breathedout | Reading *Mumble*day 05.09.19

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Reading Mumbleday 05.09.19

In the grand tradition of ~~divorcées~~ ~~women~~ people in their late thirties, it seems my brain saw fit to start my birthday with a 1am anxiety attack to the nonsense tune of "You Are Bound To Lose Everything Worthwhile In Your Life (And Now You Are Too Old To Start Over When You Do)," with an encore rendition of the catchy little number "Adding More Worthwhile Things Only Means A Greater Amount of Inevitable Loss." To quote that immortal sage Jake Peralta: "Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool." The silver lining was that after I moderated my mental/emotional spiraling with some CBT exercises and arrived at the point where I was able to breathe but was still very much awake, I found myself with a few hours of surprise reading time, which has been thin on the ground lately. So that actually was cool, and not in the Peraltan sense; even if I honestly would rather have been sleeping.

During the night I got through a couple chapters of Samantha Allen's Real Queer America: LGBT Stories from Red States, which is the May selection for the queer book group that I am going to attend this time, y'all, it's happening. Allen's prose style is super engaging and fast-paced, and she strikes a nice, supportive three-way balance among (a) explicating the larger political context for the things she talks about with facts & figures, (b) connecting with other individual queer folks on her travels and relating their stories, and (c) her own personal history and feelings on being a queer person in red-state America. As a trans woman reporter and ex-Mormon who started coming out to herself while a student at Brigham Young University, later fell in love with her now-wife over graduate studies in Bloomington, Indiana, and currently lives in Georgia, the latter are, as you can imagine, many and complex; although an important part of this book's political agenda is to destigmatize middle America and the South among lefty/queer circles, and to make the point that they have always been, and always will be, just as queer as anyplace else. In fact, Allen says in many places that she prefers to be queer in a red-state context, both for practical reasons—regular people can still afford to live in places like Houston and Atlanta, unlike in New York and San Francisco—and also because in these places, where LGBT folks are still more urgently embattled, she finds it possible to access a queer community that has more passion and cohesion, and less cliquey in-fighting, than she has found in the big coastal cities.

(As a side note, I was talking to both

greywash and the friend/lover with whom I had dinner on Monday, about the weird defensive reaction I noticed in myself, especially to Allen's intro chapter. A wholehearted lover of cities myself, and also a seeker-out of passionate, politically-engaged people with whom to surround myself, my experience of LA and San Francisco and Portland has been much different than Allen's—and that's totally fine! I'm still 100% on board with her mission of reclaiming red-state America for the queers who have lived there all along, and for whom it is a beloved and meaningful home. Queerness is not, as she argues well, an urban invention, and there's a ton of amazing activism going on outside NY and SF. Despite being completely convinced of this, though, I surprised myself by ongoing surges of defensiveness about the parts of Allen's argument that I read as portraying city-dwelling queer communities as apathetic and petty. Luckily, as the chapters progressed I got over it: probably at least in part because it becomes very clear that Allen, despite her preference for red-state queer America, does not sugar-coat the challenges of queer life in Utah or Texas, even as she also celebrates their joys.)

Anyway, the first post-intro chapter involves Allen's first return to Utah since she left the church to transition, and it's poignant to read her personal reflections on finding a much more thriving LGBT support system in place there now than when she left. She talks to Mormons and ex-Mormons who have decided to stay and fight to make Utah a more welcoming place, with to all accounts impressive success. Allen and her traveling companion spend a good deal of time at the Provo chapter of Encircle, talking to the youth who are served by the programs there and who basically, in some cases, consider it home. She also talks to Emmett Claren, one of the first openly trans people to remain in the Mormon fold: he lives with the constant possibility of excommunication, but for him the faith and community are important enough that he plans to stay until & unless they kick him out, and meanwhile he is agitating for greater acceptance from within. The second chapter of the book, which deals with Texas—both a rally against the transphobic bathroom bill that passed their legislature in 2017, and a look at queer organizing in South Texas immigrant communities—is also very interesting, if less personally immediate to Allen's life story. More updates as I continue!

I've barely started Mari Ruti's The Ethics of Opting Out: Queer Theory's Defiant Subjects, which is the Q2 selection for the queer theory book group that meets this coming Wednesday. I'm still in the midst of Ruti's dense introduction, always the slowest-going section of an academic book. Her points seem interesting but honestly I'm not sure I have the bandwidth to get through something this theoretical before Wednesday. I'd like to! But I won't beat myself up about it if I can't.

I've also been really really meaning to pick up Amber Dawn's Sodom Road Exit, which

tellitslant and I were going to try to read at the same time. But between work, house and puppy I have not managed it. Sorry for my tardiness,

tellitslant! /o\ It's next up this weekend, and since I'm taking tomorrow off and have few concrete plans other than sleeping, writing, and reading, I'm hopeful that I can polish off the Allen and move on to the Dawn.

