Who's Afraid of Liberty?: The American Left and Its Fear of Talking About Freedom

It seems that the Democratic Party and the American left in general has a problem with talking about "liberty" and "freedom." Sometimes words like "choice" and "rights" are applied euphemistically to this end, but framing issues from the perspective of individuals struggling for self-determination in their lives has been a theme entirely given over to the right for quite a while now. Issues from reproductive rights to LGBT issues to immigration reform are framed almost solely in terms of "justice" or "equality" when they should all be at least partially framed in terms of "freedom." Meanwhile, those who are unafraid to talk about "liberty" (such as libertarians and a number of conservatives) win the hearts and minds of Americans who value personal freedom, even if the right wing conception of liberty is superficial at best. In order to win over those voters who value the rights of individuals to live their lives as they see fit, the left is going to have to start talking about liberty once again.

   The reasons for the left's liberty deficit seems to be two fold. First of all, the concept of personal freedom is often used as a way for those with power and money to feel little or no guilt about riding roughshod over those without it. Business owners may feel that they are at liberty to treat their employees however they choose and that those employees are then at liberty to work elsewhere if they do not like it. Parents may feel that they are at liberty to raise their children as they see fit even if said children are denied opportunities to grow and learn that would allow them to live normal lives and to benefit as individuals. Someone may feel that he or she has the liberty to cease paying taxes even though by doing so, they would be denying all members of their society the ability to use services that are vital to their well-being. And so on and so forth. The reason that people on the left rightly find these hypothetical claims so unconvincing is that the liberty given up by the business owner, parent, and taxpayer in these scenarios is much less than the liberty gained by the worker, child, and ideally the consumer of government services. A good non-hypothetical example of this is the American with Disabilities Act. While this forces individual business owners to give up a little bit of liberty by requiring them to make their places of business more accessible for the handicapped, the liberty that disabled individuals acquire by being able to travel more freely in a world accessible to them outweighs any collective inconveniences to America's business owners. Sure, all of these issues are issues of "equality" and "justice" but they are also issues about "liberty," just a more complicated sort of liberty than that promoted by those on the right.

   LGBT rights seems to me to be a particularly strange issue to frame in terms of "justice" and "equality" as opposed to "liberty," seeing as for the most part the demands of LGBT people infringe very little, if any, on the rights of others. Perhaps this is just part of a pattern on the left of framing issues in terms of the former and not the latter and it is being repeated even in those cases where it make comparably little sense. Instead of riling up Americans against the savage injustice of putting individual rights to a popular vote and putting the government in charge of who can and cannot make what commitments to one another, the left has meekly spewed mealy mouthed platitudes about "equality."

   However, there is more at work in the left's (and especially the Democratic Party's) fear of talking about freedom than just how the term is often inappropriately used by those on the right as an excuse to ignore social justice and personal liberty for some of those most marginalized by society. It also has to do with the establishment left's own role in perpetuating gross violations of individual rights. The war on drugs, while not a wholly left wing enterprise, has been and continues to be at least a partial one. And the American left has never been completely comfortable with the notion of Americans owning firearms for self-defense. Many violations of individual rights and ultimately of people's freedom have their roots on the left. By embracing terms like "liberty" the American left will have to come to terms with its own continuing betrayal of this ideal.

However, in the final estimation of things the American left and the Democratic Party are going to have to learn how to talk about freedom. From the Declaration of Independence to the "Don't Tread on Me" flag to rock and roll to jazz, America's best traditions have had at their heart an appeal to the American love of freedom. Americans are used to framing issues in terms of freedom and will respond to whatever political party or movement is best able to appeal to this basic human and very American desire. As long as American liberals have trouble articulating what freedom means to them they can expect to lose elections and ultimately to lose ground in the court of public opinion.

