Sunday, April 29, 2007

Self Criticism: The Sexual Manifesto and its Implications in the LGBT Movement

Current sexual vocabulary and categorization of sexuality rely on cultural notions of sexuality in and of itself. The way in which the western world looks at sexuality is socially relevant and culturally constructed—and therefore biased and unsophisticated. Additionally, categorizations of sexuality (namely homo-, hetero-, and bi-sexual) are limiting, and more importantly, fail to communicate the complexity of sexuality and object choice. Current usage of the labels “homosexual” and “bisexual” are loaded, carry a history of judgment, and promote notions of deviation and therefore abnormality. Consequently, the use of faulty language is counter-productive to healthy sexual understandings and should be seriously revised, or not used at all. Until more profound language and perspectives are readily available, I move that we label ourselves simply "sexual."

If this is all true--and it is--then what of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender (LGBT) movement? How could a movement for LGBT rights exist if the very terminology of its existence is abandoned out of principal? To be fair, I will re-examine my initial claim in relation to the LGBT movement without considering the “T”—trans does not imply a sexual preference, only an affinity for a particular gender performance. Therefore, it does not fit neatly in a discussion of sexual labels, even though gender and sexual oppression are linked. Accordingly, I will now cite the LGB movement to determine its future in absence of sexual categories. I will now break the Sexual Manifesto into pieces and examine its truth, its implications, and what’s missing:

Not all sex is acceptable: In her work, Thinking Sex, Gayle Rubin uses the imagery of “the charmed circle” to demonstrate what type of sex is socially acceptable in the western world. The charmed circle contains good, normal and natural sexuality, and includes the following characteristics: heterosexual, married, monogamous, procreative, non-commercial, in pairs, in a relationship, same generation, in private, no pornography and bodies only. The “outer limits” of the circle depict bad, abnormal, unnatural and damned sexuality. Such characteristics include: homosexual, unmarried, promiscuous, non-procreative, commercial, alone or in groups, casual, cross-generational, in public, pornographic, or with manufactured objects (p 13). Therefore, sex is not simply sex—and depending on how and with whom, such practices are acceptable or condoned. Acceptable sex necessitates the inclusion of one male and one female, and this understanding has infiltrated not only culture, but the medical community as well. Sexology, or the study of sex, focuses on frequency of coitus, orgasm, masturbation, age at first sexual intercourse, number of sexual partners and beyond through heterosexual experience, (Nagel p 49). Information available about sexuality is consequently discriminatory and largely inconclusive because it fails to utilize a wide enough vantage point, and is based on cultural and religious assumptions of what is natural. These hetero-centric assumptions posit periphery sexualities as the “other” and in opposition to normal and natural practices.

Not all sex is natural: Western acceptance of sexuality relies on understandings of the biological. However, history has shown that such arguments often operate backwards—science is used to “prove” an already existing hypothesis. As skull size served as natural proof of female and African inferiority, what is “natural sex” is also considered after-the-fact. Gayle Rubin articulates that, while hunger is biological, what constitutes food is culturally determined and obtained. Likewise, while reproductive urges are biological, what is considered sex is culturally determined and obtained. Following this analogy, in no way does the basic human need of food account for the complexity of cuisine, diet, and taste—nor does it account for the fact that, across peoples and environments, these choices change dramatically. Additionally, the biological need to consume for energy does not explain fantasies of chocolate cake or buttered popcorn. Likewise, reproduction in no way explains the complexity of sexuality and the differences among peoples across time and spaces, (Rubin, p 10). Reproduction does not account for childhood masturbation, post-menopausal sex drives, or sex lives of the elderly.

Similar to the analogy of sexuality to hunger, both "natural," David Halperin, in his work One-Hundred Years of Homosexuality, comments, "It never occurred to pre-modern cultures to ascribe a person's sexual tastes to some positive, structural, or constitutive feature of his or her personality...human beings are not individuated at the level of dietary preference... [but] share the same fundamental set of alimentary appetites, and hence the same dieticity," (p 27). Halperin points out the way that our cultural perspective on sexuality creates assumptions (and judgments) of those we view. Additionally, his analytical approach calls to question the ways in which categorization creates essential differences in circumstances regardless of similarity. What is more, these differences in categorization impede the ability to understand sex construction and (lack of) categorization in other cultures. Misunderstanding of other sexual constructs reinforces the illusion of Western sexual stratification as the correct and “civilized” model.


Sex is loaded: Sexual labels are particularly problematic because they connote more than genital preference. “Individuals do not have the choice not to have a sexual orientation and identity. One is presumed to be “gay” or “straight,” if not in deed, then surely in identity,” (Nagel, p 50).