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I'm sorry about the Jake Peralta panic attack. :( Well done for being able to calm yourself down and read. Those brain gremlins can be such jerks.

Even if you don't finish the book by Wednesday, you can probably still go to the book club? I'm always delighted when people show up to the book club I run, anyway, even if they haven't read the whole book.

When I read about queer culture in the US (which isn't something I've done very extensively), I get the feeling that there's a big divide between working class queer people and the middle classes. Which I'm sure is true everywhere, but when I've been around queer people here or in the UK, it's felt like there isn't much elitism. I wonder if that's something that's picked up on in the book, and if that has anything to do with the author's experience in the bigger coastal cities?

That's a good point about going to the book group anyway, even if I don't make it all the way through the book. Thanks for the reminder; it wouldn't have occurred to me (I'm such a completist by nature...)

That is a really good & complicated question about how classism/elitism plays into queer US dynamics. Probably a dozen people could write books about it and come to different conclusions. Socioeconomic status is a HUGE part of the red state vs. blue state divide here, which is true not just of queer life but for everyone. Although urban poverty is, of course, rampant, it's also true that the country's wealth is concentrated on the coasts and in the cities, and the resentment about that on the part of Middle America is one of the things that Trump & Co used to race- and class-bait their way into office. (Though tbh: the swing contingent that voted him into office were middle-class suburban white women, so. Can't explain that.) And on the part of urban blue-state folks there is a lot of elitism about the "flyover states" (implication: that part of the country is literally only good for flying over on your way to the other coast). I am super guilty of this, which I think makes it good for me personally to read Allen's book.

As for how that plays out in specifically queer spaces... I think, though I'm really just speaking from my own experience, that the queer community here is less class-segregated now than it was at, say, mid-century, when butch/femme was very much a working-class thing, the middle and upper class lesbian scene was more about androgyny, and the two seldom mixed (and indeed, regarded each other with suspicion and contempt). There are still assimilationist versus non-assimilationist queer movements, and there's a perception that anti-assimilationist = working-class and assimilationist = middle & upper class. There's probably a grain of truth there—maybe more than a grain—but I also think in practice it's a lot more complicated. I'm having trouble expressing exactly what I mean... maybe what I'm trying to get at is a split between the activist contingents of both these queer classes, and just the cultural contingents....? For sure there was a section of middle-class queer America that agitated for their rights to live like heteronormative suburban married folks with kids, and then when they gained those rights, stopped showing up for the rest of the queer country. But there are also, from my experience, a LOT of middle-class folks who have been galvanized by the publicity around the trans rights movement and who are now agitating against (for example) bathroom bills when five or ten years ago they wouldn't have hit the streets at all. I think maybe we're in a moment where queer politics are becoming less defined by the fallout from the AIDS epidemic, and the class lines that were drawn in the 90s and 00s are perhaps shifting.

Though I do think there are certain movements, like the sex workers rights movement, that is in general extremely aversive to the mainstream middle-class LGBT culture, just like it's aversive to mainstream middle-class culture in general.

Edited 2019-05-10 18:02 (UTC)

Thank you for this extremely interesting and considered answer to my very broad question! I realise now that it's probably too big a question to answer in a DW comment, but you certainly gave me some helpful context, and I appreciate it.

The "fly-over states" thing makes me think of how people from the south of England like to draw an arbitrary line and say there's nothing worth visiting north of that point. We're way too keen to divide up our countries, no matter how big or small they are, and decide that certain places aren't worth our notice. And then we get surprised when people in those places object! I see it play out all the time in my tiny country, but it must have a different impact when there are just so many people and communities living in the places that get overlooked.

we're in a moment where queer politics are becoming less defined by the fallout from the AIDS epidemic, and the class lines that were drawn in the 90s and 00s are perhaps shifting. .... This is really interesting, and I hope true. I definitely see people talk about the idea that once some of us gained the right to live as heteronormative married people we stopped showing up for the rest of the queer community, but I rarely see it play out in practice. I do think cis queers can be guilty of not standing up enough for trans people, and that perhaps some of that can be wanting to appear acceptable and seeing trans people as other, but I don't think that's a class divide...

