The Master’s Tools

I have been having this conversation with a lot of folks lately, notably faculty, and the more I rehearse the argument in my head the harder it is for me to wrap my brain around why I do what I do in academia, and why it continues to be of critical importance to me.  I in no way want to downplay the fact that I think the academy is seriously flawed, but there continues to be something awfully compelling that makes me stick to it.  Even though I recognize that some of this may just be a willful ignorance of any other way to get done the things I’d like to do, because the academy is comfortable and familiar, I have other reasons for thinking that doing what I’m doing is good.  Not necessarily right, or the best, but definitely good.

My best argument in defense of academia, at least in my limited experience doing philosophy at a major institution, is that it has armed me with the tools I have found the most useful to dismantle, examine, and critique existent structures.  By existent structures, I am most interested in those which are used as tools of oppression, or at the very least (and closely related) the promotion of the status quo.  While the discipline of philosophy is dominated by figures who are largely white American, British or European men, the rigorous study of philosophy has taught me ways of thinking that do not claim to be infallible.  In fact I would go so far as to say that if anything, there is a certain amount of encouragement in the direction of critique by the discipline itself.

Which is encouraging.  But because I have used the master’s tools to hone my own wits, does that make me, after a fashion, the master’s tool too?  I have learned how to think, read, speak, and write critically, but the sort of critical thinking, reading and writing I do are academy-sanctioned.  Yet the ways I apply this critical awareness is not always so doted-upon by the powers that be.

I waffle back and forth between thinking that I am a clever one and I am a serious sellout.  On the one hand, submitting to the academy and its rules, explicit and implicit, has empowered me.  On the other, I feel like I should be able to do this on my own.  And the fact that my highbrow academic mind has a hard time breaking out of that framework even when creating a zine has interesting implications, as well.  It seems like I can’t turn that part of my brain off.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so worried.  I have gotten respect and encouragement from both sides of the coin — academic and casual — so maybe I’m doing alright.  I certainly don’t see the value in outright rejecting any way of examining the world, but then again, that seems to be a direct product of my training as an academic philosopher.  It’s kind of maddening that I can’t shift my frame of reference here in order to make better sense of my own thinking, but I suppose it has always been particularly challenging to think about thinking, because we need to think to think about thinking, and so get trapped by the boundaries of our own thought.

And again, a dead end in my struggle between my essentially anti-establishment self and my stodgily establishment self.

Exasperated

I am so goddamn exasperated with the Michigan Daily.  I am exasperated with the fact that their lack of coverage of Transgender Day of Remembrance — and the community reaction to it — has forced some truly ugly hate speech out of the woodwork.  I am exasperated that in previous years the Daily has covered events in the transgender community.  And I am sick of being blamed for my own community’s oppression.

This year, in response to their lack of coverage, the Michigan Daily ran a few letters to the editor.  Okay, it’s better than nothing, you might say.
Sure, it’s better than nothing, but it’s the only reaction the newspaper had.  Instead of giving room for a legitimized voice of the trans community, this basic action creates negative press.  Many people, whose only contact with the trans community is through events like this one where we are able to slip a word edgewise into the dominant narratives on this campus, think that we’re a bunch of whiners.  They think that the lack of coverage in other traditionally liberal media outlets like NPR means that it’s okay the Michigan Daily doesn’t pick up the story.  They accuse us of not sticking up for ourselves.

I’ve got a newsflash.  It’s hard to stick up for yourself when there are people who don’t think you’re legitimate, who deride you for being an “aberration,” and who force you into filling the angry minority activist role.  It’s a kind of tokenization that is destructive to any social equality movement.  It makes us into caricatures of ourselves when we most need to be seen as human.

Maybe there’s a bit of narcissism that makes me say that I’m still shocked that the Daily hasn’t asked any voices from the trans community to write a personal statement or something for their paper, since I’d like to volunteer myself to do such a job.  Of course, this is just a fantasy, but if they can run this tripe, they could possibly run a 300-word statement about what I’m thankful for.  (Not being a victim of a hate crime?  Having a family that is at least willing to accept me, contrary to what mainstream society would have them do?  Being a member of a supportive group of friends and colleagues?)

