Beyond the Queer Alphabet by Malinda
 Smith
 and 
Fatima 
Jaffer
 - HTML preview

PLEASE NOTE: This is an HTML preview only and some elements such as links or page numbers may be incorrect.
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.

Post-Secondary Education and

Queer Student Engagement in Canada

Rachael Sullivan, University of  British Columbia

At  the  recent  ‘We  Demand:  History/Sex/Activism  in  Canada’286  conference,  I  was  struck  by  the centrality  of  post-secondary  education,  and  specifically  university  and  college  campuses,  in  the recollections  of  prominent  queer  activists.  The  contributors  to  the  conference’s  opening  plenary included   Ron   Dutton   of    BC   Gay   and   Lesbian   Archives;   barbara   findlay,   a   prominent Vancouver  lawyer;  Janine  Fuller,  manager  of  Little  Sister’s  Bookstore;  Amy  Gottlieb,  a  Toronto- based educator and photographer; and Gary Kinsman, a professor at Laurentian University. In each account, these activists connected their early involvement in a wide range of  social movements in the  late  1960’s  and  early  1970’s  –  the  peace  movement,  women’s  liberation  movement,   student activism,   gay  and  lesbian  liberation  –  to  a  college  or  university  campus.  It  was  clear  from  their testimonies that these spaces had provided a crucial site where they could engage in radical thinking and activism, as well as explore issues of  identity, sexuality, and desire.

I wonder if  post-secondary education can still play an important role in the exploration of  queer desires,  political  identification(s),  and  activist  possibilities.    Some  people  feel  that  colleges  and universities have lost their central role in cultivating radical politics. At the end of  the conference, a volunteer,  Ivan  Drury,  noted:287   “We’re  at  a  crisis  where  political  radicals  among  students  are probably at a historic low right now … Professors are largely more radical than their students. It should really be the other way around.” Drury’s dismay lies in the perceived apathy of  students to ‘get  involved’  in  political  and  social  justice  activism  on  campus.  The  current  perception  is  that students accept the status-quo without considering how they might want to and can change their university  into  one  that  is  more  inclusive  and  aware  of  LGBTQI2-S  issues.  In  fact,  LGBTQI2-S students  could  become  some  of  our  greatest  leaders,  if  they  are  given  the  right  tools,  skills,  and opportunities.

Today, a post-secondary education is recognized as important for personal development, as well as for  future  employment  and  career  opportunities.  Without  encouragement  and  the  opportunity  to reflect on how the university and its resources could better meet the needs of  LGBTQI2-S students, it  is  easy  for  students  (myself  included)  to  get  caught  up  in  the  construction  of  post-secondary education as a means to an end for employment and income security. We need a critical reflection that  engages  with  how  universities  and  colleges  can  (again)  be  sites  for  citizenship  and  political engagement, rather than sites solely for academic training and accreditation. Consequently, I want to consider the role that post-secondary education and campuses play in LGBTQI2-S students’ lives and the potential that these sites might serve in the (re)making of  radical queer students and citizens.

Perhaps  the  crisis  described  by  Drury  is  reflective  of  the  ways  in  which  LGBTQI2-S  needs  have changed  over  time.  Today,  many  universities  and  colleges  provide  resources  for  LGBTQI2-S students,  including,  amongst  others,  educational  resources,  visibility  campaigns,  administrative offices, and student groups that focus on issues of  gender and sexual diversity.  In many ways these resources  have  become  the  hallmark  of  hard  won  fights  based  on  the  concerns  raised  by  queer students, staff, and faculty, predominantly students over the last 40 years. The aim has been to make university and college campuses ‘safe’ and more welcoming through equity and accessibility policies. While  it  is  important  to  recognize  that  these  policies  have  had  a  positive  impact,  how  do  they translate  to  the  actual  lived  experiences  of  LGBTQI2-S?  When  we  talk  about  making  campuses ‘safe,’ whose safety are we considering, and within which spaces?

