Sunday, November 2, 2014

The Social Organization of Desire: The Sexual Fields Approach by Adam Isaiah Green

In this article, Green details his theory of sexual fields, which is a sociological framework for analyzing how people with shared erotic identities or tastes interact with specific "erotic worlds", and how these worlds are structured in terms of what Green calls "erotic capital". Green uses a case study of gay black men in arenas such as gay clubs, bars, and bathhouses to analyze how certain qualities either reduce or increase a participant's erotic capital. Green also analyzes how sexual fields are split into "tiers of desirability", indicating how participants are stratified into categories of desirability based on physical or behavioral characteristics. Finally, Green explains the larger sociological implications of the sexual fields theory, and how it can be applied on a macro level in the study of sexuality.

Given that this week's focus on the syllabus is Queer Hierarchies, I read this article with that lens in mind, and personally found Green's framework for analyzing sexual situations useful not just for detailing how power relations play out for queer people within an erotic context, but just within interactions among the queer community in general. Especially interesting was Green's observation/suggestion that black gay men often "do race" (i.e. presenting themselves in a way that plays into some white gay men's fantasy of the thuggish, ghetto, or dangerous black male) to increase erotic capital, but do the exact opposite (play down their blackness) to be seen by white gay men as "relationship material". I feel like this instance speaks to Green's point that sexual arenas often apply a different set of rules or logic than general social arenas, but still manage to maintain the power structures we find in greater society. In the situations Green observed, gay black men may be able to increase their erotic capital by playing up their blackness (which Green points out often decreases socioeconomic capital), but they still must play down their blackness to be considered worthy of a long term relationship with white gay men- not to mention, of course, the mere fact that white gay men in these situations hold enough power that black gay men must be the ones altering their behaviors to cater to the rules of the environment.

I feel like the above described dynamic can be applied in a wider context to the conversation about who in the queer community dictates what acceptable queerness looks and acts like, and how others in the community must often alter their behavior and appearances to those standards to be accepted within and outside the community. Inevitably, the power structures that privilege whiteness, maleness, and higher socioeconomic status allow people in the queer community with those qualities to dictate what queer people "should" look like or act like, forcing members to either conform to those standards or risk being accused of not truly being queer (or just not being "queer enough"). For example, a society that privileges traditional masculinity has the double effect of putting masculine white gay men "at the top of the pecking order" (p. 41), as well as often treating femme lesbian women like they aren't queer or queer enough because they exhibit traditionally feminine traits.

1. How do you think sexual fields play out among groups not discussed in this article, such as queer women or trans women and men?

2. Green's article focuses on erotic and sexual situations, but how else do you think the observed valuing and commodifying of certain physical or behavioral qualities within sexual fields can apply to the queer community outside of explicitly sexual situations?

20 comments:

  1. Although I found this reading a bit more difficult to thoughtfully consider (it is slightly more dense), I find that the author does an incredible job of discussing "erotic capital" and the implications of how white supremacy, unfortunately, permeates the queer community. Thus, the detail in which the author describes the "battle" (for lack of a better term) that a gay Black man experiences with regard to its identity as both gay AND Black is spot on. Although I do not personally understand how it is to be a gay Black man, I do, however, relate to being a Black man who at times feel that I should downplay my Blackness to better assimilate into mainstream society and appease my white counterparts.

    With that said, I imagine that a similar "battle" takes place for queer women (in relation to queer men). Their erotic capital is less than queer mens. Again, the patriarchal fabric that is our society at large permeates the queer community dynamics as well. Trans folks, especially trans women, have even less erotic capital! For instance, trans women experience oppression in multiple ways via transphobia, misogyny, and a lack of support and inclusion from cisgender queer women (individuals who should be some of the biggest supporters of trans women!).

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    1. I agree. Green mentioned "passing" in his article and I think that also applies to different members of the female queer community, especially trans women. I think in the queer female community there is a general inclusion and higher tolerance for trans men (at least compared to trans women), and that trans women do not get the same respect. I'd venture to suggest that trans women have less erotic capital than trans men and cis women and men in queer spaces. However, if a trans woman "passes" and her trans status is perhaps more invisible, this may change her erotic capital, which is interesting to think about. A black trans woman must face even more overlapping influences that may affect her erotic capital.

