66 See, e.g., Fla. Dep’t of Children & Families v. Adoption of X.X.G. & N.R.G., 45 So. 3d 79, 81, 92 (Fla. Dist. Ct. App. 2010) (holding unconstitutional a Florida law prohibiting ho- mosexuals from adopting); Tulin, supra note 58, at 1603–04 (arguing that modern ways of depicting homosexuals are “strikingly similar” to past understandings, such as “the Progres- sive-Era paradigm of homosexuality as a threat to the American family unit” and the modern version of the “Cold War-Era paradigm of homosexuality as a threat to American national security”); Cupp, supra note 62 (urging politicians to avoid conflating gay marriage with bes- tiality); Brian Braiker, Grocery Store Un-Censors Elton John’s Baby Picture, ABC News ( Jan. 26, 2011), http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/grocery-store-censors-elton-johns-baby-picture- with-shield/story?id=12770479 (reporting on Harps Food Stores, a grocer that used a “fam- ily shield” —usually used to cover pornographic material—to cover a picture of Elton John, his male partner, and their baby); Andrew Harmon, Arnold Signs Bill Aiding Gay Youths, Ad- vocate.com (Oct. 1, 2010, 4:00 PM), http://www.advocate.com/News/Daily_News/ 2010/10/01/Schwarzenegger_Signs_Bill_Aiding_Gay_Youth (reporting on Governor Schwarz- enegger’s signing of several bills pertaining to queeryouth and adults, including a bill that allows access to mental health services as a response to a wave of gay youth suicides and a repeal of a 1950s law calling for research into the causes of homosexuality and its cures).
Yip, 2010; Kubicek et al, 2009; Yip, 1997). Simultaneously, with regard to ‘making space’ for non-heterosexuality in religion, various Christian denominations have articulated different perspectives, which are enormously complicated and contrary (Hunt 2009). ‘Youth’ is also a contested term and often young adults’ life experiences and priorities are placed at odds with the rigidity and structuredness that religion seems to impose and demand. Therefore, in such associations, the relationship between religion and queeryouth is at best tenuous and negligible. Nonetheless, research has incontrovertibly shown that religious faith and connections do matter for many young adults, significantly informing the construction of their biographical narratives and strategic life-planning (e.g. Collins-Mayo and Dandelion 2010, Smith and Snell 2009). Whilst non-heterosexuality is often associated with secularism, this study works against this dominant discourse by exploring the experiences of young LGBT people’s connections with Christianity. Rather than assume that sexuality and religion – and in our case Christianity – are separate and divergent paths, we explore how they might mutually and complexly construct one another.
3 Yip, 2010; Kubicek et al, 2009; Yip, 1997). Simultaneously, with regard to ‘making space’ for non-heterosexuality in religion, various Christian denominations have articulated different perspectives, which are enormously complicated and contrary (Hunt 2009). ‘Youth’ is also a contested term and often young adults’ life experiences and priorities are placed at odds with the rigidity and structuredness that religion seems to impose and demand. Therefore, in such associations, the relationship between religion and queeryouth is at best tenuous and negligible. Nonetheless, research has incontrovertibly shown that religious faith and connections do matter for many young adults, significantly informing the construction of their biographical narratives and strategic life-planning (e.g. Collins-Mayo and Dandelion 2010, Smith and Snell 2009). Whilst non-heterosexuality is often associated with secularism, this study works against this dominant discourse by exploring the experiences of young LGBT people’s connections with Christianity. Rather than assume that sexuality and religion – and in our case Christianity – are separate and divergent paths, we explore how they might mutually and complexly construct one another.
The Los Angeles LGBT Center also has a youth education and employment program. Their free program offers personalized tutoring that is self-paced, allowing students to move as fast or slow as they see fit. The youth education program also provides financial assistance towards the cost of taking GED tests and assistance with applying for college and financial aid for those who plan to further their education (LALGBT, 2015). Through the employment program, participants receive help on developing resumes and essential skills needed in interviews. If needed, LGBTQ homeless adolescents are provided with the appropriate clothes for a job interview and are even connected with LGBTQ-friendly employers (LALGBT, 2015).
