Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work As Culturally Relevant [1 ed.] 9781623962616, 9781623962593

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Authentic Leadership An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant

Authentic Leadership An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant

edited by

Lemuel W. Watson College of Education, University of South Carolina and

Joshua Moon Johnson University of California at Santa Barbara

Information Age Publishing, Inc. Charlotte, North Carolina • www.infoagepub.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data CIP data for this book can be found on the Library of Congress website http:// www.loc.gov/index.html

ISBNs: Paperback: 978-1-62396-259-3 ISBNs: Hardcover: 978-1-62396-260-9 ISBNs: eBook: 978-1-62396-261-6

Copyright © 2013 IAP–Information Age Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, or by photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS Introduction Lemuel W. Watson and Joshua Moon Johnson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii SECTION I: GETTING PERSONAL 1. Identity and Fluidity: Processing Sexuality, Race, and Religion Joshua Moon Johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 2. Transcending Boundaries and Transforming Knowledge: Transgender Leadership as a College Student, Mentor, and Educator Shae Miller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 3. Crossroads and Complexities: Experiences of a Queer, Desi, Hindu Man in Student Affairs Raja G. Bhattar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 SECTION II: SHARING LOST VOICES 4. Everyone is Bisexual: Updating Klein’s Model for the Postmodern World Francesca G. Giordano . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 5. The Knowledgeable Counselor: Helping Youth to Deal With LGBTQ Issues Toni R. Tollerud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 6. Faculty Speak: The Influence of Sexual Orientation and Spirituality on the Social Integration of Black Scholars Darryl B. Holloman and Stanley K. Ellis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

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vi CONTENTS 7. Transgressing African American Manhood in College: When (Nonhetero)sexuality Anchors Multiple Identities T. Elon Dancy II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Conclusion and Recommendations Lemuel W. Watson and Joshua Moon Johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 About the Editors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99

INTRODUCTION Lemuel W. Watson and Joshua Moon Johnson

The oppressed suffer from the duality, which has established itself in their innermost being. They discover that without freedom they cannot exist authentically. Yet, although they desire authentic existence, they fear it. They are at one and the same time themselves, and the oppressor whose consciousness they have internalized. The conflict lies in the choice between being wholly themselves or being divided; between ejecting the oppressor within or not ejecting him; between human solidarity or alienation; between following prescriptions or having choices; between being spectators or actors; between acting or having the illusion of acting through the action of the oppressors; between speaking out or being silent, castrated in their power to create and recreate, in their power to transform the world. This is the tragic dilemma of the oppressed, which their education must take into account.

—Freire (1970, pp. 32–33)

As lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) leaders, there are times we still feel shut out, marginalized, and tokenized within the education system. In fact, there are many times we are the only “ones” in the room or at the table for discussion; moreover, those from multiple marginalized populations are faced with oppression from multiple communities. Hutchinson (1999) has shared this perspective that In recent years, there has been a proliferation of literature by gay and lesbian people of color exploring the relationship between racism and heterosexist oppression. This literature is part of a broader artistic, political

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant, pp. vii–x Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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L. W. WATSON and J. M. JOHNSON and scholarly movement that documents the existence and the varied experiences of gay and lesbian people of color. (p. 29)

