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Contents 4 EDITORIAL The University of Toronto must reconsider the presence of Jordan Peterson
5 NEWS International news An investigation on unpaid internships Demonstration against hate and racism VP Finance resigns from SSMU
9 Commentary Youth in drag Sleeping with trans women doesn’t affect your queerness
11 Features On asexuality
Blurb
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
15 Sci-Tech Tips on getting work done efficiently Fucking with gender, sex, and the body through tech
17 Sports Sexual violence in sports
18 Art essay 19 Culture Poetry and healing On faggotry
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EDITORIAL
Volume 107 Issue 10
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
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editorial board
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The University of Toronto must reconsider Jordan Peterson’s position
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J
ordan Peterson, a psychology professor at the University of Toronto (U of T) and graduate of McGill, has raised alarm among students and faculty following his proposal of a website that helps students identify and avoid courses that offer “radical left social justice-oriented” material. Peterson’s actions were met with strong opposition from the Women’s and Gender Studies Institute and the University of Toronto Faculty Association, as well as from the editorial board of The Varsity, a student-run newspaper at U of T. Peterson first garnered public attention in 2016 when he posted a YouTube video expressing his opposition to Bill C-16, which prohibits discrimination on the basis of gender identity. This incident marked the beginning of his crusade against faculties and courses that offer critical, diverse, and social justice-oriented perspectives. His oppressive agenda targets women’s studies, gender studies, and racial and ethnic studies in particular. His presence as a faculty member at U of T gives his violent and oppressive views a dangerous amount of clout, and U of T should seriously reconsider the place of such a person at their university. Peterson’s proposal endangers the safety and wellbeing of students, inciting hate speech and violence beyond the university campus. Peterson has explicitly refused to recognize gender-neutral pronouns. In a recorded interview published earlier this year, he also claimed that he cannot “control crazy women” because he is forbidden to physically fight them. At a U of T panel on free speech, Peterson stated that individuals expressing arguments from a “postmodern neo-Marxist” perspective should be “punched in the nose hard enough to knock [them] out.” When a protest against the encouragement of hate speech led to the cancellation of an event at Ryerson University where he was scheduled to speak, Peterson doxxed two students who organized the rally by tweeting
links to their Facebook profiles, thereby deliberately subjecting them to a tirade of hateful messages and verbal attacks from his supporters. Peterson has identified himself as an outspoken supporter of “free speech” in universities, while hypocritically advocating for the suppression of diverse voices on campus through tactics of intimidation and violence. Furthermore, Peterson is profiting from this hate speech. In addition to his U of T tenure pay, he receives thousands of dollars a month from Indiegogo and crowdfunding platforms to continue his hateful campaign. He has since amassed international online support from conservative groups and the alt right, contributing to the spread of violent and oppressive sentiments and to the online harassment of doxxed activists. His behaviour cannot be pardoned on the basis of freedom of speech. Using one’s public platform as a professor and clinician to not only target, but also encourage violence against students is a malicious abuse of power. Peterson’s campaign is not founded on academic freedom, but on dangerous tenets of hate, discrimination, and violence. As long as U of T continues to endorse Peterson, and fails to hold him accountable for this behaviour, they are complicit in his hate-mongering. Written warnings are not enough to counter the threat Peterson represents to the health and diversity of academic discourse, along with the safety and well-being of individuals on and off campus. We support The Varsity’s call on the U of T administration to seriously reconsider Peterson’s employment. We also call on the administration to uphold their values of equity, justice, and “the right to radical, critical teaching and research” by taking substantial action against Peterson and by openly denouncing his harmful behaviour. —The McGill Daily Editorial Board
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Yves Boju, Marc Cataford (Chair), Marina Cupido, Mahaut Engerant, Ikram Mecheri, Taylor Mitchell, Hannah Raffin, Inori Roy, Boris Shedov, Rahma Wiryomartono, Xavier Richer Vis All contents © 2017 Daily Publications Society. All rights reserved. The content of this newspaper is the responsibility of The McGill Daily and does not necessarily represent the views of McGill University. Products or companies advertised in this newspaper are not necessarily endorsed by Daily staff. Printed by Imprimerie Transcontinental Transmag. Anjou, Quebec. ISSN 1192-4608.
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news
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
International News Australians vote in favour of same sex marriage Claire Grenier The McGill Daily
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n November 15, the results of a nation wide survey showed that Australians are in favour of same sex marriage. Since September the 16 million Australians registered to vote were invited to participate in the “Australian Marriage Law Postal Survey.” 12.7 million, or 79.5% of the voting population, responded with roughly 61% in favour of and 38% against the legalization of same-sex marriage. Unlike typical electoral endeavours in Australia, voting was not compulsory. This was because the survey was not a formal election administered by the Australian government, but rather conducted and administered by the Australian Bureau of Statistics. Therefore, the results are not binding. However, Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull has promised to legalize same-sex marriage by the end of the year. In response to the results, Turnbull said, “They voted ‘yes’ for fairness, they voted ‘yes’ for commitment, they voted ‘yes’ for love. And now it is up to us here in the Parliament of Australia to get on with it.” Despite the results, the two month long survey period heightened political tensions. There has long been a favorable public consensus on the topic of same-sex marriage in Australia. Many members of the LGBTQ community felt that the survey was unnecessary and might cause the community more harm than good. “No” campaign mailers contained warnings about “radical sex-education” for children that would follow a “yes” victory. These mailers also included concerns about the supression of free speech and religious freedom. At one point during the survey period, swastikas were found spray painted on rainbow flags.
“Mild” Coup in Zimbabwe Claire Grenier The McGill Daily
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n Wednesday November 15, Zimbabwe experienced what is being called a “mild” coup. This was in response to last week’s sacking of Emmerson Mnangagwa, the vice president of Zimbabwe. Mnangagwa, the presupposed successor of president Robert Mugabe, fled to South Africa and has not returned to Zimbabwe since. Mnangagwa’s sacking was an action taken by Mugabe to further secure his wife’s position as his successor. This came as a surprise to most who thought that Mnangagwa would assume the presidency. At 93, Mugabe is the oldest world leader, and is currently confined to his house in Harare, the nation’s capital, with his wife Grace. Dislike of Mugabe has been spreading in Zimbabwe as he continues his 37 year long tenure. Zimbabwe is currently facing economic issues, which Mugabe has been blatantly negligent in addressing. Grooming his wife for the presidency further exacerbated discontent among the public. Grace Mugabe has been known to make lavish purchases, in addition to having a history of outbursts, including assaulting a woman she found in a hotel room with her sons. Citizens were frustrated with Mugabe’s’ rule and now find relief in the abrupt overthrowing of the regime. Military officials took to national TV on Wednesday morning to inform citizens of the actions taken against president Robert Mugabe, assuring citizens that everything would remain peaceful in the coming days. Neighbouring South Africa is said to be aiding the Zimbabwean government in “peacefully” setting up a new government, one that will likely see Mnangagwa as president.
Come write for The Daily’s News section! We’re always looking for new contributors — no experience necessary. Email news@mcgilldaily.com to get involved.
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November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
Local organizers mobilize against unpaid internships
News
International Day of Interns strike advocates for remuneration for all interns Rayleigh Lee The McGill Daily
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n November 16, the Association for the Voice of Education in Quebec (AVEQ) released a statement condemning the political co-optation of struggles for the remuneration of all internships. Following the successful mobilization of the November 10 International Day of Interns, attended by 15 000 students, organizers are seeking to ensure that demands for equitable pay are not watered down. National Assembly motion for the financial compensation for education students Four days after the strike on November 10, policy demands were brought to Quebec’s national assembly by Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois from Québec solidaire, Coalition Avenir Québec, and the Parti Québécois. The motion essentially asked the government to consider a financial compensation policy for student internships in education studies. While the motion was passed unanimously, the demands concerned financial compensation for education courses in their final year, as opposed to the demands concerning the remuneration for all workers announced at the mobilization on November 10, backed by over 60 organizations in North America. Sandrine Belley, the spokesperson for Campagne sur le travail étudiant (CUTE), an organization which coordinated the strike, told The Daily, “we want to be recognized as workers,” which would require a change in Quebec’s labour code, which currently does not recognize interns as workers. Kristen Perry, AVEQ’s Coordinator of Mobilization and Associative Development, mentioned that change in Quebec’s labour code is a long term goal for AVEQ. “All interns should make a living wage, and all working people should be paid for the work they are doing and a fair wage, protected under the labour code,” she said. “Right now, [...] interns are specifically excluded from the labour code, which means that they don’t have to be paid, but they are not considered workers. [...] What we’re looking to do is to more specifically to change [...] the labour code.” Co-option of movements concerning unpaid internships Following the November 14 motion, many organizations expressed support for financial compensation for education students. However, this also
Laura Brennan | The McGill Daily resulted in concerns over demands being misconstrued, diluting the conversation of unpaid internships to strictly financial compensation. “We wish to highlight the difference between financial compensation and remuneration as they relate to unpaid internships: whilst compensation seeks to simply add to student financial aid, the fight for remuneration demands a living wage for hours worked, in addition to attaining better working conditions,” read AVEQ’s statement. It also emphasized that the motion “excludes the multiple other fields where mandatory internships are unpaid, as well as any internships that fall outside of the scope of mandatory in-program training, and has no mention of ensuring protections of interns as workers.” The statement also expressed concerns of organizations and campaigns that may detract from students organizing on the ground in favor for a living wage, as opposed to a stipend. For example, Campagne de revendication et d’actions interuniversitaires des étudiants et étudiantes d’éducation en stage (CRAIES), as opposed to the CUTE campaign, advocates for financial compensation for education students in their final internships. CRAIE, with the Quebec Student Union (QSU), put out a press release with the Minister of Higher Education on November 14, requesting $330 per week for education wstudents’ fourth field experience internship. According to AVEQ’s statement, the field of experience internship currently under study at the National Assembly is around $8.25 per hour, with a minimum of 40 hours of work a week. This falls short of Quebec’s minimum wage of $11.25, which is considered to
be an insufficient living wage by numerous studies such as Institut de recherche et d’informations socio-économiques (IRIS).
