Recent commentaries from Sierra Mannie and Steve Friess and the surrounding dialog around their posts motivated me to write this piece.
Thoughts On Privilege, Queerness, Gender, And Non-Conformity by Kyle Leach
It took a long time to get here. To me. Kyle. The name I chose to define myself by. Equal parts male and female. It has good weight when it needs to, but trips off of tongues easily enough. Husband, friend, ally, artist, writer, poet, gardener, community activist are some of the labels that seem to fit me best, but when I look at them collected together they look more like a cubist portrait than a photo. They are accurate, but they are not. Some I'm very good at, some not so much and there are many other things in between that help define who I am. Most of those parts were found by trial and error, though some were innate.
Sometimes I don't think I've gotten very far in figuring out who I am and what I'm supposed to be doing. It feels like there is so much unexplored territory. Those days are oppressive and painful. Uncertainty is discomforting and elusive. It picks at you where you are most vulnerable, like a mosquito and it is long gone by the time the welt begins to itch. Other days I feel like everything is crystal clear and that nothing can stop me, because I'm me. After shedding off expectations and deflecting barbed attacks for decades, I think I've found who I am and how to make happiness. I think I've been able to do that for the most part without harming others or taking their power. I don't know how those competing, complimentary parts of me came to be, but here we are. I am what I am and I'm certainly my own special creation.
Being a white southerner means you have privilege. Being from old white southern family means you have more. It also means you are influenced heavily by misogyny, race, homophobia, and xenophobia until you start to fight that. That's where I could have started. Fortunately, in my case my predisposition toward reason and compassion meant I questioned everything(sorry mom and dad) from the beginning and I had some people around me who let me question. Being different became a part of who I was, even if at the time it was very hard to live through and for half my life I felt the need to hide my uniqueness. What privilege I do hold, I work to expend to empower others on the planet. It wasn't mine to keep. Privilege is best spent on others. It is best spent until no one has any. We have a long way to on that.
Some of my proudest moments and some of my most hurtful surround my non-conformity. Learning that I liked being a boy who liked boys. Learning to reject social gender roles. Learning what having a queer identity meant. Finding that I didn't believe in gods or goddesses. Becoming an environmentalist. Adopting vegetarianism. Backing animal rights. Rejecting war as a solution to anything. Figuring out I was an Uber-Liberal. Discovering the joys of Wiccan philosophy. Embracing secular humanism. Being comfortable with my own body. That's still one of the hardest. It's always changing. Even with the hardship, learning who I am moves me forward. Unfortunately, it also isolates me sometimes. I have had very few friends in my life and I've never felt acceptance from others or part of any group at all. Being different means people fear you. They can't label you. They can't identify you. They can't figure out how you fit with them. But I'm responsible for building the bridges and making the connection to other people even if they don't. I know better. I have to be better. I have to stop the fear before it starts.
Sierra Mannie and Steve Friess' stories both tell us how vulnerable we still are, how fragile our alliances can be and how much of the dignity and respect we give each other is lip service with very little changing underneath. Each of their journeys has equal value. I see where I share parts of our journeys. I'm sad to see both cling to the safety of exclusive numbers; no safety can exist there. It is a construct meant to keep us divided. Pieces of the fiefdoms they write from are valid and completely true. I will not diminish anyone's right to say things from their perspective and choose their voice. Other parts of their commentaries are draped in vanity and pride and neither really looks beyond their own circumstances. They see the pieces of tile around them, but fail to see how they are both part of the same artwork and how taking a hammer to one tile diminishes the entire body of work. It damages the very future of that very beautiful, human mosaic.
I guess what I'm saying is that Sierra Mannie and Steve Friess and the groups their labels represent have more things that should be bringing them together, than separate them, even though they are quite different human beings. They are both looking to be equal, both looking to be respected, both looking to be accepted, both looking to be a part of something greater, both are eager to have tell their stories. They seem to have found themselves, but I hope they figure out what they are to each other. I hope they can drop some of the judgement and think about how hard it was for them to struggle to where they are now and apply that to those who are still intensely in that struggle. The finger pointing and accusations don't help any of us.
I think we have to define our relationships with privilege, gender, race, and queerness with a much broader focus. I hope we can stop linking gender identity and gender roles to genitalia. I hope we can learn that we really have very little to fear from one another. We can be each others' strength if we let that happen. I hope we can figure out we need help from one another and we all can help each other grow. That's really what this is about- growing, changing, becoming better human beings. Letting labels and constructs get in the way of that is the real misfortune here, because it is exactly what those who would like to see us suffer and turn on each other hope to accomplish and then we all lose.