Manifesto #queer

To be completely honest, I have many reservations about creating a queer manifesto because of the simple fact that a single definition of queerness can never speak entirely for an individual who identifies as queer. And, as we've seen in some of our recent readings, queerness, as a single umbrella term, is constantly changing and readjusting to those individuals who fall under its protection. With that said, I think creating a queer manifesto could be really interesting because it would create a sort-of stepping stone to be looked back on in the eyes of historians.

If I were to compose a queer manifesto, I would do my best to incorporate elements of personal narrative into definitions of queerness because I believe that although definitions are helpful, rarely do individuals fit into a single category or definition. I believe that this method would be highly beneficial to creating a relatable manifesto where individuals, both queer and non-queer could come together in order to learn about one another. By providing a history of terms and definitions, I could provide an avenue through which the evolution of queerness could be expressed.

Also, as we've seen from some of our recent readings, I would want to vitalize queer narratives from successful and well-known individuals in society today in order to create a relatable and safe environment for non-queer individuals to become enlightened about queer individuals. The fact of the matter is that regardless of one's heterosexism, Ellen Degeneres and Neil Patrick Harris will always be relatable through their success and comedy. In providing relevant examples from today's popular culture, I would hope to create a queer manifesto that simultaneously enlightens non-queers and comforts queers.

Queer Manifesto

If I were to write a queer manifesto today, it would be very important for me to make it inclusive for the entirety of the queer umbrella. The manifesto would need to include all sexual identities, such as homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, etc, as well as gender identities be them trans*, gender fluid, or any location on the gender spectrum. It is very important for the queer community to be open and available for those who need or are searching for assistance in their identity or lives. There are many instances within the queer community today of prejudice against certain queer groups (trans*phobia being a good example) that need to be addressed by the community as a whole. It does no good to fight against homophobia if it doesn't help other members of the queer community.

            This connects a lot with a topic my brother has been looking into, the way that people in the queer community can be very misogynistic and trans*phobic, and feel that because of their queer identity it is ok for them to do so (an example being Perez Hilton). It is important to look at this and address it because it can be very damaging for queer people, and coming from within their own community which should be a safe space for them. 

Manifesto

If I had to write my own contemporary manifesto about LGBT, queer, or sexual issues I would include what it means to fall into that category. This is so because a lot of people are still struggling to find out who they are and sometimes they go through really confusing parts of their lives where they just do not know what category they really fit into. But then I would go into how since they are people they do not belong into categories and just because your sexual orientation is a certain way that does not mean that they are not still an individual. Since they are an individual they should be treated as such.         Then I would talk about how everybody is a person and they should be treated as such. Part of treating a person as a person is to respect them enough to let them have their own feelings about who they are and not trying to change someone just because you do not agree. So because of both of those things I think I would try to have two different sections of the manifesto: the first section to people who are confused about who they are, and the second section would be for everyone to help them understand what being a good person should entail.         The format I would have in writing this manifesto would be one that did not have a lot of writing, maybe just some bullet points and a paragraph or two in each section. I would do it this way because not a lot of people are going to want to read something really long, and I would use this as a way to get the conversation going not just an ending point.

Internalized Homophobia

        If I were to write a contemporary manifesto related to LGBTQ issues it would be about internalized homophobia. I believe the subject of internalized homophobia is still rather new in the queer community even though it has been around since the beginning of queer history. It is a topic that is swept under the rug because as a progressive minority we don’t want to compare ourselves to people who are internalized racists. It is not only a difficult issue to think about, but most of us are unable to talk about it. What does it mean when we look at someone in our own culture and point out stereotypes about them that we do not want to be associated with? Because the outside world is plagued with labels about the queer community, how do we avoid labeling one another? It wasn’t until a year ago that the idea of internalized homophobia was introduced to me by my friend Jason. When he told me what is what and what it meant I immediately thought that it did not apply to me. As a person who continuously fights with society to break down what it means to be queer, how could I put my own culture in such a small box? As I began to think about myself and what the word lesbian was associated with, I began to unearth these feelings and resentments that had been building for years. I began to look at other lesbians, even my own partner, and see characteristics, that are commonly associated with lesbians, that I don’t want people to see in me. I believe that internalized homophobia is a major issue that the queer culture is avoiding and needs to be addressed in order to prevent negative labeling from within the queer community.

      I think it would be hard to connect and compare modern writing on internalized homophobia with that of early gay and lesbian thinkers because they spent more time trying to become accepted by the outside world, while the issues affecting the inner-workings of the queer community were left to brew. I can only imagine what some of the famous LGBTQ activists would think if they were brought to this time and presented with the problem of internalized homophobia.