“Whilst compensation seeks to simply add to student financial aid, the fight for remuneration demands a living wage for hours worked, in addition to attaining better working conditions.” —AVEQ statement In response to the motion, the Minister of Higher Education Hélène David publicly opened the possibility for further discussion for the remuneration of internships in general, rather than focusing on one area of study. The increased profile of the issue is largely due to the mobilization on November 10, which increased pressure on the provincial government to address the issue of unpaid internships. More work needed at McGill Connor Spencer, the Students’ Society of McGill University
(SSMU) VP External told the Daily that unpaid internships are an accepted practice at McGill, “It’s something that’s seen as a normal practice. [...] We need to [..] challenge the mentality of [unpaid internships] as gaining experience, and that is the reward the comes out of it, and understand that it is actually exploited labour. [...] That kind of mentality feeds off of those who are already in precarious positions [...] but most often students that need to work in order to be able to go to school, and students who are in certain faculties over others. [...] Where we see a lot of unpaid internships are in education, which we know is disproportionately has a higher representation of women and people of colour working in that faculty.” “The mentality that we should be challenging the fact that folks are still doing unpaid internships is very new on campus. [...] It’s important that we join that fight as McGill students because I think often, a lot of the exploitation that happens on this campus goes unnoticed and uncalled out.” Spencer mentioned that because unpaid internships are perceived to be common practice, more work needs to be done on campus. SSMU adopted a motion to develop a policy against unpaid internships on March 2015 at the Winter General Assembly. “The policy on unpaid internships [...] upholds the rights that students have and condemns unpaid internships, and it mandates the VP external to raise awareness, [...] [through] conversations, and campaigns. [...] However, there’s not much else in that policy,” said Spencer. In order to create actionable items from the SSMU policy, SSMU would require
additional tools and resources from the university. “Unpaid internships are illegal in Quebec. Most people don’t know that,” said Spencer. The Act respecting Labour Standards states that a minimum wage requirement does not apply for “trainees” and “students” interning outside of the school context. “Our university needs to take a stance on as well, [by] not letting unpaid internships be advertised to students,” said Spencer. While McGill’s Career Planning Service (CaPS) does not approve advertisements for unpaid internships, this does not apply for non-profits of NGOs.
“Unpaid internships are illegal in Quebec. Most people don’t know that.” —Connor Spencer, SSMU VP External
“I think we need to be lobbying the university, [put] checks and balances in place, and have awareness campaigns,” said Spencer. “We don’t necessarily have w resources dedicated to that beyond the words of this policy. [...] So I think we need to have a much larger conversation. [...] but the resources aren’t there to actually make that happen. [...] If we truly want to, as a union, commit to this, we need to have a larger conversation of how we’re going to achieve this among our membership.”
News
November 13, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
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Montrealers march against racism and hatred Thousands mobilize in downtown Montreal
Nora McCready The McGill Daily
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n Sunday November 12, thousands of people gathered in solidarity to protest racism and hatred. The demonstration was organized by several groups who published an online call to action, denouncing Islamophobia, colonialism, sexism and transphobia. This call was subsequently signed by over 168 students, community members, and activist organizations. The McGill contingent convened at the Roddick gates and walked down Avenue McGill College to Rue Sainte Catherine where they joined the Concordia contingent. The two groups then marched east on Sainte Catherine, about fifty individuals taking up the street and chanting phrases such as “A qui la rue? A nous la rue!” and “Refugees in, racists out!” The Daily talked with an anonymous demonstrator from McGill BDS who spoke about how important demonstrating solidarity is for groups that advocate for marginalized peoples everyday. “I think it’s really good that everyone can unite in one time and place and see that solidarity because it’s what keeps us going at the end of the day,” they continued. “It’s also [important] to remind people that Palestine is an ongoing issue and that we can’t forget [about] it in our struggles. “Right now, the global political climate more than ever needs us to stand against all kinds of fascisms and racisms” they said. “We see or we think of Canada as this liberal paradise and that’s kind of it’s issue. In its liberalism it’s racist, it’s sexist, it funds war regimes [...] so more than ever we need to not fall for that.” Most of the bystanders were supportive of the protest, with some people honking their horns in solidarity. However, on Sainte Catherine and rue Aylmer, a disgruntled driver had an aggressive exchange with a protester and drove into the back of their bike, nearly hitting the individual. “She sped up to try and pass them but really misjudged how much space there was and hit his bike” said SSMU VP External Connor Spencer. “Then [she] got out of her car and yelled at him for not taking up just one part of the street, which is not a thing.” Protesters and bystanders gathered around the car and confronted the woman for the dangerous situation she had created,
Claire Grenier | The McGill Daily some people threatening her with calling the police. No one was harmed. On Jeanne Mance the group met up with the Milton Parc community contingent. Sascha Astles, a representative from the community, spoke to the Daily about why she was out marching. “My family has been victimized [...] I’m in an interracial relationship, I have five kids, they’ve all felt and been targeted at certain times and just bullied, really nonsensical stuff that saddens me more than angers me because I would hope at this point in our evolution that we would be beyond that.” These contingents joined with the larger demonstration at Place Émilie Gamelin at 2 PM, where thousands of individuals had already gathered and were preparing to begin the march. There were many different factions, all joining together to protest racism and hatred. For a Montreal protest there was a relatively low police presence, and little to no violence over the course of the three hour long demonstration. In an interview with the Daily, Mariana Sosa, a social work student at McGill, talked about her reasons for protesting, and the issue of complacency. “Honestly, if not me then who? It’s my job as a future social worker and a human being on this planet to go out and make noise for the people [who]
can’t be here for any reason” she said. “I think this is the perfect place to make as much noise as possible for an intersection of problems that are happening in the world and in this city particularly.” “There’s a lot of people out here, more than I was expecting, to be honest, because I feel like, when it comes to protests, a lot of people are complacent and they let other people take the brunt of it, but I’m really happy to see such an amazing turnout.” One of the organizations that signed onto the broad call of action for the march was the Association for the Voice of Education in Quebec (AVEQ). There were a number of representatives from the Association marching, and the Daily spoke with one individual who wished to remain anonymous. “The association [...] strongly condemns racism, Islamophobia, and any forms of oppression towards visible minorities, whether it is due to their race, ethnicity, their sexual orientation. We strongly stand against it and we believe that through the grassroots we are able to [make] changes in our community and our society. So we’re here, we mobilized, we’re here to show support with marginalized people, with all these groups that have endorsed this march, and
to just stand against oppression, stand against racism, stand against hatred.”
“Right now, the global political climate more than ever needs us to stand against all kinds of fascisms and racisms.” —Anonymous
They went on to discuss the issue of oppression and marginalization in Palestine, clarifying that these were his personal views and that AVEQ has no formal stance. “I’m a Palestinian, and I identify a lot with the cause of Palestinian people. [...] I believe that what’s going on in Palestine is one of the greatest tragedies. We’re looking at oppression at different [...] levels whether it is [of ] the Palestinians living in 1948 Palestine [...] or whether it is in the West Bank and Gaza, [...] whether it is that universities are underfunded, or whether it is racist policies when it comes to what some people would call, groups such as
Amnesty call, the ethnic cleansing in Jerusalem. [...] We’re looking also at the disproportionate use of force in Gaza which is based out of racism and out of supremacy. “We believe there’s a global structure of racism built out of white supremacy, built out of dominance of a certain class over another, [...] whether it is oppression of Palestinians, or whether it is here in Canada where discriminated groups are oppressed by the privileged class, by privileged people.” The march continued north on Berri, then turned west on Cherrier, then south on Saint Denis. The protestors marched west again on Sherbrooke. They continued west past McGill University, where some protesters shouted chants addressing the university’s administration. The march continued south on Peel and ended just before 5 PM at Dorchester Square.
“We believe there’s a global structure of racism built out of white supremacy.” —Anonymous
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November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
News
SSMU VP Finance Arisha Khan resigns
The Daily sits down with Khan to discuss reasons for resignation Marina Cupido The McGill Daily
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risha Khan, VP Finance of the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU), resigned from her position on November 16. Shortly after this, she sat down with The Daily to discuss her experience at SSMU and explain the circumstances surrounding her resignation. McGill Daily (MD): “So why did you decide to step down from the VP Finance position?” Arisha Khan (AK): “Primarily for my mental and physical health, but also I felt like the current conditions at SSMU weren’t conducive to productivity and completing the projects that I wanted to do. [...] SSMU at the moment is very polarized and volatile - it’s not exactly a healthy work environment, and in terms of achieving things for students, I feel like we’ve been very stagnant in that recently. I would also like the opportunity to continue doing the other work that I do in relation to child welfare, which has been put on hold while I was in SSMU, and so [I’ll still be] contributing to campus life and improving things for students, just not in my capacity as VP Finance.” MD: “You mentioned polarization and volatility within SSMU. What did that look like, in your experience?” AK: “I feel like there was this pattern of certain people being targeted, especially when they’re not willing to utilize their time to launch attacks against others, or fight back in a malicious way. I felt that if I were to continue in my position at SSMU it would have been an uphill battle, and it would have compromised my own ethics, and I honestly feel that I can
utilize my time in other places on campus and use it to help people.” MD: “Was there a specific incident that made you decide to resign?” AK: “I just felt like [...] some of our governance structures had been eschewing democracy and evading the rights of students to participate in certain decisions. [...] And it just seemed like no matter what other executives tried, the current climate at SSMU just hasn’t allowed for any positive changes. And while I am hopeful that maybe things will be able to take a turn for the better, I just felt like for me at this point in time I could better utilize my time in another way.”
“I just felt like [...] some of our governance structures had been eschewing democracy and evading the rights of students to participate in certain decisions.”