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  2. When i think of the question, "How do you think sexual fields play out among groups not discussed in this article, such as queer women or trans women and men," the one thing that automatically comes to mind is when two people of the same sex are dating they get the questions "Who owns the pants in the relationship?" "Are you a top or a bottom?" and "Who is more butch and who is more femme?" instead of regular get-to-know-their-relationship questions like how they met and what attracted them to each other. A lot in today's society has changed how we talk to each other in regard to relationships and dating. It is quite annoying.

    Not to say that EVERYONE is like this, but when i had girlfriends in high school or even now when i talk to people about my ex-girlfriends i often get those annoying questions. I mean, sure, that stuff is interesting too on a sociological level i guess, or it can be fun to talk about with friends (talking about the details of relationships and sex in general is fun), but do they have to be the first topics that come up?

    And i would be lying if i said i've never thought of or asked those questions too in the past about queer friends and their partners, but again this is what society and getting caught up in the sex of relationships has done to us, has done to me. I've held back a lot since and asked the more in-depth as well as light-hearted questions. I enjoy hearing the "how we met" stories and such. Relationships are WAYY more than just who plays the femme role and who plays the masculine role or who is on top and who is on bottom. Besides, I'm pretty sure we've all agreed that these scenarios are interchangeable or shared; no one really sticks to one thing.

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    1. Question 1 got my brain juices flowing, too. I feel like queer people (especially, but not limited to queer couples and queer individuals cruising) have to "do gender presentation" the way Green talked about "doing race". I feel like there are a limited number of socially known/intelligible/accepted roles for queer people both within and outside of queer communities. I definitely feel pressure to make sure my visible identities and the identities I choose to reveal are consistent to those who perceive them.

      In response to Amanda specifically: my boyfriend and definitely get those questions--but we get them a lot less now than we used to, because our gender presentations have diverged. When we both looked sort of generically dfab soft-butch, people would be like "WHO TOPS? OMG" but over the past two years I've become visibly physically stronger, more assertive, and more butch than he is (thanks, testosterone), while he's become more comfortable with femmeness and flamboyance; now people, instead of asking who takes on the masculine heteronormative role in our relationship, tend to assume that I'm the "man."
      I have to say that, like some of the gay black men Green talks about, I'm tempted to conform to a preordained, stereotypic role just so that people in positions of institutional power over me (mostly cis people and binary trans people) will find me comprehensible and more (platonically) appealing/approachable. Obviously, it's also nice to be seen as binary masculine/male, because then people are way more willing to listen to me, take me seriously, and prioritize my needs (thank you misogyny), but I think there's more to the desire to conform to a pre-constructed dude-role than that.

      Wow, that got long. Shutting up now.

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    2. Haha, it's cool Ray, I talk a lot too. Also i really like your writing style.

      Your story is quite interesting, how your scenario completely flip-flopped from being questioned to it being "obvious" that you are more masculine and your boyfriend is more feminine. First, I would like to say how happy i am that you both are comfortable (for the most part, as you described) in your new skin(s?) because discovering one's true identity is a difficult journey, as i am still trying to find mine (as i've discussed in past blog posts, more on this in a bit). Second, have you ever run into awkward situations with cis men or women? Are they both equally likely to approach you or does it depend on what you wear/how you project yourself?

      I have to say as much as i don't like to conform, it is really hard NOT to conform to a preordained, stereotypical role just to be "seen" more as a specific gender or serious or appealing/approachable. As I'm learning more in the class I've come to the realization that there are words for who i am--I'm not just a "tomboy" or masculine-like woman, but i am genderqueer or genderfluid because i feel a mix of or neither male or female and dress according to how i feel on a particular day. But how i act sometimes depends on who I'm with:
      1. With female classmates and women in passing i don't want to come off too masculine so i can show i'm soft, sympathetic, can relate to what they are saying, can be "one of the girls".. but i also hold the door for them and put them first (nurturing part of women? "masculine" mannerisms? i don't know).
      2. When it comes to approaching or talking to my friends i pretty much am my true self and let the genderqueerness/genderfluidity shine.. for the most part, but sometimes i find myself needing to be more "girly" or the male "protector"/shoulder to cry on depending on the situation--fucked up, i know, it shouldn't be that way. Or maybe i just look at the situations like that instead of focusing on myself being me and embracing all sides. (Again, fuck you society for screwing with my head.)
      3. When I talk to men sometimes i want to show i'm tough, not sensitive, and "one of the boys" so they know i am down to hang out with them and talk about the same things as them (that they don't need to censor themselves or avoid subjects just 'cuz a "girl" is around) and show that i can be taken seriously. When i think about it it kind of annoys me, but in the moment it is almost automatic or subconscious.
      4. When i'm around my (male, straight) fiance it becomes this weird mix of the two (which really just is me). Sometimes, like when i'm feeling vulnerable, i want HIM to protect ME and be my shoulder to cry on, and other days i feel super independent and confident, don't feel the need to rely on him, and want to do my own thing. Like me, he is strong but also in the arts and is a sensitive soul so there are days when HE is the one who needs nurturing and relies heavily on me. Basically, he and i share and have interchangeable gender roles and express gender in different ways, but maybe that's how ALL relationships are?