Sex is cultural: Historical accounts of sexuality underscore the notion that perceptions of sex-relations are socially and often times religiously specific. The term “homosexuality” was introduced into the English language in 1892 by Charles Gilbert Chaddock. Previously, “sexual inversion” existed to describe same-sex relations. A far different concept, inversion referred to a process wherein individuals “inverted their proper sex roles by adopting masculine or feminine style at variance with what was deemed natural and appropriate to their anatomical sex.” In essence, through the logic of inversion, a male trapped in a female body could account for lesbianism. The transition from sexual inversion to homosexuality marks the impermanence of sexual perspectives in a given culture. Homosexuality, on the other hand, considers desired partners independently of gender performance, based solely on who has had sex with whom, and indifferent to cultural and environmental factors. (Halperin, p 15-17).

Through the works of Plato, readers are exposed to a Grecian perspective of sex four-hundred years before the Common Era. In The Symposium, same-sex relations are acceptable and accounted for in the mythology of human beings, soul mates, and sex. At a dinner party, Aristophanes begins his story:

Long ago, our nature was not the same as it is now but quite different. For one thing, there were three human genders, not just the present two, male and female. There was also a third one, a combination of these two…Then “androgynous” was a distinct gender as well as a name…now nothing is left but the name, which is used as an insult (p 26).

Right in his introduction, Aristophanes describes to his audience how gender performance is a human-construct, varying through time, and based on custom instead of nature. He explains that the parent of the male gender was from the sun, that of the female gender the earth, that of the androgynous from the moon. He goes on to describe how human beings also did not look the same then—they were round bodies, with a face on either side, and four hands and four legs, with two sets of genitals. One day, the humans tried to climb up to heaven and attack the gods. As punishment, Zeus split them in half. However, devastated from the separation, the halves threw their arms around each other, and died of hunger, as they would not separate regardless of the cost. Zeus had sympathy toward the humans, so he moved their genitals to the front of their bodies, and the site of sexual reproduction was changed from on the earth onto their bodies.

The aim of this was that, if a man met with a woman and entwined himself with her, they would reproduce and the human race would be continued. Also, if two males came together, they would at least have the satisfaction of sexual intercourse, and then relax, turn to their work, and think about the other things in their life…Those men who are cut from the combined gender (the androgynous, as it was called then) are attracted to women…those women who are cut from the female gender are not at all interested in men, but are drawn much more towards women (p 29-30).

In the eyes of Aristophanes, humans originally coupled, not for the purpose of reproduction, but to achieve an original state of wholeness. Understandings of intercourse and reproduction resulted in Zeus’ intervention, and even then, sex was an avenue to alleviate the anxiety of separation. The myth of Aristophanes showcases a perspective of sexuality that does not position one preference against the other, and consequently, “we all share the same ‘sexuality’—which is to say that, despite differences in our personal preferences or tastes, we are not individuated at the level of our sexual being,” (Halperin, p 20). Additionally, sexuality was not a marker of individual character; sexual access to men was considered an indicator of high-status. Men of power had access to slaves, women and men. Partners were considered “active” or “passive” as opposed to distinction based on genitals. (Halperin, p 35-37)

Unlike ancient Greece, the history of homosexuality within the United States since its introduction into the English language has been grim. Those engaging in different orientations have been historically ostracized, discriminated against, and considered pathological. In the 1950’s, a period of sex panic filtered anxieties about sexuality through images of the “homosexual menace” and the “sex offender.” Although “sex offender” was used to describe rapists and molesters, it came to include homosexuality as well. “In its bureaucratic, medical, and popular versions, the sex offender discourse tended to blur distinctions between violent sexual assault and illegal but consensual acts such as sodomy,” (Rubin, p 5). From the 1940’s until the 1960’s, homosexuals and communists were subjected to intense investigation and persecution. Senator Joseph McCarthy was fixated on eliminating communists, and developed an interest in homosexuals because their lifestyle made them “vulnerable to blackmail” and their “moral character made them susceptible to communist influence,” (Nagel, p 164). Non-heterosexual orientations, homosexuality in particular, have been historically oppressed and marginalized in the United States, and despite progressive movement, the Land of the Free largely maintains institutionalized homophobia. By use of terminology that has served a long-standing pejorative and punitive function, specific mindsets of homosexuality are allowed to continue. Vocabulary that serves to recognize the “deviant” and the “abnormal” continuously infer and underscore what is “normal” and “biological”


If not all sex is acceptable, can be considered unnatural, is loaded, and finally, is cultural, then periphery sexualities face persecution and oppression. What then is the ideal way for non-heterosexual identities to create a space for themselves? Can words and labels really be re-owned by oppressed groups? This sociological phenomenon has taken place, but it is unclear whether or not such movements have been successful within non-group members. In other words, “queer” or “nigger” may have been re-owned within their respective communities, but hegemonic order has not cleansed its outlook. Therefore, it is inconclusive whether operating within a system of oppressive classification in order to gain freedom is a sound strategy. Yet despite doubts in the process, progress has been made in sexual understanding and acceptance.

