RACISM & OTHERING IN QUEER COMMUNITIES By Thomas Kumvana Heising
Racism in Ireland Discriminatory attitudes exist with our biases and they can flourish because of discourse and socioeconomic circumstances in society, and the effects of these in society and our minds are damaging. Reports, news stories and conversations with POCs in Ireland should make it apparent that racism exists here. Perhaps more verbally directed towards members of the Traveller community than to POCs, but this shouldn’t be soothing for anyone. We often assume that the popularity of right-wing politics in mainland Europe is incompatible with Irish people. And I agree with this to a great extend coming from Denmark where prominent politicians regularly encourage segregation and racism. This is not to say that we potentially couldn’t see the same thing in Ireland one day, and thus we have to be vigilant. Fortunately, the response towards racism has also changed positively. Previously, minorities have been told to ‘grow’ resilience when faced with it. Now we are more openly and collectively rejecting it and asking for a change in our surroundings rather than in ourselves. And yet, there are many commentaries against minorities speaking up, and they often stem from a strong discomfort (that we all have) of realising the injustices of our progressive Western societies. It is more comfortable to assume that our society is fair and balanced. Racism in the queer community Queer POCs entering the queer community may become discouraged when finding themselves in an othered community that further others POCs. Surely, as a community that faces a lot of stigmatisations from the general society and have struggled with identity, us queers should be able to relate and not be mean to each other? Well, ideally, yes. But we all carry anxieties from minority stress, and these unfortunately don’t always give us the capacity for tolerance and empathy. It makes it comfortable to elevate ourselves above other marginalised people. You’d hear gays enjoy distancing themselves from more effeminate gays: “Those gurly men are just over the top!” etc. Some Irish queers will remember a time when the state saw us all as abject outliers. For many, the best option was to accept this traumatising injustice. At times, we can become convinced that society is right in treating us as outliers, and perhaps this is a partial origin of internalised queerphobia. That is not to say that queerphobia and racism are the same, but they are linked in so many ways. Similarities include the perpetrators and the resulting trauma for the victim. But we must also note the most important and obvious difference:
POCs can’t hide A POC is never “in the closet”. From the moment your parents decide to try and ‘make’ you, there is little question as to whether you will be a POC or not. As you grow up, you will stand out and others will comment on this. Which is not always bad, but I have never been able to suddenly say: “oh, there is that intolerant idiot, let me hide my dark skin and be white for a moment to conform”. Whereas, I, as many gays, have learned to hide my gayness or lie about it at the onset of social discomfort. My tolerance levels are quite high, though. I can process and deal with skin colour bias on dating apps, nauseating requests for my “black anaconda” and weird questions on assumed properties of my skin. But it hurt when fellow queers I trusted humiliated me, did not validate my experiences or made racist comments I never asked for. Many things changed when I moved from Denmark to Ireland. Encountering Irish nosiness was as refreshing as a glass of lemonade in a desert. I got silly questions sometimes, yes, but I often ask silly questions myself. I noticed that the questions that centred around my origins and appearance were rarely to distance or elevate themselves over me. Quite on the contrary, I have Irish friends who declare me to be Irish or to be “pure Cork, like” despite me getting the cultural codes and etiquettes of being Irish wrong. But those comments mean a lot. As a brown Dane in Denmark, I constantly had to validate my ‘Danskhed’ (loosely translated to ‘Danishness’) to my fellow Danes. This is part of why I feel more accepted as a POC in Ireland than in Denmark. So, thank you for that. I reckon that our bi-siblings struggle with being validated as queers when they are constantly being told that they are “in between”, confused or “just experiencing a phase”. In reality, we don’t need validation or confirmation of who we are, and ideally, we shouldn’t seek it from a majority group. But we rightfully should find a sense of belonging in our communities. What can we do? Not knowing what to say or being afraid of saying something wrong scares most of us from socialising or speaking to ‘others’. The idea of ‘triggering’ people can be scary. But we can make efforts to share experiences and to acknowledge the injustices and biases we cling to. We need to be aware of racism and other forms of ‘othering’ and to have the difficult talks. Discrimination doesn’t disappear even after radical and important legislative measures - these help, but there are difficult mechanisms behind that we need to discuss and deal with. I love to share my experiences, and I encourage people to ask about them. And so, I want to keep the ball rolling by answering some of the comments I have encountered over the years while living in Copenhagen, Bristol and Cork. My replies are my own and you are welcome to challenge me on them.
In Ireland, racism is structurally expressed via its treatment of people in Direct Provision, employment biases towards members of the Traveller community and lack of opportunities for certain groups in specific institutions. Some European countries have racially and culturally segregating laws, and in the US, racism seeps deep into the fabric of society. But systemic racism also shows itself on many levels across the world and in our daily lives. It is one of the reasons why I am not on Grindr. Even more complicated, the individual experience of being subjected to racism is diverse. For instance, being European with African heritage (Zambian mother and Danish father), I have certain privileges. These privileges can make me blind to my own intolerance. Also, I have never had racist violence acted upon me, but I know people who have. I cannot imagine what that must have felt like. All I can do is to listen instead of trying to declare what I would have done in their situation. Overall, we like to think of ourselves as good people who mean well and want to stand up for our beliefs. So if we sometimes do cause harm, we may get defensive about our motivations for causing this. It is easier to say: “I’m only messing”, “everyone is so PC these days” or “can’t you take a joke?” than to face the fact of having said something hurtful.
People with intellectual disabilities are full and equal members of Irish society and have the same hopes and desires like everyone else. There have been significant and important changes and developments in the care and support of people with intellectual disabilities over the past 30 years, with the majority living within their local communities, often with additional support to enable them to lead full and inclusive lives. Their hopes and desires include having a job, having friends, relationships and for some intimacy. Some people with intellectual disabilities have, or want, a romantic relationship. Writing an article about racism in the queer community alone is difficult. I can’t isolate a destructive behaviour in one community without looking at it in the wider society. But I will try... Firstly, I will describe why you should care about racism in the queer community, both as a member or an ally of it. Lastly, I will end with a Q&A to answer some of the questions or comments I often face as a POC (Person/People of Colour).
And the word itself: Racism.
The definition of ‘racism’ varies according to context and intent. There are structural definitions that describe “racism” as leftovers from imperialistic power hierarchies. While in everyday life, it describes interactions where people position themselves as superior relative to others based on perceived or actual heritage. This happens through ‘othering’ people - making them feel as if they don’t belong to a community or society. I prefer the terms ‘othering’ or ‘discrimination’ to avoid debating people’s associations with the ever-so problematic word ‘race’ (I have no idea what race I belong to and don’t want to know...). But I get why we use the word ‘racism’ widely: it carries a certain ‘punch’ and it is useful when describing certain systemic forms of discrimination.
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