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Losing,
Finding, and Making Space for Activism through Literacy Performances
and Identity Work
Mollie
V. Blackburn
Kira
and I came to know each other through our work together at The Loft.
The Loft is a youth-run center for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender,
and questioning (LGBTQ) youth in a large, northeastern, urban community.
It serves a diverse population of youth ranging in age from twelve
to twenty-three, although the majority of the youth who were there
when I was there were young, black men. Kira is light-skinned and
freckled. She wears her hair in twists or locks that hang just beyond
her ears, unless they are pulled back. Her eyes are dark, and, every
now and then, when she is tired, one of her eyes wanders. She has
a rod through the piercing in her tongue. Her ears are also pierced,
and she wears one small silver hoop in each ear. Sometimes she wears
a chain around her neck on which there are either freedom rings
or comedy and tragedy masks. She wears no make-up and no nail polish.
On her left arm she wears a black watch, which, for a while, had
a plastic sticker on it that said, "DYKE." She also has
a black tattoo on her arm, about three inches below her elbow, of
two overlapping women symbols. Neither of us work at The Loft anymore,
but I can still picture her there, sitting in a chair, her feet
on the floor, both feet and knees wide apart, her elbows on her
knees. I can see her rubbing her hands up her face and across her
head, smiling and laughing, not giddy, almost lackadaisical.
When
asked to identify in terms of race, Kira identifies as biracial.
Her father was black and her mother was white. She never knew her
father, and her mother gave her and her four siblings up for adoption
when Kira was very young. She was in touch with her mother for a
brief period of time, at fourteen, just before her mother died of
complications resulting from HIV/AIDS. For the majority of Kira's
life, she and her siblings were raised by an African American foster
mother. When asked to identify in terms of sexuality, she sometimes
identifies as lesbian and other times as a dyke, both of which implicitly
identify her in terms of gender. She is also a social drama, interactive,
improvisational performance artist; a leader; an activist; and;
more recently, a student. Currently, she is in her third year of
college in an experiential learning program studying theatre and
social justice.
When
I met Kira, she was living on her own and was struggling to graduate
from an urban, public, magnet high school for the creative and performing
arts. She was supporting herself by working part-time jobs; as a
result, she did not attend school with any regularity. She did,
however, come to The Loft quite regularly, and had been coming for
over a year by that time. As a regular and active member, she assumed
leadership roles, including being a member of the Speakers' Bureau
- a group of youth who were hired and trained to conduct outreaches
to youth and youth services providers in order to educate them on
issues pertinent to LGBTQ youth.
In
this article, I examine the literacy performances and identity work
of Kira, who upon coming to identify as a lesbian, failed to find
space for herself at home or at school, and, as an alternative,
found and made space for herself at The Loft and on the Speakers'
Bureau, which I argue are in the margins of school and home. Through
this work, Kira learned how to challenge heterosexism and homophobia.
I draw on data collected during a three-year ethnographic study
of literacy performances and identity work in The Loft in which
Kira was one of the individuals with whom I conducted a case study.
When I talk about Kira finding and making "space," I mean
a living, breathing context characterized by complexities and often
conflicts. I draw this notion from Susan Talburt (2000) and bell
hooks (1994). Talburt (2000) points to de Certeau's distinction
between place and space in which he asserts that space is a "'practiced
place'" (p. 19). Talburt describes spaces as "emergent,
incomplete, and unpredictable" (p. 19), as opposed to places
which she understands to be "an order of distributed relationships,
location, and fixity, such as a given culture to be transmitted,
an interpretation to be learned, or defined skills and methods of
reasoning to be acquired" (p. 19). I understand this to mean
that places exist in and of themselves; their existence is
all but hypothetical, but spaces are these places brought to life.
Although I understand space in this way, I also think space is something
more particular. To me, space is not just place brought to life;
it is the people within a place and the ways in which that place
brings people to life. In other words, I understand space as a dialogic
between place and people.
Talburt
acknowledges that "certain discursive spaces encourage certain
articulations of the self" (p. 17), and I would add that when
a particular space does not allow for particular articulations of
the self, or performances of identities, then that space stops being
a space for that particular performance. For example, The Loft may
be a place that makes space for LGBTQ youth to perform their sexual
identities, while school may not be. School may offer these youth
space to be students, or to be raced students or gendered students,
while not providing space for them to students with sexual identities.
In other words, it is not that there simply is or is not space;
rather, it is that there may be space for some aspects of individuals
and not for other aspects. In other words, there may be space for
a person's racial and gender identities as a biracial female, for
example, but not for that same person's sexual identity as a lesbian.
Space can be squelched by assumptions that everyone shares a particular
perspective or by impositions of such a perspective. If space does
not allow for contestation, then it is no longer space. For example,
if a student in school feels like it is impossible to perform a
sexual identity that is in conflict with the heteronormative, then
she or he does not have space for such an identity at school.
According
to hooks (1994), space is:
a context where we can engage in open critical dialogue
with one another, where we can debate and discuss without fear of
emotional collapse, where we can hear and know one another in the
difference and complexities of experience. (p. 110)
Although she is talking specifically about space among women, the
notion seems applicable more broadly. When I talk about space, I am
talking about the space, or lack thereof, that LGBTQ youth find or
make to explore their identities, particularly their sexual identities,
in ways that often conflict with the heteronormative. A particular
individual can only determine whether or not a space is safe enough
for this kind of identity work at any given time. What is safe for
me may not be safe for Kira, and what is safe for Kira may not be
safe for someone else. Further, what may be safe for Kira at one time
may not be at another time. When I say that a space is safe enough
for particular identity work, I am not stating that the space that
is characteristic of the time and place; rather, I am describing what
an individual was able to accomplish in that time and place.
When
Kira could not find or make space for herself at school and home,
she made space for herself in The Loft and on the Speakers' Bureau,
in the margins of school and home. hooks (1990), in her essay entitled
"marginality as site of resistance," asserts that marginality
is "much more than a site of deprivation
. it is also
the site of radical possibility" (p. 341). She avows that marginality
is something to cherish because it "offers the possibility
of radical perspectives from which to see and create, to imagine
alternatives, new worlds" (p. 341). In her essay, hooks draws
from her experiences as a black American living in a small town
in Kentucky and then later attending a predominantly white university.
Race is integral to her conceptualization of marginalization; however,
her notion of marginalization informs my understanding of Kira's
work in that it was marginality that offered Kira the "radical
possibility" of working against heterosexism and homophobia.