286  We Demand. (2011). History/Sex/Activism in Canada. Retrieved from http://ocs.sfu.ca/history/index.php/ wedemand/2011

287  Di Mera, M. (2011, August 31). Sex Activism in Canada. Xtra!. Retrieved from http://www.xtra.ca/public/ Vancouver/Sex_activism_in_Canada-10688.aspx



My doctoral research tackles some of  these questions by exploring how queer students understand and  engage  with  a  Canadian  university  campus  –  in  this  case  the  University  of  British  Columbia (UBC)  –  as  a  ‘safe’  space.  Through  these  interviews  I  found  that  all  of  the  students  interviewed identified  at  least  one  place  on  campus  that  they  felt  was  queer  welcoming  or  friendly,  many  of which were student services and administrative spaces. This suggests that these UBC administrative and student services units have done a good job of  establishing a welcoming environment for queer students  by  educating  their  staff  and  making  sexual  and  gender  diversity  issues  visible  in  these spaces. And, yet, half  of  the participants identified spaces that they would avoid on campus, which included some residential and social spaces. This strongly suggests that there is still work to be done on campus.

Understandably, students might be reluctant to raise questions or concerns when they and university administrators can point to the resources that are already provided. Perhaps the question that needs to be asked is this: Are the current resources meeting the needs of  all LGBTQI2-S students at UBC or across Canadian post-secondary institutions in general?   In my interviews I asked students what they would like to see changed across campus. Many had little to say, often stating that they had not had a chance to think about it. Perhaps it is because they had not been asked; to a certain extent, they may have been taught to be grateful for the resources that are available, rather than being taught to ask questions about the limits of  their campus. In this sense I believe, radical activism, and more specifically radical queer activism, starts with learning to ask questions. Post-secondary education is a time and a place for developing critical thinking skills which are important for political engagement and activism.

Although equity and access policies have altered university and college campuses, it has also created an  expectation  of  inclusion  for  marginal  students,  staff  and  faculty.  But  I  want  more  than  safe spaces and inclusion. I would like to believe that university and college campuses have the potential to become (again) the training ground for radical queers, where LGBTQI2-S students can engage with radical ideas about what queer experiences and lives could look like both on and off  campus, rather than lives uncritically shaped by conventions and conformity. There is still work to be done. For instance, homophobic and transphobic hostility remains a threat both on and off  campus and the imposition of  gendered and sexualized violence is a reality that students face across Canadian campuses. While there are no easy answers to these issues, I believe that universities and colleges can provide  students,  especially  LGBTQI2-S  students,  with  the  tools  for  awareness  and  radical engagement.

To extend our understanding of  the complexity of  LGBTQI2-S issues, we might consider questions that still need to be asked, including how are the needs of  queers of  colour, queers with disabilities, trans,  intersex,  and  Two-Spirit  students  being  identified  and  met  by  the  university?  Are  issues  of intersectionality being raised? And how do we deal with the complicated realities of  LGBTQI2-S lives both on and off  campus? Students need to be encouraged to think about these questions, and to  pose  their  own.  In  fact,  students  need  to  learn  how  to  connect  issues  of  sexual  and  gender diversity to other issues of  marginalization, and then be able to translate their critical questioning and  activist  skills  to  their  lived  realities,  while  also  understanding  how  change  can  actually  be achieved. This is the potential and possibility that post-secondary education and campuses offer our LGBTQI2-S youth.

It is my hope and goal to help students become (re)politicized through engaging with the questions above,  perhaps  not  solely  for  themselves,  but  also  for  those  whose  relationship  to  power  and opportunity  is  even  more  tenuous.  For  me,  this  means  providing  the  opportunity  and  space  for LGBTQI2-S  students  and  their  allies  to  be  critical  of  the  institution,  while  also  generating  new possibilities, creative solutions, and changing policies and resources on campuses.

It was only a generation ago that students were fighting for the right to organize, have a space on campus, and have issues of  sexuality and gender included in the curriculum. In many cases, these provisions  now  exist  across  Canadian  post-secondary  institutions  and,  yet,  there  is  still  room  for improvement. At this moment in time I fear we, as members of  university and college communities, risk complacency because there has been so much improvement in terms of  access and equity. The time for assimilation is over; not encouraging LGBTQI2-S students to ask hard questions of  their college  or  university  will  do  nothing  to  reverse  the  decline  in  queer  student  engagement  and activism.

