My heterosexual privilege
Feb. 19th, 2005 10:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowscastAfter a discussion in the comments of my last post, I've decided to post an essay I wrote a couple years ago for a course I was taking in the process of getting my teaching degree. The course was called "Gender and Sexuality," and the essay is autobiographical and fairly informal. The assignment was to write about an event which had got me thinking about either my own privilege, or my marginalization.
***
An event occurred in my life last year which caused me to think a lot about privilege and marginalization related to sexuality. This was my marriage, last August, to a man. The privileges accorded us because we are a heterosexual couple started immediately, when our announcement of our engagement was met universally with delight and well-wishes; they continue to accumulate (I'll give examples below). Through the whole process, I was acutely and consciously aware of everything that would have been different had my partner been a woman. This awareness stemmed largely from the fact that a heterosexual union was not a foregone conclusion for me; I identify as bisexual, and my last serious relationship before I met my husband was with a woman.
It would take more than 2-5 pages to thoroughly describe all the privileges that are accorded to heterosexual couples in the culture(s) I inhabit, but I will outline some I've experienced personally.
As I mentioned above, one of the first things I noticed after our engagement was that everyone we told seemed to be happy for us, and to wish us well. Whether they were all sincere or not I don't know, but I've never yet encountered a negative reaction. The overall effect, for us, is happy and supportive. I know that if I had been announcing a commitment to a same-sex partner, reactions would have been more mixed. Certainly many people would have been just as positive in their reactions (I think most of my friends would fall into this category) but many people would probably have been more surprised and awkward in their responses, and some people would have been overtly negative (into this category, unfortunately, fall quite a few members of my extended family). The fact that people react positively makes it easy to disclose the information. I never feel nervous when I mention that I'm married; I never feel the need to consider, before disclosure, the probable political leanings of the person I'm talking to and their relation of power to me.
One very big advantage that was accorded to my husband and me, on the basis of our being a man and a woman, was the fact that we could get legally married in Nova Scotia at all. This right is still not accorded to same-sex couples. For us, it was easy - just a matter of paying for a marriage license and arranging for a Justice of the Peace to perform the ceremony. We didn't have to hire lawyers, there was no media circus, and the act was probably not regarded by many people as a political one.
There is a feeling of safety that comes with social acceptance. When I'm walking through a dark area at night, I feel more secure if my husband is there to hold hands with. For comparison, I remember years ago walking out of Point Pleasant Park just after dusk with my girlfriend, holding hands. There was a moderately loud, rowdy group of young men at the other end of the parking lot. My girlfriend and I discussed the fact that we were nervous, and glad to be with each other rather than alone - and then realized that if they noticed we were two women holding hands, that might make them more inclined to harass us.
I've never yet been accused of publicly "flaunting" my sexuality by wearing my wedding ring, using the phrase "my husband," or holding hands with my husband. I have heard people complain about queer people "flaunting" their sexuality by doing similar things. Most people probably don't even consciously note that I'm giving them information about my sexuality when I do those things. In contrast, if I use the phrase "my ex-girlfriend" when speaking to someone who does not already know that I'm bisexual, they will probably consciously realize that they are receiving information about my sexuality. All of this has to do with the fact that in our society, people are generally assumed to be heterosexual until they give some indication that they aren't. This leaves people who are queer in the position of having to actively "come out," while people who are heterosexual generally have no such need. Even when information comes to light which would seem to confirm the assumption of heterosexuality (such as if I grab my obviously male husband by the arm and say "This is my husband!"), people usually aren't aware that they had been making an assumption which needed to be confirmed.
Talking about coming out brings up an area in which I am aware of being marginalized. The near-universal assumption of heterosexuality will be applied to me now more than ever; even people who make an effort to remember that not everyone is heterosexual will often assume that a woman who is married to a man is straight. I have not yet decided what I will do about this. I do not know whether it is wise, or safe, to be out as bisexual while working in the Nova Scotia school system.
An event occurred in my life last year which caused me to think a lot about privilege and marginalization related to sexuality. This was my marriage, last August, to a man. The privileges accorded us because we are a heterosexual couple started immediately, when our announcement of our engagement was met universally with delight and well-wishes; they continue to accumulate (I'll give examples below). Through the whole process, I was acutely and consciously aware of everything that would have been different had my partner been a woman. This awareness stemmed largely from the fact that a heterosexual union was not a foregone conclusion for me; I identify as bisexual, and my last serious relationship before I met my husband was with a woman.
