Scott McLellan
“The Voice’s article on the Problem Of Spectrum was really great but…cis gays complaining about their ‘lack of representation’ on campus. You can go to literally any other queer organization and that…is entirely geared toward you…Don’t complain about unequal representation while you’re having a feast and I’m eating your…crumbs.”
-Anonymous
“…I don’t think that [queer activism is] something our campus is in dire need of right now. I think there are definitely bigger things on campus that need to be addressed than queer issues.” -Maria Janasz ‘14.
So began my fury with the discussion opened by Wyatt Smith’s exposé on the problems of Spectrum and the campus’ queer representation. My friend, who identifies as bigender, makes a great point. As a whole, it seems Spectrum just is not up to the task of representing all queer students. There are people, though, who are more greatly affected by this inadequacy. To be more specific, gender-nonconforming people are being forgotten in the campus’ LGBT+ conversations, which seem to be more “love who you want and be who you are” than ever.
The problem I have in mind, the one that seems to be lost in every conversation I have with cis (gender conforming) queer people especially, is the issue of security, both real and perceived. For the record, I do not identify as trans*. To make things easier, I say that I present as a man, and in public I do. More personally, though, I say I’m more of a “boy-thing.” I’m comfortable with the scripts of masculinity and maleness given to me, but I am pronouncedly effeminate and enjoy the occasional lipstick (my collection is fierce). I also, though rarely, present in bearded drag. Suffice it to say I’m cis enough to reap the benefits of it, but I do have marginal experiences of perceived bodily danger on account of my gender nonconformity.
So, imagine that you knew for a fact that there was someone who wanted to do you physical harm and who has a record of doing harm to people. You might not have an idea as to why; if you do, you likely don’t see the validity of it. Imagine, then, that you spot this person who wants to do you harm — in fact, they’re walking right at you. Now, what happens to the body when frightened? Adrenaline is likely released, causing the breath to shorten, mind to race, heart to pound and fight-or-flight instincts to take control.
I have experienced this very same thing, both while performing as a gay cis male and a nonconforming person. Having been confronted for my gender presentation before and threatened with assault and death, I have first-hand experience with the dangers of gender nonconformity. As a result, I am constrained in the things I can do to present myself. Only when I’m feeling invincible (or feisty) do I go out to parties in makeup. You know it’s been a rough week when I’m brave enough to go out in drag (a decision I immediately regret upon encountering masculine cis men). When I present gender nonconformity, I am in a constant state of anxiety and stress.
My point is not to say that I bear the brunt of gender nonconforming dangers. If I am brought to tears by reliving these occasional experiences of threat, I cannot imagine living as a person who presents atypical gender day to day. People avoid walking on Beall for fear they will be harassed for their queer gender appearances. Spaces filled with certain people on campus are to be avoided at all costs for these same reasons.
The problems of cis queer people are legitimate. The problems I’ve mentioned do not make the problems already being talked about less real or in need of attention. Before we can ever imagine a queer community, though, we must begin to recognize that not all of us are safe or feel so. People, queer or not, should not be compelled constantly to consider their own human vulnerability, especially on account of their difference. This is a fundamental issue that needs attention — and it’s in need of attention now. Do not forget your partners in struggle.