We  need  to  think  critically  and  carefully  about  how  university  and  colleges  can  provide  a  rich opportunity  for  LGBTQI2-S  student  engagement.  The  crisis  outlined  by  Drury,  and  the  lack  of radical queer students, is too important to be dismissed by both queer scholar and activists.

26

How (not) to do Queer Studies in the classroom: Teaching to think beyond tolerance

Christopher Smith, University of  Toronto

In  the  fall  of  2010,  I  was  invited  by  the  Association  for  Media  Literacy  (AML)  to  facilitate  a workshop288  that explored the potential and fruitful relationship between Queer theory289  and media literacy. Understanding that queer theory can often be untranslatable outside of  a university setting, I sought  to  enable  future  secondary  school  teachers  to  conceive  of  an  anti-homophobic  pedagogy that was accessible to teens and also encouraged their students to think critically. In tandem I wanted to underscore that queer theory/studies is not an umbrella term that encapsulates scholarship that accounts  for  the  lives  and  histories  of  all  individuals  one  might  understand  as  being  lesbian,  gay, bisexual, etc. One must resist the desire for easy shorthand. Queer critique and theorizing as Natalie Oswin290    notes,  is  fundamentally  invested  in  “understanding  how  norms  and  categories  are deployed”  by  whom  and  for  what  purpose.  What  follows  is  a  series  of  critical  reflections  that emerged for me from that encounter.

The inspiration for the workshop was borne out of  a series of  moments in the months prior to it. The first provocation emerged from a random conversation with a long-time friend, now a teacher at our former junior high school. During a lunchtime chat it was revealed by my friend that teaching empathy  was  a  necessary  and  important  shift  in  the  Toronto  District  School  Board’s  mandate regarding equity. Intrigued, I pondered how a former, familiar pedagogical imperative of  teaching tolerance291  suddenly became an investment in engendering an affective relationship to social justice.

At the time, like many other folks, I was watching television programs such as Ugly Betty and later Glee, curious about the near-coincidental emergence of  narratives that focused on the lives of  self- identified gay-male youth. One could imagine that such a cultural moment signals a shift in societal views or opinions about sexual-orientation(s), perhaps even an example of  embracing tolerance as a successful means for confronting and resolving social conflict, as Malinda S Smith also queries in Queering  In/Equality.    Reminded  of  film  and  media  scholar  Kara  Keeling’s  caution  in  the  essay “Joining  The  Lesbians:  Cinematic  Regimes  of  Black  Lesbian  Visibility,”292   that  not  all  visibility  is inherently progressive, I was prompted to ask, what sort of  moment is this where gay male youth (in particular)  are  widely  represented?  Further,  why  is  it  that  the  experiences  we  are  invited  to  share primarily revolve around bearing witness to the degradation that bullying entails?

288  Queer Theory & Media Representations in the Classroom. (2010, October 23). Association MediaLit. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2izJUip0aQ

289  Queer Theory. (2005). Welcome to Queer Theory!. Retrieved from http://www.queertheory.com/default.htm

290  Oswin, N. (2008). Critical geographies and the uses of  sexuality: deconstructing queer space. Progress in Human Geography, 32 (1).

291  Teaching Tolerance. (n.d.). Home. Retrieved from http://www.tolerance.org/

292  Keeling, K. (2005).  “Joining the Lesbians:” Cinematic Regimes of  Black Lesbian Visibility. In E. P. Johnson & M.G. Henderson (Eds.), Black Queer Studies: A Critical Analogy. (213-227). Durham: Duke University Press.

Despite  the  different  narrative  trajectories  of  both  shows,  what  aligns  Glee  and  Ugly  Betty  is  the explicit  theme  that  educational  institutions  have  failed  these  youth.  Presuming  that  the  reader  is familiar  in  some  sense  with  the  narratives  I  am  referring  to,  the  profound  display  of  neglect  by educational administrators to create a safe environment for learning resonates as itself  a form of violence. Indeed, both of  these shows emerge within a heteropatriarchal regime of  representation and  visibility.  As  such,  an  archetypal  image  of   a  gay  male  youth  can  only  be  knowable  and represented  for  an  audience  if  they  are  enduring  such  trials  and  tribulations.  One  is  left  with  the question: Why is this the logical avenue to pursue? Further, is there an undisclosed pleasure in doing so? Do audiences, by virtue of  thinking that tolerance is their mandate, secretly relish in the violence displayed before them? Watching/engaging Glee can make you feel like a ‘good’ empathetic person, from a distance. One can say to himself  or herself  with ease “I would never treat someone else like that.”

