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| Source |
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| Democratic Candidate Pete Buttigieg, seen here being intrinsically non-normative. Source. |
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| A humourous representation of homonormativity in media. Source. |
Showing posts with label Transgender Inclusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transgender Inclusion. Show all posts
25 February 2020
IS QUEER ENOUGH? THOUGHTS ON QUEER MUSEUMS
Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith
In his 2008 article Theorizing the Queer Museum, Robert Mills talks about the difficulties that would surround a queer museum. For the purposes of this article, queer is used here to refer to a wide variety of sexual and gender identities, like gay, lesbian, transgender, and more. Mills' main point is that queer theory is inherently antithetical to museums, as museums are normalizing while queer identities are intrinsically non-normative. Mills, quoting Kosofksy Sedgwick, says that history reflects the heteronormative ideals of “inheritance, marriage, dynasty, domesticity, and population” and that queer exhibitions challenge these tenants. These qualities help to erase queer identities, it is claimed, so presenting anything remotely queer can be seen as radical.
I disagree with this though. I do not believe that there is anything intrinsically non-normative about queer identities; it instead comes out of how one expresses their queerness. Referring back to the quote above, I find it laughable that queerness cannot fit into those descriptors that the author calls “history”. Marriage is the one that should stand out to anyone with even the briefest familiarity with queer history from the last 30 years. Marriage has been at the heart of the queer movement for decades now. Meanwhile, the idea of the “traditional family” (upon which marriage is the central pillar) has been used as a bludgeon by right wing ideologues to attack and demonize queer relationships. In an effort to get gay marriage recognized, queer activists had to shape queer love into something it was not; straight-passing. It had to abandon the BDSM, the kinks, the casual sex, the polyamory; to be accepted, queer love had to become palatable to straight observers, all over forms of love be damned. There is a term for this, where the heterosexual features of queer relationships are highlighted above all else; it is called homonormativity. This is why I do not agree with Mills’ claims on the antagonistic nature between queer and museums; queer can be just as normative.
While I disagree with how Mills gets to his conclusion, I would agree with that queer museums cannot succeed, or at the very least are very difficult to create. We have this idea that LGBT+ history was a coming together of outcasts that finally fought for their rights. This really is not the whole story, and the phrase “a trans woman of colour threw the first brick at Stonewall” does not help this. Queer history is one of strange bedfellows, groups that could barely stand each other, trying to get along to advance their goals. Showing the intricacies of these groups that very rarely actually got along would prove to be a great challenge to any museum, especially when the dominant voices will disregard any wrongdoing. One of my favourite examples to highlight this is with Lesbian Organization of Toronto, or LOOT for short. From 1976 to 1980, LOOT claimed that every lesbian in Toronto was automatically a member. Because of this, they very rarely agreed on anything. One of the few times they were in agreement, however, was to not allow a transgender woman to attend their meetings. Theoretical differences in identity such as these make it incredibly difficult for a queer museum to just exist. Existential questions must be asked because queer is not enough. A queer museum must also be a trans museum. It must be an intersex museum. It must be asexual. It must represent every letter under the LGBT umbrella. Without those other identities, only the dominant voices get to have a say in how to present history.
13 November 2019
LANGUAGE AND IDENTITY WITHIN THE MUSEUM
Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith
When I started researching into transgender history, I was frequently tripping over the language used in the articles I would find. The term “transsexual” kept coming up. As a transgender woman that came of age in the mid to late 2010s, transsexual was out of vogue, frequently with negative connotations. It was not until I read Susan Stryker’s “Transgender History” that I discovered that this has not always been the case.
Transgender language evolved quickly. Even the terms used as recently as a decade ago have been abandoned by the community, and so many are unaware of this phenomenon. Phrases like “transgendered” are viewed with skepticism, representing an ignorance of transgender issues from those that use it nowadays. But if you walk over to Church St and Wellesley St, you will find a large mural that includes the phrase in the heart of Toronto’s Gay Village.
This presents a problem for museums wishing to talk about transgender history. How do we grapple with this changing language in exhibitions in which even the community is frequently not aware of? Do we use the language viewers are familiar with and apply labels to those that did not choose them or do we keep the original language, fearing a negative response from the community we are hoping to serve?
As I am sure many of us are aware, when it comes to label writing, we need to be very precise with our wording. In order to keep the visitor’s attention, the labels need to be short and direct. Unfortunately, this does not lend itself to in depth discussions of complex topics, such as the evolution of language. As such, simply explaining the issue in a label may not be the best option.
