The Rise of the Gay Bigot
Over the past few years, as we’ve seen such rapid, astonishing progress towards LGBT equality, I’ve also noticed a rise in respectability politics among gay men. I have to confess I frequently make the mistake of reading the comments section, falling down the rabbit hole of rage, vitriol, racism, transphobia, biphobia, slut-shaming, PrEP-shaming, fat-shaming, and misogyny exhibited towards anyone who doesn’t fit the “ideal” depiction of “our community,” even though the most beautiful thing about our community has always been that it embraces individuality. Lately I’ve been struggling to understand why gay men feel so entitled to tell others how to behave, when so many people are of the opinion that we are societal deviants, no matter how well-behaved we are. Why are so many of us adopting the very same kind of oppressive language that has been wielded against us by antigay extremists?
Recently, The Advocate published an essay I wrote about gay Internet commenters slut-shamingthe characters on my LGBT Web series EastSiders for exploring a not-quite-monogamous relationship in the show’s second season. In just two days, the piece was shared over 15,000 times and evoked some very strong reactions, good and bad, that also included a great deal of slut-shaming — no surprise there. If Fox News has taught us anything, it’s that closed minds hate analyzing their own bias and prejudice; they’re much more comfortable in an echo chamber where no one challenges them. More than anything, I was struck by how conservative the article’s detractors were, hanging their arguments on the perception of a societal consensus of how people should behave in relationships. Basically, if you aren’t married with 2.5 kids and a dog, you’re damaging the cause.
It’s surprising how many gay men consider themselves arbiters of social norms and mores, as same-sex marriage has only held majority support in this country for a few years now. And that majority is still very slim; according to Pew Research Center polling, only 57 percent of the country supports marriage equality, and in the world at large, only 21 countries allow gay and lesbian couples to wed in all of their jurisdictions. Legal recognition for gay marriage is actually a very recent development in history, with the Netherlands making the first steps towards equal marriage in the year 2000. It is a particularly galling feat of hypocrisy for gay men, who have been on the outskirts of acceptable society for such a long time, to turn around and assert their role as gatekeepers so soon after achieving “respectability.” Whether we’re religious or secular, we all have our own codes of ethics and morality, but we’ve seen firsthand the havoc that judgment and condemnation can wreck upon individuals who are deemed “immoral.” If their actions aren’t hurting anyone, then what compels you to attack them? Do you think the people that consider you immoral are going to be convinced otherwise when they see you parroting their outrage?
I recently stumbled across a Change.org campaign petitioning the Human Rights Campaign, GLAAD, Lambda Legal, and media outlets such as The Advocate to “Drop the T” and distance themselves from the transgender population. Although the petition hasn’t been able to drum up much support, it’s sadly in keeping with many negative comments I’ve read towards trans activists in other articles. There’s an audible “I got mine” mentality in these exchanges that repulses me. Yes, I’ve seen exclusionary language from trans activists as well, and comments that seem homophobic or misogynistic, but it’s all symptomatic of the same problem.
Why should your opinion of what is the “correct” way to express gender, gender identity, sexuality, or religion become a mandate for others? If what we are saying is that along with equal rights we want the right to judge and persecute others for not conforming with our ideas, then count me out. I left Mississippi at 16 to escape a society that I felt valued “respectability” over my humanity, and I hate to see LGBT people shackling themselves to the same kind of hatred we have overcome. Similarly, gay white men proudly stating their dating “preferences,” such as “no blacks” and “no Asians,” suggests a profoundly closed-minded view of humanity. To lump all people of a race into a single homogenous “unattractive” category is the definition of racism, and it’s something to work through in therapy, not tout on your dating profile.
Yes, the pendulum sometimes swings too far in the other direction; liberals can be bigots too. I was as offended by Stonewall as the next guy, but I am almost grateful for the conversation that it’s started about representation. Whether you want to watch it or not, I hope we can all agree that it should not be censored or banned from college campuses, as the Colorado College LGBTQIA+ campus group recently attempted to do. Of course people have a right to be offended and to boycott the film if they choose, but stating that the film’s existence is a “threat to our identity and safety” is verging on South Park. I believe we can be sensitive and understanding of the experience of others without pushing political correctness so far that it becomes tyrannical and obscene. There is an obvious middle road we can take here.
If we accept a rigid society where the majority’s experience trumps all others, then we must accept that our experience will never be valued equally as a group that will always be outnumbered. But if we espouse a philosophy of open-mindedness and compassion toward one another, then we have a shot at creating a society where all experiences are valued. In short, we are never going to cleanly fit ourselves into society’s standards if we play into society’s bigotry; we need to work together toward creating a more inclusive, loving society, where we accept and celebrate our differences.
We still carry the fighting spirit of an oppressed group, because we are still subjected to rampant hate and discrimination. When nearly half the country doesn’t consider us a part of “respectable” society, the battle is far from over. But we need to be careful not to turn our passion and vehemence against one another; together we will all rise up, but divided we will all fall right back down to where we started.
KIT WILLIAMSON is an actor, filmmaker, and activist. He best known for playing the role of Ed Gifford on Mad Men and creating the LGBT series EastSiders.
By Jamilah King Katie Hnida fought plenty of battles when she made history as University of Colorado Boulder football's first female place kicker in the early 2000s. But the most enduring match of her career took place years after she left the gridiron and came out as a sexual assault survivor.
"It was a different world in terms of social media, and I think it was a good thing for me," Hnida told Mic of her playing days, which ended in 2004. "When I spoke out about being assaulted and my rape at CU, it was just unbelievable backlash I faced."