One of the most dangerous behaviors in which homeless youth engage in is, “survival sex” or commonly known as sex trade. The term “survival sex” refers to selling of sex to meet subsistence needs, which includes, the exchange for sex for shelter, food, drugs, or money (Greene, Ennett, & Ringwalt, 1999). There are various studies that propose that many homeless youth engage in survival sex (Gatez & O’Grady, 2002). Greene et al. (1999) states that the proportion of runaway and homeless youth who engage in survival sex range from 10% -50%. Rates of engaging in survival sex among homeless LGBTQ youth appears to be significantly higher than their heterosexual counterparts (Walls, et., 2007). Van Leeuwen et al. (2006), compared risk factors of LGBTQ and non-LGBTQ homeless youth in eight U.S cities and results indicated that 44% of LGBTQ respondents reported that someone had requested sex from them in exchange for a subsistence need when compared to heterosexual respondents (26%). Additionally survival sex was the strongest predictor of HIV/STI risk for LGBTQ youth (Gangamma et al., 2008). Abuse and Victimization
B. Cochran, B. Stewart, J. Ginzler, & A. Cauce, Challenges Faced by Homeless Sexual Minorities: Comparison of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Homeless Adolescents with their Heterosexual Counterparts, 92 A M . J. P UBLIC H EALTH 773-77 (2002); T. J OHNSON & L. G RAF , U NACCOMPANIED H OMELESS Y OUTH IN I LLINOIS 46 (2005), available at http://www.srl.uic.edu/Publist/StdyRpts/HomelessYouthIllinois2005 .pdf; M. Kennedy, Homeless and Runaway Youth Mental Health Issues: No Access to the System, 12 J. A DOLESCENT H EALTH 575-79 (1991); G. Kruks, Gay and Lesbian Homeless/Street Youth: Special Issues and Concerns, 12 J. A DOLESCENT H EALTH 515-18 (1991); N. Milburn, M. Rotheran-Borus, E. Rice, S. Mallet, & D. Rosenthal, Cross- National Variations in Behavioral Profiles Among Homeless Youth, 37 A M . J. C OMMUNITY P SYCHOL . 63-77 (2006); G. O WEN , J. H EINEMAN , & M. D ECKER - G ERRARD , O VERVIEW OF H OMLESSNESS IN M INNESOTA 2006: K EY F ACTS FROM THE S TATEWIDE S URVEY (2007), available at http://www.wilder.org/download.0.html?report =1963; G. O WEN , J. H EINEMAN , & M. D ECKER -G ERRARD , H OMELESS Y OUTH IN M INNESOTA 2003: S TATEWIDE S URVEY OF PEOPLE W ITHOUT P ERMANENT S HELTER (2005), available at http://www.wilder.org/download.0.html?report=410; L. Rew, M. Taylor-Seehafer, N. Thomas, & R. Yockey, Correlates of Resilience in Homeless Adolescence, 33 J. N URSING S CHOLARSHIP 33-40 (2001); M. Solorio, N. Milburn, R. Anderson, S. Trifskin, & M. Rodriguez, Emotional Distress and Mental Health Service Use Among Urban Homeless Adolescents, 33 J. B EHAV . H EALTH S ERVS . & R ES . 381-93 (2006); A. Tenner, L. Trevithick, V. Wagner, & R. Burch, Seattle YouthCare’s Prevention, Intervention and Education Program: A Model of Care for HIV-Positive, Homeless, and At-Risk Youth, 28 J. A DOLESCENT H EALTH 96-106 (1998); J. Unger, M. Kipke, T. Simon, S. Montgomery, & C. Johnson, Homeless Youths and Young Adults in Los Angeles: Prevalence of Mental Health Problems and the Relationship Between Mental Health and Substance Abuse Disorders, 25 A M . J. C OMMUNITY P SYCHOL . 371-94 (1997); J. Van Leeuwen, S. Boyle, S. Salomonsen-Sautel, D. Baker, J. Garcia, A. Hoffman, & C. Hopfer, Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Homeless Youth: An Eight City Public Health Perspective, 85 C HILD W ELFARE 151-70 (2006); L. Whitebeck, X. Chen, D. Hoyt, K. Tyler, & K. Johnson, Mental Health Disorders, Subsistence Strategies, and Victimization Among Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Homeless and Runaway Adolescents, 41 J. S EX . R ES . 329-42 (2004); G. Yates, R. Mackenzie, J. Pennbridge, & E. Cohen, A Risk Profile Comparison of Runaway and Non-Runaway Youth, 78 A M . J. P UBLIC H EALTH 820-21 (1988).
