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textualdevianceBeen finding myself in a few Someone is WRONG on the Internet! debates of late, primarily around queer/ss-marriage issues. Keep running into the assertion that ss couples just want to "destroy" marriage, The Family (tm), etc. I can usually run interference on most points of fact these folks get wrong, but this one is always a head-scratcher for me, because I just don't get it. I just can't figure out why anyone would consider someone else's relationship, and the legal status thereof, to be somehow threatening.
But I think I sort of get it, now, and I think it comes down to two things: Insecurity, and a cultural sensibility that translates to, "If you're not us, then you're them, and therefore the enemy." And I get that because I've felt that way, too.
In terms of homophobia and other sorts of abject bigotry, some of this, undoubtedly, comes from religious and cultural traditions that actually do teach in those precise terms. They set up an ideal of existence that's very narrow, and teach that anything less than that ideal is not just imperfect but aberrant. Some of it is just a false sense of persecution, too--group leaders who have lied to their adherents about exactly how much power and dominance they really have. And some is also the sense that one is entitled to unquestioned dominance--the belief that the superior position they're in is the natural order of things, and any attempts to raise others up to that level is a breach of protocol (see: Randians.)
Combatting that kind of hard-wired stuff is basically impossible, and there's no sense in trying, IME.
However, there's another type, and it's one that I've come to realize is uncomfortably familiar, because I do it, too: A sense of cultural isolation that's real to some degree, which then results in a perception of Me Against the World.
If the minority you're in is quite small, unorganized or otherwise generally weak, it doesn't matter whether the dominant majority is actually persecuting you or not. The fear is that you don't have enough numbers to fight back if they did decide to do so. Add in any amount of actual persecution, even if it's something far back in history or sporadic, and it's all too easy to assume that anyone who isn't in your group is a potential threat, and one you have no way of fighting.
Thing is, even though there may be some real level of risk involved, living as if every stranger is a potential assailant is hell--and counterproductive. If you stay only within your own small circle, you'll never have a chance to make allies who can help protect you and your group against any actual threat.
Now, of course when it comes to groups that actually do pose a real threat, of course a bit of a "them" designation makes sense. People who choose to vote conservative, for instance, are actually making a choice to disregard or actively try to take away my human rights, and therefore trusting them is kind of pointless. With only very rare exceptions, those folks actually ARE "the enemy," so to speak, and building up defenses about them isn't just understandable, but necessary.
But I think us folks in non-dominant groups often overestimate exactly how threatened we are by people who just happen to not be like us, rather than having a demonstrated history of antipathy toward us. I think past traumas and a sense of isolation make us tend to retreat--to hole up among things and people that are familiar and safe, rather than venturing out more or less alone into a world that may or may not pose a danger.
I think it also leads us to a lot of tearing-others-down as a means of building ourselves up. If we don't feel we have safety in numbers or strength to stand on our own, then the only choice we feel we have is to try to subtly chip away at the power of others to even the playing field. Terrorism, in other words. We don't have huge armies and fighter jets, so we set off small bombs instead, because we feel it's the only way we can fight back.
It's actually pretty darned uncomfortable to realize how much of this I've done--and still do. Because of my vast assortment of oddities, there are so few of "me" around that I really do feel like an army of one, which has made me downright paranoid about people who don't share at least a few of my oddities, if not all. And so I'll sit and snark on muggles, or w'ev, and dig myself a pit of supposed safety on that basis.
But, honestly, I don't want to live like that anymore. Thinking of doing otherwise terrifies me, of course, but I can't face the idea that the last 20 years of my life might be spent lobbing bombs at people just because they're mainstream and I'm not. Again, I'll always still be fighting the real enemies, but my panic about, say, straight women and non-geeks really needs to go away.
I think a lot of homophobes who aren't irretrievably brainwashed are people in minorities themselves. They're poor, or POCs, or have little access to a larger, multi-cultural community. And those things result in isolation, and the sense of digging in for shelter. They hate queer folk not for any real reason or as a matter of religious idealism, but because they're unfamiliar, and not like the traditions and cultures in which these people feel the most safe. It's the same reason they hate people who live in cities, or people with extensive education, or people who speak a different language. They're afraid of being out in a world that isn't guaranteed to be supportive and familiar.
And I get that. I also get how incredibly hard it is to get out of that habit.
I'm not quite sure that understanding all this is going to help me get anyone else out of it, of course--homophobes least of all. But I do think I can at least work on it for myself. I'd at least like to get to the point where I'm perfectly happy saying "Yay, me!" without an attached "Boo, you!" on the end of it.
Of course, my paranoid side could well be right, and trying to do this is just going to turn me into the world's doormat in some way or another. But if the world really is that threatening, then it's going to take me down eventually whether I'm bravely facing it or not. And because the potential benefits of that bravery are pretty damned high, then, well... It's time to stop being a gutless wonder.
