What if this is how it worked

Okay, full disclaimer: this is not a well thought out plan. This plan was hatched by my housemate and me during an evolving rant in our kitchen this past Saturday night. It is not a 'real' idea. It is mostly for fun that I share it.

This past week I read the latest (and most conservative) estimate on the current gender gap in wages. This estimate put women earning an average of 86 cents on the man's dollar.

My housemate and I were discussing equity in rent/utility bills. You can probably see where this is going now. If 'women' (I am using quotes because what is this monolithic 'women' category?) make an average of 86 cents to the dollar, is it really equitable to charge them the same amount as 'men'? Further breakdowns along race, gender identity, sexual identity, class, education level, and so on would clearly be necessary to approach that ever fleeting equity.

Think about it though. If you take two people who have the same job and account for education, professional experience, all the necessary qualifications, part-time status, children in the household, and race - the woman in the dyad will still make 86 cents on that man's dollar. So, in that case, when that fictional woman goes to buy groceries, shouldn't she be able to pay 86 cents to the dollar? Why should she pay the same amount for amenities etc when she is underpaid her wage?

Just wait for it

Last weekend a gay teenager in Ottawa committed suicide. In his suicide note, he referenced the 'It Gets Better' campaign, saying that he just couldn't wait.

I think his comment points to one of the biggest failures of the 'It Gets Better' campaign. Its central message is:

Hey, we know high school is tough - we've been there! But hold on because after you graduate life is going to get a whole lot better. Look, you could have partners and cool jobs and live around other queers. Just wait out that difficult high school period and it will get better!

Certainly, the notion that life gets better after high school, especially for those who are bullied, is an important part of the message. However, especially for those who are bullied, that cannot be the whole message.

Focusing on the idea of 'it gets better' is neglecting the very concrete concerns of the present. Right now there are queer teenagers who are dealing with real hatred, hostility, and violence. Why should they wait for it to get better? They've done nothing wrong. They need it better now. We need to make it better now.

Moreover, when a whole litany of successful queer people say 'yeah, high school was hard for me too, but look at me now!' it unintentionally sends the message that if they can do it, you should be able to do it. No one's high school experience is the same. No one experiences bullying the same way. No queer teenager who is dealing with bullying needs to worry, what's wrong with me? All those queer adults were able to handle it, why can't I? That is an unproductive discourse for a struggling teenager.

The 'It Gets Better' campaign may have been a good way to start having a national conversation about bullying, but the campaign itself is neglecting core issues in favor of having teenagers 'wait it out'. Where does bullying come from? This is about gender, sexism, sexuality, racism, classism. This is about hatred and violence. Real change needs to happen now to address how kids learn about difference. No one should have to wait for there to be less violence in their life.

Check out this video from a group in Seattle called Reteaching Gender and Sexuality. They posted this in response to the 'It Gets Better' campaign when it first started.

And now for something a bit different

I haven't posted in a bit. Apparently grad school requires a bit of work. Also I've had several visitors up here in Canada. This is just a tiny post on a topic that I end up thinking about pretty much daily - bicycling!

I'm a bicycle commuter. I love my bike ride! It's about 16 km to campus. The ride gives me time to unwind, debrief, make little plans in my head, and just think to myself about whatever I want! I really covet that time. It helps me feel balanced.

Vancouver has a pretty developed infrastructure for cyclists - bike lanes, greenways, traffic light buttons specially located for cyclists. They seem to know what they're doing. I take greenways for the majority of my ride to campus. These are non-arterial streets that have been designated as routes for cyclists instead of the busier streets they parallel. They are heavily trafficked by cyclists. I have mixed feelings about them.

On the one hand, it feels safer, and probably is, to travel in large packs of cyclists. Safety in numbers? I like biking with other cyclists. I like the camaraderie. I like when cyclists take over the road and cars just have to wait.

Here's the flip side. These streets are low-car-traffic areas. When drivers use them, they are not expecting to run into other cars. They should be expecting to see cyclists, but, hey, cyclist-awareness is not at the level it could/should be yet. When drivers are not concerned with the possibility of other drivers, they drive differently. Here are the three biggest issues I have observed so far:

Often drivers do the 'rolling stop', briefly looking side to side for cars as they roll part way into the intersection - a notoriously dangerous move for cyclists.

Drivers will approach the small roundabouts, which serve as intersections for many streets, really fast - again, not expecting other drivers so not worried about slowing.

Drivers really want to pass cyclists because they are using this route to bypass the traffic on the busier, arterial street. They pull up real close behind and pass dangerously, driving way too quickly for a small side street that is heavily traveled by cyclists.

I guess what it ultimately comes down to is that it is not enough to create these paths through the city, although they are a nice start. Real safety for cyclists is in awareness. Greenways would work really well if drivers who used those roads only used them for local traffic and then with the extra caution necessary, highly aware that those roads are predominantly utilized by cyclists. Drivers need to care half as much about a cyclist's life as they about getting where they are going as fast as possible. They need to take the extra time to look twice or three times for a cyclist.