In
particular, I focus on the literacy performances (Blackburn, 2002/2003;
Blackburn, 2003) and identity work that Kira accomplishes in the
spaces she finds and makes for herself in the margins. I bring together
New Literacy Studies (Collins, 1995; Gee, 1996; Street, 1984, 1995,
1999) and Judith Butler's (1999, 1991) performance theory to conceptualize
literacy as a series of performances in which we read and write
words and worlds (Christensen, 1998; Freire, 1987) such that any
one performance is among innumerable other performances, each of
which is both similar to and different from all of the others, both
confirming and disrupting one another. It is in the series of performances
that literacy has the opportunity to reinforce and interrupt power
dynamics. It is in this conception of literacy performances that
I see hope for reading and writing for social change.
In
terms of identity work, I draw from Dorothy Holland, William Lachicotte,
Debra Skinner, and Carole Cain's (1998) theory of identity, in which
they identify four contexts of identity. The first of these
contexts is the figured world, in which one understands the
world in a particular way. The second is positionality where
one understands one's position relative to the figured world; one's
positionality is "inextricably linked to power, status,
and rank" (p. 271). Holland et al. (1998) relate these two
contexts to each other, stating, "figurative identities are
about signs that evoke story lines or plots among generic characters;
positional identities are about facts that constitute relations
of hierarchy, distance, or perhaps affiliation" (p. 128). The
third context is the space of authoring, or the in this space
that one writes one's self into the world in a particular way. Authoring
contributes to the fourth context, which is making worlds,
in which one makes new worlds so that "new figured worlds may
come about" (p. 272). As a person moves into, through, and
out of these four contexts of identity, she has the repeated opportunity
to author herself into the world as empowered, which may result
in her making of new worlds. It is in this notion of identity work
that I find the hope of social change.
While
I believe that literacy performances and identity work can both
open up and close down spaces, my focus here is less on how literacy
performances and identity work affect space and more on how literacy
performances and identity work facilitate activism within particular
spaces including school and home. With this in mind, I first examine
what Kira called the "kick-out process," and how that
played out at school and home; then I look at her accomplishments
at The Loft and on the Speakers' Bureau; and finally I consider
how her work positioned her as an activist who challenged heterosexism
and homophobia. My analysis of the data and reflections on the research
are woven together throughout this exploration of literacy performances
and identity work.
The
"Kick-out Process"
When
I met Kira, she was already out of the home in which she had been
raised, and she was no longer in school. She was struggling to graduate
from high school and had no intention of going to college. I didn't
understand why because she was such a smart, articulate, mature
young woman. In my mind, people like Kira were supported by their
families and went to college. I wondered why this wasn't happening
for her. It was only through the course of our relationship that
I came to understand why Kira was living on her own, supporting
herself, working, and not going to school.
It
was not as if Kira graduated from high school and then just opted
out of college. She fervently rejected school and what it represented
to her, even before she graduated. For example, the first day I
met her, she was part of the group of youth that interviewed me
to determine whether I could spend time at The Loft. Someone in
the group asked me whether I had experience working with youth,
and I proudly responded that I had been a middle and high school
teacher for six years, and that even before that, most of the work
I had done had been with youth. Kira just looked at me, with a deadpan
expression, and said, "What are you going to do to NOT be a
teacher in this youth-run place?" Although I was taken
aback by her comment, I explained that as a teacher I had worked
hard to make the classroom our classroom, rather than my
classroom, by negotiating with students what kind of work we did
and how, by stating the requirements or the parameters, and opening
up the possibilities to the imaginations of the students. I also
said that I was glad she mentioned that because I would have to
remind myself not to assume, or try to assume, teacher-like authority,
and I would appreciate it if they would remind me of this. I revisited
this interaction repeatedly while I worked at The Loft as I struggled
with the tensions of offering support and guidance but not usurping
youth's authority. What I did not pay attention to at first is what
Kira's question revealed about her, particularly about her relationship
with school.
School.
When Kira told her coming-out story for Speakers' Bureau outreaches,
she described herself as a good student before she came to identify
as a lesbian. She said:
I never even cut [classes] until I came out
never
had the desire, straight-A student
I was like, I was a really
good student, I mean, I enjoyed school. I was on time, I left late,
you know what I mean, I was really involved. (audiotape [AT] 7.27.99)
She talked about using school as a way of explaining her lack of attraction
to young men; for example, when people asked her who she liked or
was dating or why she didn't like or date anyone, she would say that
she was putting school before boys. Her attention to school also gave
her a way of dismissing her attraction to young women; she could conceal
her attraction to young women by focusing entirely on schoolwork.
In other words, she could hide her lesbian feelings, as well as her
lack of heterosexual feelings, behind her schoolwork.
However,
when she started to pay attention to her attraction to women (when
she came to identify as a lesbian), she tried to make a different
kind of space for herself in school, a space in which her lesbian
identity was a part of her schoolwork rather than concealed by it.
For example, for one class, she was assigned to create a document
that included text and a photograph. Kira selected a poem that she
written entitled "Of me" and a photograph of herself.
In the poem, she describes herself as "Adventuring with Sappho
and her woman warriors," thus defining herself as a woman,
particularly a woman who loves other women. She also writes about
"Building bulldozers, to break through barriers" and "Finding
room to laugh when there's no space around" (documents [docs]
7.15.99); these lines convey her desire for and her efforts at making
space for herself in places where no such space seems to exist.
In this poem, I see Kira as trying to make space for herself in
school. Kira said as much in an interview; she said, "by this
time I was out, this was my senior year, and um, I had decided that
any report that I had done would be on somebody gay or something
because everything else wasn't [gay]
it was an opportunity
to have something gay in school" (AT 5.24.00). During this
year, she wrote the above poem and a book report on Melissa Etheridge.
Thus, through her reading and writing, Kira worked hard to "break
through barriers" to make space for herself as a lesbian in
school.
Her
work was often thwarted by the heterosexism and homophobia she encountered
at school. Although she asserted that she did not experience overt
heterosexism and homophobia, she talked about how lonely it was
to eat at the lunch table alone after coming out and how people
there were "just being jerks" (AT 7.27.99). She also talked
about "wanting not to be at school because of all the like
stuff [homophobic abuse] that [her lesbian classmate] was getting"
(AT 7.27.99). In other words, although Kira was not getting overtly
abused by the heterosexism and homophobia, like her classmate was,
the threat and impact of those forms of oppression were enough to
make her feel isolated and like she did not want to be there. Kira
said she would come to school, collect her work, and leave, and
then, she would do as much as she could, return to school, turn
it in, collect more work, and leave again.
During
this time she wrote a story entitled "The Existence of Steven"
in response to an assignment to write a myth that explained something.
She actually wrote it at The Loft, where "some people
helped me write it too
[by] throwing out words, like frolic,
they were throwing out words for me to use" (AT 5.24.00). Her
myth plays off of the homophobic comment that it is wrong to be
gay because God started the world with Adam and Eve, not Adam and
Steve. Her myth debunks this notion asserting that God created Adam
and Steve first, and then created "a superior gender, with
child bearing abilities." According to her myth, Adam and Eve
procreated, but Eve was bored and asked God to "make her an
equal." God agreed, but insisted that "only one in ten
of her descendants could frolic with members of the same sex."