And who knows? Maybe in doing so, I'll at least set an example for someone else, and they can unlearn some of that paranoia, too.
But I think I sort of get it, now, and I think it comes down to two things: Insecurity, and a cultural sensibility that translates to, "If you're not us, then you're them, and therefore the enemy." And I get that because I've felt that way, too.
In terms of homophobia and other sorts of abject bigotry, some of this, undoubtedly, comes from religious and cultural traditions that actually do teach in those precise terms. They set up an ideal of existence that's very narrow, and teach that anything less than that ideal is not just imperfect but aberrant. Some of it is just a false sense of persecution, too--group leaders who have lied to their adherents about exactly how much power and dominance they really have. And some is also the sense that one is entitled to unquestioned dominance--the belief that the superior position they're in is the natural order of things, and any attempts to raise others up to that level is a breach of protocol (see: Randians.)
Combatting that kind of hard-wired stuff is basically impossible, and there's no sense in trying, IME.
However, there's another type, and it's one that I've come to realize is uncomfortably familiar, because I do it, too: A sense of cultural isolation that's real to some degree, which then results in a perception of Me Against the World.
If the minority you're in is quite small, unorganized or otherwise generally weak, it doesn't matter whether the dominant majority is actually persecuting you or not. The fear is that you don't have enough numbers to fight back if they did decide to do so. Add in any amount of actual persecution, even if it's something far back in history or sporadic, and it's all too easy to assume that anyone who isn't in your group is a potential threat, and one you have no way of fighting.
Thing is, even though there may be some real level of risk involved, living as if every stranger is a potential assailant is hell--and counterproductive. If you stay only within your own small circle, you'll never have a chance to make allies who can help protect you and your group against any actual threat.
Now, of course when it comes to groups that actually do pose a real threat, of course a bit of a "them" designation makes sense. People who choose to vote conservative, for instance, are actually making a choice to disregard or actively try to take away my human rights, and therefore trusting them is kind of pointless. With only very rare exceptions, those folks actually ARE "the enemy," so to speak, and building up defenses about them isn't just understandable, but necessary.
But I think us folks in non-dominant groups often overestimate exactly how threatened we are by people who just happen to not be like us, rather than having a demonstrated history of antipathy toward us. I think past traumas and a sense of isolation make us tend to retreat--to hole up among things and people that are familiar and safe, rather than venturing out more or less alone into a world that may or may not pose a danger.
I think it also leads us to a lot of tearing-others-down as a means of building ourselves up. If we don't feel we have safety in numbers or strength to stand on our own, then the only choice we feel we have is to try to subtly chip away at the power of others to even the playing field. Terrorism, in other words. We don't have huge armies and fighter jets, so we set off small bombs instead, because we feel it's the only way we can fight back.
It's actually pretty darned uncomfortable to realize how much of this I've done--and still do. Because of my vast assortment of oddities, there are so few of "me" around that I really do feel like an army of one, which has made me downright paranoid about people who don't share at least a few of my oddities, if not all. And so I'll sit and snark on muggles, or w'ev, and dig myself a pit of supposed safety on that basis.
But, honestly, I don't want to live like that anymore. Thinking of doing otherwise terrifies me, of course, but I can't face the idea that the last 20 years of my life might be spent lobbing bombs at people just because they're mainstream and I'm not. Again, I'll always still be fighting the real enemies, but my panic about, say, straight women and non-geeks really needs to go away.
I think a lot of homophobes who aren't irretrievably brainwashed are people in minorities themselves. They're poor, or POCs, or have little access to a larger, multi-cultural community. And those things result in isolation, and the sense of digging in for shelter. They hate queer folk not for any real reason or as a matter of religious idealism, but because they're unfamiliar, and not like the traditions and cultures in which these people feel the most safe. It's the same reason they hate people who live in cities, or people with extensive education, or people who speak a different language. They're afraid of being out in a world that isn't guaranteed to be supportive and familiar.
And I get that. I also get how incredibly hard it is to get out of that habit.
I'm not quite sure that understanding all this is going to help me get anyone else out of it, of course--homophobes least of all. But I do think I can at least work on it for myself. I'd at least like to get to the point where I'm perfectly happy saying "Yay, me!" without an attached "Boo, you!" on the end of it.
Of course, my paranoid side could well be right, and trying to do this is just going to turn me into the world's doormat in some way or another. But if the world really is that threatening, then it's going to take me down eventually whether I'm bravely facing it or not. And because the potential benefits of that bravery are pretty damned high, then, well... It's time to stop being a gutless wonder.
And who knows? Maybe in doing so, I'll at least set an example for someone else, and they can unlearn some of that paranoia, too.
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