Honoring Diversity

Following the posting of last month's Transgender Awareness Week display at work, a colleague told me that he thought the oft-used phrase, "Honor Diversity," conveys the wrong idea. He is a Christian who had written an articulate and compassionate protest about the use of the word "Celebrating" in the display title, and I actually found myself agreeing with his argument. When I asked for some clarification, he explained that "Hitler was diverse, and no way he could honor Hitler."

Well, I certainly concur with that sentiment. Not only is Hitler responsible for the slaughter of Jews, in the late 1930's, he also had the institute where Magnus Hirschfield did his pioneering work on the treatment of trans people destroyed. As a member of a minority group that was slaughtered by the Nazis along with Jews, gypsies, and homosexuals, Hitler's probably the last person on earth I'd want to honor. My colleague's statement, though, led me to question just what it means to honor something.

According to Dictionary.com, honor, when used as a verb, means (among other things):

13.	to hold in honor or high respect; revere: to honor one's parents.
14.	to treat with honor.
15.	to confer honor or distinction upon: The university honored him with its leadership award.
16.	to worship (the Supreme Being).
17.	to show a courteous regard for: to honor an invitation.

In the discussion on synonyms following the definitions, it says, "Honor suggests a combination of liking and respect."

It seems to me that definitions 13, 15, and 16 don't get at the meaning of "honoring diversity" at all. Used as a noun, as it is in #14, honor seems to mean "honesty, fairness, or integrity in one's beliefs and actions." That seems appropriate, but def. 17, "to show a courteous regard for," gets more to the intent, I think.

Then what does "diversity" mean?

Again, Dictionary.com:

1.	the state or fact of being diverse; difference; unlikeness.
2.	variety; multiformity.
3.	a point of difference.

So honoring diversity means to show a courteous regard for our differences, for those ways that we are unlike. In keeping with that, the Diversity and Equity Strategic Plan recently adopted by our city includes within it statements like the following: "Diversity and human rights should no longer be viewed as 'programs,' but as core values integrated into the very fiber of the organization."

To me, Hitler was the very antithesis of diversity, and his example provides the dark side of the impetus toward showing courteous regard for our differences. Hitler proclaimed the superiority of the Aryan people, and attempted to eliminate people who were different based on ethnic, racial, sexual orientation, ability, and gender differences through genocide. It would be impossible to honor both Hitler and diversity at the same time; if you honor one, you dishonor the other.

I don't think you need to approve of another's behavior in order to show a courteous regard for how one is different. So long as that behavior stays respectful of each other and our common humanity, there is no reason for disapproval. However, I believe that one of the best ways we can show courteous regard for those who are different is by learning how we are similar. This was a criticism of the Celebrating Transgender Lives display; that to some people, the display seemed to ignore the similarities we all share, and focus on the difference. Yet each profile of the display was intended to highlight those similarities, and cut through the stereotypes that so often limit the opportunities of trans people. Each profile displayed the unique character or accomplishments of one person – his or her humor, talent, courage, creativity, contribution to society, and so on.

And in fact, each one of us is unique; despite the similarities we all share, we are all different. It is that very difference, the uniqueness of each individual, that makes life so varied, interesting, and – well, diverse. We offer always to each other a learning opportunity, a chance to grow. We are all similar, and we are all diverse. Each one of us loves, laughs, cries, mourns, and struggles to be the best we can be. At the same time, each person's unique character and talent contributes value to the whole of who we are as a people, a society, and a species. That includes our unique or specific expression of gender, whether it fits in between the traditional gender binary or not.

That is worth celebrating – and honoring.

International Migrants' Day

Today is International Migrants' Day, commemorating the day in 1990 that the UN Assembly adopted the International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of Their Families (resolution 45/158). This article by Chandra Bhatnagar is worth reading for background, but suffice it to say that migrants face many human rights abuses right here in the original modern Bastion of Freedom known as the USA.

With that in mind, I call on all US agencies and employers to treat migrants with the humanity and respect that they deserve, simply by being our brothers and sisters born to the same divine Father-Mother as created us. I call on President Obama to direct his agencies to enforce all aspects of national and international law that protect these people from abuse, and to take immediate steps to rectify the situation in Villas-del-Sol, Puerto Rico, including provision of electricity, water, health care, and humanitarian aid as needed (see the article). And I extend my own prayers for all migrant workers in the US, and everywhere.