Additionally, many queer historians consider it problematic to apply labels to those that did not choose them for themselves. Without definite proof, it often becomes inserting modern understandings upon a past that might not have shared them. Identity is so incredibly personal, and to say that we know better than someone else about their identity is arrogant and elitist. Altering how they identify goes against so much of what the transgender community and the LGBT as a whole has fought for.
But, the work should be made for the transgender community as it exists today. As I spoke about in my previous article, transgender people have long been overlooked in museums. Using language that the community deems to be offensive, even if it has a place within the historical context, presents the danger of angering that same community.
I wish I could say that there is an easy solution to this issue, but I do not believe there to be. Each position has its pros and cons. The difficulties that surround presenting an evolving language that is often overlooked cannot be solved so simply and must be significantly considered when writing about transgender history.
When I started researching into transgender history, I was frequently tripping over the language used in the articles I would find. The term “transsexual” kept coming up. As a transgender woman that came of age in the mid to late 2010s, transsexual was out of vogue, frequently with negative connotations. It was not until I read Susan Stryker’s “Transgender History” that I discovered that this has not always been the case.
Transgender language evolved quickly. Even the terms used as recently as a decade ago have been abandoned by the community, and so many are unaware of this phenomenon. Phrases like “transgendered” are viewed with skepticism, representing an ignorance of transgender issues from those that use it nowadays. But if you walk over to Church St and Wellesley St, you will find a large mural that includes the phrase in the heart of Toronto’s Gay Village.
 |
| The mural at Church and Wellesley. Note the use of "transgendered" in the top left. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith. |
This presents a problem for museums wishing to talk about transgender history. How do we grapple with this changing language in exhibitions in which even the community is frequently not aware of? Do we use the language viewers are familiar with and apply labels to those that did not choose them or do we keep the original language, fearing a negative response from the community we are hoping to serve?
As I am sure many of us are aware, when it comes to label writing, we need to be very precise with our wording. In order to keep the visitor’s attention, the labels need to be short and direct. Unfortunately, this does not lend itself to in depth discussions of complex topics, such as the evolution of language. As such, simply explaining the issue in a label may not be the best option.
Additionally, many queer historians consider it problematic to apply labels to those that did not choose them for themselves. Without definite proof, it often becomes inserting modern understandings upon a past that might not have shared them. Identity is so incredibly personal, and to say that we know better than someone else about their identity is arrogant and elitist. Altering how they identify goes against so much of what the transgender community and the LGBT as a whole has fought for.
 |
| This practice of not applying labels to people from previous generations has also long been the target of ridicule by members of the LGBT as well. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith. |
But, the work should be made for the transgender community as it exists today. As I spoke about in my previous article, transgender people have long been overlooked in museums. Using language that the community deems to be offensive, even if it has a place within the historical context, presents the danger of angering that same community.
I wish I could say that there is an easy solution to this issue, but I do not believe there to be. Each position has its pros and cons. The difficulties that surround presenting an evolving language that is often overlooked cannot be solved so simply and must be significantly considered when writing about transgender history.
11 October 2019
WHY WE NEED A TRANSGENDER MUSEUM STUDIES
Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith
Transgender voices have grown louder and more prominent in recent years, but in the museum field, they still frequently lag behind. While there have been some fantastic efforts made in the past year, such as the series of guides that the American Alliance of Museums' Task Force for Transgender Inclusion has produced on transitioning in the museum field, but these have usually focused upon hiring practices and employees within the museum. The systems that propagate oppression continue to go unchecked. It is for this reason that I believe it is imperative that we develop a transgender museum studies; to bring attention to the unseen heteronormative practices that run rampant in museums.
Central to a transgender museum studies is the theory that transfeminist author Julia Serano calls “ungendering.” In her book Whipping Girl, Serano describes ungendering as a “phenomenon […] where gender-variant people are used as a device to bring conventional notions about maleness and femaleness into question.” Through ungendering, transgender voices are erased, because the focus is no longer upon their experiences, but on what can be understood about cisgender society through trans people.
We do not need to go very far to see the effects of ungendering in the museum field. At the end of last year on the fifth floor of Bissell Building, there was a small exhibition on transgender pornography. I previously wrote about a review of it while it was on, but using Serano’s framework provides an excellent opportunity for deeper analysis.
