Here's a list of the "categories" I put myself in:
Feminist, student, lesbian, genderqueer, Jewish, atheist, spiritual, religious, learner, worker, other, woman (biological ), activist, and probably a few others that haven't been on my mind as of late.
As you can see, a lot of my "identity" is in conflict with itself. For instance: "Jewish, atheist, spiritual, religious..." What? Erica, you're crazy. You can't be all of those things at once. Crazy, I say!
Yeah, I know. Believe me, I'm having a hard time figuring it out. That's why all of these posts have been crazy identity-centric.
As a feminist, a lesbian, and genderqueer, I have even more trouble. As a feminist, I fight for women's rights, minority rights, LGBTQIabcde rights (sorry, that always gets me..), and well, basically any rights of any kind. Just no lefts. Just kidding. I'm in a bit of a mood; I'm on my fifth cup of coffee and just finished up discussion questions for the class I'm leading tomorrow, so I'm a bit wired and excited. As a lesbian, I love my ladies - those two, lesbian and feminist, are easy to see connections between. If I want to make my partner happy, of course I'm going to fight for her rights. As a member of the queer community, of course I want feminists everywhere to fight alongside me for my rights, heterosexual or not. I'm selfish that way. It's only when I try to integrate "genderqueer" into this spectrum that I start really approaching roadblocks.
Genderqueer is an entirely new identity to me. I've only just begun tasting the word and the feel of it in the last few weeks, thanks to an insanely difficult assignment in my Women in Religion class. I've always felt it, but until recently hadn't felt the need to question, define or label it. I was just beginning to feel comfortable in my own shoes and then, bam, my feet grew two more sizes. My issue arises in this: how, in adopting the identity of genderqueer - and perceivably giving up my connection to womanhood, living as a "woman" (the gender I've been living inside of since the day I could grasp the concept), the complication of being biologically female, and being homosexual (implying that I, as a woman, love other women), and voluntarily becoming not only the other, but the neither/both - can I still be a feminist?
This is the only "conclusion" (I put this term in quotations because it is by no means fixed, final, or in any other sense of the word permanent) I've reached as of yet.
By choosing to embrace both sides of my gender-identity, masculine and feminine, I am giving up neither. I am not opting to embrace only my masculine side so that I can take advantage of male privilege and ignore female oppression at the hands of...well, myself. I am not embracing only my feminine side because that would be to ignore something inside of me. It would mean excluding parts of myself, and it would mean continuing a lie I've been telling myself, and others, since the moment I began identifying as something other than a heterosexual woman.
The simple fact of it is, we all have multiple pieces of identity, and most of the time, they don't fit so perfectly together. Sometimes we need scissors and superglue, but it doesn't mean that we are required to sacrifice any part of ourselves in order to be more comfortable. In fact, it's just the opposite; without learning how to reconcile these differences within ourselves and truly living within, and beyond our full potential, how are we ever supposed to be truly comfortable? If you are leaving a piece of yourself behind, you are also leaving a scar on yourself. This isn't the physical kind of scar, but it also isn't the internal kind. While there is no tangible evidence of this scar, others can still see it. They might not be able to understand or define it, but in giving up a piece of yourself, others can sense that. Others can sense that sacrifice and they can identify with it. This is where your community comes in.
Whether or not coming into an identity that is other/both is a betrayal to feminism, I don't know. I'm still working on that answer. But the comforting thing about it is that, even if it is (which I doubt), there are ample other feminists that have dealt, or are dealing with, the same conflict. In the emphasis the women's movement places on experience and story-telling, we learn that we are not alone, no matter what our situation is. We learn that there are others who have been there before us, are there in the same room at the same time as us (just hidden behind a screen because seeing and knowing would be too easy), and will follow after us, no matter how many warnings we hang on the door. Whether we are all identical or not, we can all relate to each other on some level.
Another conflict of identity I have trouble with - more with explaining it to other people, rather than in my own head - is the concept of being a feminist and a member of the queer community, but maintaining my religious heritage and traditions, and even pursuing religious studies in the Academy. When people ask me what I'm studying in school and I nonchalantly roll off "English literature, Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, Judaic Studies and religious studies," they instantly offer up the most perplexed expressions I have ever seen; some of you are probably doing this right now, don't lie. They often don't understand why I would want to "study the very people that condemn me." It's a lot easier to understand than it seems, I promise.