Safety is not just the responsibility of a the cyclist. It cannot be.

Do you bike? How is it where you live? Any great ideas?

I didn't realize you were in Sociology

Last night I was joking around with my housemates about this recurring situation, but it's something that I've been thinking about, and I think it's worth sharing.

Many of us in the Sociology department have just finished a 3 week TA training program. Since the Women and Gender Studies Department is fairly small, their students came to our training. A few facts must be stated at the onset: I met many graduate students for the first time at the TA training; my only interaction with many of the grad students was at the TA training; the Sociology graduate population is mostly female and fairly straight.

I've been starting to get my footing more and more at school. I'm on top of my work, I'm understanding what I'm learning, and I'm engaged. I'm beginning to feel like a grad student in Sociology. At the last few training sessions, I was having conversations with other soci students. During these conversations, I figured out that everyone thought I was a Women and Gender Studies student. This is despite introducing myself as a Sociology student. Hm.

In total I was asked 3 times last week if I was in Women and Gender Studies. That's 3 people out of about twenty (including around seven who are in my cohort and know for certain what department I am in and thus would certainly not ask). Well, that's just plain interesting. The trainings were predominantly Sociology students, so it was usually a safer bet to assume someone was in soci. I always said I was in soci. Why, then, would someone think I was in Women and Gender Studies?

Of course, everyone I tell this too immediately knows. Look at me, I just look like the type of person who would study gender. And I do study gender. I study it through the Sociology department, but I study gender and sexuality and feminism and all that super gay stuff.

I think this is super interesting because people see me, take in my identity, and then immediately create ideas about what I must be interested in and concerned with. Now, I happen to study gender; however, there are many queermos out there who do not and that's totally great. Just because someone cannot walk down the street without everyone noticing the salience of their gender identity or their sexuality, does not mean that those concepts have to make up the primary focus of their lives.

I mean, what would be the comparable response in a given situation - when a heterosexual, white woman is surprised to learn that I am not in the Women and Gender Studies program? Oh, you're in Sociology? I thought you were studying...what? What is the stereotypical subject for a straight, white woman to study? Maybe it is Sociology. Maybe that's why there are so many straight, white women and, if it's possible that I could have another affiliation, they assume it's so.

I'm not offended by an affiliation with Women and Gender Studies, clearly. I hail from a Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality Studies background. I study gender. I am in the Sociology department to study gender and sexuality in a way that will provide me with more opportunities.

I do not, however, like being reduced to my identity in that way. Also, shout out to all queer and genderqueer folks out there doing non-gender work and breaking down those barriers.

I was just resting my voice

I don't have classes on Wednesdays, which means that I am not slotted to be on campus. As a grad student, I am expected to attend various seminars, workshops, and lectures that occur frequently over the course of a week. When I open the email, I just cross my fingers that the 'optional' event will not fall on a Wednesday. It's a nice campus, but it really breaks up my day to throw in a 32 km roundtrip bicycle commute.

Today I did have to be on campus (woot!). I gathered up my laptop and some books and headed for a local coffee shop on the drive. I spent the majority of the day working through various assignments and readings. In the late afternoon I headed back, puttered around, made some delicious kale-inspired dinner, and then got back to work.

Now it's 8:30 pm, and I've realized that I've about 3 actual interactions with people today. Yikes. I ordered an americano from a woman this morning. That was a consumer-based interaction. I was paying for the treatment I received from her. I had a couple brief interactions with folks at the coffee shop. They were not sustained conversations; they were in reference to some shared observation.

Typically my housemates and I have a pretty good interaction going on throughout the day. However today we seem to be on different schedules.

When I don't actually communicate with people for a day, I feel like less of a person. By the end of the day, I have an urge to call someone (or everyone that I know) and tell them everything that I noticed throughout the day. Or to just start talking out loud. I'm not calling anyone though. I'm blogging. Why?

Well, it seemed appropriate because I think that one of the reasons I can go a whole day without actually talking to someone is because so much happens on the internet. I did have some conversations on gchat with friends. I also exchanged several emails with family members, fellow grad students, and professors. In fact, I was receiving emails from the Sociology department all day long. In some ways, I was in constant contact. My phone, gchat, email. Why privilege face-to-face interactions over virtual ones? Now that I live on the other side of the border, I have come to rely heavily on technology to keep my connected with my community back in Seattle. For the first time I have a phone that accesses the internet. I also use Skype.

Since I am still relatively new to Vancouver, I just don't know that many people. I think that part of learning how to be comfortable with that type of newness, is feeling comfortable with your own silence. When you are part of an established community, you often have at least a couple opportunities throughout the day to express yourself in relaxed settings- maybe with a partner or out with friends. I'm realizing that to be settled with this transition, I need to allow for the time that it takes to develop those spaces. That process will necessarily involve times of loneliness, isolation, and silence. Those are not necessarily negative things though they have a negative connotation. There is a lot to be learned by sitting with yourself.