Here, Kira built on her familiarity with research done by Alfred
Kinsey (1948, 1953) in which he found that one in ten people had
engaged in homosexual behaviors. Kira built on her knowledge of
Sappho as an ancient woman who loved women by writing in her myth
that God created "Sappho," of whom Adam was so jealous
that he "decided it was wrong to frolic with the same sex."
In this way, her myth explains homosexuality as created by God,
and homophobia as a symptom of jealousy (docs 7.15.99).
When she
wrote this, it was toward the end of her senior year, a time that
she described in this way:
at this point, I wasn't caring too much about anybody,
and, uh, actually sometimes felt like 'ha ha ha, I'm going to show
you, I'm going to make everything I say gay,' sometimes I did that
just because everything was so not gay. (AT 2.22.00)
By this time, she was not really trying to make space for herself
in school as much as she was trying to defend herself and retaliate
against the forms of oppression that she was hurt by there. Her literacy
performances were also helping her to make space for herself in the
LGBTQ community (Malinowitz, 1995, p. 204), literally as she wrote
the myth among LGBTQ youth at the center and figuratively as she figured
out how she, as a woman who loves women, fit into a world of gay and
homophobic men.
Home.
While this was happening at school, Kira was engaged in a similar
struggle at home. The previous spring, during Kira's junior year,
her foster mother, who Kira calls "mom," went through her
book bag and found fliers for the city's "alternative prom,"
a prom for LGBTQ youth. An argument ensued, and Kira answered honestly
her mother's question about whether she was lesbian. After that argument,
according to Kira:
me and my mom didn't talk about what was going on much
more but we argued all the time
it would be about anything,
and within an argument, like it could be about 'Kira you left your
book bag in the living room,' and it would turn into 'you're a big
ole man, you're a this, you're a that, you're a bad thing, you're
a nasty person.' So, and then, anything, and before this happened
my mom like was really like I mean she cared where I was but she
wasn't like all up in my business and saying that I wasn't doing
anything. Now I wasn't doing anything, and on top of it, I was out
drinking and doing drugs and let me tell you I didn't touch any
sort of alcohol or drug in high school.
I should have been
worse cause I got blamed for everything, everything. If my mom had
a beer missing it was [Kira's] fault. (AT 7.27.99)
At this
point, her mom was not even willing to talk about Kira's lesbianism;
rather, she expressed her disapproval of Kira in other ways, ways
that were not grounded in Kira's reality. It was then that Kira began
staying out very late and for entire weekends as a way of avoiding
her mother's disapproval. Further, Kira's mom began imposing new rules.
For example, it was no longer enough that she went to Sunday school,
she now had to go to Sunday school and the church service. In response,
Kira rejected her mother's authority by breaking these newly imposed
rules. Kira even considered leaving her mother's home, but she did
not want to assume sole responsibility for what she understood to
be her mother's problem. She said:
At one point I was like, 'I'm going to leave'
but then I was just like, 'no, I'm going to wait for her to kick
me out, I'm not gonna leave. She's gonna have to kick me out, because
I don't want it to be all my fault.' (AT 7.27.99)
Ultimately
her mother did kick her out for breaking rules; Kira was supposed
to go to church on Sunday mornings, but one Sunday she did not come
home. The later it became, the less she wanted to go home and when
she finally came home, it was after midnight. She told the story like
this:
so I come home and I'm sneaking in. I go to the bedroom,
and I go, and I'm getting ready to go to sleep. Next thing I know
my mom pops up in the room, kicking my ass, telling me to get the
fuck out, so I grab my school books, and I left. (AT 7.27.99)
This "kick-out process" as Kira called it, allowed Kira
and her mother to both relinquish responsibility and assume power.
For example, Kira insured that it was not "all [her] fault"
by letting her mother (perhaps even pushing her to) say the words,
"get the fuck out." This let Kira feel like it was her mother's
fault for kicking her out and let her mother assume power by kicking
Kira out of the house. However, by breaking her mom's rules, Kira
assumed some power over her mother. Her mother could not make
her come home by a certain time, and she could not make her
go to church. Thus, Kira asserted her power where she could, while
still relinquishing responsibility for being kicked out.
Relationship
between School and Home. Getting kicked out of her home, of course,
impacted Kira's schoolwork. She was less focused on school and she
had to prioritize work above school in order to find and keep a place
to live. Moreover, once she was supporting herself, her respect for
authority plummeted. This was how she described the impact of the
"kick-out process" on her schoolwork:
So what happened with school from there was that, um,
I was, I was really upset when I, I, I don't know. I guess from
that, and even before then I had started getting upset with, um,
one with tones used in school, like, belittling stuff, you know
what I mean. And so now that I was on my own, and I didn't have
anybody, you know, for them to call, I was really just like, I could
act out against it, so that was very empowering for me
so,
I just didn't show up for school, like, there was a portion of time
about like three months, that mean I wasn't doing my work, but it
meant so much less to me. (AT 7.27.99)
Here,
Kira explicitly stated that she asserted her own power by acting
out against school authorities, a power that became more pronounced
upon being kicked out of her home. This is evidenced in a story
Kira told me about a time that she got in trouble at school and
an authority called her mother who dismissed the call by saying,
"'[Kira] doesn't live here any more'" (AT 7.27.99). Thus,
Kira's being kicked-out of school and home were intricately intertwined.
Not
only were they intricately intertwined, but the negotiation of the
processes resembled each other. At school, she found plenty of space
for herself as long as she was assumed to be heterosexual, but after
she began identifying as lesbian, she found less and less space
for herself in school. Eventually, she began acting out and eventually
stopped going to school. At home, before her mother suspected she
was a lesbian, her mother trusted her to behave in ways that were
valued at home. Afterwards, her mother assumed that she was behaving
in ways she did not respect, such as drinking alcohol and doing
drugs, and she imposed additional confines, such as requiring Kira
to spend more time in church. Here, too, Kira began acting out,
this time against her mother. At home, Kira and her mother grappled
with power; they asserted their power in different ways and then
relinquished it in other ways. Although it seems like Kira tried
to engage in a similar kind of struggle in school, the rules that
she was willing to break there - such as cutting class, getting
in fights, and smoking cigarettes in the bathroom - did not warrant
expulsion. In other words, she did not break rules in ways that
pushed the school to literally kick her out; she essentially dropped
out by not coming to school. I do not think that Kira wanted
to be kicked out of either her home or school. Rather, I think she
was being kicked out of both of these contexts implicitly, by being
treated poorly at home and being ignored at school. She was being
kicked out in ways that did not offer her the respect of conversations
that may have provided opportunities for resolution. Her mother
and authorities at school gave her no opportunity to resolve the
conflicts she was experiencing. It was only through many conversations
with Kira over time and in a relationship that I was able to understand
the "kick-out process" in this way.
