Solidarity post-Prop 8 by Ornaith O'Dowd, NYC

I have been both encouraged and disturbed by the activism that has followed the passing of anti-gay ballot measures on November 4th: encouraged because of the energy and engagement that have brought thousands on to the streets in support of equality but disturbed by the all-too-vocal minority of my fellow queers that has scapegoated African-Americans for the California result. This type of discourse is precisely what the gay rights movement needs to disavow if it is to succeed. Indeed, all progressive social movements have something important to learn from these post-November 4th debates.

Because of one exit poll, which showed that African-Americans had supported Prop 8 by a larger margin than other ethnic/racial groups, some white gay people began blaming them for the vote, berating them for failing to support what many see as this generation's greatest civil rights struggle. Why, this segment of white gay opinion demanded, can't "they" identify with "our" struggle when "they" were denied civil rights for so long and had to fight so hard for them?

Explaining all that is wrong with this sort of statement may be a useful exercise in self-examination for the gay rights movement.

First, we should be wary of basing a political analysis on one piece of polling data. African-Americans make up something like 6% of California's population, making it far-fetched numerically as well as politically to place so much blame on them, and exit polls, while sometimes useful, are hardly unimpeachable sources of certainty. Lest we forget, majorities-- albeit slimmer ones-- of other ethnic groups supported Prop 8; in any case, why see race or ethnicity as the more relevant way to "cut" the results? Why not focus on age, sex, religious affiliation, economic status, or other indicators? Moreover, California was not the only state to pass an anti-gay ballot measure on November 4th; although it is understandable that particular attention is given to that result since it was more surprising--- and given that same-sex marriages had already taken place there-- the result is only one part of a broader picture. In Arkansas, with an 84% white electorate according to CNN's exit poll, a ballot measure banning gay couples from adopting children passed with a solid majority. According to this poll, the state has a higher proportion of African-American voters, and the anti-gay measure won more narrowly among them than among whites. But nobody talked about that.

Second, those engaging in scapegoating seem to forget that some African-Americans are gay, and some gay folks are African-American. It may sound silly to have to point this out, but some of the discourse floating around the "blogosphere" and, sadly, beyond suggests that all too many simply do not-- or will not-- recognize this. Why can't "they" identify with "our" struggle? Well, some of "them" are us!

Part of the problem is that the gay community and the gay rights movement have become identified with economically privileged white men. This has had the double effect of marginalizing those of us in the gay community who are not economically privileged white men while also rendering attempts to cast the gay rights struggle as a civil rights struggle not only implausible but quite possibly offensive. While economically privileged white gay men are of course as entitled to press for equal rights as anyone else, I imagine many African-Americans might find it rather hard to take suggestions that they have a common experience and common struggle (especially given the deep-rooted, systematic racism that continues to pervade U.S. society). I am not suggesting that these men should stop participating in the struggle for gay rights, but I think it is a good time to ask why that struggle is not-- or at least is not perceived to be-- diverse and inclusive, and it is a good time to ask how this struggle fits with other movements fighting against inequality, injustice, and oppression.

There was some disbelief among white queers that their vote for Barack Obama was not "reciprocated" in the Prop 8 votes of African-Americans. Unfortunately solidarity is not always so easy, so "instant." If all marginalized groups in U.S. society-- women, people of color, immigrants, the working class-- had voted out of solidarity with all other marginalized groups on November 4th, we would have had dramatically different results: Cynthia McKinney would probably be picking her cabinet as I write! It cannot, therefore, be any surprise that these groups did not "rescue" gay rights. Although many queers of all colors and classes have been active participants in a wide range of social justice struggles, the most powerful gay rights organizations seem more focused on running celebrity-studded awards galas and sending out credit card offers than on fighting oppression on all fronts. There has been a tendency toward "mainstreaming" gay rights issues: that is, removing them from any kind of radical political context and casting them as rights to assimilate. Such a strategy seems to suggest that, as soon as formal equality for LGBT people is achieved, we will retreat behind our picket fences and avoid any disruption to the status quo. Given the dominance of this sort of gay rights politics-- at least in public perception-- people fighting against racism or classism might well ask why they should stand with the LGBT community when there is reason to doubt that the LGBT community will stand with them in their struggles.
The gay rights movement needs to be radical again; its center of gravity should be the streets, not the boardrooms of "gay friendly" corporations, and its mission should be justice for all and an end to all oppression, to the very idea of relations of domination. This means not only acting in solidarity with other communities but looking at its own agenda: for many queers, protection from job discrimination and hate crimes may be just as urgent as the fight for mariage rights (indispensable though they are).

Of course, solidarity should go both ways; homophobia ought to be vigorously challenged in every community. This will surely involve some difficult conversations. The claim that the gay rights struggle is a civil rights struggle is sometimes met with skepticism and even annoyance in the African-American community. Although I think the gay rights are indeed civil rights, I think it is a worthwhile conversation to have. It seems to me that the objections to the comparison with the civil rights struggle of African-Americans are of two main kinds: (1) it is wrong to compare the two because LGBTs have not suffered the same pain as African-Americans and (2) it is wrong to compare the two because gay people can "pass" and African-Americans (mostly) cannot. (Of course there some object to the comparison for purely homophobic reasons, but this is not as interesting a claim.)

With respect to (1), it should be emphasized that it is one thing to compare and another to equate. I think it is true that the pain suffered by African-Americans has few parallels in human history in terms of its sheer scale. This unique history and experience should be honored. Nevertheless, the comparison with gay rights is valid, since there are highly relevant similarities. No-one should be denied civil rights for morally arbitrary reasons (e.g. race or sexual orientation). On this point, a short anecdote: when teaching an undergraduate class on privilege and discrimination, I found that students who at first resisted the comparison of racism and homophobia often changed their perspective after I shared with them some every-day examples of discrimination and lack of privilege that gay people face. Whether it is because of race or (perceived) sexual orientation, it is simply a painful human experience to be stared at, mocked, verbally harrassed, threatened, or assaulted by people who hate you for being part of a stigmatized minority. None of this should be taken to underestimate the extraordinary pervasiveness of racism in our society-- a fact that white privilege tends to obscure for many of us.

With respect to (2), the simple answer is that gay people should not have to "pass" in order to be treated fairly. It is useful, though, to pursue this kind of objection, perhaps with the following thought experiment: suppose there is a reliable and simple method through which an African-American can appear "white." Should any African-American be told to use this method to escape racism rather than pursuing and end to racism? Obviously not.

These are simple arguments, with which I doubt many readers of this blog will disagree, but my aim in airing them here has been to point out that these conversations do not seem to be happening often enough. Without them-- uncomfortable as they may be-- solidarity among all groups fighting for justice and equality will remain something of a chimera.