipline that suffers from its inattention to the discourse of gay and lesbian rights. This book is intended to help fill this gap in our knowledge, and to bring us nearer to that encompassing understanding in the future.