I’m also tired of people who say that our struggle for equality is not the same as the struggle for equality of blacks in America because there are so few of us.  I remember Andre telling me that, when revising the university’s non-discrimination clause, someone at the hearing said, “why bother?  There are so few of them.”  Part of why many people think there are so few transgender people is that we aren’t visible.  We are taught that we aren’t allowed to be visible.  We are discouraged from speaking out, and sometimes threatened when we do.  Sound familiar?  I thought so.

The importance of protecting the civil rights and livelihoods of a section of the population isn’t about how many people the protection affects, but lies with the fact that there is injustice.  Period.  There is injustice in this world, and I think Dr. King would agree that no matter who suffers that injustice, it is unacceptable.  As I remember the quote, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

I’d just like the chance to have some of the people who have reacted negatively to our attempts at finding justice walk a mile in my shoes and see how easy it is for them to speak up.  I’d like the chance to show them how difficult it is to operate on a daily basis.  I’d like the chance to open their eyes to the difficult reality that is being a minority in America.

Of course, those are just pipe dreams.  For the time being, I’m just thankful to live in a town where I’m not checking over my shoulder every minute, and surrounded by people who uplift me, intellectually and emotionally, even when there are so many others out there who would rather see me trampled down.

The Invisible People

Last year, the Michigan Daily didn’t run anything about Transgender Day of Remembrance.  Even though I incited a bit of a flame war with my letter to the editor, nothing was published again this year.  I’m not too surprised, although I will say that I didn’t send them the essay that I’d written about TDoR that I did last year.  Still..they are a newspaper and there were events held on campus.  I am incredibly incensed at the fact that, in the face of a group of people who are largely invisible, but who have made their presence felt on this campus, the newspaper did nothing.  It really speaks strongly to how goddamn invisible we really are as transgender folk.  My original article is reprinted below.

I didn’t know 16-year-old Ian Benson of Holland, MI, but one of my best friends did.  He took his own life just two weeks ago.  In some ways, I see a lot of myself in Ian.  I see every transperson in Ian.  I guess I feel like Ian is my brother, just like all transpeople are, in some way, my siblings.  Sadly, we’re brought together by discrimination and violence against us.  I was never one for claiming any kind of community with the people who fall under the “T” in “LGBT,” whose challenges to the binary gender system are as diverse as the people themselves.  Not until this year, at least, when something began to awaken in me.

I’ve been out to myself since my junior year of high school.  I, too, was 16.  By some stroke of luck, by some force of will, I’ve made it this far.  It hasn’t been easy.  Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning is so hard I can’t do it without being coaxed and cajoled by my roommate.  Now I’m almost 21, I’m out to everybody who asks.  That includes my friends, my family, my coworkers, my classmates, and my professors.  The reception has been warm.  Things are okay.  I would almost go so far as to say I’m otherwise a happy, normal guy: classes, friends, parties, work, dating, and road trips to Chicago in my beat-up car.

But I can’t live in a bubble, and going outside of the circle of friends, family and colleagues who I know are willing to support me is to go out into a world that is, if not hostile, largely ignorant.  It’s manifested as misunderstandings with profs and GSIs before you could pick a name on CTools, to being harangued in the bathrooms on campus.  I can point to events where I have felt physically threatened, but I always thought this was just par for the course.

There is no reason this should be par for the course.  Life may not be fair, but it also doesn’t have to be too difficult to keep living on account of a social identity you claim.  There’s no reason for anybody to have to think twice about doing something because they’re worried they’ll be attacked for who they are.  There is no reason living in fear and self-hate should be par for the course and make a bright, sweet 16-year-old take his own life.

The health and happiness of all people can be influenced by what we do as individuals.  I used to be quiet about the things I thought were wrong with the world, but now it’s time for me to step up.  It’s time for all of us to step up.  I’m ashamed of myself that it took the suicide of a young man who was truly valued, and not so unlike me, to get me to really step up, but enough is enough.  We have seen enough heartbreak.  We have known enough pain.

The only way that we can prevent more deaths in the larger community and the communities around ours is to come out against intolerance and ignorance.  Nowadays, fewer and fewer transpeople fall victim to direct violence, but a negative environment can be enough to make someone want to give up.  That’s sort of good, I guess – I can walk home from my friends’ houses at night without having to worry too much.  But it’s also bad.  How do you prosecute someone for hate crimes who never actually committed a crime, per se?