—Arisha Khan, former SSMU VP Finance
MD: “How do you think these problems can be fixed?” AK: “After seeing some of the
events of this year, particularly with the Board of Directors and what I feel are abuses of power, I think it would be a good idea to do a complete governance review, hopefully through an external party. I think it would be a good idea to be in line with other student associations, to see what’s working within our structure and what’s not, and what we can do to be more accountable and productive for students.” MD: “You mentioned that the VP Finance job had been taking a toll on your health. Would it be accurate to say that you were doing work beyond your portfolio?” AK: “Yeah, I have a really hard time saying no, and [...] I often felt that maintaining certain administrative responsibilities, even when they weren’t mine, was important to my role to keep things functioning. Unfortunately I started to extend myself way too much when others weren’t doing their jobs.” MD: “So now that you’ve resigned, who will take on all this work?” AK: “I’ve spent quite a bit of time transitioning my staff and the other executives in order to have them working autonomously, and also to hold them over. I know that they are running a by-election and I have offered to train whoever my successor would be when the time comes.” MD: “Can you elaborate on the work you do beyond SSMU?” AK: “I do quite a bit of work in relation to child welfare and foster care on this campus. I helped to institute a bursary for former foster youth coming to McGill, and this is a population - and I come from this background - that usually only graduates at a 2 per cent rate from post-secondary [education].
Arisha Khan.
Conor Nickerson | The McGill Daily
[...] So for me, increasing access to institutions - whether it be McGill or SSMU - for populations that normally aren’t there is very important.” MD: “Tell me more about accessibility - or the lack thereof - within SSMU.” AK: “I’m not the typical SSMU candidate, and that largely has to do with my background as well. In order to qualify for government aid still, because I’m a student, I had to take more courses than most executives. I feel that accessibility to student politics and to executive
positions is something that we don’t often talk about, but obviously inherently when there are these financial barriers in place, a certain type of person will be able to continuously be represented in positions of leadership. And so I think in order to change that, we need to have a serious discussion about what our student leaders represent and how we can make spaces more accessible because I feel like currently they aren’t. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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Commentary
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
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Children in drag? Oh baby!
Conservatives should realize everyone is a drag queen
phoebe pannier | Illustrator Quinn Lazenby Commentary Writer
“
We’re all born naked and the rest is drag,” belts out the legendary drag queen RuPaul in his song “Born Naked.” While the average kid would be overshadowed by the glamour of a 7-ft.- tall drag queen in heels, a child would nevertheless put on an equally entertaining gendered performance. For most parents, assigning gender roles to their newborn is a naturalized nobrainer, as many do not grasp the weight of their ruling. Our gender expression is the product of years of rehearsal, compounded with social rewards and, more significantly, punishments for straying from the script. Indeed, few of us exit the womb preferring racecars to ribbons—we’re drooling pudgy cherubs, after all. However, the stage is set by the colour of our nurseries, the plots of our fairy tales, and the forces of socialization that mold boys and girls into societal norms. But what happens when queer kids stray from cis-normative scripts and aren’t certain they want to tell their parents? In Alberta, it’s become a politicized issue–one so massive that the political right has triggered an aggressive moral panic. The United Conservative Party of Alberta has demonized Gay Straight Alliances in schools for exposing children to gender diversity and providing a safe space for isolated queer students. Conservative leader, Jason Kenney, is demanding that teachers break the confidence of vulnerable queer kids by outing students to their parents. What social conservatives who shudder at boys wearing makeup fail to see is that we are ultimately all drag queens. What’s even more intriguing than the illusion of scandalous hyperfemininity in
drag shows is the illusion of gender itself. The performance of masculinity, for example, in “duck dynasty culture” and amongst fraternity bros is equally as contrived. The difference, of course, is that drag queens intentionally present a façade, whereas chest-thumping jocks project a staged authenticity. In this way, the “realness” of gender, be it on drag queens, tiara-wearing toddlers, or hockey bros, is ultimately artificial. Subsequently, the absurd theatricality of gender implodes when conservatives shame queer kids, and valorize their nuclear model of “traditional family values.”
The difference, of course, is that drag queens intentionally present a facade, whereas chestthumping jocks project a staged authenticity. This theatricality had been explored by RuPaul long before he hit mainstream TV, through his performance of punk-rock “gender fucking.” Gender fucking was an iconoclastic middle finger to the script of gender roles—torching the lifetime of rehearsals that penalize femme queer youth. By rejecting the straightjacket of gender oppression, drag performers created a medium through which they could express their individuality. This wisdom is shared weekly with toddlers at a library in Winnipeg, Manitoba,
where drag queens present an event titled “Read By Queens.” The drag queens present a story hour and invite youth to question the seemingly natural gender roles imposed at birth. Through dramatic character transformations, the queens flaunt the artificiality of gender. The hours of gluing brows, padding hips, pinning wigs and artfully resculpting their bone structure satirically demonstrate the instability of gender codes. Therefore, given a safe space in libraries or Gay Straight Alliances, kids can subvert the gender binary in sequined gowns, and slowly wrench loose the grip of biological sex roles. How fabulous it is to break the rules. Granted, flamboyant lipstick and contour can be rinsed away at the end of a nightclub performance, but for many nonbinary and trans folks, gender expression goes beyond a performative aesthetic, and is intrinsic to their very identity. In the same way that non-drag bodies are shaved, sculpted and inscribed with gender codes, the body of a drag performer presents a stage for rebellious liberation. Rooted in a history of gay and trans activism, drag mocks the oppressive systems that violently punish queer youth. On a personal level, I began extravagantly transgressing the gender binary before I knew what it was. Photo albums can attest to 5-year-old Quinn strutting about Alberta in orange Anne of Green Gables wigs and oversized womanly regalia. I distinctly remember twisting bath towels into headpieces and lipsyncing to ABBA in the mirror. Yet for many queer kids, the home is not a safe space to disobey gender roles. In Canada, LGBTQ teens are four times more likely to attempt suicide and comprise 40 per cent of the youth homeless population. Ostracized queer teens are frequently
banished from their biological families and politicized for political points. Conservatives like Jason Kenney weaponize queer children, in their deranged defense of youth’s innocence. Through opposing Gay Straight Alliances, Kenney drags kids into the crossfire of the culture wars.
Rooted in a history of gay and trans activism, drag mocks the oppressive systems that violently punish queer youth. To their credit, some femme-shaming conservatives might grow jealous of queers. Not only do we have marvelous closets, but we constantly concoct colourful new language. And so to remedy this, I am proposing a new term for the heterosexual lexicon to describe the normalized gender performance of Jason Kenney, Stephen Harper and the like: STRAG (noun). A heterosexual cocktail of “straight” cisgender expression, paired with the off-brand theatricality of drag. Used in a sentence: the strag couple grew uncomfortable at the sight of a drag queen, and hid their strag presenting child from the queen. And so to all queer-phobic strag performers who walk through the streets in their strag outfits, with their strag mannerisms, and strag rules imposed on strag children, I’m afraid your time has come to sashay away.
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November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
commentary
...Sounds pretty gay to me
Sleeping with trans women doesn’t affect your queerness Florence Ashley Commentary Writer
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nelly wat | The McGill Daily
inder has been a constant in my life in recent years. Those who know me will tell you that I’m about as slutty as I am picky, making the prospect of weeding out people quickly quite appealing. As far as I know, I am typically read as a cisgender woman when I go about my day. Nay, worse! Much to my dismay, I am generally read as straight, too. I am non-binary. I was assigned male at birth. When disclosing that I am transgender on dating apps, I usually put forward a trans female identity. People understand “trans woman” better than “non-binary.” Disclosing that I am trans doesn’t always happen in the same way, since I don’t communicate being trans on my Tinder profile. To start, there’s the classic of simply telling the person “I am trans.” If you talk about trans-related topics, people often assume or ask. One of the ways I favour treating as a known or mundane fact, casually referring to my transitude when it’s relevant to the conversation. My absolute favourite has to be penis jokes, though! The guy says something about something being hard, to which I’ll reply: “…like my penis.” It’s doubly funny because I haven’t been able to have erections since I started taking hormones. Reactions range, but you’d probably be surprised that outright rejection is not particularly common. The reality is that, for the most part, men are fine sleeping with trans women. The more conventionally attractive, the happier they are. It’s dating us and admitting to being attracted to us that’s the bigger barrier. Whether they’re interested in sleeping with transfeminine people or are on the fence, one can discern a persistent discomfort. They’re attracted, and they’re afraid that that makes them gay. The easy answer, of course, would be to reassure them. No, no, you’re not gay. How would being attracted to women make you gay? It wouldn’t. Some women have penises. Women’s penises are not male genitalia, but female genitalia. They’re all small and pink and cute. However true that may be, it’s not the perspective I want us to take. What I want us to consider is the “what if…” side of things. What if it were gay? “I don’t want to sleep with a trans woman because that would be gay,” says Gary. Gary is not attracted to trans women, and when asked about it, links it to the fact that he’s not gay. “I don’t want to sleep with a trans woman because that would be gay,” says Jonathan. Jonathan is attracted to a trans woman. He doesn’t mind that she has a penis
as far as attraction goes; if anything, it’s a bit of a turn-on for him. However, Jonathan identifies as a straight man and believes that trans women are men. So he refuses to sleep with trans women. I suspect that more cases fall under the second scenario than under the first. Genitalia is a small part of the totality that constitutes sexual attraction and most people will be attracted to someone or not before they know which genitalia they have. Although one may prefer certain types of sexual acts to others, it’s implausible that a small body part would negate the (strong) attraction that was already established. Cisheteronormativity runs deep in our society, and people experience strong conscious and unconscious pressures to conform to those standards, which casts doubts on the authenticity of swift changes in attraction. You don’t usually go from being attracted to someone one minute to not being attracted at all the next.
