“Nope, no peace & love, man” – Thoughts on Transphobia, Part 1

When I was in high school back in the mid to late 1990s, a particular version of the “culture war” was at its height. While abortion was certainly a big part of it, to kids in high school that issue was usually remote. Gay people, on the other hand, were a thing any teenager could fixate on with ease. After all, this involved a type of people, people who might be anywhere, including at school.     The exact timing of the event I want to describe is a little dim in my mind, but the details are pretty fresh, even after so many years.  I was with a friend in the cafeteria, although the term “friend” may be a bit of a stretch but we were in a class together, didn’t know anyone else, were willing to talk to each other, so we did. He was a year behind me but, as often happened, I felt like I was playing second banana. Anyway, he was a sweet kid, and I suppose I was too so we got along. But that day, he started making a lot of homophobic jokes. To be clear, he was not directing them at me; he was talking about people he’d seen on TV. The jokes weren’t exceptionally crude or hateful, but they were pretty mean nonetheless. My teenage self being a good liberal (yuck!), I made some sort of critical remark. It was stirring stuff, along the lines of “I don’t have a problem with gay people; what’s the big deal?” My friend did not become angry or visibly annoyed. In fact, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged, the implication being “Yeah, yeah, I know.” But then his face changed; it had occurred to him. “You’re not gay, are you?” he asked. The curious thing about this is that I’m fairly certain it was not about to turn into the harrowing tale of homophobic rage many might be expecting. (Not that such things didn’t go on at my high school, like the guy I overheard saying that, if he had a gay son, he would personally kill him or the one who said he would grant gay people a last chance to repent before burning them alive.) No, my friend wasn’t threatening or even afraid. His demeanor and tone suggested nervous embarrassment. I half expected him to say “Oh shit!” and mumble some sort of apology. Nevertheless, I certainly wasn’t taking any chances. “No. No, I’m not.” “Good,” he said, nodding, normality instantly restored. That “good” probably comes off horribly but, again, I read it more as “I’m glad we don’t have to talk about this” than “I’m glad you’re not gay.” Of course, I had no way of knowing what would have happened if I’d told the truth and admitted I was gay, and I really didn’t want to find out. I didn’t get involved. The heat of the 90s culture wars was not for me; I didn’t have that kind of backbone so I just hid in my room. Not much has changed for me over the years; I’m out as a gay man now, but effectively celibate and not particularly engaged with any of the culture wars’ current iteration. I’ve just never had the guts for that kind of thing. But those very wars, I’ve observed, have changed in some dramatic ways that my experience tells me to be very disturbed about. Of course, homophobia still exists, and gay men, lesbians, and bisexuals continue to face discrimination and far worse. However, at least in the context of the United States I think it would be hard to deny that opposition to gay rights has suffered multiple, welcome blows in recent years. “Polite” homophobia, of the type that was so common in the 90s and early 2000s, is frequently called out and swiftly condemned nowadays. In numerous circles, any questioning of gay rights is a massive taboo, and it’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone questioning that, including the most sharply “contrarian” types. Even when right-wingers evoke homophobia, it’s hard to miss the rattle of the perfunctory in their voices. Openly gay reactionaries have emerged and been embraced, even celebrated, by their movement. Some see this as cause for celebration; personally, it gives me intense stomach pains but it’s notable nonetheless. It doesn’t seem controversial to assert that the debate over the rights of transgender, non-binary, genderqueer and etc. people (I’m going to use the term “trans” from now on purely for convenience) has more or less replaced the societal niche once held by the debate over the rights of gay men, lesbians, and bisexuals. I’m not primarily concerned here with hardcore transphobes or the large numbers of people who probably unthinkingly engage in forms of transphobia but would not define themselves as hateful towards trans people.  I want to discuss two somewhat harder to pin down issues that come up in the discussion of trans rights and consider what they mean for the Left’s quest for a better world. In a later piece, I’ll delve into the matter of being “normal” but here I want to at least begin a discussion of a pernicious tendency that I like to call “peace & love, man.” My term for that issue comes from an experience late last year.  I shared a video which criticized one of Harry Potter author J. K. Rowling’s transphobic screeds and my post got an interesting comment from the husband of an old friend.  His tone was friendly but condescending.  He frequently addressed me as “man” and “my friend,” in the way one might lecture a teenager or a younger brother.  We’re the same age but, to be fair, I don’t wear a beard.  Despite the tone, he was gently taking me to task for what he saw as my cruelty to Rowling and the people who agree with her bigotry.  People have their opinions, man.  Live and let live, man.  Make light in the darkness, dude.  Different strokes for different folks; that’s life, my friend.  Harmony not hatred, man!  What we need is peace & love…man.   My response to this garbage was poor.  However, in my defense, I felt something I only partly understood then, namely the bizarre misread of power relationships at work in what this person was saying.  Trans people are far more likely to experience homelessness, hate crimes, sexual violence, and etc. than the general population.  Entire political movements have dedicated themselves to making trans rights a cultural wedge issue, while mainstream political allies of trans people are often cagey at best.  All of this comes on top of centuries of persecution and mockery of gender non-conforming people.  These facts would seem to make the idea of trans people and their friends as tyrannical oppressors somewhat risible.   But of course, things have changed.  Trans people are much more visible than they’ve ever been and they’ve built a movement that is beginning to promote their interests.  Culturally, certain small but growing circles have made acceptance of trans people an orthodoxy.  This closely mimics what happened with gay people 20 years ago, especially in two particular ways.  First, it is a model for how a previously unquestioned prejudice slowly becomes anathema.  Second, it comes with a degree of shrill stridency that should be very familiar to any gay person in the early 2000s who failed to show sufficient deference to mind-numbing queer theorists.  This can be a very unfortunate development and it needs critique, but it’s also inevitable when an oppressed group emerges from the shadows and longstanding rules start getting rewritten. And it’s pretty outrageous to suggest that such errors justify the original oppression.  It becomes bad comedy when the argument is made that trans people, who as a community, have little influence beyond moral persuasion, have somehow taken on the role of oppressors by having the gall to request justice.  And this is exactly what my “peace & love” debating partner, and others like him, believe.  For all the hollow talk of harmony, they see trans people attempting to pull the jackboot from their chests and they sadly shake their heads over the “strife.”  They never seem to think about how the strife began, or where the responsibility truly lies.  To them, the power of the majority over the minority is “just life, man” but the minority rising to its feet is “kinda mean, dude.” They lecture people struggling to rise about manners and decorum but don’t have anything to say to those keeping them down in the first place. When confronting “peace & love, man” types, I urge anyone reading to remember something: they thrive on faking a kind of sublime disinterest, but that is merely an attempt at masking their belief that trans people need to behave themselves, like good little freaks. You gain nothing from tiptoeing around with these people.  Rip the sunglasses from their heads early and tell them sharply: “Nope, no peace & love, man.”  If you’re in a more constructive mood, you might follow with: “You really want peace & love, man?  It’s very simple. Lay down your arms.”