Transgender pornography and sex work are very prominent for trans people, so it would make sense to have an exhibition on the topic. The exhibition used materials such as photocopied zines, crossdressing BDSM pulp fiction, and DVD and VHS cases of trans porn. There was very little didactic panels that offered any kind of interpretation of the materials on display. These sections felt very disconnected from one another.
What was missing most was trans voices. Transgender fetishism is an incredibly common phenomenon in trans circles, but nowhere was there any kind of discussion about the lingering effects of trans porn in the community. There are so many discussions that could be brought up by an exhibition on trans porn that were missed in this exhibit. Why do trans people so frequently go into sex work? Why are trans people so often associated with sex work? How does trans pornography help trans people explore their identity? What kind of effects does the representation of trans people as sex workers have on those looking to see themselves in media? All of these questions came to me when thinking about the exhibition, but the exhibition was not concerned with the trans experience in regards to trans pornography. The voices of the trans sex workers or those that have to deal with the fetishization are erase.
If we want museums and exhibitions to appeal to wider audiences, we must not rely on assumptions about minority groups. For members of those minority groups, it is painfully obvious when their voices are not present. Julia Serano’s framework is just one way that we can learn to do better. We can be better, and if we want to tell more vibrant stories through exhibitions, we have to be.
Transgender voices have grown louder and more prominent in recent years, but in the museum field, they still frequently lag behind. While there have been some fantastic efforts made in the past year, such as the series of guides that the American Alliance of Museums' Task Force for Transgender Inclusion has produced on transitioning in the museum field, but these have usually focused upon hiring practices and employees within the museum. The systems that propagate oppression continue to go unchecked. It is for this reason that I believe it is imperative that we develop a transgender museum studies; to bring attention to the unseen heteronormative practices that run rampant in museums.
 |
| Photograph courtesy of Joanna Wreakes. |
Central to a transgender museum studies is the theory that transfeminist author Julia Serano calls “ungendering.” In her book Whipping Girl, Serano describes ungendering as a “phenomenon […] where gender-variant people are used as a device to bring conventional notions about maleness and femaleness into question.” Through ungendering, transgender voices are erased, because the focus is no longer upon their experiences, but on what can be understood about cisgender society through trans people.
We do not need to go very far to see the effects of ungendering in the museum field. At the end of last year on the fifth floor of Bissell Building, there was a small exhibition on transgender pornography. I previously wrote about a review of it while it was on, but using Serano’s framework provides an excellent opportunity for deeper analysis.
Transgender pornography and sex work are very prominent for trans people, so it would make sense to have an exhibition on the topic. The exhibition used materials such as photocopied zines, crossdressing BDSM pulp fiction, and DVD and VHS cases of trans porn. There was very little didactic panels that offered any kind of interpretation of the materials on display. These sections felt very disconnected from one another.
 |
| The vitrine from the exhibition, containing transgender porn VHS's. The lack of didactics prevents conversations to develop about the lasting impact that comes with fetishizing transgender women. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith. |
What was missing most was trans voices. Transgender fetishism is an incredibly common phenomenon in trans circles, but nowhere was there any kind of discussion about the lingering effects of trans porn in the community. There are so many discussions that could be brought up by an exhibition on trans porn that were missed in this exhibit. Why do trans people so frequently go into sex work? Why are trans people so often associated with sex work? How does trans pornography help trans people explore their identity? What kind of effects does the representation of trans people as sex workers have on those looking to see themselves in media? All of these questions came to me when thinking about the exhibition, but the exhibition was not concerned with the trans experience in regards to trans pornography. The voices of the trans sex workers or those that have to deal with the fetishization are erase.
If we want museums and exhibitions to appeal to wider audiences, we must not rely on assumptions about minority groups. For members of those minority groups, it is painfully obvious when their voices are not present. Julia Serano’s framework is just one way that we can learn to do better. We can be better, and if we want to tell more vibrant stories through exhibitions, we have to be.
28 June 2019
THE T IS NOT SILENT
Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith
The Friday before the Pride Parade, Church Street is packed. At around 8 PM, the crowd makes its way up to Bloor Street before turning down Yonge Street and continuing to Allan Gardens. This march evokes a very different atmosphere than the festivities that are scheduled for this Sunday. There is no need for the corporate sponsors, just thousands of people walking in solidarity. This is the Transgender March, my personal highlight of Pride every year.