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    3. Thank you!

      Cis men and cis women have seemed equally confused by my gender presentation over time. I think it's more of an age thing than anyone else. Very old people and little kids started gendering me correctly without asking earlier than anyone else in my transition, probably because their understanding of gender presentation is simpler.
      I haven't had that many awkward situations, actually. If people misgender me, I correct them and move on. My boyfriend and previously had some trouble with people assuming we were twins/siblings rather than romantic partners--THAT was awkward, but has stopped happening because we read as a straight couple now.

      I definitely find myself acting more stereotypically masculine in male-dominated spaces. If I'm in a men's room or a comic book store, I walk and speak much more masculinely because I feel a stronger-than-normal need to "pass" as male (I could write whole essays on why "passing" is a troubling concept) for my safety and so I'll be respected. What a drag.

      I've reached a point where I am trying to avoid normatively gendering anything, if I can. I try not to assume that my strength is masculine or my vulnerability feminine. It's definitely hard to navigate gender roles in a two-person relationship when one of you is more feminine and the other more masculine. As the masculine partner, I definitely feel internal pressure to behave "malely"--to be the shoulder-to-cry-on, the provider, the one who refuses to pull the car over and ask for directions...
      It's ridiculous, because anyone of any gender can be supportive or ask for support, and any healthy relationship probably has mutual support--and yet I've internalized so much heteronormative gender-binary shit about relationships that I have yet to get over.

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  3. It's interesting to think about how these issues of racial hierarchies are perpetuated in contemporary erotica. I've read a few articles for classes about pornography perpetuating harmful images of violence against women and mysognistic ideals of predator/prey. Additionally, these articles discussed how pornography perpetuates harmful racial hierarchies, especially in "gay" porn, marking black men as "thugs" or "gangsters" and white men as "college students" or "frat bros". This demonstrates erotica working in a classist and racist matrix that blatantly perpetuates offensive stereotypes. With increased access to the internet and a lack of sufficient sex education at school, teenagers are increasingly learning about sex through pornography, including young queer kids. How do these harmful stereotypes and coupled with images of violence prove harmful to sexual relations? How can one produce pornography that is feminist, non racist, and (if even possible) does not work within the matrix of capitalism? I wish I could remember the name of the articles to cite and add quotes, but I will keep looking.

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    1. Let me know if you find those articles! Feminist pornography is a topic of interest to me (did anyone else notice that "Queerer Than Thou" video we watched was directed by Ramses Rodstein?) but I haven't done nearly as much reading as I would like to.

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    2. ^ Ditto, i would like to read them too. Feminist pornography came up briefly in my Sex & Gender in Society class in reference to learning about 3rd Wave Feminism and their beliefs but we didn't actually go into the subject, which is unfortunate. I'm really interested in what that means or looks like.

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    3. Amanda, If you're interested in seeing what feminist porn looks like, look up Courtney Trouble and/or the Crash Pad Series.

      ...I just recommended you porn. I'm going to see myself out.

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    4. Oh, also (nsfw link) Jiz Lee. Super cool genderqueer adult performer.

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  4. The question of how intersecting identities affect queer people is something we've touched on quite a bit in class, but not one that we've really touched on in regards to "erotic capital." Passing certainly is huge factor in the erotic capital of queer people, whether that be passing as cis for trans people, passing as "not too black/Asian/etc.", oftentimes for bisexual/pansexual people, passing as monosexual. I've certainly learned that passability is a huge factor for queer trans people in the queer community, and to some extent, simple cis status in general. A gay friend of mine complained about matching with a guy on Tinder only to find out that he was trans, the lesbian trans-exclusionary radical feminist community certainly exists - being trans depletes an individual's erotic capital, general (even in heterosexual spaces).

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  5. In regards to question two, I think that "observed valuing and commodifying of certain physical or behavioral qualities within sexual fields" can apply to any space in society as it is a microcosm of what happens every day within larger society. These notions about race, age, attractiveness exist in the larger society and affect every aspect of peoples lives.

