When it comes to LGBT politics, I’ve become increasingly ambivalent in recent years when considering nailing my colours to the wall.
As a therapist, I necessarily provide a neutral therapeutic space for my clients but, in the end, I too am human and will naturally develop stances within the various worlds in which I move.
I hold these stances lightly, however, because I am interested in hearing the experiences of others and am acutely aware that my views are open to alteration over time.
Additionally, my viewpoints within my therapy room are largely irrelevant. They should by necessity never seek to impose themselves upon my clients, contaminating a space intended for healing. This is anathema to productive, ethical therapy.
I am a good man, a kind man, and a reasonable man. I say all of what follows from a place of aroha and respect, but also frustration.
Please remember also that there is depth, nuance, and complexity present in everything I’m about to say that a few paragraphs on Substack will never do justice to. Please resist rigidly defining me through them, if you can.
As you may be aware, a polarising schism has developed within the western world’s wider LGBT communities which, if I’m honest, has left me both crestfallen and somewhat frightened.
Most of it is ostensibly associated with a shift in political discourse around the rights of transgender individuals, but it would be simplistic to assume that this is “the whole story”. I will, however, use this example here.
As a young gay man in the nineties, some of my earliest social experiences involved trans people. We mingled with ease, partied together, often sensing an ineffable, unspoken solidarity.
One trans woman of my acquaintance in that time, a railway worker, was often at the house of my then-boyfriend. She was great company, and I was genuinely interested in hearing of her experiences. Somehow, they felt aligned with my own in many ways, but obviously not in others.
Today, I fundamentally still stand with trans people. Of course I do.
Transgender rights must be enshrined in law, and should be at the very least equivalent to the rights I have today as a gay man.
But things have changed in the last decade to my absolute, gobsmacked dismay.
Academic assertions, distorted well beyond their original intent, appear to have infected the conversations around LGBT issues, particularly within the transgender space, leaving us with an increasingly unsettled environment.
Think here in terms of academic concepts like “intersectionality” (a theory which describes the multiple ways an individual can be discriminated against) and the various “phobias” and you’re getting close to what we’re dealing with.
Fundamentally, we’ve been told that these issues are not being resolved “correctly”, and a new way - a supposedly more enlightened one - is being imposed.
We LGBT folk literally fought for decades for our civil rights. We still have a long way to go, but rather than focusing on how we can usefully leverage the great gains we have made, we seem to be slipping backwards.
Mature-minded sections of the wider community intuitively know that we must not leave the “T” behind.
This would be a betrayal. In my view, they are kin.
We owe it to ourselves to continue this work as a collective from a place of care, sensitivity, integrity and tenacity as we negotiate this extraordinary time in our history.
Good faith is everything, and no single voice must have privilege over another.
There are seats at the table for all of us.
The challenges we face now are unprecedented and, to be blunt, somewhat absurd in their unanticipated ferocity. Now 51 years of age, I for one never foresaw us ending up here.
But here we are.
I attended a hui (a town hall-type meeting) in November 2018 when Auckland Pride abruptly decided to prevent the New Zealand Police from marching in their uniforms in the Pride parade, despite having been permitted to do so in previous Pride festivals.
This blunt edict was met with disbelief by what appeared to be a clear majority of the wider community.
Apparently, the police did not demonstrate a required level of “intersectionality” (the aforementioned academic theory), and there was concern that their uniforms may be triggering to transgender people in particular, given the historical abuse they have often suffered at the hands of the authorities.
I could fundamentally appreciate that, and could see where they were coming from. I have heard many stories over the years to this effect.
But I did not appreciate what came next.
The hui was astounding in its hostility, and it was at this point that the schism became painfully obvious to me. The anger displayed by many attending the hui seemed bafflingly disproportionate.
I don’t scare easily, but the tension in the air was palpable, and many pro-Pride individuals displayed fairly aggressive behaviours: an inability to control big emotions, shouting, ranting etc.
It would be fair to say that there was belligerence on the opposing team also, though seemingly not quite as ferocious.
We have made so much progress in the last fifty years as an interwoven set of communities, and it genuinely hurt my heart to see this happening.
The police in particular, though still definitely not perfect by any means, have done much in the last decade to correct harmful attitudes towards LGBT people, and are committed to continuing this work in dialogue with us.
But there is a shrill, emotionally volatile element to our wider rainbow community now. It is - and I say this with an irony entirely devoid of glee - a stonewalling dynamic.
It broaches no disagreement, it silences debate, and it devalues individual voices.
It is also not listening.
To my mind, we are now just beginning to see the harms it is creating within our communities.
Time and again in recent years I have heard stories in my therapy space from LGBT individuals disheartened, disenfranchised, and sometimes frightened by what is happening.
I’ve had LGBT clients genuinely fearful that they’re not signalling their “queerness” to their peers hard enough.
Many sense the subtleties inherent in our community’s schism, but feel afraid to verbalise their thoughts for fear of being labelled “treacherous”, and shunned.
Ironically, many trans clients in particular dislike the overly politicised slant proposed by groups such as Auckland Pride here in New Zealand. They do not feel heard, and feel misrepresented by an ideology that seemingly distorts truth, rewards delusion, and gifts disingenuous busybodies with a “purpose”.
To say that this must all be drawn to a conclusion as soon as is practical is an understatement.
This ideology, centred mainly around ideas of power, privilege, and oppression, and led by well-meaning, but profoundly young people (many with no first-hand experience of actual oppression and displaying no obvious sense of our collective history) is clearly hurting us.
How do we fix the schism I’ve mentioned? How do we address the concerns of all involved?
There is only one tried-and-true method.
It doesn’t involve bullying, cancelling, intimidation, insults, or shaky ideological rhetoric. It also doesn’t involve hiding behind a device and spitting tacks on Twitter.
It involves talking and, more importantly, actively listening.
Boring, perhaps, and harder than you may suppose, but vigorous dialogue is powerful when approached in good faith. We must be heard, but by extension we must also allow those we disagree with to be heard.
We need adults in the room, not single-message ideologues living their personal damage out loud (as we’re all capable of doing, given the right circumstances), projecting it wildly like feral infants, and undermining the great mahi already completed by our forebears.
In order for progress to be made, we need first demonstrate an ability to control our emotions and present our arguments clearly, without the conversation devolving into a loud, unfocused back-and-forth replete with fashionable politicised buzzwords and catchphrases.
Allowing our unexamined psychological wounds to lead our actions in the name of “progress” is not the way to go.
Putting one’s ego to one side is often difficult, and humbling, but it is the only reliable method for allowing the truth to flow, and for reason to dominate.
Uncritically accepting blind assertions presented to us by activism of any stripe is counterproductive.
Presuming oneself to be righteous at the expense of the rights of others is childish, and reveals profound intellectual and emotional deficits.
In colloquial terms, we need to get over ourselves and truly listen to the stories of others because, ultimately, this is not about you or me.
It’s about all of us.
This is my plaintive cry for unity.
There is likely undiscovered common ground between factions that ego and pride (pun intended) may be preventing us from discerning.
The truth, as ever, lies somewhere in the middle, but it is never found without rational, adult, considered dialogue.
Finding that truth currently feels impossible.
Conversations like this take courage and, for many of us, create significant discomfort around managing big feelings and avoiding disappointment.
There are no easy answers. There never is.
If there were, we’d have them by now.
But if we continue on our present trajectory, I see only an escalation in conflict ahead, and I genuinely fear our communities may never be the same.
“You are fabulous creatures, each and every one. And I bless you: More Life. The Great Work Begins.”
~ Prior Walter, “Angels In America” by Tony Kushner.