The more conventionally attractive I appeared, the less men seemed to care [about me being trans]. This is also confirmed by my experience with dating apps. The more conventionally attractive I appeared, the less men seemed to care. If genitalia were a strong determinant of attraction, we would expect the rate of people changing their minds to remain stable. Were they balancing their desire with the risk of appearing gay for their sexual interest? Probably. Sexual orientation is about attraction, not behaviour. If you’re attracted to men and women, you’re bisexual whether or not you’ve slept with both men and women. Imagine if experience were necessary. Could anyone be pansexual given the endless variety of non-binary genders? Remember, we’ve assumed for argument’s sake that there’s something gay about liking or sleeping with women who have penises. We’re forced to conclude that Jonathan is gay. Or, if we understand sexual orientation, either bisexual or pansexual. Either way, he’s not straight. When Jonathan tells us that he doesn’t want to sleep with trans women because it conflicts with his straightness, we would have to conclude that he’s in bad faith. He’s not
straight, and he’s only denying his own attraction in order to put up a façade of straightness in a world that devalues queerness. That’s pretty gay. Should Jonathan deny his own attraction in order to maintain his identity as straight? Should Jonathan avoid sleeping with people he’s attracted to in order to avoid admitting his own queerness? That seems wrong. He may not want to tell others, but that’s another issue. We’re talking of self-denial here, not of privacy. Jonathan is queer whether or not he sleeps with trans women, so he might as well. Sex can be fun! There are plenty of good reasons not to sleep with people. “It’s gay” is not one of them. We’re a small portion of the population. A bit over 1/200. Perhaps around one per cent for our age group. Chances are you won’t sleep with a trans woman even if you want to. Plus we’re really bloody picky and tend to sleep with other queer and trans people, which makes it even less likely for you. So I want to point out another sex act where my argument is relevant. Pegging. The precise definition of pegging is unclear once we stray outside the boundaries of cis existence. From a cis perspective, pegging is when a woman puts a strap-on and engages in anal sex with a man as the receptive partner. It’s lovely, and also works for transfeminine people who are unable to have erections. I particularly appreciate it, on a personal level, because of the dysphoria I experience regarding my penis. The strap-on seems to confirm, symbolically, that my penis doesn’t belong there. I’ve talked to men and women who were interested in trying pegging with their partners. Women are often concerned that their partner will refuse, whereas the men are concerned that it’d make them gay. See how my analogy works? Yeah. The same rationale applies. It’s immaterial whether pegging is gay. If it’s gay, then congratulations, you’re gay—or more likely bisexual or pansexual. If it’s not gay, then it’s not gay. Either way, whether you’re gay or not isn’t based on whether you engage in pegging. So go ahead. You have a prostate, might as well use it! The point I want to make here is this: it doesn’t matter whether sleeping with trans women is gay or not. If it’s not gay, then it’s not gay. If it’s gay, then you’re gay for being interested—whether or not you sleep with us. In any case, sleeping with us doesn’t change anything about your queerness. So, stop worrying and just do what you feel like doing. Don’t restrict yourself because of silly social constructs.
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November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
Anything but lacking
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How asexuality can disrupt sex-normativity
by ElĂŠa
content warning: aphobia, ableism
cover by Laura Brennan
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FEATURES
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
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here remains, to this day, frequent confusion around the letter ‘A’ in the LGBTQIA2+ acronym. The A is not for ally. It stands for asexual, which, according to the Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN, the largest online asexual community), describes a person who does not experience sexual attraction. This definition is purposefully vague, so as to leave a lot of space for selfidentification and for the different lived experiences of asexuality. This definition recognizes that there is no one way to be asexual. The ‘Overview’ page on the AVEN website adds that “each asexual person experiences things like relationships, attraction, and arousal somewhat differently.” Indeed, asexuality is a spectrum. Members of the community can also choose to identify as graysexual (or grayasexual) if they occasionally experience sexual attraction, or as demisexual if they sometimes experience sexual attraction but only after a strong emotional bond has been formed between them and another person.
The meaning of asexuality has been politically and culturally contingent; its perception has shifted over time, while being embedded in conceptions of race, class, and gender. An important distinction must also be made between sexual and romantic orientations. Acknowledging the existence of asexuality as a spectrum means recognizing that not all people experience sexual attraction, and that not all people experience a lack of sexual attraction in the same way. This acknowledgment opens the door to understanding that attraction can mean different things to different people. For example, some individuals experience romantic attraction toward others, and can choose to identify with a romantic orientation which may or may not coincide with their sexual orientation. Folks who do not experience romantic attraction can choose to identify as aromantic. Although aromanticism is not specifically the subject of this piece, I encourage readers to inform themselves on
the subject and include aromanticism in conversations. For example, the Aromantic FAQ on the AVEN wiki provides useful definitions, vocabulary, resources, and related blogs. Aromantics are important members of our community and are very often invalidated and silenced. Today, online communities such as AVEN are at the core of asexual activism and spreading public awareness. It was only after David Jay founded AVEN in 2001 that asexuality began to gain growing acceptance and visibility, and that asexuals could meet and connect on a larger scale. Because there are very few queer resources, events, and spaces that are inclusive of asexuality, asexuals will often start identifying as such only after being in contact with other members of the asexual community. In my case, I started using that word to describe myself only after discovering AVEN and relating to other people’s experiences on the site’s forums and on other online communities. These asexual communities gave me the vocabulary, information, and support that queer communities and sexual education platforms had not offered.
Locating asexuality in western history Although asexuality as a queer sexual orientation received very little visibility until the beginning of the 21st century, there are many different western understandings of asexuality in history that still shape the way we approach the identity today. The meaning of asexuality has been politically and culturally contingent; perceptions have shifted over time, while being embedded in conceptions of race, class, and gender. In her essay “Asexuality and the Feminist Politics of ‘Not Doing It,’” Ela Przybylo argues that around the beginning of the 20th century, the general understanding of women’s sexuality gradually shifted from the idea of passionlessness (where female sexuality was seen as a threat to the status quo, and was considered passive as opposed to active male desires), to a focus on female desire and pleasure as natural and necessary. Though in contrast to the female passivity posited by psychoanalysis, these new ideas concerning the innate nature of sexual desires similarly excluded the experiences of working class and immigrant populations, women of colour, as well as queer, trans, and non-binary individuals. Many of these marginalized groups were depicted as hypersexual in dominant narratives; their sexualities were perceived as already immoral and deviant. This left many communities without a space to voice their own unique experiences of (a)sexuality. These conversations equally eliminated the possibility for individuals assigned male at birth to express their asexuality, as
they were largely seen as the ‘active,’ sexually demanding elements in a binary and patriarchal conception of heteronormative partnered relationships.
The movement for sexual liberation largely excluded the experiences of non-binary and trans femmes, and failed to account for the plurality of lived experiences of femininity. Asexuality was relegated to the sphere of conservatism and gendered oppression. Until recently, historical discussions of female (a)sexuality were therefore limited to the experiences of cisgender, heterosexual white women, often from middle and upper classes. In her essay, Przybylo explains that the 1920s and 1930s in North America and Europe were characterized by growing sociocultural anxieties about the visibility of women in the public realm and their presence in the workforce. Efforts were made to ensure women’s subordination to male authority and return them to the private realm of the household, where successful marriage and motherhood became imperatives. These imperatives were dependent on women engaging frequently and willfully in heterosexual intercourse. Female sexuality was seen as innate and natural, and any divergence from this norm was perceived as threatening and pathological. Around this time, Freud and other psychiatrists were theorizing the concept of ‘frigidity,’ a word used to medicalize female asexuality as an inability to achieve vaginal orgasm. Frigidity was seen not as a complete lack of sexual desire, but as an incapacity to conform to male-defined notions of sexual pleasure. It was necessary to engage in heterosexual intercourse for one’s sexuality to be considered non- pathological. Asexuality was seen as deviant: an incomplete and repressed way of experiencing sexuality, not unlike other queer identities perceived as sites of necessary medi-
cal intervention by psychoanalysts and sexologists alike. Przybylo adds that the second half of the 20th century saw another shift in the understanding of (a)sexuality. Once again, this shift was largely focused on the experiences of cisgender, heterosexual, middle class white women. The so-called ‘sexual revolution’ of the 50s and 60s sought to liberate women in their sexual desires and pleasures. Many feminists saw the clitoris as a site of female agency in sexual pleasure, as opposed to the vagina, which had been considered the place of male-defined, heterocoitus. The clitoris became the symbol of sexual autonomy in contexts where sexual freedom was often equated with general freedom. Frigidity was perceived by many as a patriarchal tool for gendered oppression, originating in false assumptions about female anatomy. These concerns are clearly problematic in the way that they define femininity in physical, biological terms. The movement for sexual liberation largely excluded the experiences of non-binary and trans femmes, and failed to account for the plurality of lived experiences of femininity. Asexuality was relegated to the sphere of conservatism and gendered oppression.
When coming out to friends as asexual and panromantic, I have often been met with disbelief and suggestions on how to live my queerness in a ‘more fulfilling way.’ During this period, feminists like Dana Densmore and Valerie Solanas rejected the idea of sex altogether and proposed radical celibacy as a way to undo patriarchal institutions, such as the family, which were seen as violent and oppressive. However, these discussions positioned a lack of sexuality as a political choice and not as a legitimate queer sexual orientation. This conceptualization of asexuality as a political stance contributed to the continued perception of sexuality and sexual attraction as natural to humans. Indeed, some kind of sexual feeling would be necessary to precede the choice to challenge or reject it. Encouraging radical celibacy did offer an interesting counterpoint to discourses of sex-
ual liberation and opened up conversations about the empowering potential of not engaging in sexual acts. However, it did not challenge gender binary and heteronormative conceptions of sex, remained limited to the privileged decisions of largely white middle and upper class women, and did not account for the plurality of lived experiences of femininity and asexuality. To summarize the past centuries, asexuality has mostly been excluded from historical understandings of sexuality, except where it was seen as a disorder or a political decision. Asexuality as a nonpathological, mostly lifelong characteristic was reserved to the study of plants and animals, and only started to appear in studies on humans in the 1980s, albeit minimally. According to Przybylo, discourses on sexuality remain saturated by the sexual imperative and the heterocoital cluster. The sexual imperative refers to the ways in which “sex is privileged above other ways of relating,” and the ways in which sexuality and the self are understood to be fused. In other words, the sexual imperative encourages us to understand sexuality as inherent to being human, so that sexual intimacy is perceived to be superior to other forms of closeness. Przybylo adds that “sex is configured as ‘healthy’ (in particular, culturally designated contexts).” See the many studies and articles detailing the benefits of sex, from supposedly clearer skin and happier moods to reduced risks of cancer and lower blood pressure. Finally, she writes that “sex remains genital, orgasmic, ejaculatory, and in the case of heterosex, coital.” Here she is referring to the heterocoital cluster, which defines what types of sex are ‘appropriate’ and ‘acceptable.’ More specifically, heterosexual coital sex in which the orgasm is an imperative. Sex is seen as the evidence and enactment of pleasure and health, in specific contexts which fit into dominant discourses around acceptable sexualities. From narratives of female passionlessness and passivity to a reclaiming of sexual desires and pleasure as natural and empowering, asexuality has been largely overlooked in western history and mostly considered pathological or political. The absence of asexuality as a sexual orientation in dominant discourses of the last centuries shapes the ways in which we accept the sexual imperative today and still fail to challenge its implications.