It is a disgrace for a nation of our proud heritage to continue to allow this kind of abuse, especially in the aftermath of the Hurricane Katrina travesty. If we cannot extend mercy, compassion, and basic human rights to people on our own soil, how can we ever expect to support it as far away as Afghanistan?

A Biblical Surprise

I love the 139^th Psalm, verses 1-18, with its lyrical assurance of God's everpresent Love. Sometimes I turn to it for comfort, for a reminder that I can never, not for one second, anywhere, be separated from the love of God. But this morning, as I turned the tattered pages of my Bible in search of it, something from the 142^nd caught my eye. I stopped to read it.

Then I read it again.

I read it a third time.

I never expected a three thousand year old man hiding in a cave to write my own prayer – the prayer of a trans woman. Because that's what it was. What it is. A mirror of the desperation that drove me to transition, of the faith that, though not couched in any religion, led me to take that irrevocable step across gender lines.

~*~

Psalm 142
Maschil of David; A Prayer when he was in the cave

I cried unto the Lord with my voice; with my voice unto the Lord did I make my supplication. I poured out my complaint before him; I shewed before him my trouble. When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my path. In the way wherein I walked have they privily laid a snare for me. I looked on my right hand, and beheld, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me; no man cared for my soul. I cried unto thee, O Lord: I said, Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living. Attend unto my cry; for I am brought very low: deliver me from my persecutors; for they are stronger than I. Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name: the righteous shall compass me about; for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.

~*~

But wait, you say, your family loved you! They cared deeply for you.

No. They did not know me. They cared deeply for the man they thought I was. But I was lying to them; my soul was deep in prison, and they cared not for me, because they could not know me. I lived then in a cave of my own making, a prison that seemed to have no door. But when the desolation of loneliness overwhelmed me, I cried out to the Universe; the door opened, and my path was shown; can I say that it was shown by other than divine Love? I had tried all others; religion, therapy, the Marine Corps, marriage, drunkenness, fantasy, adventure. Nothing opened the door until I surrendered to the one path that could bring my soul out of that prison.

And I am compassed with loving, open arms – friends, family, neighbors, co-workers and colleagues. The Lord has dealt bountifully with me.

He will deliver me from my persecutors; for if they are stronger than I, they are certainly not stronger than Him.

A Compromise

In a discussion on a "marriage defense" blog, I asked the questions, "Is defending traditional marriage more important than assuring that gay people and their families are not fully accepted into society? Would you trade supporting age-appropriate educational tools (such as the book "Heather Has Two Mommies" and movies like "Southern Comfort") for teaching your children, and prominent, visible support for the passage of ENDA and fully equal civil unions(including federal tax benefits and interstate recognition) on your blogs, for visible support from LGBT people in opposing the redefinition of marriage to include same-sex marriage?" My intent in asking the questions was to clarify what the opine bloggers priorities are in regards to marriage equality for gays, i.e., whether protecting marriage was top priority, or whether protecting society from the "gay menace" was priority and that's merely one aspect of the anti-gay agenda.

OnLawn offered in reply a compromise on gay marriage. ("A compromise means both don't get everything we want, but we work together to find some ground in the middle where they both get what they need. Where there are direct incompatibilities, there each need their own space to afford their own values and ideals.") To summarize:

• Gay people can become Reciprocal Beneficiaries, which essentially means the states pass a law that grants any two adults who are restricted from marriage by law "access to a limited number of rights and benefits on the state level."
  
• No age-appropriate educational materials reflecting LGBT families in schools.
  
• No federal protections for LGBT people from employment or housing discrimination.
  
• It's not clear whether OnLawn would allow the reciprocal beneficiaries to extend to the federal level.
  

OnLawn is a Mormon, a member of a group that has survived plenty of persecution, violence, hate, and discrimination, some of which lingers on today, but most of which is in the past (thanks in part to civil rights legislation protecting folks from discrimination based on religion), such as when the Mormons were driven out of Illinois. So I'll assume that OnLawn is familiar with the effects of discrimination in a personal way, and, in that spirit of compromise, I'll offer this:

• Mormons may no longer marry each other, but they may enter into reciprocal beneficiaries with each other.
  
• No educational materials mentioning Mormons will be allowed in schools.
  
• Mormons will be exempt from civil rights legislation protecting individuals from discrimination based on their religion.
  