Oscar Wilde

It’s interesting to me that Wilde, in his attempt to publicly identify a “love that dare not speak its name,” engages a conversation about pederasty, not queerness. As discussed in our class readings, what could possibly be conceived as contemporary, queer experiences were extensively existent long before Wilde’s birth in 1854. London’s notorious ~ Molly Houses ~ were ubiquitous in the 18^th century; men “deviating” from expected gender performances (read: masculinity) and engaging in sexual relations with other men were typical patrons of these early queer subcultures. It’s rather disappointing, then, that Wilde, who having been born nearly a century after the appearance of Molly Houses would most likely have frequented and/or at least known of their existence, chose to identify queer love as nothing more than pederasty.

Though, considering the violent realities many mollies faced (mob violence and hangings of mollies was a frequent, if not expected, phenomenon) it is easy to sympathize with Wilde’s obvious underscoring of queer realities in London. BUT STILL. Wilde’s need to hide behind pederasty is simply timid. Especially when discussing the process of naming ourselves in class (who gets to name us?), Wilde ignores the opportunity to assert his own authentic queer identity over the heterosexist judicial system (Charles Gill, etc.) that, instead, names him.  

Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde’s response was calculated and guarded, designed to show the love he was talking about in the best possible light, while attempting to refrain from labeling it with anything to which his enemies could latch on. Unfortunately for him, it was still pretty clear what he was talking about, and he ended up being sentenced to two years of hard labor along with the man he was being sentenced with. Interestingly, when sentencing him with the maximum punishment possible for the crime, the judge called it “totally inadequate for a case such as this”, though I don’t know if he meant there should be a stricter or lighter punishment.

For queers today, it is good that he basically admitted to the acts he was on trial for instead of lying. I’m sure if he’d gone along and acted repentant he would have gotten off scot-free, but instead he stuck with his acts, putting homosexuality in the spotlight and giving queers something to rally around. Being a somewhat outspoken homosexual is probably what he’s remembered best for today, which is something to keep in mind next time it seems easier to lie than to say what’s right.

The Bashful Magistrate

At Oscar Wilde’s sentencing, Justice Wills, the presiding magistrate, claimed that the crime of homosexuality “is so bad that one has to put stern restraint upon one's self to prevent one's self from describing, in language which [he] would rather not use” the feelings “in the breast of every man of honor who has heard the details of these […] trials” (http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/wilde/sentence.html). If Wilde’s love dares not to speak its name, then I am curious why the law cannot name it either, even at the moment of Wilde’s punishment. Why is it that, while the criminal species of the homosexual was being constructed actively by sexologists, criminologists and psychologists, the law could only fail to state a judgment that would do justice to the criminal aberration that queerness came to signify?

            This piece will be too short to answer this question. But the judge’s rhetoric at sentencing is illuminating for two reasons: (1) it reveals that the law recoils from Wilde’s queerness even as it strives to incarcerate his unruly body, and (2) it reveals that Wilde is rhetorically positioned as irredeemable—that queers are, as a class, irredeemable before the law. Justice Wills claims that “It is no use for […] to address” Wilde, for “people who can do these things must be dead to all sense of shame, and one cannot hope to produce an effect upon them”   (http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/wilde/sentence.html).  This irredeemability is structurally similar to a condition of fallen-ness, of sinfulness before God; Wilde is therefore a being fit only for punishment, not for social rehabilitation; as a queer, he is good only for spectacular punishment. Wilde must be made into a canvas onto which an antiqueer society can write its judgments; his body must be made available to their punishments.

It is because queer people are “dead to shame” that the law has nothing to offer but its harshest punishments. Justice Wills imposes the maximum legal penalty on Wilde, but concedes “it is totally inadequate for a case such as this” ((http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/wilde/sentence.html). Because Wilde’s love is unspeakable—unimaginable—Justice Wills is forced to concede that no criminal sentence would be appropriate to remedy the violation of law in the eyes of the law, because the crime is one that is shameless and which the (queer) criminal is unable to be rehabilitated from. Queerness is excessive to any criminal category; something shameful in the act of queer loving is wholly irreconcilable with the justice of straight societies. We might tentatively conclude then that queers are not ‘equal’ before the law at Wilde’s trial, but are rather ‘vulnerable before the law,’ made available to the law’s judgment in a way that straight people would not have to experience.