Asexuality in queer and feminist spaces Today, we must prevent the continued exclusion of asexuality in narratives about human sexuality if we want to effectively question the sexual imperative and its harmful effects. This means con-
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
FEATURES sciously including asexuality in conversations about queerness, feminism, and disability, so that asexuality may be accepted as a legitimate queer sexual orientation — non-pathological and not equal to celibacy.
Folks who identify as asexual are often pressured into giving consent, because they are made to feel like consenting to sexual acts is the only way to be seen as ‘valuable’ and ‘normal.’ Feminists and members of the queer community seek to challenge the heteronormative and gender binary implications of the sexual imperative and heterocoital cluster. I argue that in order to effectively dismantle these dominant narratives, asexuality must be included in discussions about queerness, sex-positivity, and consent, if said discussions want to be inclusive of all experiences related to sexuality, and not foster harmful sex-normative representations of human relationships and intimacy. When coming out to friends as asexual and panromantic, I have often been met with disbelief and suggestions on how to live my queerness in a ‘more fulfilling way.’ Well-intentioned folks have suggested that I ‘experiment’ more before restricting myself to identifying as asexual. Intimate and sexual partners have asked me what they could do so that I would enjoy sexual contact with them, as though I was awaiting their skilled hands to ‘cure me’ of my lack of sex drive and absence of sexual pleasure. These reactions invalidate asexuality as a sexual orientation and present it as a phase defined by unfulfilled or immature sexuality. While some people who identify as asexual for some time may later change this label, the queer community must accept anyone who finds the word asexual useful to describe themselves for any period of time. Asexuality is not a condition to be cured nor a phase to be gotten over. It is a legitimate sexual orientation. Queer and feminist spaces claim to respect and validate varied sexual experiences and
not shame anyone for their sexual behaviour. Accepting asexual people who do not engage in sexual acts should be recognized as a vital part of this sex-positive mandate. There is a widespread idea that to be radical and queer, one must be ‘sexually liberated,’ i.e. that bodily agency and sexual empowerment go hand in hand with engaging in sexual acts confidently and frequently. This idea often centres conversations on consent around what giving consent looks like, and how important it is to receive and formulate consent. Although these discussions are extremely important, I argue that we should also focus on what not giving consent looks like, and how empowering it can be to (be able to) say ‘no.’ Folks who identify as asexual are often pressured into giving consent because they are made to feel like consenting to sexual acts is the only way to be seen as ‘valuable’ and ‘normal.’ Societal expectations of sexuality delegitimize the experiences and needs of asexual people, making us especially vulnerable to situations in which we may verbally give consent, but sex remains unwanted, and is therefore non-consensual. Consent requires that both parties negotiating the consent have equal power; in a society defined by the sexual imperative, in which not wanting sex is seen as deviant by many, asexual folks are often made to feel powerless when offered sex. I have in the past given consent reluctantly because it was easier than having to come out to my sexual partner; than having a potentially draining and alienating conversation; than possibly offending them and making them feel guilty about my lack of attraction towards them. Acknowledging asexuality in conversations on consent means not expecting to hear ‘yes’ every time when asking for consent. It must not be a routine formality. It must be a conscious, mindful conversation where partners feel comfortable saying ‘no’ and are validated in their need to set boundaries, without being made to feel guilt or shame. Not feeling sexual attraction does not mean being repressed or conservative. It is not linked to political affiliations, religious feelings, or a denial of natural desires. Asexuals do not need to be corrected or liberated in order to be accepted within the queer community. In our fight against the harmful effects of heteronormativity, patriarchy and imposed gender binaries, we must not forget that sex-positivity does not mean sex-normativity. While sex-positivity can be beneficial and empowering, sex-normativity (and the sexual imperative) are harmful in the ways they exclude and silence the asexual community.
Discourses on asexuality and disability It is also essential to include asexuality in conversations about disability. In an episode of the television newsmagazine 20/20, a sexologist tells a group of interviewed asexuals, “And your saying you don’t miss [sex] is like someone in a sense who’s colour-blind is saying, ‘I don’t miss colour’—of course you don’t miss what you’ve never had.” Speaking from an able-bodied perspective, the therapist uses an analogy with disability to invalidate people’s experiences of asexuality, assuming both to be abnormal conditions linked to a lack of an important component of life, which must be medically cured.
In conversations about disability, we must challenge the dominant idea that all people with disabilities are asexual, and fight against desexualizing practices. However, we must also respond positively to people with disabilities coming out as asexual.
Today, folks with disabilities are often denied sexual feeling and perceived as lacking sexual potency. In her essay, “Asexuality in Disability Narratives,” Eunjung Kim explains that in some contexts “asexuality is not only an assumption, but also a moral imperative: disabled people ought be asexual.” This can be seen in violent efforts to desexualize folks with disabilities. Desexualization is a process which seeks to separate sexuality from bodies with disabilities, and it can affect people at any stage of life through objectification and dehumanization. For example, Kim explains that children with disabilities are often excused from sexual education classes, as they are deemed “unnecessary.” It is clear that the people making this decision are assuming that disabled children will not (or cannot) engage in sexual activities.
Adolescents may see their social encounters closely monitored by professionals and family members, and may be denied access to health care services such as family planning. Adults with disabilities are often infantilized and seen as deviant or shameful if they engage in sexual acts. In some cases, desexualization can take the form of reproductive control and forced sterilization, as was the case in the highly controversial operations imposed on Ashley X. Born with static encephalopathy (a brain impairment which means she is assumed to remain at infant level mentally and physically), she underwent growth attenuation operations including hysterectomy and breast bud removal to prevent menstruation and development of secondary sexual characteristics, even though she was unable to consent to these medical interventions. This forced desexualization was understood to make her disability less distressing to her family and caretakers. The case of Ashley X demonstrates the very material ways in which disability and sexuality are made to be incompatible. In response to the enforced asexuality of people with disabilities, disability activists have done important work to reclaim the sexual feelings and experiences of people with disabilities. According to Kim, “disability activists in sexpositive movements often attack the stereotype of disabled people as asexual.” Although this seeks to enable systematically desexualized people to enjoy the current sexual culture, and to challenge the myth that all people with disabilities are asexual, it sometimes dismisses all asexual orientations themselves as myth. This leads asexual people with disabilities to be understood as the “products of an oppressive society,” who have internalized these myths and have accepted sexual oppression. In conversations about disability, we must challenge the dominant idea that all people with disabilities are asexual, and fight against desexualizing practices. However, we must also respond positively to people with disabilities coming out as asexual, and validate their sexual orientation, if asexuality is to stop being perceived as pathological and curable, or as the result of internalized oppression.
Toward new asexuality
definitions
of
Beyond including asexuality in conversations around feminism, queerness, and disability, I believe that we must reflect critically upon the widely accepted definition of asexuality itself, and the ways in which the asexual community presents itself today. Of course, these opinions are my own and do not reflect those of the whole asex-
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ual community. I also draw largely on the work of CJ Deluzio Chasin in their essay “Reconsidering Asexuality and its Radical Potential,” to argue that we should challenge the concept of asexuality as an ‘absence,’ and the current image of the ‘real asexual.’
We should not have to choose between voicing our sexual orientation as we truly experience it, and public visibility and acceptance. If we want asexuality to stop being understood as a ‘lack,’ ‘less than,’ pathological, or curable, all experiences of asexuality must be heard and legitimized. As mentioned already, the widespread definition of asexuality is a ‘lack of sexual attraction toward others.’ This definition is often completed by the idea that this ‘lack’ does not cause asexuals any distress. This precision is added to create a clear distinction between asexuality and Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD), which is considered a sexual dysfunction characterized by a lack of sexual desire causing distress or interpersonal difficulties, as defined by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). The fact that the definition of asexuality still leaves room for HSDD diagnosis creates a “binary opposition between people who should be accepted as asexual and people who are ‘legitimate subjects’ of psychiatric intervention,” according to Chasin. The definition does not challenge either the diagnosis or the psychiatric institution governing it. Chasin adds, “If a person is upset about being asexual because [they] live in a world inhospitable to asexual people, we need to change the world, not the person.” However, HSDD diagnosis implies that we should ‘change the per-
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
FEATURES through medical means, and the current definition of asexuality leaves room for this. When coming to terms with a lack of sexual attraction, asexuals will often be met with negative responses from others, leading them to seek some kind of diagnosis or medical solution to ‘change themselves’ before coming out and accepting themselves as asexual. Pathologizing non-conformity to sexual norms and medicalizing the distress caused by aphobia are harmful and oppressive practices. They perpetuate the idea that one should be made sexual if they can, and should be accepted as a lifelong asexual only if this attempt fails. This creates a hierarchy in which being sexual is superior and more desirable than being asexual.
This creates a hierarchy in which being sexual is superior and more desirable than being asexual.