It
took me years to develop this understanding. I was frustrated by
youth who were kicked out of their parents' home for breaking their
parents' rules which seemed immature to me. Why couldn't they just
follow their parents' rules until they could support themselves?
I had heard Kira's story repeatedly, and even her story frustrated
me. I could not see that, in fact, she was being kicked out for
being lesbian, in part because the kick-out process did not play
itself out so neatly. I couldn't hear "get out for breaking
my rules" as "get out for being gay." I couldn't
make the connection between one statement and the other. I was also
frustrated by youth who left their parents' homes without being
explicitly told to leave. I thought they were being irresponsible
for leaving without first getting a job and a place to stay. The
only explanations I would hear were those of physical abuse, and
would not understand that sometimes the abuse they experienced was
not physical, but still difficult to reveal to other people. I couldn't
understand that it was what was not said, what could not be articulated,
either to themselves or to me that was the catalyst for the "kick-out
process."
I recall,
after an outreach to a master's level class in my graduate school
of education, how one of the instructors of the class commented
on how these youth just needed to get it together and focus on their
schoolwork. There was some part of me that agreed with her and another
part that felt repulsed by the comment and my agreement. I was troubled
by my conflicting feelings. However, as a result of her comment,
I found myself defending the youth in my mind, and, in doing so,
I found myself being more understanding of their stories and their
decisions behind them. It was during the following summer when something
seemed to click. Nothing in particular happened that day; I was
writing about my frustration surrounding these issues and something
clicked. I found Kira at The Loft and explained to her my new understanding
about how youth can be kicked out - of home or school or anywhere
else - without being explicitly kicked out, but that the expulsion
is just as real, even if it is not confirmed by a conversation or
documented with a letter of expulsion. She just smiled at me and
said, "yes, you got it" (field notes [FN] 6.16.00). This
is not to say that there are not some youth who are immature and
irresponsible and are on the streets as a result; however, I think
the youth's stories are much more complicated than they often communicate,
not because they are inarticulate as much as because they are made
more vulnerable by revealing their experiences with the "kick-out
process."
Throughout
Kira's "kick-out process," of both her school and home,
she used literacy performances and identity work, along with many
other strategies, to make space for herself. At home, before she
came to identify as a lesbian, Kira kept a journal that she hid
under the mattress in her bedroom, but she learned early on that
her mother read this journal. So, by the time Kira began coming
out to herself as a lesbian, she stopped leaving her journals at
home and kept them with her (FN 12.17.99, doc 3.23.01). In other
words, the only space for literacy performances and identity work
that she made for herself at home was a small, secretive space that
she could pack up and take with her. In Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner,
and Cain's (1998) terms, Kira figured her world at home as one where
as long as she, or anyone else, was assumed to be straight, they
were valued, but, as soon as anyone identified as something other
than straight, they were discarded. Kira knew this even before she
came out to herself and was outed by her mother because her older
sister had been kicked out of the house for identifying as lesbian.
In this figured world, Kira's positionality was one of affirmation
and support before she came out. In order to maintain such positionality,
Kira tried to conceal her writing of herself as a lesbian into the
world of her home by hiding the texts that revealed her as such.
In other words, she worked not to author herself into this
world. By choosing not to write herself as a lesbian in her world
at home, Kira failed to make a new world there, so the world in
which lesbians were oppressed and eventually kicked-out was perpetuated.
After
Kira was outed by her mother, her figured world was confirmed, particularly
in terms of not being valued as a lesbian. Her mother called her
names once she identified herself as lesbian, and then the conversation
was over; they did not talk about Kira's lesbian identity anymore.
Further, her success as a student was ignored, as if it was eclipsed
by her lesbianism, and eventually, she was no longer achieving in
school as she once had. In short, her positionality had shifted
dramatically from a position of affirmation and support to one of
shame and silence. As a result, Kira wrote herself into the world
of her home less and less by avoiding spending time there. Although
this prevented Kira from making a new world of her home, it allowed
her, even required her, to make a new world for herself outside
of her home.
As
a student, Kira engaged in literacy performances and identity work
through which she tried to make space for herself as a lesbian at
school. This was risky work because, again, in Holland, Lachicotte,
Skinner, and Cain's (1998) terms, her figured world was one characterized
by heterosexism and homophobia, as shown by her isolation at school,
the experience of other people as "jerks," and the abuse
of her lesbian classmate. In her figured world at school, Kira's
positionality was marked by oppression, but not entirely. She also
asserted her power, particularly as she wrote herself into the world
as a lesbian. This writing took various shapes, including the necklace
she wore with freedom rings, the "DYKE" label on her watch,
and the tattoo on her arm of interlocking women symbols. The writing
of herself into the world also took the shapes of the poem she used
for her project in which she associates herself with Sappho, the
report for which she read Melissa Etheridge's biography, and the
myth that explained homosexuality and homophobia. Through these
various literacy performances, Kira authored herself into the world
as an out lesbian, or a lesbian who chooses not to conceal her sexual
identity. This authoring of her self marked an effort at remaking
the world, particularly her world of school, as a place where lesbians
were included in the curriculum. In fact, she explicitly stated
that it was her intention to use opportunities to select topics
for writing and reading as opportunities to add queer-inclusive
literature into a curriculum that was devoid of such texts. To do
this kind of work, this remaking of the heterosexist and homophobic
world of her school, was incredibly difficult, and, over time, Kira
chose to do less and less of it, particularly once she had been
kicked out of her home.
The
literacy performances and identity work in which Kira engaged at
home and in school layered on one another, complicating and troubling
one another. When Kira was unable to remake her world at home in
ways that would allow space for her as a lesbian, it hindered her
progress in doing this sort of work at school. Eventually, she could
not find space for herself either at home or in school. As a result,
she negotiated complicated exits from both of these contexts and
co-constructed alternative spaces where she could engage in literacy
performances and identity work that supported, and complicated her
lesbian identity.
Beyond
School and Home
Although
Kira was unable to make space for her literacy performances and
identity work in her home and her school, she found and made space
for such explorations outside of these contexts, including at The
Loft, as well as other LGBTQ-friendly places. Among these out-of-school-and-home
contexts, Kira engaged in an inquiry about what it meant to be lesbian
(or not).
Learning
about Sexuality. Although Kira found little space for herself
in school, she was still very interested in learning; it's just that
what she was interested in learning was not being taught in her school.