“personal meaning” in regards of having a personal identity. For example, one participant explained, “But queer for me, I feel more in tune with everybody, where its like I understand everyone’s struggles. It isn’t just some radical term or name/identifier that I want to give myself, so it’s inclusive” (Participant 10, Survey Interview, February 2015). As another participant stated, “Definitely one of them being gender non-conforming and gender-neutral. It’s like
& Wallerstein, 2003) emphasizing collaboration and engagement of community members and service providers from the developmental services sector. The research team met regularly with a Youth Advisory Committee (YAC) of seven LGBTQ young people labelled with intellectual disabilities who provided feedback on research design, implementation and analysis. Youth advisors received an honorarium of $20 for every meeting they attended, for a total of five to six meetings. Two Griffin Centre program staff were engaged as full research team members in addition to three academic researchers, three graduate students, and the research project
Out, Creative and Questioning Oueer Youth Homepages Cet essai examine h pages d'dccueil crkamices et bien penskes que des jeunes (( queer destinent uux leurs qui sont plutbt caricaturks et marginalisk[.]
sense of identity, encounters a text and recognises themselves in it (Cover 2002, 115). Such theories make the assumption that there is an underlying fixed sense of identity (Cover 2002, 114). This is in opposition to queer theory’s configurations of performative identity, where the subject’s identity is constructed through the discourses encountered in the text. Cover’s work on the constitution of identities through media texts evidences performativity as an appropriate theoretical perspective with which to view identity in queer student media. Performativity allows us to consider how these identities are constructed through the process of being acted out on a daily basis. Performativity occurs in many places, including the media and, in this context, print media. Textual performativity includes both the process and product of text. Queer student activists’ identity performatives are enacted through their media texts. Susan Driver (2008, 14) considers the application of Performativity Theory for studying queeryouth culture and states that, 'Performativity underscores an expansive range of utterances through which youth signify their desires and identifications by reiterating and transforming discursive conventions'. Driver (2008, 10) emphasises the use of this approach, stating that 'framing youth in terms of queer performative cultural and political engagements … refocuses attention onto active production and deployment of discourses by youth
Religion was thus experienced as a refuge for Estelle, given her turbulent home and school lives. Perhaps significantly, her feeling of safety persisted despite the ‘conservative’ religious community to which she belonged (although she also acknowledges her RE teacher’s respect for her divergent views). This points to the idea that what is experienced as supportive for queeryouth experiencing bullying may not involve direct affirmation of their sexuality. As Estelle grew older, she felt increasingly alienated from her religious community, but as a teenager it provided her with a key source of well-being despite the lack of sexuality-specific support. Estelle’s account also brings into focus the fact that queeryouth can also be religious, and religion can be mobilised in ambiguous ways beyond secular anti-bullying narratives. Estelle was not just a queer person experiencing homophobic bullying in a faith school, but she was also religious, and this facet of her identity was equally important to her. It was through religion that Estelle’s life was made liveable (Butler, 2004); it was religion that allowed for her to be recognised as human when heteronormativity did not. Susan (19) was another participant who attended a faith school and experienced homophobia, but also mobilised religion in order to make her life liveable. She describes how she was involuntarily outed when she was discovered to be in a relationship with another girl. In order to protect herself, she drew upon her identity as a ‘good Christian girl’:
At the margins of the parent culture's structures, those that cannot have or do not want a part of the dominant ideology create their own worlds. And while queer subculture shares with punk a disavowal of dominant cultural codes, ideology and aesthetics, the queer subject can hardly afford to eschew romance, love and desire. In this respect, queer subculture deviates from punk. For while punk is content to nihilistically dwell in the ruins of the dystopic present, queer culture seeks to create a kind of paradise, if only for a night. Queer underground parties often transform their wasted surroundings through cheap but elaborately constructed decorations, dissociative drugs and music. This temporary world, made for pleasure, creates a space for social connection between friends and potential lovers. Like the mods, who extended the time of the weekend with their amphetamines that were aptly named 'midnight runners', the queer subject expands and re-centers the utopic space of the party as a dominant force. In the highly dystopic present, queer cultural practices carve out spaces that privilege pleasure and connection,
The mixed-race community of Cape Town is known locally as the “coloured” people of South Africa: neither black nor white according to nuances of strict racial criteria and classification systems rooted in colonialism and apartheid legislature. South Africa’s “coloured” people have historically been regarded as the “bastard children” of the nation. From their very beginnings, their classification as “off-white” rather than as black created a crisis in their identity. Coloured people dealt with this crisis in diverse ways. Some chose to reject the notion of colonialism and white privilege by embracing black or Afro-centric consciousness movements, but many adopted enculturations of “Englishness” that they associated with the British empire and church. This dissertation examines how certain cohorts of the Cape coloured community perform multiple-identities, and use voorstellen (identity projection techniques) as a means of claiming respectability and dignity. By associating themselves with specific musical genres – centred around choral singing, brass or string ensembles, ballet, ballroom or modern dancing, marches and parades – some coloured people strengthened this notion of being seen as respectable rather than disreputable; by performing a “sense-of-self ” that they believed was able to connote the distinction. I also analyze how the Cape coloured community engages a habitus of “queer identity” - the display of behavior more fluid and deviant than the norm; a behavior that does not conform to strict etiquette or social codes. This queer identity is a dissociated reality that I equate with “coming out of the closet” as multi-racial, black and white, African and European, heterosexual and homosexual – i.e., not fully normative. In this context, I argue that music acts as a catalyst, or social aid, to induce a particular habitus of coloured identity: a habitus not fixed, but, rather, dependent on the function of the music to negotiate one’s dissociated reality as either the conforming or deviant “other”. Using queer theory and autoethnography rooted in ethnomusicological discourse, I examine the social function of music and associated corporeal gestures of mixed-race South African’s living in the (post)colonial and (post)apartheid port city of Cape Town.