After encountering the It Gets Better campaign that was then reaching a critical mass by the time of the workshop, my focus shifted to a series of  other related questions. Despite the well-intentioned gesture  of   empathy  by  primarily  elder  coupled  gay  men,  towards  LGBTQ  youth  enduring homophobic and transphobic violence, what might be the limitation of  this gesture?

Gerald Walton noted in this LGBTQI2-S series, “[n]ational surveys from GLSEN293  in the United States and Egale294  in Canada indicate that gender atypical youth are more likely to be the target of harassment  and  bullying  than  their  gender  typical  counterparts.”295    Similarly,  as  Melissa  Carrol suggests, the It Gets Better campaign “evidences a widespread lack of  political information, care, and sentiment  for  young  female  queers,  especially  those  deemed  unhappy.”296   In  addition  many  have highlighted  how  the  campaign  lacks  a  nuanced  understanding  of   how  queer  youth  of   colour negotiate  homophobia.  See  a  counter  response297    by  the  Embracing  Intersectional  Diversity Project298 led by Tomee Sojourner as an example.

It  is  not  my  goal  to  revise  these  assessments,  much  of  which  I  am  in  agreement  with.  However, while I concur with many of  the critiques circulating in the blogosphere, the elision of  ‘race’ in this conversation is striking.

293  Gay, Lesbian & Straight Education Network. (2012). 2009 National School Climate Survey: Nearly 9 out of  10 LGBT Student Experience Harassment in School. Retrieved from  http://www.glsen.org/cgi-bin/iowa/all/library/record/ 2624.html

294  Eagle Canada. (2011). Youth Speak Up about Homophobia and Transphobia. Retrieved from http://www.egale.ca/? item=1401

295  Walton, G. (2011, November 30). LGBT Lessons (Not) learned: Dominant gender ideology as a basis for transpohobic and homophobic violence. [Blog Entry]. Retrieved from http://blog.fedcan.ca/2011/11/30/lgbt-lessons- not-learned-dominant-gender-ideology-as-a-basis-for-transphobic-and-homophobic-violence/#more-2095

296  Carroll, M. (2011, November 25). The L-Word: It’s not Getting Better For Lonely Young Lesbians. [Blog Entry]. Retrieved from http://blog.fedcan.ca/2011/11/25/the-l-word-it%E2%80%99s-not-getting-better-for-lonely-young- lesbians/#more-2091

297  tomeesojourner. (2010, October 10). I am Proff  That It Gets Better-Eid Project Campaign. Podcast retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a74XuJHzid8

298  Embracing Intersectional Diversity Project. (2011). In Tomee Sojourner. Retrieved from http:// www.tomeesojourner.com/Creative-Projects/creative-projects.html

Let’s consider for instance, the unfortunate suicide of  11-year old Carl Joseph Walker.299 Carl Walker an African-American youth became one of  many whose suicide would be noted and signalled to as further  evidence  that  schools  are  becoming  increasingly  hostile  environments  due  to  a  rise  in bullying.

Concurrently with the groundswell of  It Gets Better submissions, the material fact that young Carl Walker may have been encountering homophobia quite differently was overlooked. He was not an archetypal ‘out’ gay youth. As remembered by his mother Sirdeaner Walker, he was a sensitive, caring young boy.   In an interview with Oprah Winfrey300  shortly after young Carl’s demise, Ms. Walker disclosed that Carl had never declared any internal struggle with his sexual orientation to her. Many have probably presumed that an inability for Carl to disclose his ‘true’ self  was the cause for him taking  his  life.  That  might  be  a  serious  misstep.  I  was  moved  by  Ms.  Walker’s  insistence,  that  he would have been loved regardless if  he were to, as we say, “come out.”