The Problem with Politics

   For the past season, I have been involved with a local theater group in Tallahassee, Florida known as the Mickee Faust Club, in particular their production of a cabaret designated "Queer as Faust 3" as it revolves around a number of songs, skits, and performance pieces that primarily document the culture of the queer community and the individuals within it. One piece in the show in particular speaks to me. The piece, "Leadership Has Its Privileges" revolves around the premise of an LGBT rights activist, a conservatively dressed gay man, accepting an award on behalf of his Human Rights Campaign-style activism. In the course of the piece, a disabled lesbian woman and then a transwoman excoriate the activist for "using his dick to lead us from one political asshole to another" as opposed to creating a more inclusive vision for the LGBT community in which more than middle class gay men who want to marry, adopt, and/or join the military are seen as having issues that deserve to be addressed. Poignantly, the skit ends with the stage empty of people except for two individuals. One says to the other "I guess you were right, Pastor Rick" and Pastor Rick then proceeds to respond "It's easy. Put them in a room together and they'll tear each other apart." On the whole, the skit does a good job of bringing out the tension between the reality that many voices in the LGBT movement are not listened to that should be with the companion reality that queer people will always have greater enemies than one another as long as the religious right is a force that wields considerable power in our society, above and beyond that which ANY faction of the queer coalition wields.

   Seeing this piece practiced and performed for many nights in a row has caused me to think a lot about the many problems with politics, both in a queer context as well as in a more general sense. I'm familiar with the "political assholes" to which the skit refers. Perhaps more importantly, I know where they come from. I've sat in rooms filled with young people in their late teens and early twenties who, contrary to the stereotype of young political types as idealistic do-gooders filled with a passion for any number of causes, were already cynical in their assessments of what was possible in a political context. Most disturbingly of all, they seemed to care little for ensuring that the end goals of politics were accomplished (in the most general terms, ensuring liberty and justice for all); instead politics was an end in itself. As long as their chosen party or candidate was elected (and getting said party or candidate elected was a task in which no sense of principle or decency was to be spared), it mattered little to them if the party or candidate actually hewed to any meaningful agenda while it office.

   Having been involved at different points in time with both Republican and Democratic party politics I can attest that there are in my experience very few differences in worldview between the sort of young wannabe politicos that make up the young corp of "youthful idealists" in both parties. Instead I have found both groups of politically active individuals roughly my age to be arrogant, insecure, power hungry, elitist, and to have spent their lives largely insulated from the realities of policy decisions that affect many people's lives in meaningful ways. For them, politics is a game as opposed to a way of creating positive changes in the lives of people (or for that matter even preserving things they deem positive about the status quo). Whether sending soldiers off to war, deciding who (and who not) to incarcerate, or making long term decisions about environmental issues, the name of the game is to keep thoughts of the repercussions of your policy choices for actual human beings as far from your mind as possible.

   Some of this is probably compounded by programs of study in political science at the university level. In all of my classes, I cannot recall ever being asked to consider the ethical implications of a policy question but I was often asked to consider how popular or politically feasible it was. Some of this is also partly due to the ignorance and/or bigotry harbored by voters and their unwillingness to hold leaders accountable. However, I think a bulk of it can be accounted for by the sort of people who self-select for political careers in our society. It takes a certain strange combination of arrogance, shamelessness, and a desperate desire for approval from mass numbers of complete strangers to choose to run for political office. (These qualities also exist in spades in many of those who work behind the scenes assisting would be and current officeholders in their projects.) And these qualities do not necessarily make one a wise person or a good person or a kind person. They do not necessarily mean that, once in office, an individual will govern well. But they do tend to assure that those elected to public office will be the least likely to make wise but unpopular choices because those elected are those Americans most desperate for the approval of the electorate. These individuals that comprise our political class, enamored of power themselves, are unlikely to respond to the concerns and needs of those lacking power - the poor, the sick, the disabled, the queer, the young, prisoners, women, foreigners lacking in human rights, etc. Sadly, it is these very groups of individuals who could most benefit from constructive attention from our nation's policymakers.

   There are no easy solutions to this problem. While many of us who would never otherwise consider running for office might want to think about doing so, there are ways that the LGBT movement in particular can make sure that we do not solely rely on the agendas of the most "politically savvy" among us to guide our priorities. We can start by admitting that when we only focus on same-sex marriage, adoption by LGBT parents, and ending Don't Ask Don't Tell as our primary goals there is an opportunity cost associated with that and it is born by our brothers and sisters with the least power.