I grew up in a very religious home (or homes, if you will). I was raised as a Messianic Jew, which, for those of you who don't know, the simplest definition is really a Jew who keeps Jewish law, traditions, observes Jewish holidays, etc., but has the same core beliefs as any Christian (Jesus as the Messiah, a second coming, and all that other good schmutz). My mother and I were never very close, because the Church always came first and on the basis of religion, we had/have a lot of different views. At the hands of my mother and her religion, I suffered. I was raised by other family members, and friends' families, because she wasn't ever around. When I first came out to her, things got even worse. Around this time, I decided to put the kabash on religion and everything it seemed to stand for. I began identifying as an atheist for several reasons, some of which still stand, and some of which I have had to modify as I've matured.
1. I knew it would piss her off if I denied the existence of a G/god. That's a horrible reason, I know, but I was hurt and I wanted to hurt her back.
2. I legitimately didn't believe in the existence of a G/god. I have always believed in something higher than myself, but not an all-knowing, all-controlling deity that plays with us as puppets.
3. The concept of not having free will was too scary for me to handle, and all my life I had been taught that this was the case.
4. I was still trying to define "religion" on my own terms.
5. I didn't want to identify with the very institution that had served as my oppressor for so long. Some feel that men are the oppressors, some that the whites are, or anything else. I felt as though religion, as I had been taught and as I had experienced it, and my excommunication from my religious community, had done more damage to me and my sense of self than neglectful parents, a sheltered childhood, and estrangement from my family and friends in the wake of my coming out had ever done to me. I felt a lot of pain when I cut myself off from everyone in order to figure out who I really was and what that meant as I was embracing my sexuality, but it didn't begin to compare to the pain I felt when I was told that a G/god who was supposed to be my unconditionally-loving Father, even though my biological father wanted nothing to do with me, a G/god who was supposed to be simultaneously forgiving and vengeful, couldn't love me because of who I chose to love. Couldn't forgive me because my feelings were inherently sinful and wrong. For the second time, I had been abandoned by a father; but this time, it was done by one I had been told would never leave me. This time, it was my own mother condemning me in the name of religion. Because of the pain, I stopped going to services and participating in the youth group. I recanted every commitment I made on the day of my bat mitzvah and I swore that I would never again participate in something so deeply hurtful.
So why do I study religion, theology, and the people who partake in it? Because on some level, because of its significance in my past and the formation of who I am today, it is still important. As a member of the queer community, religion is used to put me back in a box, to tell me I am wrong, to tell me I am going to hell, to tell me I don't deserve to be cared about - to hurt me, daily. Whether or not I believe in a G/god, I can still understand why others might (in spite of all the hurt it is capable of), and I can appreciate that. I am not so blinded, jaded, or naïve that I cannot see it for what it is. Religion is often seen as humankind's quest for meaning, and that's something I can relate to. Whether or not I choose to find meaning through this particular institution, I am still searching for it. Whether or not I go to a service weekly, I still hold and place a very high value on my religious heritage. As a Jew, my religious and ethnic heritage is always a part of who I am. The persecution my people have faced for just being who they are holds its own room in my body, heart and mind - there is always a sense of Otherness inside of me, as a Jew. Even without tacking everything else on, I have been persecuted against and I am a part of something larger. Whether I choose to be "religious" or not, spirituality is still very important to me - being at peace with myself and others, feeling a connection to the world around me, at once alone and together, remembering that when I am hurting, breathing, meditating, or whatever else I am doing, there are millions of other people out there doing and feeling the exact same thing, in the exact same way - that's important to me. My mother and I may not see eye to eye on a lot of issues surrounding this topic, but I can still appreciate what she sees when she values it, and I can still respect her sense of identity in her religion. I may think that it was horrible of her to put it on a higher pedestal than her own family, but that is what it's all about. Religion is about sacrifice and commitment and honesty and love. To be able to do that, you really have to give something up. In a way, we did the same thing - we both gave up our family in the name of religion. Just because hers was to protect her religion and mine was to get away from that same religion, it doesn't mean it's any different. I study religion and theology not only because I'm curious, but because of my respect for the rest of humankind. Whether "religious" or not, religion plays a huge part in every culture. As a Jewish and Hispanic woman, I see that in my life every day. By not choosing to participate in this organized group concept of religion, but in a more personal, daily concept of it (which I term "spirituality") I am creating my own space inside of a much larger one. I am taking bits and pieces of my own history and creating something new, something accepting and something safe for myself. In studying feminist theology, I learn where those bits and pieces come from and why they are important to me as an individual, and to my community of oppressed Others. I study it because no matter how much I hate it, doubt it, or distrust it, it still affects me.
I am still struggling with pieces of my identity and jamming them together to make a pretty picture, even after years of thinking I had settled in a comfortable place. Certain pieces are more important at certain times, and eventually I'll figure it all out together, but for now, I can settle for a few pieces here, a few pieces there. Maybe I'll start with the edges and fill in the rest, but I don't know yet.
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