If  we take this moment seriously, however, the challenge before us is to critically assess whom we imagine  and  seek  to  address  in  anti-homophobia  campaigns,  as  well  as  our  pedagogy.  The experiences of  young Carl Walker suggested to me that homophobia was ever present in his daily life, and yet we can also infer that much of  this had little to do with his ‘actual’ experience of  his sexual orientation. As a result, black students like Carl Walker might not garner any solace, and are not addressed in the notion (however well intentioned) that “it gets better.”

As has been noted in the recent study conducted by Egale “Every Class in Every School, Egale’s Final Report  on  Homophobia,  Biphobia,  and  Transphobia  in  Canadian  Schools301    an  increasing  number  of students are encountering homophobia due to their ‘perceived’ sexual orientation. According to the final report, “10 percent of  non-LGBTQ students reported being physically harassed or assaulted about their perceived sexual orientation or gender identity.”

This empirical fact illustrates in part that experience of  intolerance (in particular homophobia) by youth  happen  in  complex  ways.  In  tandem  with  the  heteropatriarchal  assumptions  about  sexual orientation   and   gender   performance   students   confront,   we   might   also   consider   how   such assumptions are deeply racialized from the outset. Such a consideration does not necessarily mean adapting previously existing modes of  inquiry so that they become ‘inclusive’ of  the experiences of queer youth of  colour, as some might infer. Rather, we might ask for instance, in what world does a sensitive black male youth (such as Carl Walker) become a target of  homophobia? What limited (and racist) assumptions of  and about black masculinity informed such hostile aggression?

In such a circumstance what is revealed from the outset is that many students who are interpolated as ‘queer’302 for gender non-conformity are also perceived to be in breach of  normative racial/racist codes  of  masculinity/femininity.  Further,  it  illustrates  to  us  that  racism  and  homophobia  often operate in tandem to command particular performances of  gender by youth of  colour.

299  Donaldson James, S. (2009, April 14). What Words Can Kill: ‘That’s So Gay.’ ABC  News. Retrieved from http://  abcnews.go.com/Health/MindMoodNews/story?id=7328091#.T1E1hfU4iSp

300  The Oprah Winfrey Show. (2009, May 6). The Truth About Bullying. Retrieved from http://www.oprah.com/ relationships/School-Bullying/3

301  Taylor, C. & Peter, T., with McMinn, T.L., Elliott, T., Beldom, S., Ferry, A., Gross, Z., Paquin, S., & Schachter, K. (2011). Every class in every school: The first national climate survey on homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia in Canadian schools. Final Report. Toronto, ON: Egale Canada Human Rights Trust.

302  Ward, J. (2008). Respectably Queer: Diversity Culture in LGTBQ Activist Organizations. (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press).

To pose such questions then is to take a queer pedagogy beyond the presumption that the purpose of  our  intervention  is  solely  to  create  safer  educational  settings  for  sexual-minorities,  and  gender outlaws. As Sirma Bilge has posited, ‘queer’ must be understood as a political metaphor without a predetermined referent that serves to challenge institutional forces normalizing and commodifying difference.” 303

Akin to what Bilge proposes as a “queer intersectionality” approach, in the workshop, I sought to engender a critical space where we could discuss how multiple systems of  domination shape media representations, how they eventually circulate, and how they are consumed.   A queer pedagogical approach as I imagined it at the time, might engage media literacy beyond enabling students with the skills  to  decipher  representations.  Rather,  in  expanding  what  we  imagine  as  ‘literacy,’  media representations  became  a  site  where  students  could  acquire  the  critical  tools  to  assess  cultural phenomena such as Glee or It Gets Better, within their broader sociological context.

In the end, I am left with the understanding that much work is still needed on this front. We must be able  to  account  for  those  lives  that  seemingly  fall  outside  of  our  frame  of  inquiry.  We  must  be willing  to  also  ‘queer’  ourselves,  as  we  encourage  others  to  be  critical  of  the  society  they  are inheriting.

303  Bilge, S. (2011, October 18). Developing Intersectional Solidarities: Plea for Queer Intersectionality. [Blog entry]. Retrieved from http://blog.fedcan.ca/2011/10/18/developing-intersectional-solidarities-a-plea-for-queer- intersectionality/