The only thing I can think of is work to create a community where you don’t have to worry about that.  I’m finally fully prepared to stand up for what is right.  I’m finally fully prepared to face the ramifications.  History has taught us that social justice does not come easy, or without a price.  But as we remember those who have been killed or driven to an awful choice this week, we must also remember that deaths can be prevented.  And moving forward, it’s also up to all of us to make sure Ian Benson did not die in vain.

We will not be silent.

Reflections on Voting

It only took me an hour to get through the entire voting process.  Down at my polling place, there was a carnival atmosphere: at least a dozen of my friends were there around when I was there, and we had sparklers and candy and there were high-fives for everyone.  We hung out with the Democratic voter assistance volunteers (one of whom was in all of my philosophy classes last year) and drank coffee and talked about the election.  Spirits are high.  People are counting on this.

But in Ypsilanti Township, people are waiting three or four hours to vote.  In Miami-Dade, people are waiting upwards of five.  It is excruciatingly clear that we are privileged.  Not only did I only have to spend an hour at my polling place, I had the option to hang out and meet other voters.  Economically underpivileged people, especially people who work bit jobs for hourly wages, don’t have that kind of luxury.  Especially when you consider that wait times are considerably longer in underprivileged areas, you can’t help but think — this isn’t an explicit poll tax, but it might as well be.  If I were working 60 hours a week and living paycheck-to-paycheck, I couldn’t spend three hours waiting to cast my ballot.  If I were making just enough money to make rent and were living on food stamps, I would honestly probably choose making my money over voting.  And even if I had the chance to plan ahead and sock a little extra away for November (some people still can’t do that), my employer might not be so cool with me taking off.  I’m enormously privileged as a college student living in an upper middle-class community that 1) I can take time out of my day to vote and 2) there are plenty of volunteers in my area to staff my polling place.

I am not-so-secretly ashamed of myself for not volunteering in Ypsi Township.

I’m also really excited that people are using the internet to give voting social capital.  While the white oval “I Voted” sticker that is on my messenger bag is pretty cool, it’s nowhere near as exciting to get involved on Facebook.  Logging in this morning, I was presented with a running count of every Facebook member who has voted.  I changed my status to the automated message from the Causes application (I was recruited by a friend, and have recruited two so far).  The sheer numbers — nearly a million people used the Causes application to change their statuses simultaneoulsy at midnight, over 2 million have reported voting already — is something that makes it thrilling, not to mention unifying.

This is cool and everything, but how can we better use social networking tools to galvanize young people?  I kind of wonder how many people would have gotten their hands dirty with this on Facebook if it weren’t such an important election to us?  I hope we immediately start working on ways to motivate people in the future.  Social capital is remarkably valuable, and also remarkably easy to come by on the internet.  So long as you have a critical mass of users who are participating, others start paying attention.

And using online social capital to get out the vote is one thing, but it still doesn’t answer a fundamental question: how do we reenfranchise the disenfranchised?  What about the voters in Ypsi Township, in Detroit, in Miami-Dade County?

Where I Fit in the “Academic Industrial Complex”

While I’m busy filling out graduate school applications and trying to figure out what I’m going to do for the rest of my life, I couldn’t help but stop and think about the furor over Dr. Andrea Smith‘s negative tenure review in February of this year.  Both students and faculty here raised quite a ruckus about the Women’s Studies department’s decision to vote down her tenure bid.

I know that what I want to do with my life involves academia.  This is my home, for sure.  Being able to just be around such a wide variety of experts provides a constant stream of information and inspiration.  I love the University of Michigan, and I love the idea of being in a social milieu like the one I’ve found in Ann Arbor.  (Okay, maybe not exactly like Ann Arbor, but similar.  Maybe in a bigger city?)

The thing of it is, I’m already heading down the road toward being a professional academic.  My focus for my bachelor’s degree is philosophy of language — largely esoterica nobody else is really interested in outside of other philosophers of language and some linguists and maybe some computer scientists.  I want to do research, and I love to write.  I’ll also go ahead and claim that I’ve been well-trained in academic writing.

The problem is, I’m a transgender person of color.  Tenure committees generally work behind closed doors.  If Dr. Smith, who is arguably one of the most distinguished members of the academic community who happens to be a woman of color, can be denied tenure at the University of Michigan, then what will become of me when I seek a tenure bid?  In a lot of ways it’s definitely too early to say.  I haven’t even been admitted as a graduate student anywhere.  Yet I can’t help but wonder if the university system is more or less forgiving than the “outside world.”

