Dear Class,
In your intros, one thing that strikes me is how careful you all are being with your language. This desire to be sensitive is quite admirable, but at the same time, I don’t want you to be so worried about language that you clam up. Mistakes are easy to make, and as long as you don’t have malicious intent, most LGBTQ people are very cool about making gentle corrections.
So yes, dear student. Be sensitive with how you use language, but there’s no need to be overly cautious or overly-apologetic, either. Ask 100 queers what one term they want to be called and what one term they find offensive, and you’ll get 413 answers! For example, in my circle of friends, we've used "gender-bender" with affection and humor for decades to describe androgynous men and women, going all the way back to Boy George and Annie Lennox! And some of my transgender friends, people in their 40's, 40's and 60's who've been trans long before the latest round of politically-correct terminology came about, feel the same way about the term “tranny”! As for the term “homosexual," that term never bothered me either. It's accurate! But I can easily see why gay people just a few years older than me don’t like it or think it sounds too “clinical”. They had to endure during a period when “homosexuality” was considered a disease or mental illness in need of a cure.
During my lifetime, the correct thing to call black people has evolved tremendously. When I was a little kid, I already knew that I oughtn’t utter the “N” word, even though I heard the black kids at the park using it among themselves. During my early childhood of the 1960’s, some well-meaning white people still occasionally used the words “colored” and “negro” without malicious intent. I was 4 years old when the Watts Riots of 1965 took place three miles east down Imperial Highway from where I lived. I could see all the smoke, flames, fire trucks, and police cars out the window as I rode in the backseat of my pop's 1961 Plymouth Fury across the intersection at Hawthorne Blvd. & Imperial. I remember seeing a really pissed-off black man on the news that night screaming that they were gonna “push Whitey into the ocean!” I was terrified, not by his blackness, but by his rage. At the same time, I felt an innate attraction towards his rebelliousness, During my 1970’s teenage years, the Crips, Brims, and Bloods emerged from my neighborhood in south central Los Angeles, and eventually they rose into the gangsta powerhouses they became in the 1980s and 1990s.
I grew up in a fairly liberal home with a chilled-out dad and countercultural mom, and the little radical fag in me (which was still at least a decade from fully emerging) was definitely attracted to hippies and rebels. I instinctively grooved with the Flower Children, the Ecology Movement, the Anti-War Movement, and the Black Power movement, I loved Angela Davis and the Black Panthers, and got in trouble for the glowing, approving report I wrote about them in my high school freshman year social studies class. I understood and dug their messages, in the way that an anti-authoritarian 14-year-old white queerboy could.
Throughout my childhood, black and brown people were integrating our formerly lilly-white neighborhood schools. My best friend in 7th grade was Sandra Brown – the only black girl in the whole class. At first we almost got into a fistfight over something – I don’t remember what – but then we quickly bonded on the playground swings over soul music, dancing, and Twinkies. By this point my faggotry was difficult to hide, even though I would be a virgin for many more years. But Sandra (my pet name for her was “Chok-o-lette” -- she loved the candy and the name), she always stood by my side and even defended me against some of the more aggressive bullies. I remember we saw "Blacula" together at the decrepit bargain theater in our neighborhood. But Sandra went to another school for 8th grade and I never saw her again.
More black kids came in 8th grade, but they mostly kept to themselves and sort of made it clear they wanted to keep it that way. Nevertheless, one of my best friends in 8th grade was Walter Grant, who had a black dad and a Japanese mom. He was lighter than all the other blacks, and they sort of rejected him, but I wasn't very popular and never turned away anyone who wanted to be friends with me. Walter had such a huge afro that it totally exceeded the boundaries of his class picture, so it looked like he had square hair! We used to laugh about that. He also had a really good collection of porn under his bed, which he showed me when we would ride our bikes to his house for lunch.
Throughout my childhood, black and brown people were integrating our formerly lilly-white neighborhood schools. My best friend in 7th grade was Sandra Brown – the only black girl in the whole class. At first we almost got into a fistfight over something – I don’t remember what – but then we quickly bonded on the playground swings over soul music, dancing, and Twinkies. By this point my faggotry was difficult to hide, even though I would be a virgin for many more years. But Sandra (my pet name for her was “Chok-o-lette” -- she loved the candy and the name), she always stood by my side and even defended me against some of the more aggressive bullies. I remember we saw "Blacula" together at the decrepit bargain theater in our neighborhood. But Sandra went to another school for 8th grade and I never saw her again.
That little detour was to illustrate my point that “black” became the term of choice around that time. But as the years went on, debates raged about what the “name” of these people should be – these people seeking to unite as a political, social, and cultural entity. Several different names had short trial periods. In 1988, when I was a graduate student still doing my student teaching at SFSU, I’ll never forget how one day I referred to “Afro-Americans” in class. A black undergraduate, probably only five or so years younger than me, and probably fresh out of her first African American Studies class, shot up her hand up and said, “Excuse me! An Afro is a hairstyle. The proper term is African Americans.” She was right, of course. I hadn't kept up with the latest terminology. I said something to the effect of “Sorry. No Harm Intended. I Stand Corrected.” Boy I sure learned THAT lesson! But get this… It turns out we’re Back to Black! And that's fine with me. Black is Beautiful Baby!
So yes, dear student. Be sensitive with how you use language, but there’s no need to be overly cautious or overly-apologetic, either. Ask 100 queers what one term they want to be called and what one term they find offensive, and you’ll get 413 answers! For example, in my circle of friends, we've used "gender-bender" with affection and humor for decades to describe androgynous men and women, going all the way back to Boy George and Annie Lennox! And some of my transgender friends, people in their 40's, 40's and 60's who've been trans long before the latest round of politically-correct terminology came about, feel the same way about the term “tranny”! As for the term “homosexual," that term never bothered me either. It's accurate! But I can easily see why gay people just a few years older than me don’t like it or think it sounds too “clinical”. They had to endure during a period when “homosexuality” was considered a disease or mental illness in need of a cure.
Many LGBTQ people experienced the effects of this "diagnosis" in the 1950's and 60's -- prior to the advent of the modern Gay Liberation Movement on a mass scale -- and suffered terribly from over-medication, electro-shock therapy, and even lobotomies. It was only in 1973, the American Psychological Association re-categorized homosexuality as a human variation (like left-handedness) rather than an illness. So I totally get why some people don’t like that term.
Keep in mind that when a person simply doesn't KNOW what term to use and they aren't trying to be mean, just chill out and be kind, understanding, and clear. No need to get offended so easily, especially when someone is merely ignorant and not intending malice.
Let’s save our "being offended" for when it really matters (like when we're not being treated equally under the law!)