• Mormon reciprocal beneficiaries will be recognized at the federal level, granting full rights of tax equality, inheritance, guardianship of children, and so on.
  

Of course, this is an academic question, as neither of us has the power to enact any of these elements beyond our votes – and, regarding my own suggestions, almost nobody, including me, is interested in effecting any of them. Also, I'm philosophically opposed to compromising on human rights, justice, and equality – not that there isn't room for all to have their needs met, and to have an equal place at the table. However, perhaps this will open a dialogue where we can both really hear what each other needs, and find a way to deal together toward finding that solution that meets all needs. This compromise deals with specific strategies for meeting needs, and I'm totally open to hearing other strategies; I don't insist that the strategies I believe will be effective be implemented, if others can accomplish the same thing in a way that better meets the needs of "marriage defenders" or gay people or preferably everybody. If this leads to a dialogue that clarifies what needs are/aren't met by different strategies, may it be blessed.

“Love Your Enemies…”

Lately I've been thinking a lot about a certain Bible verse: Matthew 5:44 – "I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." These words were attributed to Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, which I believe is one of, if not the, greatest talks on nonviolence or ahimsa in history. (Of course, that's from my western perspective and limited knowledge of non-western texts and teachings.) I got to thinking about it partly because I got into a rather unpleasant debate regarding feminism and gay rights on another blog, because for several months I've been studying the writings of Mary Baker Eddy, and because I want to be the most effective force possible in my activism for LGBT rights, and I believe this is the way to do that. And I've been thinking about it because so often I fail to achieve my goal of doing just that – I want clarity about how to love my enemies – those who oppose equal rights for LGBT people.

So what does it mean, to "love your enemies?" That's a pretty strong statement, and the follow-up is no weaker: bless, do good to, pray for, those who hurt you. Turn the other cheek. How radically different is this from most of what I see in the world.

It's clear that "love," in this case, is a verb. It requires positive and proactive action on our part, a conscious decision, and determined persistence. In an essay titled "Love Your Enemies," Mrs. Eddy said, "We must love our enemies in all the manifestations wherein and whereby we love our friends; must even try not to expose their faults, but to do good to them whenever opportunity occurs." That raises the ante a bit, taking it to a new level. Certainly we must counter lies and misconceptions, and assert our own truth with determination and persistence. How do we do this without exposing the faults of our enemies? Perhaps by keeping our statements as completely impersonal as possible?

This gets really challenging in the heat of, so to speak, battle. How can you do good to and love someone who has just said words about you intended to wound and destroy? How can you not feel anger, and fear, and the hate that rises so easily from them? Once again I found some pretty useful words from Mrs. Eddy: "Love your enemies, or you will not lose them; and if you love them, you will help to reform them;" "The mental arrow shot from another's bow is practically harmless, unless our own thought barbs it. It is our pride that makes another's deed offensive, our egotism that feels hurt by another's self-assertion;" "Who is thine enemy that thou shouldst love him? Is it a creature or a thing outside thine own creation? Can you see an enemy, except you first formulate this enemy and then look upon the object of your own conception? What is it that harms you?" Hannah More said, "If I wished to punish my enemy, I should make him hate somebody."

In this context I want to take my activism to this new level; active love of my enemies, even more than just passively eliminating the anger and fear from my own heart and wishing them well while still opposing them. It means finding ways of doing good to them, while simultaneously holding unconditional love in my heart, completely without rancor or judgment, and while also resisting the injustice. Indeed, it makes my resistance stronger.

I don't expect to be perfect at this; it is a goal to strive for, but I'm still completely human, subject to pride, anger, ego, misjudgment, misinterpretation, misunderstanding, mistake, and all the other foibles humans are subject to. I'll make mistakes. But I am convinced that returning always to this guidepost will lead me to a more effective activism; this seems to be the guidepost that directed Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King. And if I'm not successful, at least I'll be happy doing it. After all, "'Love thine enemies' is identical with 'Thou hast no enemies.'" (MBE)

I'm not a Christian Scientist, but I wish that The Christian Science Church would put Mrs. Eddy's essays, "Love Your Enemies" and "Taking Offense" online, and I could direct those of us who fight for equal rights for LGBT people to read them. Regardless of the religious undertones, these are strategies, I believe, for effective action. Our anger, justified as it may be, benefits no one; indeed, it does active harm to our own side.