I see it as a class divide mostly just insofar as trans people in many places in the US are still openly discriminated against for housing and employment, and the resultantly higher rates of unemployment & homelessness—as well as the time it takes to recover economically from either or both of those things, or from, say, being kicked out of your parents' house as a kid—mean the trans population is more likely to be working-class and more likely to be involved in sex work (because in some cases it's the only work available), which is further stigmatized in a way that I think does break down along class lines. And the combination of unemployed/homeless/sex worker really contributes to further othering of a population that some mainstream gays & lesbians already see as threateningly other—especially in the case of trans people who don't pass as cis, which is a trait probably disproportionate to the economically marginalized population. Like it's one thing to reblog Laverne Cox's Advocate cover, but it's another thing to be supportive of a visibly gender-nonconforming sex worker living out of her car on one's street.

I am like a thousand years late to reply to this but: yes, this is very true. I definitely see cis queer people pulling away from visibly gender-nonconforming people; I see this from queer people of my parent's generation or older but I also see middle class older queer people being the most supportive of the most marginalised trans people so it's definitely not something I feel comfortable saying a particular demographic is particularly guilty of. THAT BEING SAID, I can definitely see how middle-class queer people could want to divorce themselves from trans people, even if paying lip-service to supporting them. We don't always want to look at the most vulnerable members of our communities.

Your comment is really good and thought-provoking: thank you.

First off, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

As it happens, I picked up Sodom Road Exit and started it but did not continue yet, not because it's not good - I am very intrigued by it so far - but just because it was harder work than I felt like last week. So maybe this week...

Oh good! Ahahaha. We can be tardy together. Next week it is.

(And thanks for the bday wishes. <3)

First off, happy birthday! Hope this next year brings you the best.

Also, congrats on the puppy!

I'm so interested to read here what you have to say about Real Queer America. It's a lot of issues all mixed up, isn't it? Coastal cities versus cities in the Midwest and the South, large and wealthy cities vs. smaller and more affordable cities, the queer neighborhoods of pre- and early-gentrificaiton SF or NYC vs. the current version), inland cities then vs. now, cities anywhere vs. rural areas anywhere. As a coastal urban queer myself, I hear you on your feelings of defensiveness about the big coastal cities--I had a similar reaction on hearing about this book this spring. I'm looking forward to reading it! Are suburbs discussed at any length? Unlike cities or small towns or rural areas, I suspect post-war suburbs, with their more homogenous single-family housing stock and tendency to lose young folks, might be the least queer-friendly of all.

Anyways, thanks again for reporting back! M.

Yes, there really are a bunch of different issues at play, and I'm realizing that's true even more as I try to write about Allen's book than while I'm reading it! What she has so far talked the most about are really small and mid-sized cities in red states, rather than rural or suburban life—and that's a very interesting point you raise about suburbia. It reminds me of a book that's on my list but which I haven't read yet: Clayton Howard's The Closet and the Cul-De-Sac: The Politics of Sexual Privacy in Northern California, which sounds like it addresses queer suburbia (or the queer implications of suburbia) more directly.

Happy birthday, and happy new puppy!

Thank you! He is very good. :>

Happy birthday!

And I am, um, interested to hear your thoughts on Real Queer America, but I don't think it's one I'll be picking up. (I am an artsy neurotic Massachusetts lesbian on a fairly Jamesian scale, and I take things to heart. Specifically, whether or not this is actually a fair judgment in context, I see because in these places, where LGBT folks are still more urgently embattled, she finds it possible to access a queer community that has more passion and cohesion, and less cliquey in-fighting, than she has found in the big coastal cities, and the polite version of my gut reaction is "okay, ma'am; I'm Autistic, I was raised by narcissists, I've had treatment-resistant major depression from age eleven and debilitating anxiety literally from infancy. Explain how your sense of comradeship is worth my absolute certainty that kids like I was are still the very literal frontline casualty in that battle.")

Edited 2019-05-10 07:21 (UTC)

I mean, I really don't think that's the argument she's making at all; she's not arguing that people who love coastal cities should move to the landlocked country, and she's DEFINITELY not arguing that we should preserve anti-queer culture and legislation in order to further a sense of community. (I mean: really not; literally her entire career has been devoted to reporting on, and participating in, the protest movement against anti-trans bathroom bills, and at least 40% of this book is her meeting up with local activists at protests.) When it comes to the red vs. blue state divide, she's using "I" statements and talking with other people who use "I" statements; she's not attacking anyone for their love or need of urban life, just expressing her own preferences. Which—I do think it's unusual enough to pick up a book where a trans lesbian says "I prefer living in Georgia to living in New York" that that's a narrative really worth getting out into the world. Very fair if you don't want to read it, however!

(I am realizing based on comments that I maybe should have contextualized this book better...)

Yeah, no, just -- I get incredibly nervous around people who find that level of environmental Challenge stimulating or inspiring, because a lot of them, in my experience, just do not viscerally understand that not everyone is capable of feeling the same way, or even of withstanding it.

And I worry about who she's not seeing because for one reason or another they're not there to be seen at the rallies or the youth orgs or whatever very good and necessary thing. That's it, really.