it to refer to social spaces with tolerance for difference and ambiguity. There are the cracks in the social system where new styles of dressing and living become possible. In Deleuzian terms these are spaces where deterritorialization occurs. I am not using queer as a synonym for lgbt. I do not consider all lgbt spaces to be queer. Some of them have become consumerist and thoroughly mainstream. One dyke I talked to called it the ‘gaystream.’ Queer space is not physical, it is a field of possibility in a social space. I organize queer space by wearing my outfits and by being out and open about my gender explorations. Queer space recedes and becomes less possible when I hide my difference when I try to “pass” as either gender. My view of queerness is heavily influenced by my background with eth- nographic studies and Latour/Actor Network Theory. I see queerness as some- thing that an actor organizes in her environment. She performs it and recruits others to participate in her idea. I do this by making friends and recruiting them into my gender project, and by just showing up and being visible day after day. Spaces become queer for me because I recruit allies who support me in my per- formance/structuring of queerness. Paraphrasing Bruno Latour I would call this a Program of Action. One of my most basic programs might be “I am femme and male. I claim the right to be here, and not to live in fear of violence” (https:// jasperswardrobe.wordpress.com/2009/01/21/what-is-queer-space/ Jasper 2009).
involved in the maintenance of life on a daily basis”. 9 This chapter reads work within queer Marxism and trans studies that has begun to address the socially reproductive character of queer sexual expressions and queer and trans gender expressions for LGBTQ communal formations and the material conditions of such work. The chapter opens with a brief introduction to contemporary Marxist feminist discourse on social reproduction, connecting this to current queer commentary on emotional labour. Building upon the work of Wages Due Lesbians, I will consider work within women of colour feminism and LGBTQ activism that is sidelined in social reproduction theory and Marxist feminism, to provide an expanded conceptualisation of trans and queer social reproduction. This includes reading the work and politics of Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR), a Third World and Black Gay/Trans Liberation group based in New York in the early 1970s, to concretise a further scene of queer and trans social reproduction from the archive of LGBTQ herstory. While constituted by and working to support the needs of predominately Latinx and Black homeless transfeminine and gay youth, STAR’s political platform demanded an end to racist, homophobic, transphobic and whorephobic state policies and free provisions of what can be cognised as social welfare – namely “free education, health care, clothing, food, transportation, and housing” for “[t]ransvestites and gay street people and all oppressed people”. 10 Indeed, the chronic underfunding or outright refusal to support such services and resources for trans people in particular may be read as a refusal to support trans social reproduction. I conclude by synthesizing an expanded definition of social
sanct and idealized institutions of the heteronormative society like love and family are informed by an asymmetry of power that easily lends itself to abuse by stigmatizing and victimizing those who do not/cannot conform to their parochial norms. And who either do not have a voice or whose voices are easily suppressed or criminalized in the current homophobic context of Sri Lanka. These institutions are accepted as indisputable facts of life and the ‘common sense’, the immutability and the ‘obviousness’ of the ‘rightness’ of heterosexu- ality held/entertained by the patriarchal society is hardly questioned. The works of Wijenaike engage in a more pronounced dramatization of how the queer intervenes with the heteronormative institutions. It must be noted that Wijenaike’s works, even though they were writ- ten during the more repressive early 70s and 90s, show a significant and profound awareness of the arbitrariness of these sacrosanct het- eronormative institutions and their consequent inability to contribute to human fulfillment. Nevertheless, as elucidated in the discussion in the previous chapters, these narratives are riddled with numer- ous ambiguities, paradoxes and discrepancies. These ambiguities and contradictions as well as the narrative choice of the queer as an adjunct rather than as the central figure or protagonist, attest to how these works are nevertheless informed and influenced by the overarching heteronormative ideology. It must be noted that being written from the perspective of a self-acknowledged homosexual writer, Selvadurai’s works differ in its more overt, critical rendition of the dialogue between the queer and heteronormative institutions. Even so, because this ideology of discrimination is woven into the very structures and textures of language itself, it is possible to see the insidious influences of heteronormative ideologies in the exotic texture his experiences inevitably acquire upon being translated into the available, restrictive heteronormative paradigms.
