“Queer activists are also lesbians and gays in other contexts–as, for example, where leverage can be gained through bourgeois propriety, or through minority-rights discourse, or through more gender-marked language (it probably won’t replace lesbian feminism). Some people are in some contexts meaningfully motivated by queer self-characterizations; others are not. This distinction is not the same as that between those who are straight and those who are gay and lesbian. No one adheres to queer self-characterizations all the time. Even when some of us do so, it may be to exploit rhetorics in ways that have relatively little to do with our characters, identities, selves, or psyches. Rhetoric of queerness neither saturates identity nor supplants it. Queer politics, in short, has not just replaced older models of lesbian and gay politics; it has come to exist alongside those older modes, opening up new possibilities and problems whose relation to more familiar problems is not always clear.”
By queer culture we mean a world-making project, where “world,” like “public,” differs from community or group because it necessarily includes more people than can be identified, more spaces than can be mapped beyond a few reference points, modes of feeling that can be learned rather than experienced as a birthright. The queer world is a space of entrances, exits, unsystematized lines of acquaintance, projected horizons, typifying examples, alternate routes, blockages, incommensurate geographies. World making, as much in the mode of dirty talk as of print-mediated representation, is dispersed through incommensurate registers, by definition unrealizable as community or identity. Every cultural form, be it a novel or an after-hours club or an academic lecture, indexes a virtual social world, in ways that range from a repertoire of styles and speech genres to referential metaculture.
We are trying to promote this world-making project, and a first step in doing so is to recognize that queer culture constitutes itself in many ways other than through the official publics of opinion culture and the state, or through the privatized forms normally associated with sexuality. Queer and other insurgents have long striven, often dangerously or scandalously, to cultivate what good folks used to call criminal intimacies. We have developed relations and narratives that are only recognized as intimate in queer culture: girlfriends, gal pals, fuckbuddies, tricks. Queer culture has learned not only how to sexualize these and other relations, but also to use them as a context for witnessing intense and personal affect while elaborating a public world of belonging and transformation. Making a queer world has required the development of kinds of intimacy that bear no necessary relation to domestic space, to kinship, to the couple form, to property, or to the nation. These intimacies do bear a necessary relation to a counterpublic–an indefinitely accessible world conscious of its subordinate relation. They are typical both of the inventiveness of queer world making and of the queer world’s fragility.
From “Sex in Public” by Lauren Berlant & Michael Warner
“From back porches to back woods, we navigate these spaces as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people. We are pregnant high school drop outs, sex workers, closeted and not closeted preachers, first-generation immigrants, DREAMERS, sons and daughters of slaves and sharecroppers and migrant farm workers, unemployed and underemployed college graduates living with our parents and not living with our parents, trans people hitching rides and carpooling two to four hours to the closest clinics, country dyke mamas wearing flannel and wearing heels, and high femme gay boys working at gas stations and in hospitals. We sow seeds, we work in factories, we teach young people, we volunteer at the county Fire and EMT stations, and we serve coffee at the local dinner or dive. We came up in trailer homes on cinder blocks, in old falling down farm houses sitting in fields miles away from anything, or in towns with one grocery store and what seems like half a doctor’s office.
This is life in the country, on the back roads, in rural counties and small towns in the American South. There is no one rural queer experience. We come from every walk of life across this great land that is filled with both a haunting and resilient legacy.”
-Southerners on New Ground, Small Town Crossroads Report 2014
The Invisible Backpack of White Privilege is pretty decent, I guess. I’ve had one as long as I can remember. My parents said it just showed up in the mail when I was born, and L.L. Bean’s policy is to replace the backpack for free if it ever breaks, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. It’s $8 extra to get your initials monogrammed, which I personally think should be free of charge. The backpack comes in different colors, more recently Irish, Italian, and Buffalo Plaid.
The Invisible Backpack of White Privilege is great for carrying questionable things like weed, Ponzi schemes, and sex crimes. I have lived in dense urban areas my whole life, and the cops never once search my Invisible Backpack. Then again, that’s probably just because, like people always tell me, I have a really trustworthy vibe as a person.
Part of what needs to be done is to reconstruct the genealogical descent of why one form of place identity (called ‘history’) is supposed to be taken as more legitimate than another (called ‘heritage’). Regarding rural places, research attempting to develop this sense of a conjunctural non-essential identity has begun to consider the rural as a constellation of ‘social representations’ and ‘interpretative repertoires’ (Halfacree, 1993; Moscovici, 1991; Shields, 1991). In short, any further work on the intersections of meaning and the spatiality of social relations as regards the rural will have to overcome what Philo (1993, p. 433) begins to identify as ‘the assertive modernist impulse…which heroically assumes the duty of assessing from without the realities of ‘other lives’ against transcendental yardsticks of ‘right’/’wrong’ and ‘good’/’bad’ that may have little relevance for the peoples and places concerned.’
Mark Lawrence, “Heartlands or Neglected Geographies? Liminality, Power, and the Hyperreal Rural,” Journal of Rural Studies 13 (1997): 15.
What physical models and/or scientific analogies can we appropriate to better understand Intersectionality?
By this I mean–are there more robust models for conceiving Intersectionality that exceed the parameters of longitude and latitude that so often dominate discourses of Intersectionality? It seems to me that the first step is to throw away a 2-dimensional conception of intersectionality–to instead add that crucial Z-Axis that gives Intersectionality–and life itself–profound depth.
Not all intersections are created equal, and intersections themselves interact and affect each other, each of them with an individual weight that–just as it does on a cosmic scale–carries gravity, and it is this force which is responsible metaphorically for the dynamic and interactive nature of intersecting identities and various other structures of affinity that have become crucial to identity formation in the twenty-first century.