Indeed, defining asexuality as a ‘lack’ implies that asexual people are ‘missing out’ on an aspect of life, and that our sexual orientation is overwhelmingly defined by the absence of something essential to others. I am not saying we should necessarily modify this definition, and I acknowledge that it is useful for many to account for the variety of experiences of asexuality, as well as to explain to non-asexual people how we feel, but I do want to encourage people to reflect critically on its implications. As Chasin explains, conceptualizing the defining characteristic of asexuality as a lack perpetuates the idea that asexual people do not have some of the experiences that sexual people do. In actuality, asexual people also have experiences that non-asexual people have never lived. Perhaps other definitions are not yet available to us because we are socialized to value sexuality and sexual intimacy above other forms of intimacy and other types of relationships, and because the language to define asexuality as anything but a lack does not yet exist. Moving toward conversations where asexuality is not perceived as an absence can help create the language needed to better understand asexual experiences. The superiority of sexuality over asexuality is unquestioned,
even as awareness around asexuality spreads, and defining asexuality as a lifelong orientation that does not cause distress has implications for the visibility of certain asexual experiences over others. From this definition, Chasin discusses the image of the ‘real asexual,’ who “gets to be believed and accepted as asexual.” This person has all the normative characteristics of the ‘ideal sexual person,’ but since they have always been asexual, they must be accepted as such. This person, for example, does not have a history of abuse or mental health issues, is not overly sex-repulsed and has tried to be sexual without success, is able-bodied, happy, and outgoing. This person is also usually white, from the middle or upper class, cisgender, and heterosexual or occasionally aromantic. As asexuality occupies more space in public spheres, people outside of our community build a normative idea of what it means to be asexual, and not conforming to this image may mean being invalidated, silenced, or forced to undergo a form of ‘treatment’ or corrective violence. The pressure to conform to an idea of asexuality that does not challenge sex-normativity leads to selfcensorship in order to avoid losing legitimacy as an asexual. However, we should not have to choose between voicing our sexual orientation as we truly experience it,
and public visibility and acceptance. If we want asexuality to stop being understood as a ‘lack,’ ‘less than,’ pathological, or curable, all experiences of asexuality must be heard and legitimized. Conversations must account for the many lived experiences of asexuality, which prove it should not be dismissed as an ‘absence,’ but instead understood as part of the complex ways in which we all navigate different forms of attraction and feelings for others.
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we view asexual people, as well as the normative assumptions behind these perceptions. It means including asexual voices in conversations around queerness, feminism, and disability, but also race and class. It means unlearning the hierarchies we have internalized, which place sexual intimacy and relationships above other equally fulfilling and powerful forms of closeness. Finally, it means believing and validating any and all asexual experiences, as the beginning of a larger conversation to redefine our understandings of sexual and romantic orientations.
[D]efining asexuality as a Moving toward ‘lack’ implies conversations that asexual where asexuality people are is not perceived ‘missing out’ as an abscence on an aspect can help create of life. the language It is not until every asexual has a needed to voice regardless of their past experiences, gender identity, romanbetter tic orientation, class, race, age, or ability, that we can effectively chalunderstand lenge sex-normativity and the sexual imperative. This starts by questionasexual ing our definitions of asexuality and thinking critically about the way experiences.
A QUICK GUIDE TO SUPPORTING SOMEONE COMING OUT AS ASEXUAL • DO NOT treat asexuality as a challenge to overcome or something that should be ‘fixed.’ Saying things like “How do you know that you’re asexual if you haven’t tried this?” or “You just haven’t found the right person yet” pathologizes asexuality by presenting it as a condition which should be ‘cured.’ Attraction is not the same as behaviour, and, if someone is not sexually attracted to others, having sex will not suddenly change this. INSTEAD, consider responding with something like, “You’re asexual? Ok, thanks for telling me.” Legitimize the person’s experience without assuming that they are looking for a solution. If someone is coming out to you, they are trusting you with an important part of their identity; they just need you to listen and support. • DO NOT give your opinion on the person’s sexual orientation. Your opinion may range from “I do not understand how that is possible,” to “That must be terrible to live with,” to “That’s amazing, I wish I was asexual too.” All of these responses, although they may be well-meaning, are alienating and reinforce the idea that asexual people are different and abnormal. Telling someone how to feel about their sexual orientation invalidates their own feelings about it. INSTEAD, try your best to understand the person’s feelings. It’s ok if you feel differently about sex and if you are confused by asexuality, but it’s also essential that you are supportive. Inform yourself on AVEN, read the Family & Friends FAQ, or ask the person for other resources you can read. • DO NOT try to find a cause for the person’s sexual orientation, whether that is a biological cause (“Is it a hormonal imbalance?,” “Is there something wrong with your genitals?”) or a cause linked to mental health and past experiences (“Were you abused?,” “Are you repressed or afraid of commitment?”). These questions are rude and intrusive, and may be triggering. An asexual person does not owe you explanations or any insight into their private history. Similarly, do not ask about sexual habits such as masturbation unless they address it themselves. INSTEAD, respect the person’s intimacy and boundaries. Choose listening over speaking, and accept what the person decides to share with you without asking for more. If you do feel like you need to address sensitive topics, ask the person beforehand if they are comfortable with it, and issue content warnings. If they call you out or refuse to answer a question, accept criticism openly and do not insist. • DO NOT assume what the person wants or doesn’t want. This can be especially tricky when this person is your romantic and/or sexual partner. Asexuality is not the same as sex-repulsion: some asexual people may choose never to engage in sexual acts, while others are open to the idea and may experience sexual pleasure (attraction and pleasure are not the same). Do not invalidate someone’s identity as asexual just because they agree to have sex with you and/or express sensual, romantic, or aesthetic attraction. INSTEAD, make sure you are establishing and maintaining open communication. Ask for consent regularly and explicitly, and respect ‘no’ as an answer. Set clear boundaries and respect them at all times. Be aware that all asexuals experience sex differently and have the right to be unsure or change their mind. • DO NOT ‘out’ an asexual person without their authorization. Although it may seem as though asexuals do not face stigma or discrimination on the basis of their sexual orientation, because it is defined by an ‘absence’ of something, this is not true. Coming out can be a difficult, painful, and daunting process, that each person engages or doesn’t engage with differently, just like for any other member of the queer community.
SCI+TECH
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
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Tips and tricks to study better How your study environment may be working against you
Jessica Hunter Sci+Tech Writer
Dedicated to my brother, and others like him, who could probably use this advice . . .
H
aving recently finished my undergraduate degree in psychology, I spent many long hours in the library working alonside other students diligently writing essays and doing practice problems. Here I noticed that it is just as common to see a student working as watching Netflix, or scrolling through Instagram (both of which I have been guilty of ). I would like to propose that a simple concept, called affordance theory, helps explain this behaviour. By being aware of the psychological implications of affordance theory, any student can become a more productive studier ( just in time for finals).
The best way to move beyond these goal-priming conflicts is to consistently study in an environment designed for studying. Affordance theory, first introduced by 20th century American psychologist James J. Gibson, belongs to the domain of Perception. Gibson’s theory suggests that objects in an environment not only convey perceptual information such as shape, depth, and colour, but also information about possible actions that one can take in such an environment, which he called affordances. Gibson suggested that it is our perception of the environment that thus leads to certain actions. An object’s affordances are processed subliminally, meaning you don’t need to consciously consider the fact that a button affords pressing, or a cup of water affords drinking—your brain registers such information automatically. I would argue that it is by ignoring, or being unaware of, this beautifully simple idea of environmental affordances that many students ultimately fail when they sit down to study.
Emily Carroll | The McGill Daily Whether it’s your cellphone’s delicate buzz emanating from your pocket, or your warm bed just visible in the periphery of your vision, these everyday comforts ultimately become “study hazards.” In order to help students (or anyone who wants to become more productive) make better use of their time, I have put together this simple list of tips and tricks to “out-smart” your senses and study better. Avoid studying in your bedroom, especially your bed If you’re in your bedroom, chances are your mind isn’t focused on studying. It’ll be distracted by thoughts of sleeping, gaming, or whatever else you do in your bedroom. A closely related idea to affordance theory is the psychological principle of “goal priming.” This principle suggests that we are subconsciously prompted by our environment to pursue certain goals. For example, when you cozy into your bed to study, your brain will associate this action with the goal of sleeping: you become drowsy, you rest your eyes for a minute, until all of a sudden, you’re asleep. Typically, this is not a productive mental state when you are trying to write an essay or study. It is also for this exact reason that we are advised not to read, watch TV, or eat
in our beds, because then we begin to associate the bed with waking activities rather than with the (arguably) most important goal of a bed: to sleep. For similar reasons, it is advisable not to study in your kitchen or living room because these environments also prompt goals like eating or relaxing.
In order to truly focus on your task at hand you must try to eliminate these cognitive distractors by minimizing their presence in your environment. The idea here is simple — take an environment used to engage in a certain, specific range of tasks, and then try to engage in another task unfamiliar in that environment, and it will produce a goal conflict. If studying is already a challenge for you, do not add addi-
tional conflicts of interest through the environment. Study in an environment designed for studying The best way to move beyond these goal-priming conflicts is to consistently study in an environment designed for studying. The most likely environment is probably your university library, but could also be a public library, a quiet cafe, a group study area, etc. Experiment in order to find the environment that works best for you, but always keep in mind that all environments prompt subconscious goals that may be working for or against your desire to study. Consider the technological distractions in your environment Your phone is addictive. Yes, it is. Whether you’re drawn to your Snapchat notifications or YouTube, your phone can be considered a potential source of behavioural addiction. A behavioural addiction may not produce a physical dependance like alcohol, heroin, or many other drugs, whose addiction is characterized by tolerance (acclimation to certain levels of the substance such that more of the substance is needed to produce the same effect) and withdrawal (removal of the substance produces both negative physical
and psychological symptoms). Instead, a behavioural addiction is characterized by an addiction to certain behaviours which produce rewards. Hypothetically, any behaviour can become addictive, especially ones with high reward value, such as gambling (winning feels good), eating (food tastes good), or social media (social approval feels good). Social media interactions provide social feedback, which provides us with a wealth of information as to our social approval index and friend network, and also allows us to form relative comparisons between ourselves and others. The danger lies in deriving our own selfvalue, or self-esteem, from these contrived, virtual interactions. The more we engage with these websites, the more focused we become on our own relative standing in the social media microcosm. Where am I going with this? This conversation surrounding social media touches upon the experience of many students who frequent social media websites daily, or hourly. Simply put, it is hard to concentrate on studying when you are thinking about how many likes you may have gotten on your latest Instagram post or whether or not that attractive person has accepted your Facebook friend request. In order to truly focus on your task at hand you must try to eliminate these cognitive distractors by minimizing their presence in your environment. Accomplish this easily with these tips: a) Hide your cellphone or set it to “do not disturb” mode. b) Minimize your engagement with technology when studying by relying on only books, pen, and paper. If you must use your laptop when studying, turn off the internet to minimize incoming distractions. c) Temporarily deactivate your accounts during intense study periods such as midterms or finals. By being cognizant of the subtle ways your study habits may be undermining your own academic success, you can shield yourself from their detrimental effects and focus on the task at hand—learning! Despite the drudgery of hauling oneself to McLennan in the freezing cold, and the absolute monotony of writing final exams, with these study tips, I hope you can make better use of the time you put into your work!