This is the tenth year that Toronto had a Trans March to kick off Pride weekend. Starting as an unofficial event, the March has grown in size every year, with this year’s estimates sitting around 8,000 people. The energy was palpable and a farcry from the Pride Parade on Sunday. There were no banks with larger than life floats, no corporations trying to hock their wares on a public. Instead, there were thousands of people, all united in the same cause. They carried signs that conveyed a shared trans cultural production. They used memes and made references to things recognizable within online trans spaces, such as the now legendary 57 hour livestream of the 1999 game Donkey Kong 64 by Youtuber Hbomberguy that raised $340,000 for a trans charity earlier this year. Examples can be seen below.
Events such as the Trans March are incredibly important, both for individuals and for understanding Pride. Growing up transgender, no one ever spoke about trans people, and even more infrequently was actually seeing someone who was trans. It felt isolating. This contrasts to the Trans March, where I am surrounded by people being visible. These people are not just speaking about trans people but advocating for trans rights, which is incredibly powerful. Events like these signal to other closeted individuals that they are not alone.
Equally important is how it is viewed within Pride itself, for Pride and the Gay Rights Movement has a long history of transphobia. It is often said that the first Pride was a riot, but rarely is it mentioned that the second Pride in San Francisco excluded drag queens from attending. Even here in Toronto, Pride organizers tried to sabotage the Trans March for many years by restricting it to a much shorter route than those offered to the Dyke March or the Parade. By having the Trans March each and every year, it represents a resilience amongst the community and, with the March swelling in size every year, a stark reminder that trans issues are no longer on the periphery but now in the mainstream. The Trans March serves as encouragement for the future.
The Friday before the Pride Parade, Church Street is packed. At around 8 PM, the crowd makes its way up to Bloor Street before turning down Yonge Street and continuing to Allan Gardens. This march evokes a very different atmosphere than the festivities that are scheduled for this Sunday. There is no need for the corporate sponsors, just thousands of people walking in solidarity. This is the Transgender March, my personal highlight of Pride every year.
 |
| The banner carried at the front of the Trans March. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith. |
This is the tenth year that Toronto had a Trans March to kick off Pride weekend. Starting as an unofficial event, the March has grown in size every year, with this year’s estimates sitting around 8,000 people. The energy was palpable and a farcry from the Pride Parade on Sunday. There were no banks with larger than life floats, no corporations trying to hock their wares on a public. Instead, there were thousands of people, all united in the same cause. They carried signs that conveyed a shared trans cultural production. They used memes and made references to things recognizable within online trans spaces, such as the now legendary 57 hour livestream of the 1999 game Donkey Kong 64 by Youtuber Hbomberguy that raised $340,000 for a trans charity earlier this year. Examples can be seen below.
VERY GOOD signs from the Trans March on Friday night!!!! Absolutely thrilled to see so many friends and people come out to march!!! LOVE YOU 💙💖⚪️💖💙 pic.twitter.com/Ngbpez2Tzq— 💖 Gremlin Sherry 💖 (@rancidyogurt) June 23, 2019
Events such as the Trans March are incredibly important, both for individuals and for understanding Pride. Growing up transgender, no one ever spoke about trans people, and even more infrequently was actually seeing someone who was trans. It felt isolating. This contrasts to the Trans March, where I am surrounded by people being visible. These people are not just speaking about trans people but advocating for trans rights, which is incredibly powerful. Events like these signal to other closeted individuals that they are not alone.
Equally important is how it is viewed within Pride itself, for Pride and the Gay Rights Movement has a long history of transphobia. It is often said that the first Pride was a riot, but rarely is it mentioned that the second Pride in San Francisco excluded drag queens from attending. Even here in Toronto, Pride organizers tried to sabotage the Trans March for many years by restricting it to a much shorter route than those offered to the Dyke March or the Parade. By having the Trans March each and every year, it represents a resilience amongst the community and, with the March swelling in size every year, a stark reminder that trans issues are no longer on the periphery but now in the mainstream. The Trans March serves as encouragement for the future.
21 February 2019
WHERE'S THE T? TRANSGENDER INCLUSION IN THE MUSEUM
Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith
Last year, the Canadian Museums Association (CMA) released a draft document that attempted to address the issue of LGBTQ2+ inclusion within Canadian museums. Among the flaws of the document, one stands out from the rest, hitting at a deeper problem that runs throughout. In the section entitled “Self Identification,” the CMA seems to believe that simply including more diverse options in collecting data about employees will lead to more diverse results. Unfortunately though, there is a concept in the trans community called “being stealth.” Being stealth is when a trans person does not announce their identity, sometimes for safety reasons. If the work environment does not appear safe for the trans employee to come out, they will not announce their identity.