In the meantime, technology, though it does not replace face-to-face interactions, can provide a means for a certain type of very necessary communication.

Are you scared of loneliness and silence? Why?

Number 1 or number 2?

I want to talk about bathrooms. I have been thinking about this issue for a long time.

Unless you stumble upon some special progressive washroom configuration, there are always two choices for bathrooms- men or women, boys or girls, ladies or gentlemen, or, if you're in a beach themed restaurant, maybe it's buoys and gulls. As a person who presents gender ambiguously, bathrooms represent one of the ultimate demonstrations of how poorly I fit the mold or, I would argue, how poorly the mold fits people like me. I can go through most of the day without incident and then bam! there's the bathroom dilemma. Society's bathroom dyad asks me- are you sure you're a woman? Do you look like a thin line atop a triangle skirt?

Outside of queer spaces, I get nervous going into the women's room. This anxiety is not unfounded. I have had many incidents in the bathroom. They have ranged from benign elderly women asking me if they are in the right place to aggressive, intoxicated cisgendered heterosexual women at straight clubs invading my personal space and verbally harassing me. I still have not figured out a response that I feel comfortable articulating in these situations.

I want to recount my most recent bathroom incident because a) it wasn't hostile and b) I think it explains something really interesting about people's reaction to the presence of person with a variant gender expression in 'their' bathroom.

I was eating dinner and having drinks at a restaurant in Vancouver that hosts musical performances. When I went to the bathroom, there were two women around 60 years old in there standing by the sink. One of them gave me a prolonged look as I entered. She then turned to her friend and said, "Is there a men's washroom?" Her friend answered that there was. She next asked, "Are we in it?" Her friend answered that no, they were not. I laughed a little because it seemed ridiculous at the time and walked into a stall.

Her basic line of thought upon seeing me was: Are you in the right place? Am I in the right place? And if we're both in the right place- how?

I find this confusion interesting because it really underscores the gender policing that happens on a daily basis. People have such rigid notions of 'woman' and 'man' that the presence of a person who opens up that construct or maybe openly defies it is threatening. But really, what would be so terrifying about a non-woman entering the woman's washroom? There is a tremendous amount of fear of the Other fueling people's responses.

What do you think are good (read: appropriate, educational, witty, empowering) responses for bathroom confrontations?

Orient yourself

What a week! Graduate School Orientation was Thursday. I moved Thursday night. Then International Student Orientation was Friday.

Orientation was just plain exhausting. From 9am-5:30pm the entire new graduate class at UBC was herded through welcome remarks, info sessions, meet-and-greets, and workshops. Throughout the day we were encouraged to mingle with our new colleagues. However, we were all just lumped in there together, in overwhelming proportions.

When I see I a new group of people and know absolutely no one, I look around for people that I can identify with, based on different reasons. The first thing I look for is if they have a similar gender expression or seem to be presenting as queer. However, I also look for people who might be carrying a bicycle helmet or who have interesting tattoos. Sometimes it's an attitude thing, a dress thing, a food thing, or a presence thing. The point is that I'd rather scope out the scene a bit and approach someone I think that I might have a couple things in common with then just strike up a conversation with every Finance major that stands next to me (no offense to the friendly man from Montreal, and good luck with your studies).

I have a few reasons for relying on this tactic. One is that I actually get kind of nervous in overwhelming social situations and tend to shrink back. Another is that, I admit, I'm a judgmental person. I'm working on it. Finally, the reason I make those judgments is largely based on a survival perspective to social encounters.

I am a queer person with an intentionally gender ambiguous presentation. I'm a sex educator, I'm vegan, I'm culturally Jewish but a practicing atheist. Over the years I've realized that to some my identity is anything but benign. I am proud of who I am and the experiences that brought me here. Thus, I seek out communities and people who will understand and appreciate that.

I saw many people at Orientation just sitting down next to anyone and starting conversations. It is a privilege to not have to consider your race, gender identity, sexual identity, or identity at all during an interaction. Folks who are not in the dominant group do have to consider (to many different degrees) their identity at all times. For instance, I have to consider my gender and sexual identity; however, I am not forced to consider my race. I must actively choose to be aware of my racial privilege.

I look for people with similar gender expressions or for queer people because I feel safer around them. When I had trouble finding such people on Thursday, I felt incredibly alone. Not just alone because I didn't know a single person at the Orientation (or in Vancouver) but because I didn't see a single person "like me". A single person with a similar identity.

It is not that I think that I will not get along with people who have different identities. I made a few friends later in the day, all of them non-queer identified. However, as someone who does have to consider my identity all the time, it's important to have friends/a community who reflect that for the seemingly simple reason that around them, I would not have to consider my identity.

What makes you feel safe in a new social situation? What do you look for in new people?