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November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
Sex over the airwaves
Sci+Tech
Reimagining sex, gender, and the body through technology
Frederique Blanchard | Illustrator Tai Jacob The McGill Daily
H
ow do you fuck someone when they live hundreds of miles away? This question has been on my mind, as someone who is in a long-distance relationship that spans not only different cities, but also different countries. In lieu of physical touching, in lieu of running my hands over and through their body, I’ve been sending images and words and videos to my boo. There is something fantastical about having sex over airwaves: over the phone, over text, over webcam. The immateriality of the sex, the very absence of bodies physically touching, makes anything and everything possible. What new ways can we create for our bodies to relate to each other when they can’t actually touch one another? How can we re-imagine what our bodies look like and what they are capable of? Technologically mediated sex— sex that happens through technology like phones and computers— fucks with reality as we commonly perceive it. It fucks with common understandings of sex, it fucks with space and place, and it fucks with concepts of gender, especially as they relate to the body. I talk about each of these fuckeries in turn. Fucking with sex Phone sex, webcam sex, and sexting fuck with common notions of sex, because each of these meth-
ods preclude the body touching body. As a queer and trans person, the kind of sex I have when I am physically present with someone already confuses common notions of what sex should look like (i.e. penis in vagina sex). When I map my queerness and my transness onto technologically mediated sex, I begin to tease out contradictions inherent to our common ideas of sex and pleasure. If I am touching only myself, but I’m doing that with someone else who is not physically present, are we having sex? Is it sex if I am physically alone but feel psychically connected to the person on the other side of the line? What if I’m not touching myself? Is it sex if it only occurs in our imaginations, over the airwaves? How do we define sex? How do we know when sex has occurred? Fucking with space and place I’ve been thinking about the ways that I fuck my boo with my hands. How the hands I fuck them with when I’m physically with them are the same hands that handle the phone I sext them with. These hands type the words that drive them wild. These hands take the photos that make them hard. So no matter if I am sharing space with them or if they are hundreds of miles away, the same hands still make them feel so so good. The same hands are still fucking them. Technologically mediated sex begins to blur the boundaries between my hands and their hands,
between me and my partner. When I touch myself over the webcam, and I’m watching my partner touching themself and I’m watching me touching myself, who is touching whom? Are these my hands or theirs on my body? Are those my hands or theirs fucking them? What is the difference? Whose pleasure is whose? Is their pleasure mine? Is mine theirs? A number of years ago, I read Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, and I distinctly remember the part of the book in which two characters, Joey and Connie, start having phone sex regularly. Franzen writes, “Joey, as he climaxed again, believed that he was with Connie in her bedroom on Barrier Street, his arching back, her arching back, his little breasts her little breasts. They lay breathing as one into their cell phones.” Intimacy mediated by airwaves breaks down the barriers between two people. Joey confuses Connie’s body with his own, her pleasure with his own, her location with his own. They became one and the same. Just as sex that happens in person blurs the boundary between the people involved, sex that happens over the airwaves does too. Just as I can’t tell the difference between my hands and those of my partner’s, our bodies blur into one another, even as they occupy different physical locations. Fucking with gender There’s another part about Joey and Connie’s phone sex in Freedom that really caught my
attention, and it was this particular fantasy: “One afternoon, as Connie described it, her excited clitoris grew to be eight inches long, a protruding pencil of tenderness with which she gently parted the lips of [Joey’s] penis and drove herself down to the base of its shaft.” I was particularly struck by this passage, all those years ago, because of the ways that Connie and Joey’s phone sex fucked with their genitals, made them do things that they could never do anywhere but the airwaves. As a genderfluid trans person, phone sex, sexting, and webcam sex function as sites of potential and of transformation, where I not only fuck the person at the end of the line, I also fuck gender. Technologically-mediated sex occurs through spoken and written words as well as curated images. These words and images create a world of their own. In the world that they create, my body can look and act in ways that fuck with common notions of gender. One minute, I can be getting a blow job from my boo, and the next, they can be fisting me. Sometimes we can even do both at once. In phone sex, I can have six different hands, touching my partner’s body everywhere at once. When I sext, I can have a cock, a clit, and a cunt. And these genitals may indicate my gender, or they may not – they may just indicate the kind of pleasure I want that day, or the way I am relating to my body that day.
Fucking with reality, fucking into fantasy Webcam sex, sexting, and phone sex all allow for different opportunities and transformation, informed by the specific medium within which sex is occurring. Sexting is mediated by text and images, phone sex by the spoken word and sounds, and webcam sex by moving images and sounds. Each of these media can be fucked with differently, each of them opening up new ways of relating to ourselves and each other. Technologically mediated sex expands the possibilities for sex and intimacy available to us. The airwaves offer a site of fantastical transformation, where our beings and our bodies can do anything we ask of them. Exploring my body and others’ bodies through the immateriality of webcam sex, phone sex, and sexting has opened up new potentialities of relating to gender, touch, sex, and self. Sex over the airwaves has the power to change how we define sex culturally. It can change the ways that we understand our bodies and their limit(lessness). It can challenge heteronormative modes of relating to one another. It may even allow for us to travel to different dimensions, fucking with time, space, place, and materiality. Sex over the airwaves is above all a conversation, and I believe it is one we should be having much more often.
SPORTS
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
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Sports too
The pervasiveness of sexual violence in the world of sports
Nelly Wat | The McGill Daily Christina Baldanza Sports Writer Content warning: sexual assault, gendered violence, sexism
T
he “Me Too” movement began over ten years ago with activist Tarana Burke, the program director for Brooklyn-based Girls for Gender Equity, an organization focused on empowering young women of colour. Only over the past month has it gone viral. Catalyzed by the Harvey Weinstein allegations, thousands of women have come forward to accuse men of sexual harassment and assault, both in Hollywood and other industries such as business, media, and politics. On November 10, this momentum reached the sports world when U.S. goalkeeper Hope Solo accused the former president of FIFA, Sepp Blatter, of sexual harassment. In an interview with Portuguese newspaper Expresso, Solo recounted that she “had Sepp Blatter grab [her] ass” before they went on stage to present at the Ballon d’Or awards in 2013. This comment came after being questioned on the prevalence of sexual harassment in
women’s soccer. During the interview, Solo also spoke about the normalization of this behaviour amongst agents, coaches, doctors, and trainers. She later told The Guardian that she believes sexual harassment in sports must be dealt with, and that while many allegations, including hers, involve powerful men, harassment occurs at every level.
Sports could be an opportunity to transcend and change gender norms. Unfortunately, this isn’t even close to the reality. Solo’s comments are an extremely important step in exposing the reigning patriarchy in sports. It’s particularly telling that, prior to Solo’s story, Sepp Blatter was only criticised for his financial mismanagement and the
corruption within FIFA, not the countless sexist and demeaning comments he directed toward women throughout his presidency. When calling on newly elected women in the executive committee, he said, “You are always speaking at home, now you can speak here!” Just before, he had referred to a newly elected woman as “good, and good-looking.” The most notorious of his sexist comments is a suggestion he made in 2004: that female soccer players should wear tighter shorts so more people will watch them play. While objectification and sexualization occurs for all athletes, it disproportionately affects women. Sports could be an opportunity to transcend and change gender norms. Unfortunately, this isn’t even close to the reality. Instead, the divisions between ideal body types of men and women are reinforced because the qualities of the human body we glorify in sports — strength, endurance, speed, even size — are ones that our society associates with men. Moreover, this perception is only the result of our constructed notions of gender. Sports culture seems to reify these ideal types, and thus fuels a cycle of toxic masculinity.
Issues of unequal treatment and mistreatment of women in the sports world are particularly challenging to address because they occur within a field with systematic demarcations between sexes, which emphasizes stereotypes. We can — and must — amplify the impact women and other marginalized groups have when speaking against sexual harassment and assault. This includes the leniency often given to male athletes in cases of sexual assault and the manner in which these issues are approached. When gymnastics gold medalist Aly Raisman, along with 125 other women, recently testified to sexual abuse by a team doctor, USA Gymnastics pressured him to resign with a $1 million severance package. Cases like this show how far behind the sports world is when it comes to accountability and punishment for dangerous men. The ‘Me Too’ movement not only publicizes the extent of wrongdoing, but lays the groundwork for women and non-binary people to more comfortably combat sexual harassment and assault. This is an important issue that must be raised in sports and all other industries.