If there are any activists out there who access my blog, I'd be really interested in hearing your thoughts on this post.

I Smell Roses....

Okay, this may be premature, with the Civil War coming up next Thursday, but this video's pretty cool. And I gotta go with Jeremiah Masoli and the Ducks.



Watch it before UO makes them pull it...! (UO ought to pay those students for making it!)

A Civil War for the ages. Go Ducks!

The Danger of a Single Story

This video is rather long - about 20 minutes - but worth every second of it.



It has also inspired an idea for an upcoming project, which I hope to post soon. Stay tuned...

Labels

I'm a member of the Diversity Committee where I work, and to celebrate Transgender Awareness Week (TAW) and International Transgender Day of Awareness (TDOR), we prepared a display that illustrates some of the gender-variant people through history, profiles of individual transpeople and their accomplishments, and a few of the people who've been killed over the last year because of their perceived gender-variance. The display will be put up in my building, and it turns out that, for some of my co-workers, it's controversial. They ask why we need to label people, why we can't just accept people for who they are without the labels.

And which label is it that offends them?

Turns out the display includes the word, "transgender," and a few of my coworkers don't want to be exposed to that word, and they don't want their children exposed to that word.

There's no doubt that labels can be limiting and destructive; that they can make pain and add to prejudice. But I'm not sure how you can have a display celebrating trans people for TAW without including the word "transgender." It would be kind of like celebrating Independence Day, but removing the word, "Independence." What makes that day different? What is it about these people that is different from others?

It's human nature to compartmentalize things, to label them for ease of understanding. There's great danger in that, as mis-labeling is common, and judging solely by label is guaranteed to result in misunderstanding and ignorance. Nevertheless, we cannot escape labels – and labels do have their place. They do differentiate according to individual characteristics. The error is in making assumptions regarding the person that go beyond the label. Assuming that because someone is a woman, she's weak and emotional. Assuming that because someone is a black man, he likes watermelon and fried chicken. Assuming that because someone is a Christian, she's a Republican. The label is accurate and impersonal, but that's all you know about the person; the assumption may or may not be accurate, and accepting is as truth perpetuates ignorance and violence.

In our building, we've also got a poster up called "Women at Work," illustrated with various women performing a variety of jobs, to show that women are capable workers. No one I've ever heard about has objected to it. We regularly put up notices regarding "Asian Celebration," or "Black History Month," or "Women's History Month", or "Hispanic Festival," or "Disability Etiquette." No one objects. If folks make assumptions regarding the people behind the labels, they keep those assumptions to themselves. The labels are accurate and impersonal, and important to place the announcement in context, to give it meaning. If you take that label away, you erase a part of that person's identity; you remove the person or the event from context, and make it meaningless. We are men, women, black, white, Native American, Asian – it's who we are, part of what makes us individuals, an aspect of our personhood that defines who we are in relation to those around us, that gives us our individuality within our common humanity. The label does not represent who we are – but who we are is not complete without it.

I am an American. I am white. I am middle-aged. I am a mother – and a father. I'm a writer. I'm a designer. I am an ex-Marine. I am a carpenter. I am an activist. I'm a feminist. I am free. I am a human. I am a woman. Most important of all, I am spiritual, a child of God. And I am transgendered.

Labels. I claim each one, I wear it with pride. This is who I am. Just as you label yourself, in whatever way you do, with whatever pride or shame you have about that aspect of who you are. Some of those labels I wear by choice – designer, writer, feminist, free. Others have been assigned to me by accident of birth, by fate, or by God – human, American, white, child of God. Transgender.

I don't have any choice about it. I was just as much a transgendered woman when I wore a beard, a man's name, and man's clothing, as I am now. I was just invisible, isolated, and desperately, suicidally miserable.

So when I hear that some of my own colleagues are so offended by who I am that they not only don't want to be confronted with my identity, that they don't even want their children to know of my existence; when I see that they want to bury my identity, erase it, make me invisible – it hurts.

It hurts not only because an important part of my identity is being dismissed. Making that label of such paramount importance that it must be hidden or erased, actually makes it more visible, even as it makes me invisible. The attempt to remove the label isolates it, so that it then becomes the definer of my individuality. It reduces me, and every trans person, to less than fully human, to only transgender. It perpetuates ignorance, prejudice, and fear, and smoothes the way for violence.

This is why we need the display so damned much in the first place.