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  6. In reference to Question 1 I can not speak in terms of trans women or men (I don't know any), however, Green's piece seemed to focus on black and white gay men as they relate to each other in the gay venues or by speaking about the gay male culture in general (pgs 30-34). I do know in the latino gay subculture when Latin men go to gay social venues the ability to speak Spanish provides them with great erotic capital despite their other attributes (somewhat more or less). I know Green was studying a certain segment of the LGBTQ community but it would have been interesting to read how the three structural features of a sexual field impacts the LGBTQ community within the different subgroups which make up that community.

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  7. Question 2 got me thinking about commodifying physical and behavioral qualities in any situation. With respect to the queer community, though, I see the “stereotypical gay man” characteristics played up a lot in TV/film in very specific settings (like the super-effeminate retail salesman stereotype). I think commodifying this characteristic leaves an imprint on society, like saying that those traits are what’s looked for in gay males who work in retail, or that those traits are what makes a gay male in retail successful. This is a pretty crude example, but the point I’m trying to get across is that the value put on certain physical qualities or behaviors leaves an impression on people outside the queer community and creates false perspectives on what “makes” a person in the queer community.

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    1. I think this trope (and other tropes of queer identity like the cheating bisexual and hairy lesbian) serve to make queerness fit more neatly at the edges of a straight society. Using stereotypes can make these characters feel less real and therefore make their identity less legitimate. Using tropes also serves to make straight people more comfortable with their compulsory heterosexuality; if being queer is just choosing to do and like different things, people can minimize the realities of these identities and erase their struggle and the humanity of queer people.

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  8. It would also be interesting to think about how this concept of erotic capital intersects with some of the ideas of eroticization and hyper sexualization of certain groups of individuals (like Asian women, as discussed by Lee). Green frames erotic capital as something both problematic and also desirable, which would conflict with Lee's analysis on the unsolicited, silencing nature of the erotic capital that would come with the hyper-sexualization of being a femme Asian woman. It seems like people would want erotic capital, but the value is placed on where the attention is coming from, and for what reasons.

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  9. In response to question 2, I think that the ways in which physical/behavioral attributes are valued plays out a lot in political/non-sexual social context. As we've been talking about, and what Chris touched on, is how intersectionality plays into who gets to be valued within the queer community. People tend to value the obvious characteristics: male, white, cis, middle/upper class, and so on. But also beauty, intelligence, and quietness. The political and mainstream media face of queerness is palatable for straight people, so being an "angry queer" lessens your value; it's rare to see radical queer people portrayed as anything other than bad. Intellect and beauty also help "make up for" (big scare quotes here) the fact that someone is queer, as if those other more acceptable qualities cancel out queerness. Not sure where I'm going with this, but what I'm trying to get at is that not only do more visible identities (race, age, gender expression) give value to people outside of sexual context, but so do other physical characteristic and behaviors (weight, poise, "intelligence")

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  10. In retrospect, I think I’m primarily responding to your last paragraph instead of your questions but OH WELL.

    Outside of sexual situations, I’ve found that there exists a certain hierarchy within the queer community – perhaps not one that is intentional or explicitly stated, but one that is there nonetheless. A few weeks ago at a women’s mixer I caught myself thinking something along the lines of, “I thought I knew all of the queer women at Tufts.” I realized shortly after that the population I was classifying as “queer women at Tufts” consisted not of all queer-identifying women, but of those who were more outwardly queer, be it through their gender presentations or public self-identification. What was even more startling was my next realization that, by my own criteria, I wouldn’t have seen /myself/ as a queer woman at Tufts had I not… well, been myself. For me, that was a telling moment; it definitely pointed toward some of the “othering” that I’ve felt within the queer community, as well as the characteristics that we tend to use as identifiers (and therefore value).

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  11. In response to the second question, one aspect to consider is how certain physical or behavioral qualities affect assumption by the non-queer community. There is definitely an idea among the straight community of how a gay man or lesbian look and act, one that is perpetuated by media and society in general. Like Rebecca, it effects my assumptions too, even as a member of the queer community. I particularly liked Rebecca's comment because as a femme queer woman, most people assume I identify as straight. A queer person's presentation definitely effects not only their place within the queer community, but also with straight society. Some people are assumed to be gay or lesbian based on appearance and behavior, even if they're not. If I, as a member of the queer community, still find myself making these assumptions then they are prevalent among straights as well, and affect the way queer people are viewed by their straight peers.

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