Peace and Identity
Dr Gareth Evans-Jones
Ìý
Homophobia. Queerphobia. Transphobia. These are three types of 'attitudes' upon which violence against LGBTQ+ people over the years have been based, and which, unfortunately, persist. What is striking is the element of 'phobia' which can be seen in the second part of the terms above. Some have argued that such conflicts exist due to fear, and it is precisely that fear that leads to dislike and action. Others have argued that this is not true – fear is not at the root of such views, but hatred: a lack of love.
It is not possible to side completely with one argument or the other, because there is truth in both. Hatred can be seen in physical attacks on queer people who do nothing more than walk hand in hand with their partner down a street. Dislike can be seen in verbal attacks on queer people who wear a pink and blue and white badge on their coats, for example. And hate can be seen in fatal attacks, where queer people do nothing more than simply exist. But there is an element of fear attached to these attitudes: fear that LGBTQ+ people are undermining 'traditional conventions' (conventions of a specific geographical area at specific times, of course), and that they are promoting structural change in a radical way. This fear was clearly crystallized in the words I heard in a cafe recently: 'If they get that, what will happen next?!' Fear of that we do not know. And this can be seen as the basis for such a conflict that exists in relation to LGBTQ+ people; because queer people don't conform to the heteronormative conventions that are deeply rooted in our society.
By fearing what we don't know, people create clear divisions between the familiar and the unfamiliar, the us and them, the self and the other. And that, in one sense, has characterized violent attitudes across the ages, and in many contexts: whereby one sees themselves as 'us' and the other people as 'them'. That othering is what can fuel violence. When we think about Western society throughout the centuries, women have been othered, immigrants have been othered, people with disabilities have been othered; 'the other' always exists in order to empower the ‘us’. Often, that othering has led to a process of not considering the 'other' as human beings, of flesh and blood and feeling, but as 'things'. And that is not necessary only seen in the context of slavery.Ìý
This calls to mind the philosophy of Martin Buber; specifically, the Ich und Du, the I and Thou. As long as we relate to others, as human beings, and the wider world around us, in terms of the 'I and Thou', there is hope. Respect can exist, and tolerance, and the possibility of peace. But if we consider others in terms of Ich und Es, ‘I and It’, there will be uncertainty, there will be fear, there will be a danger of destruction. That has been part of the rhetoric and action against of queer people for centuries. The 'us' and the 'them': destructive dichotomies.
And that is indeed what we see in many stories and histories; we need only consider the Holocaust as an example. During that hellish period, thousands and thousands of queer people were persecuted and abused, and killed. We also know that many were mislabelled with a sexuality or a gender that did not truly reflect who they were. One was simply either a gay man or a gay woman; and, in fact, only gay men were the subject of serious concern because homosexual relations among women were considered to be less 'influential', less 'powerful', and ‘weaker’. There were bisexual people. There were trans people. There were non-binary people. But ignoring they were ignored with the creating of neat, binary packages - 'gay man' and 'gay woman' - and placing them in the context of 'the other'.Ìý
With the othering too, as is the case with the history of the Holocaust, queer stories in general have been forgotten. Queer people have been pushed from the center of historical volumes, from cultural records, and from political notes, because they were not 'decent' or 'right'. Or have even been mislabelled as 'straight' by some historians. This is also a form of a lack of peace.Ìý
What is striking and interesting is the way in which queer people have embraced this 'other' over the years; how they have adopted the label and responded.Ìý
Ìý
'Why do we need this Pride things?' was another comment I heard from someone last year. Why? Due to the claustrophobia of shame that a large proportion of queer people have experienced, and continue to experience due to how society has conditioned people to think about their sexual identities. Pride marches are protests, but peaceful in nature. They are also public statements that it is perfectly fine, perfectly natural to be LGBTQ+.
But peace has not always characterized the activities of the queer community, of course. One need only think of the Stonewall Riots in New York City in 1969. However, that was an intended conflict by a certain group of the authorities in order to cause an uproar – to promote the idea that the LGBTQ+ community is radical, problematic, and a danger to society: an 'other' who refuses to fit in with the 'us'. And that 'other', and that attack, was embraced by the LGBTQ+ community itself in order to help queer people. The Stonewall movement was founded in 1989, and by now, there are several branches of the movement in Britain. There are also a number of other organizations in existence that support LGBTQ+ people throughout Wales, Britain and beyond. This demonstrates that there does exist an 'other' in community, and that we should embrace the differences.
Yes, there is conflict. Yes, there is still a great need to hear anew the colourful voices of the past, and celebrate individuals who have been hidden by history. Yes, we need to promote peace. And the rainbow is central to this. Within Christianity, the rainbow is a sign of reconciliation between God and humanity, as seen after the story of the Flood and Noah's Ark. The rainbow can also be a sign of reconciliation between everyone in our society. An arch of colours is what is seen most often, when the sun appears after a shower of rain, but in reality, the rainbow is circular in shape. That is the scientific evidence. And isn't that a valuable idea that we could promote? A rainbow is a circle that binds the colourful society together. The rainbow is also a circle that can bind the whole of society together. Any 'us' and 'them', ‘I’ and ‘Thou’. And since there is no beginning or end to a circle, so too, we should not create such divisions as ‘us’ and ‘them’. So how about the circle of society, a rainbowed circle, beyond the dualities of the past?
This issue is available for purchase from the Ìýwebsite and all of the proceedings will go to the Oasis Cardiff charity.