*hugs* sorry to hear about the anxiety attack but glad that you managed to get through it and read.

I hope you enjoy the book group, despite the theoretical heavy going, and that you are having a lovely time with the puppy.

is the implication of Allen's title that other parts of America aren't really queer / don't have real queerness?
:(

Oh, no: the "real" in Allen's title is referring to America, not queerness: she's playing with the common phrase "Real America," which a certain contingent of Middle/Republican America uses to claim that it is the "genuine" US (red-blooded, Christian, heterosexual, meat-eating, beer-drinking, gun-shooting, food-producing, pickup-truck-driving, etc.), and that the coastal areas—in particular New England and the West Coast cities, Seattle/Portland/San Francisco/LA—are dandified/sissified over-educated bleeding-heart liberal faux-European salad-eaters who are soft on crime & are probably communists. The conservative claim is that in the "real" America of family values nobody's queer: that queerness is some kind of effete import from San Francisco & New York, a sign of urban decadence & the decay of upright moral standards. Allen's arguing that, on the contrary, queerness is and has always been an integral part of this "real" America.

I mean, I would of course argue that coastal urban America is also "real"; we certainly both benefit and suffer for being part of this country. But I don't feel super defensive about that particular part of Allen's argument because "real America" is such a set phrase in the propaganda of the far right here, and I approve of the subversion of it that she's going for.

ah right - that makes sense, and sounds a lot better than what I was imagining!

I am sorry to hear about the night time panic attack. Those truly suck. But good job on managing it!

Also happy birthday!

The amount of book groups I’ve attended without finishing the book is...starting to get a little ridiculous actually. So I’m also on team go for it.

I would love to hear more about your thoughts on Samantha Allen’s book (threw that one on my reading list). I’ve been in /around Chicago my whole life, and it’s a little rough to find community but at the same time Chicago has it’s own weird “hard to break into social groups” issues that everyone runs into (or so I’ve been told by friends who are transplants).

There has been a queer group that’s starting to show up again in the suburbs. They threw a PRIDE parade/events last year that I couldn't Attend, but i’m really trying to get to this year.

Aw, thanks for the sympathy & well-wishes.

Having finished the Allen, I think it's an interesting & valuable read, especially for those like me who tend to get insular about big-city life being end-all & be-all of queer existence.

That's interesting that you're seeing a resurgent queer group in the Chicago suburbs! I hope you get to attend this year's Pride!

That all sounds extremely interesting! Congrats and good luck :)

Thank you! <3

Not sure when Allen returned to Utah, but I'm reminded of this Gallup survey. According to their 2014-15 data, SLC ranks 7th in the US in terms of percentage of the population in a given metropolitan area that identifies is LGBT (no Q).

Austin, New Orleans and Denver are also in the top 10.

Also, happy birthday! And thank goodness for CBT exercises to chase away those middle of the night brain weasels. I myself count very, very slowly and deliberately back from 100. It works. Most of the time. :P

Edited 2019-05-10 16:21 (UTC)

Thank you for the well-wishes! And yes, I feel lucky to be developing an arsenal of anti-anxiety-attack tools. They still suck but at least I'm starting to feel like I have some agency in recovering from them.

And yes! I think Allen cites that survey, or something close to it. Her discussion of Utah is particularly interesting because it seems like the Mormon church is in a very conflicted moment vis-à-vis queer issues, where one month they'll do something unconscionable like barring any child of a same-sex union from being baptized, and another month they'll pass anti-discrimination legislation ahead of many supposedly more progressive states, or endorse an LGBT Youth festival. Opinions on queer issues in the general membership are to the left of bog-standard evangelicals, which makes many of these punitively conservative official Mormon stances stand out that much more awkwardly. Allen feels like Utah is in a state of (albeit agonizingly slow) transition, so... I hope she's right.

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Ugh I'm sorry you also know this song and hear its annoying refrains!! Late-night anxiety is seriously the worst and someone should write a strongly-worded letter. If only we knew who to.

Having finished the Allen book, I recommend it! I have some quibbles with it, but I do think the overall agenda is a great one, and the individual stories she shares (hers included) definitely deserve to get out there. And I'd say that the Utah/Mormonism chapter is a real highlight of the book: Allen's personal connection + it coming early in both the book and the road trip means that it feels very thorough and high-energy. I'll be interested in your thoughts if you get around to it!

that first paragraph relatability index is off ALL the charts. /o\

here's to sitting with the prospect of EVEN MOAR LOSS, 'cause the alternative is... having nothing you'd care about losing? no thank. <3

That is the calculus of wisdom, friend. <3 For. Real.

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Reading Mumbleday 05.09.19

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