Genius Toiling in Obscurity

Allies

Last fall, I participated in a reading group for faculty and staff at the community college where I teach part-time. The group was reading a book on diversity in the classroom, and for our first meeting we read an essay about gay and lesbian students, and the appropriateness of them coming out in class.

About half an hour into our discussion, I noticed that not one person had yet said the word "gay" or the word "lesbian." Instead, we had drifted into a conversation about race, with which, as a group, we seemed to feel much more comfortable. I raised my hand and pointed out that we were discussing race instead of the topic of the essay we had read. Everyone agreed that, indeed, we were. Many looked chagrined.

Five minutes later, we were on race again. I again mentioned that we were talking about race instead of sexuality, and wondered aloud if that reflected some discomfort with the topic.

After the discussion, a black woman who had been very active in the discussion came over to tell me that she was a fan of mine, having been a subscriber to my now-defunct work of serial fiction, Letters from Harriet. As we chatted, I mentioned the name of a mutual acquaintance. The woman made a face.

I questioned her about it. "Oh, it's just that sometimes I question her commitment to racial justice," she said.

Now, the friend in question is, simply, the most committed and active anti-racist white woman I know. Hearing her "commitment" questioned by a black woman made me angry on her behalf, but it also discouraged and frustrated me. If a woman who has spent decades working to help white people identify and overcome racism isn't doing enough, or isn't doing it right, what's the point? My own vague good intentions certainly don't count for much by any measure, but why would I step up my efforts if my reward will be behind-the-back criticism?

There's a punchline a-comin', folks, because in that very same group discussion, during one of the brief periods during which we managed to actually talk about gay men and lesbians, a self-identified straight instructor said, "There are times when I think it's important for the homosexual perspective to be represented in my class, and if none of my students take that on, then I consider it my job to represent the homosexual perspective."

Now, as a former homosexual myself, I inwardly groaned and rolled my eyes at this. As current and former homsexuals among my readers will know, homosexuals almost never call themselves homosexuals. "Represent the homosexual perspective?" I thought to myself, snorting with disdain. "Hardly, if she doesn't even know some basics of terminology."

It took five or six hours for the shoe to drop. Here is a straight woman saying that she thinks it's important enough for gay and lesbian concerns to be represented in her classroom that she accepts that representation as her responsibility and carries it out to the best of her ability, and I'm dismissing her because of terminology? "Oh, it's just that sometimes I question her commitment to overcoming homophobia...."

Mea culpa

Posted by Su Penn at February 4, 2003 09:21 PM | TrackBack