I’ve long argued that the places we say are “liberal havens” are only called that because they’re more liberal than the areas that surround them, but how much do we have to settle for?  I know it’s impracticaly to say I’ll settle for anything less than safety and support and acceptance into a community both professionally and socially, but I’m not sure I want to find myself a published faculty member whose tenure bid gets voted down for reasons that look suspiciously like genderism or racism.

At the same time, the world is changing really fast.  The fact that people are talking about this issue and questioned the judgment of the Women’s Studies department for denying Dr. Smith tenure bodes well for the future.  Maybe by the time I make a tenure bid, it’ll be a non-issue.  A guy can hope, right?

The Language of Equality, Part I: What Makes an Agent?

Today, Laine told me a story about sitting on a bus to Ypsi in rush hour.  The bus was packed — 52 people, mostly poorer students or hourly-wage workers who live paycheck-to-paycheck.  En route, a BMW roadster decided to make an illegal U-turn and was clipped by the bus.  There was minimal damage to the BMW’s front bumper, but the straight, white, wealthy couple in the car flipped a shit.  Though the bus was packed with people on their way home from work, and the BMW just suffered cosmetic damage, the couple demanded the bus stay and wait until police arrived so each passenger could testify as a witness to the accident, ostensibly so the couple could get legal and financial reimbursement for their sufferings.

The situation these people were in is very interesting.  Clearly, the upper-class white couple saw it as their entitlement to get testimony from witnesses so that they could get insurance money for the damaged bumper.  It’s not as though this isn’t uncalled for: I’ve exchanged insurance information with people in fender-benders where neither vehicle nor occupants suffered any visible damage, just in case.  The bus passengers weren’t so interested in the outcome, of course, and I can imagine more than one sighing and rolling their eyes at the insistence on police reports.  But interestingly enough, it wasn’t the bus passengers who lost their cool being delayed on their way home after a long day of work.  It was the BMW driver and his partner.

It’s surprising, as Laine pointed out, that two people could feel so much entitlement that they would hold up overy fifty others on their way home to partners, possibly children, dinner, and hard-earned relaxation.  I pointed out that the passengers on the bus, being members of oppressed groups in society, probably didn’t see it as their entitlement to take matters into their own hands and demand to be taken to their stops.  She pointed out that it was weird that the people who had control in the situation, though, decided to flip out instead of keeping their cool and dealing with the situation like adults, whereas the bus passengers chose not to show any sense of feeling wronged when their bus home was delayed for nearly an hour for the police to arrive and take testimony.

I don’t think this is the case.  I think that calling groups with privilege and power in society agents is a misnomer: the rich couple in the BMW had just as little choice in their reaction to the situation as the bus passengers.  To the point, they expect — and are expected to — react to situations like that with a sense of entitlement, a sense of self-righteousness, and the know-how to get what they want out of others, especially members of oppressed groups.  They don’t have the agency implied by the name.  They are not making or doing anything: in fact, their not-making and not-doing is characteristic of their social privilege.  Certainly there is an extent to which they have the “choice” to change their actions and stand up against the unjust expectations of society and act like adults, but there isn’t as much of a choice in the fact they’ve been socialized to react that way, and that their experiences may be limited just to an upper-class, straight, white one.

My point is this: I think that calling social groups that have privilege and power agents is misleading, and blames them for their lack of experience and socialization.  This isn’t to say that they shouldn’t be held accountable in these situations to realize that they are not the only stakeholders in an outcome, nor are they the only ones affected by their decisions.  But it’s hard to hold someone accountable even to know what they don’t know when their experience is limited just to their social identities.  Largely groups that hold a great deal of privilege are very insular.  I want to argue that they don’t have any actual agency in this situation, and others like it.

Attribution of fault is different from holding individuals accountable.  There is no reason to attribute fault to these specific individuals, but we can and should hold them accountable.  Their reactions in this story were clearly self-involved and rooted in a privileged-class sense of entitlement for the world to pause and take care of them.  Unfortunately, I doubt that without anybody pointing this out to them, the couple in this story didn’t learn anything about the effects of their actions other than getting an insurance settlement to have their bumper repaired.