She told me about leaving school and finding places to read about
topics that interested her. For example, when we were working on her
story for Speakers' Bureau, she told me:
I would leave school and go sit in [a local café
that was lesbian-owned and LGBTQ-friendly] or go sit in [a local
gay, lesbian, and feminist bookstore] and read books for free
I would leave school, [the bookstore] didn't open 'til eleven, so
I would leave by twelve, and I would sit in there for three hours,
until [The Loft] opened. (AT 7.27.99)
Perhaps part of her motivation was simply to have a place to be where
the impact of heterosexism and homophobia was alleviated, relative
to school and home. However, she also had genuine curiosities that
she explored through her reading. She described finding some kind
of almanac in the bookstore that defined words that were used in the
local LGBTQ community and The Loft, in particular; this vocabulary
was something she really wanted, even needed, to learn. She said:
I felt like this was something I wanted to learn, you
know, about myself, and I just wanted to learn about the community
because, if you sit here at [The Loft], you hear language, you hear
like stories, you hear about people, you're just like, 'what?' And
you're really, really lost. It's a whole different like conversation.
You know what I mean? And so, I needed to know. (AT 7.27.99)
Learning the vocabulary of The Loft and the LGBTQ community helped
her to understand what people were saying, but it also gave her access
to some of the conceptual categories that were being imposed upon
her. For example, she said that she would go to the bookstore and
look for definitions of words, "like the butch1
, the femme2,
the dyke3,
the soft butch4,
the this, the that, muff divers5,
I'm like, 'Are they all the same thing? What's the levels?'
I wanted to know" (AT 7.27.99). At this point she was looking
for answers to questions about what it meant to be a butch, a femme,
a dyke, among other names, and where she fit into these categories.
Kira
also sought portraits of women among these categories by reading
books by and about lesbians. She read a variety of texts and genres
as a way of exploring what it meant to be lesbian. She said she
read autobiographies and biographies of famous lesbians, including
Melissa Etheridge and Ellen Degeneres. She also read novels by and
about lesbians, such as those by Rita Mae Brown. She tried to read
erotica, but it did not appeal to her. This reading not only gave
her the opportunity to use literacy performances as a way of exploring
lesbian identity, her identity work also rekindled in her an interest
in reading. She said the reading was "great" because "for
some reason, my reading had stopped. I had stopped reading, and
like, it was really nice to like read again, and feel like interested
in books" (AT 7.27.99). In this way, the explorations she did
outside of her school and home not only enhanced her identity work
but also her literacy performances. Kira continued to engage in
literacy performances and identity work throughout the time we shared
at The Loft, selecting texts just because they were about lesbians
(AT 5.11.00).
Kira's
inquiry was not limited to the bookstore or The Loft any more than
one's education is limited to school, but it was limited by the discourse
of hegemonic heterosexism. For example, she talked about having a
clear image of what it meant to be straight:
because of TV, because of things that were said and, and,
I knew about marriage, and I knew about, you know, 2.5 kids and
a white picket fence American dream, and I knew about all that kind
of stuff, so I sort of knew about straight life, but I had, I had
never, like I knew gay people, but I had never seen them interact
with their partners, and still today, I, I, I feel like I'm still
learning about being a lesbian, and, or whatever
I didn't
know what they did, you know what I mean? (AT 2.22.00)
Even though she knew she could not rely on "TV" and "things
that were said "to answer her questions about what it meant to
be gay or lesbian, she thought she could rely on reading books and
observing people. She said, during this time, "In the beginning
I went with, 'this is what the book says,' 'this is what this person
does, this is what that person does,'" rather than going "with
how I felt" (AT 2.22.00). In this way, her inquiry was further
limited by the discourse of the LGBTQ community. She told me that
she picked the label of "lesbian" too fast because, as she
said, "the term that was thrown at me. That [was the term] for
a woman loving a woman" (AT 2.22.00). It wasn't just "lesbian"
that was "thrown" at her, it was also "granola lesbian,"
or a lesbian who stereotypically wears sandals, participates in outdoor
activities, and is a vegetarian. Kira described this part of her identity
work in an interview:
Kira:
Well, I was a lesbian, and the type of lesbian
I was, was
Mollie: this crunchy
K: granola
M: As opposed to what?
K: As opposed to being butch, as opposed to a lipstick lesbian6,
as opposed to a leather dyke7.
M: And you were learning those things too, and you were saying,
'not me?'
K: Well, I was told 'not me.'
M: Oh, really?
K: I was told that I wasn't those things.
M: Who, who tells you that stuff?
K: I guess, like when I first came here, it was just like, 'Kira's
a granola dyke.' You know, and I'd be like 'no I'm not,'
M: Oh, ok.
K: and they'd be like yes you are. That's the kind of lesbian that
you are. Look at the things that you do, look at the things that
you eat, look at the way that you dress, look at the
M: Ok, so just people here?
K: People. People here, and
M: Oh, and people outside of here too?
K: Pretty much people, well, all gay people that I came into contact
with around my age.
M: Would refer to you that way?
K: Yeah. I felt they were labeling me that way, and some of them
actually did come out and say that they were labeling me that way.
(AT 2.22.00)
As a result of Kira's identity work, both in and out the bookstore,
she came to a particular understanding of what it meant to be lesbian,
particularly granola lesbian. She understood this because that was
the label she was assigned, even though this assignment was not necessarily
in accordance with the way she felt.
Complicating
Sexuality. Kira was looking for answers regarding what it meant
to identify as lesbian, and her literacy performances contributed
to her exploration, but this was complicated by an understanding
of her identity as multiple and variable. By multiple I mean that
she is not simply a lesbian, she is also raced, classed, and gendered,
among many other things; and by variable I mean that her identities
are not static, that is, they vary throughout her lifetime. This
conception of identity is in keeping with queer theory, according
to which, identity, particularly sexual identity is "an unstable,
shifting, and volatile construct, a contradictory and unfinalized
social relation" (Britzman, 1997, p. 186). It is this notion
of identity that served as the catalyst for what I am calling Kira's
follow-up questions.
That she
understands her identity as multiple is evident by her frustration
at reading literature that is by and about white people. In other
words, she is not only lesbian, she is also biracial. In the Fall
of 1999, Kira came into a meeting and declared that if anyone wanted
to get her a birthday present, she would like a book from the local
gay, lesbian, and feminist bookstore. She excitedly described the
book as a collection of lesbian monologues, which sounded perfect
for her. Several months later, on her birthday, I found, purchased,
and gave her the book, having barely flipped through it (FN 1.10.00).
Kira never really said much about the book to me until I asked about
it during an interview, when she told me that she had read parts of
the book and there was one monologue she liked. It was a:
rewrite of a famous black woman's story, slave story,
I think, rewrite, and she was a lesbian
I'm trying to think
of who it was, but it was a rewrite of a black person, and it was
a monologue, but she was a lesbian, in real-life. (AT 5.24.00)
I was a little disappointed that she only liked one monologue from
the collection, and I asked her why she had asked for it. She told
me that she wanted it:
because it was lesbians and it was theatre and maybe
I could find something interesting that would suit me, but it did,
I didn't find anything
they were kind a lame. I don't think
they really represented me at all or who I was. (AT 5.24.00)
Even though she shared similar sexual and gender identities, her racial
identity was distinct from the vast majority of those represented
in the book. She could not connect with characters based solely on
their gender and sexual identities, and, in fact, she connected most
with the single character who was of color, even though that character
was of a different era and of dramatically different circumstances.