   It is borne by our youth, kicked out of their homes and mistreated at youth shelters. It is borne by those of us who need medical care but are mistreated due to our sexual orientation and/or gender identity. It is borne by LGBT individuals denied the right to interact freely with their own children for no good reason. It is borne by those of us who are unemployed, those of us who are fired from our jobs for being queer, and those of us afraid to live out and proudly because of the impending threat of losing our jobs. It is borne by those of us in prison who are mistreated by fellow inmates and staff. It is born by students in schools, harassed by both teachers and fellow students. It is borne by intersex infants unnecessarily mutilated when they are too young to consent. It is borne by bisexual and transgender people whose issues are always considered under the rubric of "gay rights" even when they don't belong there. It is borne by victims of HIV/AIDS and other diseases - both physical and psychological - that disproportionately affect us.

   I am strongly in favor of repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell, assuring same-sex couples the right to adopt, and making marriage a legal option everywhere in America for every couple that wants it. But these are not the only or even the most important issues facing LGBT people as a group. To pretend otherwise is dangerous. We cannot model our priorities on those of politicians and other political types. Because what is politically expedient, politically popular, or politically correct is not always the most pressing concern. And we are foolish to think that men and women so desperate for the attention and approval of strangers that they are willing to beg mass numbers of them to cast a vote in their favor are always going to put our best interests first. Let us not be led "from one political asshole to another" but instead let us chart our own course in a spirit of inclusiveness and justice for all.

An Intersectional Analysis of the Constance McMillen Debacle

There has recently been a lot of talk in the media about the whole sad, soap opera-esque saga that has been the Constance McMillen prom debacle. It is generally agreed by reasonable, decent people that what happened to her was cruel and deeply lamentable. It is generally agreed, athough not without some dissent, that Constance would do well to leave Fulton, Mississippi after high school graduation and never look back. But what has repeatedly amazed me is that, for all of the LGBT and feminist blogosphere's talk of intersectionality when it comes to issues of ethnicity, an intersectional analysis of the Constance McMillen debacle has thus far not been forthcoming - at least not from Feministing or the Bilerico Project, which is the primary place I would expect to read those sorts of things.

While a term like "intersectionality" is all too often used in vague and nearly meaningless ways that lack specificity, I do believe that it has some value in analyzing many situations in which discrimination against an individual or group of individuals is primarily supposed to operate due to one or two primary characteristics but in actuality operates due to a confluence of factors that define the identity and/or experience of a person or group of people.

To make this a little clearer: Constance McMillen is a young rural Southern lesbian woman. Let me repeat this again for emphasis: Constance McMillen is a young rural Southern lesbian woman. And that is different, and in many ways infinitely harder, than being a young LGBT person in most places in America.

In much of the Northeast and on the West Coast, as well as in many other areas around the country, it is becoming not unusual and perhaps even fashionable for young people to embrace an LGBT identity in middle and high school. There are Gay-Straight Alliances, LGBT community resource centers, and high school performances of the Laramie Project to facilitate their transitions. There are networks of other LGBT people, both their own age and older, in the community to serve as allies. Should these young people choose to pursue dating and relationships with members of their own sex, there are at least several others in the community they can choose to partner with.

This is not the world Constance McMillen is from and this is not the world I'm from either.

Perhaps the biggest difference between LGBT people who come of age in relatively urban, upper class communities (largely Northeastern and West Coast) and those who come of age in relatively poor rural communities (largely Southern and Midwestern) like Constance's and mine is how they experience the struggle for LGBT rights.

The difference in mindset breaks down something like this: For LGBT people in the former communities, their struggle is largely one of dismantling institutional discrimination against LGBT individuals and the LGBT community. In this struggle, issues like adoption rights and the legal recognition of same sex marriages by the state loom large. Relatively large LGBT communities mobilize around these issues and others, assuring that almost everyone in the larger community recognizes the existence of these subcultural communities. And while, unfortunately, bigotry is still a regular part of the lives of most LGBT people in America to some degree, the people in these areas a.) perceive themselves as belonging to an LGBT community with other LGBT people that can turn to for friendship, support, and potential romantic partnerships and b.) they recognize that while some heterosexual individuals and heteronormative institutions are their enemies, they also have some allies in the wider community and that opinion about LGBT issues within their wider area is relatively diverse.

