This past week, in preparation for the new Wolverine movie, I started devouring all things X-Men: I read through hundreds of pages of Uncanny and Ultimate X-Men, I re-watched all the movies, and the entire animated series (circa 1992-1997). Even now I like to pretend that I am one of the X-Men, complete with my own unique and intense mutant powers, protecting a world that hates and fears me. Sadly, reality is not such that I have the extreme telekinetic and telepathic abilities of my dreams; however, in many ways my imagined mutant abilities may not be relegated to the realm of fantasy. The connection between the X-Men universe and the struggle for LGBT rights is scarcely a novel idea, take this speech from Magneto: “We have seen communities torn apart…roving mobs of vigilantes seek out the infirm among us. Some mutants conceal their true power, living a charade of normality while their spirit suffocates…There are those who have tried nobly to enlighten their human brethren, to strive for freedom and equality for all men. Their efforts have been repaid with brutality and hatred.”
This statement lead me to think that the only real difference between the plight to the LGBT community and the mutants in Marvel’s universe is simply that LGBT people, unlike mutants in the comics, do not have the power to level cities with a single thought. Were we to have these sorts of powers, I fear our world would much more resemble that of the X-Men. For all the fundamentalist right-wing demonization of the LGBT community, you would image gay, lesbian, and transgender people to have those powers (hell, we’re supposedly more dangerous and destructive than the terrorists who orchestrated the 9/11 attacks, right?). I’m going to change gears here slightly and take you back to Pullman, WA in October of last year. While the college was worried about football games and midterms, the LGBT community in Pullman was under attack. Homophobic messages were scrawled onto walls, doors and windows of queer students, folks suspected of being gay were antagonized at bars and in the streets, and two transgender students were physically assaulted. It felt very much like the “roving mobs of vigilantes” our friend Magneto was describing, and in this analogy I began to play the part of the “mutant” fighting for “freedom and equality,” and, like Magneto said, I found my efforts met with more hatred on behalf of the student body and members of the administration. It’s a frustrating battle and, keeping with the X-Men metaphor, I began to feel more and more like Gambit when he said, “I don’ know cher. We stay here fightin’ all the time, thing don’ get much betta’.” In my time working with the LGBTQ community in Pullman I have spent hours on the Speaker’s Bureau going to classrooms openly talking about transgender and gay issues; I’ve spoken out at protests and rallies, and I’ve worked to organize what few trans-related programs exist at this school. All the same, I’ve seen the social reception of transgender individuals gradually become worse in this town. Things don’ seem to get much betta, indeed.
That said I feel it’s important we focus on the subtle changes we make in this world. Oh, certainly you have your marriage equality in Iowa to celebrate, and I by no means wish to devalue the huge importance of that victory. But the Iowas are slow in coming, and they occur very rarely. This, hopefully, is changing, but we have a much better chance of effecting change in subtle, personal ways. Just this past weekend I had the opportunity to speak at the Social Justice Forum in Moscow, ID—a response to the city’s recent failure to extend nondiscrimination rights to transgender people. While I didn’t feel I was particularly articulate that night or informative, I do know for certain that at least three Moscow community members exponentially increased their knowledge of trans people simply as a result of conversing with me. I’ve had friends declare their allegiance to the trans community to me via facebook after I bombarded my profile with trans-related news stories. I hate to say it, but I’m aligning myself with the philosophy of Harvey Milk: we must come out and share our stories with the world if ever we hope to make it better. Milk is famous for saying:
Gay brothers and sisters,... You must come out. Come out... to your parents... I
know that it is hard and will hurt them but think about how they will hurt you
in the voting booth! Come out to your relatives... come out to your friends...
if indeed they are your friends. Come out to your neighbors... to your fellow
workers... to the people who work where you eat and shop... come out only to the
people you know, and who know you. Not to anyone else. But once and for all,
break down the myths, destroy the lies and distortions. For your sake. For their
sake. For the sake of the youngsters who are becoming scared by the votes from
Dade to Eugene.
While I’m still of the mind that all of us should be able to live our lives in peace, only sharing what we choose about ourselves, I likewise believe we shouldn’t have to hide away and stifle our spirits. In the ideal world the burden of educating the public about transgender people/issues and constructing solutions would not fall on our shoulders. Fact of the matter is it does, and in any case what would the alternative be? People ignorant of our life stories define us for ourselves? As Audrey Lorde said, “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” If you’ve never had the chance to read Lorde’s writing I highly recommend her. So inspiring are her words that I’m tempted to end this post with a list of her quotes. Instead, I’ll leave you with two thoughts: “Even the smallest victory is never to be taken for granted. Each victory must be applauded,” and “When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.”
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