Still, she was most drawn, in fact, only drawn to the monologue
that was written from the perspective of a black lesbian.
However,
it is not just that Kira has a collection of multiple identities;
rather, it is that these multiple identities shape and inform one
another. For example, she read a part in a script that was supposed
to have been loosely based on the youth at The Loft, but Kira felt
that neither she nor anyone else at The Loft was accurately represented
by the script, in part because of race, but also because of the way
in which racial and sexual identities, among other identities and
experiences, take shape together. She described the play as representing:
white male, white older kinda male culture. A lot of
the terms used in it I had never heard. Like them talking about
Barbara Streisand, how many times do you hear people at [The Loft]
talk about Barbara Streisand?
So in those cases, I was just
like, 'this isn't us,' you know what I mean? (AT 5.11.00)
Although Barbara Streisand is considered by many to be a gay male
icon, she is not an icon at The Loft. According to Kira, Streisand
is not an icon for all gay men; rather, she is an icon for older,
white, gay men in particular. By pointing this out, she suggests that
the play fails to represent The Loft by representing and perpetuating
the stereotypical image of gay people as older, white men. She said:
They're always wealthy; they're always male mostly
most likely white, you know, and they're just going through the
schools, and I'm just like, 'I don't see that that much.' I see
less of that, you know what I mean. I really see youth mostly of
color from the inner city with no money
whose parents aren't
accepting, get kicked out of the house, live on the streets, and
I don't see that. (AT 5.11.00)
I understand Kira to say that identity, hers as well as others', is
not just about gender and sexuality, it is also about race and class,
among many other aspects of identity, and that these identities interact
with and shape one another.
That
these other aspects of identity - aspects that are not in the typical
list of race, class, gender, and sexuality - are significant to
Kira is evident in the texts that she values. I heard her repeatedly
applaud a television show called, "In the life," for example.
In an interview I asked her what was so great about this show, and
she told me about an episode that featured "ninety something
years old black, black lesbian. That was awesome because usually
you hear about older white lesbians, but you don't hear about older
black lesbians" (AT 5.24.00). However, the appeal of the show
was not only about race, gender, and sexuality; she also appreciated
how the show portrayed gay people doing many different things. For
example, she said that she liked the show because "once you're
gay, that's not it, that there's gay people and they're doing all
sorts of things, and [the show is] not all based around them being
gay" (AT 5.24.00). For Kira, it is not enough that the texts
that inform her identity work are only about being gay or lesbian,
they must also be about being fuller, more complex people of multiple
identities.
Not
only does Kira understand her identities to be multiple, she also
understands them to be variable, or changing over time. As I described
previously, when Kira first came out in the LGBTQ community, she
assumed the identity of lesbian, particularly granola lesbian, mostly
because it was imposed upon her. I, too, imposed this identity upon
her by assuming that she identified as lesbian. However, when we
worked on her story for Speakers' Bureau, she told me,
for
a while I was calling myself a lesbian, and for a while I wasn't.
Sometimes I just say the word lesbian so I could conform to what,
you know, is ok to say, especially at outreaches, like, I really
say lesbian because I can't say that I'm a dyke because, you know,
it doesn't really conform, but I don't really feel like a lesbian.
(AT 7.27.99)
Here,
she explained the variability of her sexual identity. She also pointed
to this variability in a Speakers' Bureau meeting when she said
that she identified differently in different places, that on outreaches
she is a lesbian and at home she is a dyke (FN 12.2.99). This variability
is not only characterized as shifting from lesbian to dyke and vice
versa; it is also characterized by the suspension of these classifications.
In an interview, Kira stated,
I
thought that I had to have a label, and I'm realizing that I don't
know if I need a label. I'm trying not to label myself because
it puts me in a box, and whenever I go out of it, I feel like
I've done something wrong. (AT 2.22.00)
Here,
Kira asserted that a single identity, such as lesbian, granola lesbian,
or even dyke, did not accurately represent her, that such an identity
confined her; for that reason, she preferred to avoid assuming a
label. In queer terms, Kira preferred the "suspension of all
such classifications" (Jagose, 1996, p. 132). In fact, she
even articulated the hope she has in the work that postmodern notions
of identities - as represented by language-based labels - could
do for social change when she said:
I'm
sorta glad that the languages are getting all mixed up because
then maybe we'll break out of 'this person's gay, this person's
a lesbian.' There'll be so many terms that people will get tired
of using them and they'll just say 'hey you, how you doing?' (AT,
5.24.00)
She
seemed to believe that if classifications were so confusing that
they lost their meaning, people would treat people like people rather
than like stereotyped categories of people.
Although
there were times when Kira appreciated the multiplicity and variability
of identities, there were also times when such a postmodern perception
of identities was disconcerting. In an interview, Kira talked more
generally about how destabilizing it can be to feel and think she
knows something to be true, only for that knowledge to be disrupted
by conflicting feelings, thoughts, and experiences. However, I think
her statement applies to notions of identity in particular. She
said:
At
some point, you get really lost ... It's just like 'What the fuck?
It's all gone.
I knew everything. How it worked.' And it's
usually something that like you've made an opinion about or you
thought went a certain way and then something came along and completely
changes that, and you're just like, 'Everything's wrong, wrong,
wrong, wrong.'
It feels like your world is just crumbling,
and it's gone. (AT, 5.24.00)
The
loss of a truth, or, in terms of identity, the loss of a single,
stable identity can be devastating because the labels that come
with them do some sort of work, not just for those imposing the
labels, as Michel Foucault (1982) asserts, but also for those assuming
the labels (Harstock, 1990). Kira sometimes chose to maintain a
singular and stable identity for the purpose of affiliation with
those who "have something socially significant in common"
(Jenkins, 1996, p.80). For example, she said, "sometimes I
feel like I need a label to hold on to, in order to make me feel
comfortable.
I think sometimes you just feel like you need
to belong. And labels are very belonging" (AT, 2.22.00). In
other words, Kira not only felt boxed in by labels, she also felt
supported by them. She pointed to a time when there were more women
at The Loft and there were "a lot of, like, labels being thrown
around" (AT, 2.22.00), such as granola dyke, and I asked her
whether she found the labels to be divisive. At first she said,
"yeah," but then she said, "but we all did stick
together, on some level" (AT, 2.22.00). In other words, although
the labels distinguished some women from other women, they also
brought the women together, not only within a particular label-defined
box, but also among the labeled women.