Now let's look at LGBT people in the latter communities, communities like Constance's and mine. In these communities, institutional discrimination against LGBT people is still acknowledged by LGBT individuals themselves, but more likely they experience their discrimination as largely a product of hegemonic social and cultural forces. In such a context, issues like same-sex marriage and adoption rights for same-sex couples start to look nearly meaningless for many. After all, what's the use of a state acknowledgment of your marriage in a community where none of your neighbors will ever acknowledge it anyway? What's the use of adopting a child with your same-sex partner when all parties involved will face ostracism and bigotry?

Furthermore, even finding a same-sex partner can prove an insurmountable challenge in these communities where there are very few openly LGBT people. Finding friends to share your common experiences and challenges as an LGBT person is not a given, either. In these communities, there are no LGBT resource centers, no Gay-Straight Alliances in middle and high schools, no performances of the Laramie Project. LGBT youth are as likely to bullied by their teachers as their peers. Religious institutions play a seminal role in perpetuating bigotry against LGBT people and their influence is widespread. Young people are rarely openly gay, bisexual, or transgender in middle and high school. Both the forces of government and the forces of civil society appear allied against LGBT people in such a context and acts of resistance often have a feel of futility about them.

This is why the story of Constance McMillen cannot be understood without also understanding the context of coming out and living out in communities like hers. And while it now obvious that her age, sexual minority status, and regional heritage played a role in this situation, we must all consider the fact that her femaleness may also have played a role in her situation, in particular the pettiness of sending her and her date to the "fake prom," a pettiness of the sort all too often seen in middle and high school girls attempting to ostracize another girl. All of this is why intersectional analysis is a useful tool to understand the dynamics in any given instance of discrimination.

Of course, the obvious question then becomes: what to do about the dire situation of LGBT Americans in rural communities in the South and Midwest (or for that matter, anywhere else)? Encouraging LGBT people to come out in such communities no matter the personal costs to themselves or their families seems an awfully high sacrifice for those on the outside to ask of them. It is also one all too often made without a real understanding of what would really be involved in this isolating, ostracizing, even physically dangerous experience. Similarly, as the Constance McMillen case has taught us, getting national organizations like the ACLU or the Human Rights Campaign involved won't solve all of our problems either. However, two approaches seem to me to be potentially useful on this front. LGBT organizations should be encouraged to do community outreach in these areas that focuses on community building, organizing, and counseling. The logistics of this are difficult and would vary from situation to situation but it is imperative that there be a presence for LGBT people in these communities. Secondly, the media has an important role to play in these areas. While people in these communities may know very few openly LGBT people, the media still have a role to play in making sure that all of us - lesbian women, gay men, bisexual men, bisexual women, trans men, trans women - are portrayed positively and respectfully because they speak for us where we can't speak for ourselves. Organization like the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation must be vigilant about protesting media misrepresentation of all of these groups, in particular bisexual and trans folks, who are still all too often seen as acceptable targets in the popular culture.

I will close this post as saying that for all of those individuals who have suggested that at some point in time Constance attempt to make a home for herself in Fulton have no idea what they're talking about. No one can ask another person to be martyred, and ineffectually at that, for a wider cause. In doing what she did, Constance has already done all of us a great service and we should simply support her and be grateful. We have no right to ask her for anything more ever again. She has paid her dues and if she does nothing else for LGBT issues in her life - if she later decides to marry a man and live in the suburbs with two children and a dog - she has still done us all a great deed and she will still deserve to go down in history as a great champion of LGBT rights.

Secondly, I will note that I realize this post does not speak to all LGBT experiences. I have not commented on the experiences of those LGBT persons living in urban inner city areas or in U.S. immigrant communities or in any number of other contexts. Other LGBT people will have to fill in that gap with their own analysis. But I hope that this post has highlighted the importance of a truly intersectional analysis in understanding the problems of LGBT people.