pact […] to at least match or exceed it’, which Lipman confesses, ‘in many ways [they] exceeded it… in terms of the graphic nature’. Yet, Cowen continues, ‘the sex was really not gratuitous’. As this type of depiction ‘had never been done in a show before’, they decided to treat sex ‘as arias, like in opera when language ceases to express, people start to sing’ (ibid.). In short, sex scenes enabled them to express what words sometimes fail to convey, additionally allowing viewers a certain freedom to draw their own conclusions. This approach to narrative goes against the expectation that narratives must produce something that adds to the overall meaning of an episode. Therefore, the intelligibility of these sex scenes is not anchored in a productive end that reveals specific information about the characters, which can help viewers understand them better. Instead, the numerous sex scenes manage to sexualise gay men and, by extension, LGBTQ people, not from the negative perspective of the good gay/bad gay dichotomy of former television representations, but in the sense that LGBTQ people have sex just like everybody else without connoting a perversion. This approach to sex and queer representations is possible because Showtime offers the creative freedom and authorial vision broadcast and basic cable TV do not, two qualities that disrupt TV series conventions in terms of format, genre, storyline, representational trope and visual style.
Discussing queer opacity in relation to visibility, invisibility, and disidentification has illuminated the artists’ different stances regarding their identities and the communities they seek to make a statement about. There were several trends identified in relation to the artists and their work. Specifically, Muholi's Somnyama Ngonyama demonstrated her changed stance towards visibility and thereby, her slow progression to invisibility. On the other hand, Okabe's Bible indicated her oscillation between visibility and invisibility while Blas's Facial Weaponization Suite illustrated his operation in the mode of complete invisibility. This suggested that even though all the artists deal with queer issues, they deal with them differently based on their subjective experiences and the context within which they operate. Additionally, Muholi and Okabe comment on the negative living experiences of South Africa’s lesbians and transmen and the Japanese transgender community, respectively, which may affectively create diasporic connections with people who escaped elsewhere to avoid these conditions. At the same time, Blas’s work is about tactical misrecognition which attempts to stimulate identification based on disidentification, creating a confusion that forces people to question their own relationship to surveillance and biometric technologies. Understanding these wider connections allows for a perception of these works not as merely individual, but as immensely social, a condition which strengthens their transformative potential. 233
Queer Identities Rupturing dentity Categories and Negotiating Meanings of Oueer WENDY PETERS Ce projet dPcrit sept Canadiennes qui shpproprient le terme "queerJ'comme orientation sexuelk et en explore[.]
the period but to provoke remembrance of what it meant to desire something different” (124-5). Carol thus lends itself to what Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick termed reparative reading, a way around the hermeneutics of suspicion that structured queer theory's impetus toward exposure of hidden violence and negative affect that creates a “future-oriented vigilance of paranoia” (Touching Feeling 130). This paranoid stance is limiting, Elizabeth Freeman argues, because “we can't know in advance, but only retrospectively if even then, what is queer and what is not, we gather and combine eclectically” (Time Binds xiii). For Castiglia and Reed, this eclecticism is key to memory's reparative potential in that “its combination of past, present, and future generates the plenitude made possible by accretion” (13). Indeed, this accretion allows Carol to weave together temporality, affect, and aesthetics such that positive, even pleasurable, affects are co- constitutive of its deployment of memory, alongside, but not eclipsing, loss and abjection. Following Sedgwick, Michael Snediker alleges that, because of its paranoid stance, queer theory “has had far more to say about negative affects than positive ones” (4). Given queer theory's investment in challenging normativity, its focus on negative affect seems a productive response to the progressive assumptions undergirding homonormative LGBTQ politics. Embracing negative affect thus emerges as a necessary corrective to the limiting emotional paradigms of Pride that emphasize personal happiness over the remembering of queer trauma, and the