The
discrepancy between experiencing identities as multiple and variable
but claiming and being assigned a single and stable identity is,
according to Harriet Malinowitz (1995), a product of "our society
in the twentieth century [which] is disposed to file people in such
ways in order to make sense of them" (p. 27). For Kira, this
discrepancy resulted in tensions between the freedom and individuality
offered by multiple and variable identities and the affiliation
and support provided by a single and stable identity. She did not
want to feel boxed into a particular identity, but she did want
to feel like she belonged with a group of people. Sometimes, it
was as if she had to choose between the two. Social identity theorist
Richard Jenkins (1996) recognizes that "membership may offer
access to resources and it may have costs; it may be a benefit or
a penalty" (p. 156). I would argue that for Kira, membership
had both benefits and costs - the benefit of support at the cost
of individuality.
For
Kira, these tensions also existed among other identities, particularly
her racial identities. When Kira was asked to identify herself in
terms of race, she identified as biracial, but this identity was
a complicated one. Her biological mother was white and her father
was black, but an African American woman raised her, along with
her four biracial siblings. In an interview, she told me that she
is usually assigned the racial identity of African American; she
said, "I think people write me in [the world] with my hair,
color of my skin
They assume what I am, or assume that I'm
Afro-centric" (AT 5.24.00). However, on several occasions,
she said that she experienced the African American community as
more homophobic, and I have only known her to date white women.
By identifying as biracial, Kira defined herself in a particular
way with significant consequences, among these consequences was
the sacrifice of both the freedom of going unlabeled and the support
of either a white or black community.
Among
these tensions - tensions between a single, stable identity and
multiple, variable identities, between having to give up either
individuality or support or, most likely, some of each - Kira both
found and made space for engaging in literacy performances and identity
work outside of her school and home. Her identities included gender
identities, sexual identities, race identities, class identities,
and activist identities. It is this activist identity that Kristin
Esterberg (1997) asserts can alleviate many of these tensions. In
her study of identities of lesbians and bisexual women, Esterberg
proposes:
Instead of seeing communities as places in which people really
'are' alike in some fundamental way, we may be better off acknowledging
that lesbian communities are really overlapping friendship networks
and boundaries.
Engaging in social and political action
with others creates new network links; in so doing, we stretch
ourselves. In learning to work with others who are different,
we learn new tools for social and political action. (pp. 175-176)
Her
proposal raises the question of whether Kira could find both freedom
and affiliation, both individuality and support, in activism. It
is her activist work that I will explore next.
Activism
Just
as Kira found and made space to engage in her own inquiries outside
of school, she also found and made space to work against heterosexism
and homophobia like that she experienced as a student in school.
Through her work on the Speakers' Bureau, Kira worked to educate
students and teachers about what it is like to be LGBTQ in schools,
in ways that she could not do when she was a student in schools.
When
I started working with the Speakers' Bureau, Kira was already a
member of and a leader in the group. By this time, she had been
a Speakers' Bureau member for two years. This meant that during
the time she was struggling with going to school, she was able to
work on the Speakers' Bureau, which is interesting because so much
of the work of the Speakers' Bureau is like the work of school.
Speakers'
Bureau members worked with me to shape the stories they would tell
about themselves in outreaches. Together, we drafted, edited, and
revised these stories. The youth developed and revised outlines
that guided the outreaches. They created and assembled handouts
to distribute during outreaches and made visual aids to complement
their presentations. Sometimes this preparation required the use
of outside resources. They met to assign and practice parts of the
outlines, and dealt with the logistics of getting to and from their
scheduled outreaches, usually by navigating the public transportation
system. They presented information, particularly concerning LGBTQ
youth, told their stories as LGBTQ youth, and answered questions
that participants in the outreaches asked. Their audiences were
real, which brought to life the work that they did. Following their
presentations, they reflected on what did and did not work, and
developed and revised outlines and stories accordingly. When they
felt uninformed on a particular topic, they solicited more information.
Their learning was grounded in their teaching which was grounded
in their learning, and so on; in this way, their learning and teaching
was dialogic and on-going. In doing this work of the Speakers' Bureau,
the youth exhibited their competency at so much of what is valued
in schools. It was through this school-like work of Speakers' Bureau
that Kira found and made space to work against heterosexism and
homophobia in schools.
When
I first started working with the Speakers' Bureau, in the summer
of 1999, Kira and I met to work on her story. She had told me a
version of her life story before, to help me on a class project,
but this Speakers' Bureau version had distinct parts, including
coming out to herself, her friends, her family, and within a gay
community. Both versions were more like conversations than presentations,
and during this summer conversation, I asked her how peers helped
and hurt her at school. She described just wanting friends, people
with whom to talk and eat lunch. She said that toward the end of
her junior year, when she came out, she had a group of friends,
who were:
just
cool, and they let me talk about whatever I wanted to
most
of them dated guys, you know, but they were cool, and not only
that, they would, they would, like [ask] 'who are you dating now,'
and get all up in the gossip and like, really like, it felt like
a conversation, you know, that I could have with people here at
[The Loft], only that, it was at school. (FN, 7.27.99,
italics added)
It
meant a lot to her to just be able to talk about her relationships
in ways that are often taken for granted by people in heterosexual
relationships. However, that group of friends was not at her school
the following year, for various reasons. It was during this year,
her senior year, that her attendance became more sporadic, which
she attributed, in part, to her peers' response to her coming out.
She said:
I had friends that just stopped talking to me and never explained
why
I didn't really care that I didn't have any more friends.
I just wouldn't, I just wouldn't go to school, you know what I
mean?
It's really hard to sit at a lunch table if you don't
talk to anybody.
When you go to the same school for four
years, and then your senior year, you're alone, you're just like
'ok,' so you don't go to lunch, then, eventually, you just don't
go to school. (FN, 7.27.99)
Although
she did not seem to be asking for much, just company and conversation,
it was a request I never heard her make at outreaches. I heard students
ask what they could do to help LGBTQ youth in schools, but I never
heard Kira answer these questions, which I understood, in part,
to be protective. It was as if by answering that question, she would
have had to have owned up to needing their help, not because she
went to school with them in their particular school, but because
she went to school with people like them in a school like theirs.
The parallel was too close.
In
fact, after Kira moved away for school, she sent me an e-mail about
an outreach she did in a high school in another large northeastern
city, during which she was reminded of her vulnerability in school.
She said:
all those feelings came rushing back to me. I began to remember
a moment in the lunch room when the boys were teasing about how
big some ones ass was or how small their breast were (or the other
way around) You tried to do anything you could not to be different.
Except when you knew there was no way that you could ever fit
in, So you rebelled and shouted on the roof tops that you were
dancing on the outside of main stream society. Yet you still wished
to be apart of the crowd. Freshman year KIRA returned, with all
her adolescent insecurities. My self-conciusness effected my every
move. I was aware of how un"cool" I was then and how
I still don't fit.