Hnida said the rape occurred in 2000. She transferred to the University of New Mexico a year later. But she went public with her story in 2008, at a moment when social media companies, notably Twitter and Facebook, exploded in popularity and she was exposed to unprecedented online harassment. But that growth also saw something more pernicious grow alongside it: more gendered harassment faced by women online.
"The rape threats are always the worst, the ones where somebody says to you, 'You deserve to be raped' or 'I would rape you too,'" Hnida said. "Being a survivor, that's the tone a lot of these trolls will take with women, and it's very disturbing to see that that's the route they often go."
The online harassment women face is a well-told story. In 2014, it bubbled to the surface of mainstream media with the GamerGate controversy, in which several high-profile women in the gaming industry spoke out about sexism and faced a barrage of coordinated online harassment, including rape and death threats. More recently, the popular music festival South by Southwest canceled two panels focused on talking about online harassment in the gaming community after receiving "numerous threats of on-site violence related to this programming." The decision prompted outrage and an exodus of participants and sponsors, including BuzzFeed and Vox Media, which led festival director Hugh Forrest to quickly reinstate both panels. "By canceling two sessions, we sent an unintended message that SXSW not only tolerates online harassment but condones it, and for that we are truly sorry," Forrest wrote in a statement.
But the sports world is an altogether different beast, according to the women who depend on it for their livelihoods. It's a male-dominated space in which even the best female athletes are openly body-shamed and subtle sexism is the norm. Legendary University of Connecticut women's basketball coach Geno Auriemmasuggested in 2012 that women's basketball might be more entertaining if officials lowered the rims. That was roundly criticized by female basketball players. "When we're done making all those changes to 'improve' women's basketball, we'll end up with a product that looks a lot like it did in the 1950s, when women played a half-court game in skirts inside empty gyms, trying desperately not to sweat," ESPN's Kate Fagan wrote at the time.
But online, the harassment faced by women who dare to speak out about anything deemed remotely political is venomous. When WNBA superstar Brittney Griner came out as a lesbian shortly before being drafted in 2013, she was subjected to repeated online threats and charges that she "looked like a man." The abuse was so bad in college that her coach pleaded for it to stop in the media. (It's remained bad as Griner's private life has become public; she was arrested earlier this year for domestic violence after an altercation with her then-fiancée Glory Johnson.) The abuse is just as bad for women journalists who cover sports, as Julie DiCaro wrote recently inSports Illustrated, who described repeatedly being called a "whore" and "skank" by trolls.
Hnida, who is now a public speaker and advocate who speaks out about violence against women, knows all too well how bad the abuse can get. "From what I can see from females who work in sports media, there's definitely a specific kind of harassment," she told Mic. "I do think that it's a special brand of troll who targets women in sports and is uncomfortable with women being in sports and takes it out in really terrible ways."
Why online abuse happens: Online abuse happens because offline abuse does. Deanna Zandt, a digital strategist and author of the book Share This! How You Will Change the World With Social Networking, told Micthat online experiences can often mimic those in everyday, offline social interactions. "People think that we've got this blank canvas that's the Internet," Zandt said. "But instead of using it in these super transformative ways, we're just painting existing structures onto that canvas."
Human brains aren't build for handing the nuances of digital communication, Zandt said. Social neuroscience is an emerging field, but one that's already discovered some important clues about why people say things online that they might never actually say in offline life. When humans physically interact with one another, they're able to pick up on nonverbal clues — tone of voice, facial expression — that help them situate another person's words. When those clues are missing, the brain automatically processes that information in the amygdala, which activates our body's fight-or-flight responses. "If you see something on the Internet that doesn't quite sit well with you, your brain reacts thinking it's being chased by cheetahs," Zandt said.
Of course, not everyone responds with sexist vitriol, and the root causes of that hatred are deeply rooted in society. But on some level, there are answers. "Where the intervention can happen is to train one another, in the same way we've all been trained in phone manners," Zandt said.
Staying sane: Today's athletes walk a thin line between building their brands and staying safe online. Layshia Clarendon is a professional basketball player for the WNBA's Indiana Fever who is openly queer and deeply Christian. Her signature look — a multicolored mohawk and an assortment of bowties — is conspicuously not gender-normative. "It was just me being who I was," she told Mic of her look entering the league in 2013.
In August, Clarendon wrote a widely praised op-ed for the Player's Tribune on learning to reconcile her faith with her sexuality. "I identify as black, gay, female, non-cisgender and Christian," she wrote. "I am an outsider even on the inside of every community to which I belong. My very existence challenges every racial, sexual, gender and religious barrier."
She and her partner initially worried about the negative feedback, but it wasn't nearly as bad as they expected. "Religion and faith are the one issue where people get crazy and lose their minds," she told Mic. "But I was shocked at the amount of positive reactions I got."
She credits that to being very careful about how she engages online. "Because I carry social weight as an athlete, I may text friends if I'm really angry about stuff," Clarendon said. But whenever she engages online, "it's always trying to start a dialogue."
The experiences of female athletes online are as varied as the women themselves. But each one navigates cyberspace like a dark alley: carefully, methodically and, at times, reluctantly.
That's put pressure on social media companies to better protect their users. In 2014, Twitter unveiled a form that people could fill out to report online harassment. (The move was made in conjunction with Women, Action and the Media, of which the writer and Zandt are board members.)
"We have to recognize that there is no such things as a neutral platform," Zandt said. "We like to think Internet software is neutral because it's code, it's a machine and it's unbiased and these things just happen, but the code that we write is as biased as we are."
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