It would take more than 2-5 pages to thoroughly describe all the privileges that are accorded to heterosexual couples in the culture(s) I inhabit, but I will outline some I've experienced personally.
As I mentioned above, one of the first things I noticed after our engagement was that everyone we told seemed to be happy for us, and to wish us well. Whether they were all sincere or not I don't know, but I've never yet encountered a negative reaction. The overall effect, for us, is happy and supportive. I know that if I had been announcing a commitment to a same-sex partner, reactions would have been more mixed. Certainly many people would have been just as positive in their reactions (I think most of my friends would fall into this category) but many people would probably have been more surprised and awkward in their responses, and some people would have been overtly negative (into this category, unfortunately, fall quite a few members of my extended family). The fact that people react positively makes it easy to disclose the information. I never feel nervous when I mention that I'm married; I never feel the need to consider, before disclosure, the probable political leanings of the person I'm talking to and their relation of power to me.
One very big advantage that was accorded to my husband and me, on the basis of our being a man and a woman, was the fact that we could get legally married in Nova Scotia at all. This right is still not accorded to same-sex couples. For us, it was easy - just a matter of paying for a marriage license and arranging for a Justice of the Peace to perform the ceremony. We didn't have to hire lawyers, there was no media circus, and the act was probably not regarded by many people as a political one.
There is a feeling of safety that comes with social acceptance. When I'm walking through a dark area at night, I feel more secure if my husband is there to hold hands with. For comparison, I remember years ago walking out of Point Pleasant Park just after dusk with my girlfriend, holding hands. There was a moderately loud, rowdy group of young men at the other end of the parking lot. My girlfriend and I discussed the fact that we were nervous, and glad to be with each other rather than alone - and then realized that if they noticed we were two women holding hands, that might make them more inclined to harass us.
I've never yet been accused of publicly "flaunting" my sexuality by wearing my wedding ring, using the phrase "my husband," or holding hands with my husband. I have heard people complain about queer people "flaunting" their sexuality by doing similar things. Most people probably don't even consciously note that I'm giving them information about my sexuality when I do those things. In contrast, if I use the phrase "my ex-girlfriend" when speaking to someone who does not already know that I'm bisexual, they will probably consciously realize that they are receiving information about my sexuality. All of this has to do with the fact that in our society, people are generally assumed to be heterosexual until they give some indication that they aren't. This leaves people who are queer in the position of having to actively "come out," while people who are heterosexual generally have no such need. Even when information comes to light which would seem to confirm the assumption of heterosexuality (such as if I grab my obviously male husband by the arm and say "This is my husband!"), people usually aren't aware that they had been making an assumption which needed to be confirmed.
Talking about coming out brings up an area in which I am aware of being marginalized. The near-universal assumption of heterosexuality will be applied to me now more than ever; even people who make an effort to remember that not everyone is heterosexual will often assume that a woman who is married to a man is straight. I have not yet decided what I will do about this. I do not know whether it is wise, or safe, to be out as bisexual while working in the Nova Scotia school system.
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Second try
Date: 2005-02-19 07:19 pm (UTC)Mo
Re: Second try
Date: 2005-02-20 03:04 pm (UTC)Anyway, thanks for persevering and replying anyway!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-20 12:24 pm (UTC)You think so sweet. And now I could either inform you that I'm in your same situation--being dated by guys while I'm trying to assert my bisexuality--or tell you that I didn't even realize that *I* was making such assumptions as you speak of, against other people, when I don't like the assumption being turned against me.
Just...thank you for making me think.
I'm here via
(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-20 03:15 pm (UTC)You're welcome. :) Thanks for posting and saying so!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-21 06:30 am (UTC)You made me realize something interesting - that if a homosexual "comes out", then he/she is often considered to be "flaunting their sexuality." Yet, how else are they to communicate they're gay?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-21 06:19 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Yet, how else are they to communicate they're gay?
Exactly. It's a double standard that most people aren't even conscious of, I think...but once you start noticing it, it really pops up a lot.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-21 06:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-21 06:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-21 06:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-08 04:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-10 01:33 pm (UTC)(It's nice to know this essay is still finding readers!)