During the performance as some of the
youth told [their stories], I saw myself not like the teller[s
of these stories]. They reminded me of high school enemies. I
feared them! I continued try to pull myself back in to the open
postion need for excepting peoles stories but found it very hard.
(doc, 3.20.01)
The
outreach made her vulnerable, and she felt the need to protect herself.
I understand her silence in response to students' questions about
how they can help as protection, a kind of protection that she did
not need when I asked her the question.
She
was, however, quite willing to talk about the ways that teachers
helped and hurt LGBTQ students. When I asked her what teachers did,
or could have done, to help her as a queer student, she answered
my question by telling me about opportunities teachers offered her
to engage in her own inquiry as a part of her class work in ways
that really counted. She said:
I
enjoyed English in school even after I came out like I would go,
whenever I had to turn in a project, I would really like turn
in my project. Like, I would be gone for a long, long time, and
not know any of that work, but if I came in on a day and they
told me that they had a certain project to do, and it was due
on a certain date, I'd be there for that date and I'd have it
all ready.
But the reason why was because in English, especially,
you'd get to choose your own book, you got to you know, so it
was your chance of like, you know, just doing what you wanted
to do in school, and like, actually getting graded on it and feeling
good that 'ok I read this cause I wanted to read this.'
and it counts, you know what I mean? (FN, 7.27.99)
The
invitation to explore a topic of her own choosing and for that exploration
to count mattered enough to Kira to contribute to her decision about
whether to attend school.
When
I asked Kira what teachers did to hurt her as a queer student, she
talked about teachers who cared more about their needs than hers.
She said:
I
guess that I just felt that in school that they weren't concerned.
They were concerned, I didn't think they were concerned for what
I wanted. You know what I mean? Like maybe if they felt more concerned
about what I wanted, then I could have, you know, maybe would've
wanted to stay in school more. So I just felt like they were,
I don't know, maybe they had their own personal agendas for me,
or something. (FN 7.27.99)
When
she told me this, I immediately found myself defensive. I wondered
how a teacher could possibly be expected to know what each of her
too many students wants her to be concerned with, and I thought
that it was the teacher's job to set the agenda. Even though she
had just told me that teachers learned about her concerns by assigning
projects that gave her choices, and even though I had practiced,
in my work at The Loft, co-constructing agendas with youth, I was
not in a place to hear what Kira was telling me. My defensiveness
marked my resistance; I resisted Kira's comments because when I
reflected on my own teaching, I worried that I would have made the
same mistakes that her teachers had made. I would have given her
choices about what to explore through her reading and writing, but
when it came down to it, would I have been concerned about her being
kicked out of her house or about her poor attendance, plummeting
grades, and diminishing chances at graduating? I worried that I
would have only seen her life with respect to school.
Kira
conveyed these same messages at outreaches we did to teachers, including
those in the school district from which she eventually graduated.
She also told teachers that heterosexism and homophobia are problems
we share, and that these forms of oppression not only impact LGBTQ
people, but they also impact their families and friends (FN, 7.26.99).
When teachers expressed reluctance to address these issues in their
classrooms because they feared the response they would get from
students and parents, Kira reminded them about the policy that protects
them in addressing such issues, and she stated plainly that each
person makes his or her own decision about whether to reject, accept,
or enforce this policy in his or her classroom. She invited, almost
demanded, teachers to work against heterosexism and homophobia in
schools, and in this way, she worked to make schools better places
for LGBTQ youth through her work on the Speakers' Bureau.
When
Kira did outreaches to students, she figured her world in ways that
closely resembled the world in which she was a student, and in that
world, her positionality was marked by isolation. She was distanced
from other youth because she perceived herself to be different than
they were. As a result, she vacillated between authoring herself
in a way that declared her difference and in a way that pointed
to her similarity to other students. In this struggle between trying
to stand out and fit in, she ended up not authoring herself in that
world very much at all. This was evident when she did not answer
students' questions about how they could help LGBTQ peers, and,
instead, protected herself from their critique by not saying anything.
Through this work, she tried to make a new world, one where students
could become more understanding of LGBTQ youth, by telling her story,
but she did not extend herself so far as to make herself vulnerable
by portraying herself as needing anyone else's help. Thus, her efforts
at remaking the world were limited.
However,
when she did outreaches to teachers, Kira's figured world was one
where she felt more protected than she did among students. Although
she did not expect teachers to be concerned with her concerns, she
did not expect them to neglect or abuse her either. In fact, before
coming out, she had had relatively positive experiences with teachers.
In this figured world, Kira's positionality is one of support, just
misinformed support; that is, she had known teachers to support
her, but they did not know how to support her as she was coming
out and going through the "kick-out process." Therefore,
when she had opportunities to correct their misinformation, she
did so by explicitly telling teachers what they did that hurt LGBTQ
youth and what they could do to help these youth. She authors herself
in this world as an activist and an educator working to make a new
world where LGBTQ youth can find and make space for themselves in
schools in ways that she could not.
Kira
went on many different outreaches during her time at The Loft, some
to students, some to teachers, as well as others to social workers,
counselors, nurses, doctors, youth, and youth service providers.
The identity work she accomplished in each of these outreaches both
confirmed and disrupted each another. The outreaches confirmed her
activist identity by being opportunities to work against heterosexism
and homophobia, but they disrupted her power within these opportunities,
in that sometimes she was silenced by her figured worlds and other
times she was positioned to use her voice with strength in those
worlds. Thus, the power she had as an activist, fluctuated with
her perceptions of herself and those around her.
Kira
could not find or make space for herself at home or in high school,
so she created alternative spaces, spaces in the margins, in which
to engage in queer identity work. Literacy performances were a part
of this work. In these alternative spaces, including the local gay,
lesbian, and feminist bookstore, The Loft, and the Speakers' Bureau,
Kira worked to construct herself as a lesbian, and later a dyke,
as well as an activist and an educator. As such, she was able to
work against the forms of hatred that pushed her out of her school
and home.
It
was in these alternative spaces, the margins of school, the local
gay, lesbian, and feminist bookstore, The Loft, and the Speakers'
Bureau, that Kira learned to work against heterosexism and homophobia
and for social change. Having learned this, she returned to school
where she continues to learn, teach, and work for social change.
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Notes
1
- Butch refers to a masculine lesbian. (back)
2 - Femme refers to a feminine lesbian.
(back)
3 - Dyke refers to a lesbian who actively
and proudly asserts her sexual identity. (back)
4 - Soft butch refers to a lesbian who is
masculine, but not as masculine as a lesbian who is butch.
(back)
5 - Muff diver refers to a particular role
one assumes in a particular sex act. (back)
6 - Lipstick lesbian is a type of femme
who is particularly feminine. (back)
7 - Leather dyke refers to a lesbian who
engages in sadomasochism. (back)
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