This gets to the root of the problem with the CMA’s inclusive policies; they deal with the top down, the hiring policies, the health benefits, data collection, but they ignore the culture that is already in place. There is very little that would let a museum know how they can help a trans employee directly.
In my conversations with trans museum professionals, one of the largest issues they faced was the emotional labour required to be open and out in the workplace. This is especially true for non-binary individuals, those whose identity goes beyond the traditional ‘male’ or ‘female’. For many trans people, it falls upon them to educate those around them about their identity and what it means to be trans. Being in an industry that is often contract based, a trans individual must begin the whole educating process anew with each new job. This on its own can feel like a whole other job on top of the one they were hired for. And that gets incredibly exhausting.
Another area that the CMA drops the ball on is with pronouns and how they discuss them. Everyone has a pronoun, but for most, it is just presumed based upon how they express themselves. In the CMA document, pronouns are only mentioned to say not to presume during the hiring process, when talking to the public, or when an employee needs to change their information. There are many more ways that pronouns can find their way into the workplace beyond these, and many can very easily be introduced to help a trans individual feel more welcome. One such suggestion is to normalize the idea of giving someone your pronouns. This should be done not only for trans employees, but for everyone so that it does not single out the trans employees. It can be as little as including your pronouns in your email signature, which is a practice that is becoming more and more common. This small act shows trans employees that you are thinking critically about the nature of pronouns. It can have a really big effect.
These are only a couple of the (many) issues with the CMA’s recent LGBTQ2+ inclusion document and ways that museums can try to be more inclusive of their employees. To find out the areas that an institution needs to improve upon, it would be best to talk to any trans employees the institution might have and listen to what they have to say. It is not enough to just assume what they need, adding their voice to the conversation is a must.
Last year, the Canadian Museums Association (CMA) released a draft document that attempted to address the issue of LGBTQ2+ inclusion within Canadian museums. Among the flaws of the document, one stands out from the rest, hitting at a deeper problem that runs throughout. In the section entitled “Self Identification,” the CMA seems to believe that simply including more diverse options in collecting data about employees will lead to more diverse results. Unfortunately though, there is a concept in the trans community called “being stealth.” Being stealth is when a trans person does not announce their identity, sometimes for safety reasons. If the work environment does not appear safe for the trans employee to come out, they will not announce their identity.
This gets to the root of the problem with the CMA’s inclusive policies; they deal with the top down, the hiring policies, the health benefits, data collection, but they ignore the culture that is already in place. There is very little that would let a museum know how they can help a trans employee directly.
 |
| A Transgender Pride flag flying on Transgender Day of Remembrance. Source. |
In my conversations with trans museum professionals, one of the largest issues they faced was the emotional labour required to be open and out in the workplace. This is especially true for non-binary individuals, those whose identity goes beyond the traditional ‘male’ or ‘female’. For many trans people, it falls upon them to educate those around them about their identity and what it means to be trans. Being in an industry that is often contract based, a trans individual must begin the whole educating process anew with each new job. This on its own can feel like a whole other job on top of the one they were hired for. And that gets incredibly exhausting.
Another area that the CMA drops the ball on is with pronouns and how they discuss them. Everyone has a pronoun, but for most, it is just presumed based upon how they express themselves. In the CMA document, pronouns are only mentioned to say not to presume during the hiring process, when talking to the public, or when an employee needs to change their information. There are many more ways that pronouns can find their way into the workplace beyond these, and many can very easily be introduced to help a trans individual feel more welcome. One such suggestion is to normalize the idea of giving someone your pronouns. This should be done not only for trans employees, but for everyone so that it does not single out the trans employees. It can be as little as including your pronouns in your email signature, which is a practice that is becoming more and more common. This small act shows trans employees that you are thinking critically about the nature of pronouns. It can have a really big effect.
 |
| Buttons such as these can be very good to announce one’s pronouns to those around them. Source. |
These are only a couple of the (many) issues with the CMA’s recent LGBTQ2+ inclusion document and ways that museums can try to be more inclusive of their employees. To find out the areas that an institution needs to improve upon, it would be best to talk to any trans employees the institution might have and listen to what they have to say. It is not enough to just assume what they need, adding their voice to the conversation is a must.
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