Progress: Despite oppressive and binary views of natural orientation, this century has seen public uproar in response to new views and ways of thinking. Freud was brilliant in that he forced a more critical eye on the development and state of sexuality, regardless of the sexism in his work, (specifically penis envy). He asserted that all actions are, in some facet, part of a sexual energy—more or less making sex everywhere. Additionally, Freud's asserts that infants attempt to replicate their first pleasure (breastfeeding) for the rest of their lives—and that parents and siblings actually teach sexuality to a growing mind and body. He also cites direct correlation between pleasure, pain and sexuality. Like any other theory, Freudian thought certainly has flaws—but is also has critical observations and perceptions of sex unfitting to the time period in which he lived—and rooted in a deeper thinking of sexuality. Freud unveiled a revolution in psychology and child development because he exposed the fact that sex was not as easy or explicable as heterosexual penetration—and certainly, there is more to it than hetero-, homo-, and bi-. According to Freud, we are all polymorphously perverse, but “mental dams against sexual excesses—shame, disgust and morality—” shape the hetero-normative socialization process.

Freud also positions heterosexuality equally as restrictive as homosexuality. Picking up where Freud left off, Alfred Kinsey develops the Kinsey scale to depict what lies in between. In fact, what Kinsey has to offer is more diverse than “same,” “different,” or “both.” Rated zero through six, zero signifies exclusively heterosexual, and six signifies exclusively homosexual. One is noted as predominantly heterosexual, only incidentally homosexual; two as predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual; three as equally heterosexual and homosexual; four as predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual, and five as predominantly homosexual and only incidentally heterosexual. Kinsey’s work offended the public propriety of his day, revealing a singular and rigid scope of sex.



Changes in understandings of sex have occurred not only psychologically, but socially and politically as well. In the 1960s, the gay movement challenged hostility and discrimination faced gay communities. “By 1973, there were almost eight hundred gay and lesbian organizations in the United States; by 1990, the number was several thousand. By 1970, 5,000 gay men and lesbians marched in New York City to commemorate the first anniversary of the Stonewall Riots; in October 1987, over 600,000 marched in Washington, to demand equality.”

Additionally, religions such as Unitarianism and Reformed and Reconstructionist Judaism embrace gay and lesbian ministers and rabbis. Organizations such as GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Association Against Defamation) celebrate accurate representation of LGBT individuals in the media, and even hold prestigious award ceremonies.

The Sexual Manifesto did not address the fact that progress has been made using current sexual vocabulary, and instead only zeroed in on the fact that much more is necessary. The LGB movement is slow and stigmatized, and it is inconclusive whether or not using faulty language has impeded the fight. However, there are currently no widely available alternatives to the LGB movement outside of using the terms lesbian, gay and bisexual. Therefore, protesting the vocabulary and carrying on the movement are at odds. So what now?

While LGB remains the dominant terminology steering the sexual civil rights movement, one college campus uses an alternative. Randolph-Macon features an Organization for Sexual Minorities and Allies (OSMA). Free of loaded terminology, this group shares the purpose of the LGB movement without forcing socio-political identities that throw sexual minorities into specific and limiting type casts. Yet this is one organization in one college. Although hopeful, alternatively named organizations are not accessible, and therefore not a feasible option to supplement the Sexual Manifesto.

Lastly, the Sexual Manifesto does not offer commentary on the role of allies, who serve a parallel role as men in feminism and whites during the civil rights movement. Yet it seems for allies, their sexual orientation is always on the table as well. There must always be an explanation—why do you care? Or there must be a clarification—oh no, I am an ally, not LGB.

As a dedicated member of the LGB(T) movement, I find myself insulted by the loaded questioning as to why I involve myself in this movement, (I would like to highlight the difference between curiosity/conversation and interrogation). At hand are four issues: the assumption of heterosexuality, then the prerequisite of needing an LGB(T) identity to justify involvement, the need to justify oneself as an ally and not LGB, and lastly, the fact that members of the movement need to be one or the other. This affirms that the LGB(T) movement is really just that—an issue only for lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender identities—and is not considered a civil rights violation. Although “allies” are now taking a part in the movement in the interest of ending prejudice, this outlook has still not been adapted by society at large. What initially began in the Sexual Manifesto as a protest of faulty language to promote better understandings of sexuality is now refined as a protest of faulty language to stretch the LGB(T) movement from an LGB(T) issue to a civil rights issue.

The Sexual Manifesto certainly has holes—but I still stand by it. As with any type of socio-political grouping (Republicanism, Feminism, Environmentalism), individuals forego personal identity and are thrown into a bigger category, and all the baggage that goes along with it. And no one ever fits into a box; we are all different. But what of the LGB movement and the Sexual Manifesto? The relationship is technically problematic; however, I believe advocates of the manifesto must continue in the LGB movement while or until other names/organizations/alternatives are available. Additionally, it is unnecessary for allies to have to reveal their orientation, or specify what they are not. Bottom line: people may have whatever identity they choose within the movement, call it what they want, or not call it what they want—but no one should be forced to claim a label, and that is what the Sexual Manifesto is all about.

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