ART ESSAy
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
18
Untitled Nick Yeretsian
culture
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
19
Poetry as a tool for healing and joy Brandon Wint on poetry as a honest mode of communication
Zahra Habib Culture Writer
E
arlier this month, the McGill Social Equity and Diversity Education Office (SEDE) and the Sustainable Projects Fund (SPF) held an evening workshop for poetry writing in the SSMU Ballroom. The workshop, called Poetry as a Tool for Healing and Joy, was facilitated by the acclaimed Canadian artist and spoken-word poet Brandon Wint. Born in Toronto, the now Edmonton-based writer, educator, and national slam-poet champion was in the middle of his Canadawide tour when he contacted Malek Yalaoui, SEDE’s Community Projects Manager, to see if he could add Montreal as a stop. Yalaoui seized the opportunity, reaching out to Shanice Yarde, SEDE’s Anti-Racism and Cultural Diversity Equity Educational Advisor, and Dona La Luna, founder of diVERTcite, to co-organize a financially accessible, racialized-persons-only, creative-writing centred event. In what appears to be kismet for a night of creative selfcare, the three also happen to be writer-poets. Wint began the workshop by asking participants if they had ever been in love. The participants’ varied reactions revealed something interesting about these kinds of heavy questions — their most articulate answers were involuntarily expressed in non-vocalized language. Averted eyes, a half-smile, or even hesitation can hint not only a ‘yes’ or a ‘no,’ but also makes clear the layers,
complications, and oftentimes painful messes that love imparts on the human existence. Wint, seemingly aware of this, was smiling warmly as he explained the question, “Love is the truth. Anyone who has been in love or pursues love in their lives is a dreamer and a truth-seeker.” He also gave an explicit, if indirect answer to his own question, disclosing, “I’m a lover. Love is my truth and the language I speak.” But even Wint had to admit that love’s nature is profoundly difficult, characterized by blessings and euphoria at its beginnings and cursed for the inevitable pain when it ends. The experience of love was likened to learning a difficult language, where humans tend to create and suffer immeasurable pain because in practice, they often mess up. A lot.
“Love is the truth. Anyone who has been in love or pursues love in their lives is a dreamer and a truth-seeker.” —Brandon Wint But as the workshop progressed, so did an understanding of how poetry, healing, joy, and truth could be fundamentally linked to the elusive and suspect Love. The room’s dreamy air of tenderness and vul-
Christine Luc | Illustrator nerability snapped into literary enthusiasm when Wint shared the powerful adage, “Good poetry communicates before it is understood.” Poetry is a unique artifact of language, it seemed, because its understanding has very little to do with its mastery as a language, or even mastery of language at all. Before the participants got to writing, Wint asked them to think of “writing as a testimony to the joy and healing you are experiencing,” suggesting that practicing self-care is as much of a vigourous process as is the development of writing. He advised authenticity and sincerity in cultivating both, but especially self-
Christine Luc | Illustrator
love. He also reminded participants to be aware of falling into the trap of finite expectations — that writing for personal healing and joy doesn’t always result in a finished product that is tangible, or always ‘good.’
The room’s dreamy air of tenderness and vulnerability snapped into literary enthusiasm when Wint shared the powerful adage, “Good poetry communicates before it is understood.” “I’ve never written myself into healing. Healing for me is, instead, the process of writing over and over again, in my head and on paper, what my needs are for healing and what it looks like.” Self-love is key because it is the natural, albeit demanding .outcome of writing, which must come from the heart rather than forced intellectualization. It is the process in which the writer understands their self and the “magic within” them, as Wint encouraged. This sentiment was echoed by the organizers, who had clearly tried as best as they could to overcome broad access barriers as much as they could. The workshop was
open to all racialized and people of colour from the general public, and provided participants with writing materials, childcare services, stressrelief objects, and even delicious Jamaican cuisine for dinner (the organizers made sure to seek out everyone’s dietary needs prior to the event). All of their graciousness came at zero cost to participants. Yarde explained the rationale behind this model of accessibility: “Making events widely accessible is part of a larger cultural shift to start valuing people over dollars. It uplifts and centres the voices and experiences of marginalized people on campus, and reimagines who a McGill student could be. The beautiful energy created after three hours in one room was an example of the power in people of colour, especially when we come together and show how much we can do with so little.” As the workshop’s name suggests, poetry can be used to realize true joy, which Wint described as the marriage of one’s needs and wants, at precisely the most opportune moments in life. Perhaps the most fulfilling way to achieve happiness is by allowing it to form naturally upon expressing sincere love for one’s self and others. It also involves reckoning with the truth of one’s own existence. For Wint, love expressed through poetry is the universal truth in which he finds himself liberated, adding to his purpose in life by sharing his experiences onstage and in circles like this one. The truth, if understood by Wint, ultimately does set one free. This sense of liberation is what Wint hopes his audiences achieve through understanding their own relationships to writing and poetry.
November 20, 2017 mcgilldaily.com | The McGill Daily
culture
20
On faggotry
Travis Alabanza turns their diary into an artistic and political manifesto Arno Pedram The McGill Daily
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I think faggots can be trans, can be men, can be not sure, can be any gender they wish — it is just kinda, opening the conversation up for more. It is realising that we do not always meet people at the gender that they wish they could be. It’s opening the conversation up from ‘kill all men’ to — ‘maybe not everyone who says they are a man is one.’” Travis Alabanza is a “a performance artist, theatre maker, poet and writer that works and survives in London, via Bristol. Their multidisciplinary practice uses a combination of poetry, theatre, soundscapes, projection, and body-focused performance art to scream about their survival as a Black, trans, gender-non-conforming person in the UK.” Last July, they released their first chapbook, Before I Step Outside [You Love Me]. In it, they talk gender, race, intersectionality, friendship, self-love, community care, navigating public space and transportation as a feminine, non-binary black person, and much more. Self-care and reader-writer intimacy The chapbook opens with a direct address to the reader, who is asked to fill in the blanks with their name, in order to receive Travis’ praise and validation: “______, you deserve more than the violence you experience. ______, you do not deserve the violence you experience. ______, you are not defined by the violence you experience. ______, you deserve more than the violence you experience, ______, you are not the violence you experience.” Self-care discourse tends toward an exaltation of the individual, the self-made person. When it does so, self-care discourse may lose its potential to solve the loneliness that causes our ills in the first place. Seeing self-care as a practice exclusively done alone prevents us from creating community and practicing community-care. Travis doesn’t fall into this trap. Rather, they directly engage the reader in a mutual caring system: Travis’ self-care recital is shared by both themself and the reader as we read their words. As the reader’s voice blends with Travis’ voice, we practice selfcare together, disrupting the loneliness we, as trans and racialized people, experience as people of intersecting identities. Travis’ chapbook is something akin to a diary. It is constructed as a conversation you might have with a close friend. They reveal stories of their day-to-day life, heavy with political consequence, but also intimately connecting the reader to them in shared hardships. One of the poems they share “was written in 3 minutes after someone threw a chicken burger at [them] in broad daylight. [They] have not re-edited it. It remains the same.” This poem transcribes the violence that gender non-conforming people experience on a day-to-day basis by direct aggressors and the heavier violence of silent bystanders. The simplicity of its creation creates a profoundly intimate connection with Travis — you could’ve been the
courtesy of Travis Alabanza, designed by Jessie Denny-Kaulbach friend they texted in the three minutes after it happened. Living non-binary At the core of the chapbook is Travis’ experience of non binarity. Their poem “THE SEA” draws out this experience: “Cis people ask me what my gender feels like and that never allows me to say what my gender really is. My gender feels like something stopped halfway through. A badly formatted tape to CD conversion, missing full potential. The second character on a video game, without levels, no up or down. It feels like an unfinished A body of water, potential to do so much, yet eventually bottled. Sometimes I stand by the edge of where the ocean meets the beach, and look out into the sea, that looks out over my gender, that pours over my body, and makes me feel like nothing.” Travis expresses a feeling I believe is well-known to non-binary people. Performing and knowing one’s own gender(s) as non-binary feels infinite, but this incredible choice comes with a certain loneliness, unfinishedness, to having so much space to create one’s own gender and so few models to replicate and claim authenticity from. Sketching trans-feminine futures Travis’ often explores their experiences with transfeminity and follows with discussion of the associated systemic violence imposed on trans feminine people. They draw out of their experience to
sketch a radically tangible trans future beyond the binary, and beyond punitive, exclusionary, and categorizing systems. “MOONLIT BROTHERS” is one of the poems where they describe an experience of transphobic violence, and go beyond the scene to point the reader to the source of transphobia. They write “You say faggot and I hear that I love you.” What if transphobes actually wanted to be trans? Regretted that they couldn’t be trans? Desired trans people? What if, as they say in the diary entry “ON FAGGOTRY,” “not everyone who says they are a man is one?”
“You say faggot and I hear that I love you.” —Travis Alabanza Indeed, throughout their chapbook, Travis sketches the violence they experience as their aggressor’s projected gender anxieties and desires: if people weren’t so uneasy with their assigned gender, why would they bother with people who are? Seeing someone embodying a reality, presenting in a way that you desire but are too scared to embody yourself is triggering. Indeed, it reminds you of the fear of realising that something you desire intimately is possible. So Travis says that when they hear slurs, they also hear “I love you” — their aggressors are too scared to break away from the gender they were assigned, although they wish for nothing but to do so. Although this
should not obscure the violence that the initial slur conveys, Travis proposes that what they are experiencing is not just violence; it is also their aggressor’s discomfort with their own gender and sexual desire for Travis. This is crucial to understanding why the politics of this chapbook are so important. Gay liberation movements have in part pushed for hate crime legislation, as a way of controlling and allegedly deterring homophobes. Travis proposes a more holistic project for trans liberation: what if we saw the aggressors as people in pain? What if we found, without disregarding the victim’s primary claim to oppression, a response not of criminalisation and exclusion, but rather a socially transformative process of breaking away from the gender binary? They write, “I am hoping for a world that does not just tolerate me, but actively loves me, uplifts me, protects me, and celebrates me. It is not enough to just be tolerated, I want to feel loved.” Conclusion Works like Travis Alabanza’s chapbook have contributed to my greater understanding and realization of my nonbinary identity from across oceans. In sharing this open political project, Travis Alabanza offers legitimacy to everyone’s identity beyond the binary, beyond seas, across borders, and sketches futures where genders are never boxed, instead, they fluctuate and blossom freely. Their chapbook can be ordered online at alabanza.bigcartel.com for only £7 plus shipping costs at travisalabanza.bigcartel. com. “Do not just consume us, support us!”