and in general. The following content is meant to expand a cursory of topics in order to shed light on the diversity of issues and depth that LGBTQ administrators and faculty members face on a daily basis. Understanding the LGBTQ experience from a holistic viewpoint is essential to our society. With regard to leadership in higher education, however, the discussion has been slow to emerge. Johnson (2009) brings forth the challenges as a LGBTQ professor, but in most instances the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and/or transgendered voices are still underrepresented in the literature. Scholarship on and investigations conducted by leaders who are “openly” LGBTQ are virtually nonexistent. Higher education leadership may be the final unrecognized and unexamined area about some LGBT individuals (Lugg & Koschoreck, 2003). As we consider the scholarship of transgender and genderqueer researchers, it is even more limited than scholarship from gay and lesbian researchers. Some educators in the areas of sociology, psychology, anthropology (Cole & Guy-Sheftall, 2003; Collins, 2004; Hooks, 2003) are transforming their disciplines by speaking frankly and directly about issues related to gender and identity politics; however, those in the area of leadership have yet to rise to the occasion to speak up on the challenges faced on a day-today basis. Dealing with the conflicts that challenge LGBTQ individuals is real and inhibits the overall environment of the workspace. Academic and student affairs administrators are vital roles within campus communities, and they serve as mentors to the diversity of students present on campus; however, little is known about the marginality and oppression these administrators face based on their lived experiences as gender and sexual minorities. In order for students to have well-balanced mentors, campuses must ensure that faculty and administrators’ identities are supported and understood. Since our diverse world is now within easy global reach, it is more important than ever that we understand and respect sexual and cultural differences. Doing so adds value to both the academic and social aspects of students’ educational outcomes. The LGBTQ experience is a unique story that has been told in various unique ways by interesting and unique people. The stories that are not told, however, are from the scholar or practitioner viewpoint and such perspectives should be better represented in the leadership literature. The success of LGBTQ individuals and how they live their lives should be shared because of the courage and special innate ability it takes to be a unique leader within the general culture and context of our society that has so many assumptions about “the” lifestyle. The perceptions of their

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roles are narrowly defined and need to be challenged and broadened. This publication is not just about LGBTQ experiences, it is also about the need to view their experiences through the sociocultural and sociopolitical nexus of sexuality, gender roles, gender expression, responsibility, and leadership, to name a few in a broader context. Additionally, LGBTQ individuals often have to deal with communities that share the experience of being members of cultures which are guided by strict gendered norms. The norms for men, especially men of color, often require them to conform to “masculine” behaviors, which may increase their levels of anxiety or fear of being ostracized, if they fail to display appropriately deemed “male” skill sets. Such strict expectations create not only anxiety but a host of other mental and emotional challenges in men and women. In addition, such pressures seem to greatly have an influence on the development of individuals often dictating or limiting the social, emotional, economic, and academic roles that they play within society; and subsequently impacts their overall interactions with the community, family, and partners. Stepping outside of the prescribed gender construct for gender color can result in devastating consequences for some groups in society. As faculty and administrators choose to identify as transgender and genderqueer, they risk not only rejection from their families, friends and communities, but also severe social and professional challenges within the work place. The social “rules” these individuals break can have extremely negative consequences on a college campus. Students and other faculty members and administrators may mistreat, misunderstand or harass them as they explore their own identity. Additionally, there are challenges related to physical navigation of a campus, such as using restrooms and locker rooms; and challenges related to policies, such as medical benefits and legally changing names. How far an individual can extend their right to explore their identity at the comfort of others is an important philosophical debate. The material within this publication is intended to help society continue this discussion. Our purpose is to present an open and honest discussion about the many faces of LGBTQ professionals. Through this dialogue, the reader might reflect on the vast array of diversity that exists within the gender identities, sexual identities, spiritual identities, and professional identities of LGBTQ faculty and administrators, helping to broaden the group’s “collective identity” within higher education and expanding the global conscience. Interweaving personal narratives with current and historical research findings from studies that have been conducted with LGBTQ individuals from high school students to professors and administrators in leadership roles is complemented herein with the presentation of new models and

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theories to manage the host of complex and ever-evolving challenges that individuals face. There are few other volumes of work that capture the higher education experiences of LGBTQ professionals as presented here. Content intentionally includes topics discussing the intersections of identities that take place within the lives of all LGBTQ people, and specifically focuses on the mental health issues at the intersection of race, gender, religion, and sexuality. Familiarity with the collective and individual identities among LGBTQ people helps those who work with them to expand their understanding of this group in order to develop innovative ways of working, counseling and mentoring these individuals. A better understanding of experiences of a unique and historically marginalized population should increase an institution’s ability to recruit and retain faculty and administrators from underrepresented backgrounds. The voices of the authors provide new insights about the roles in society and various organizations to which LGBTQ individuals contribute. Specifically, the authors present a broad range of issues, challenges, and concerns, supported by prior literature, organized around several broad topical areas and intended to fill the gaps in our knowledge about how LGBTQ leadership is engaged across multiple types of institutions and how the experiences affect the quality of life for LGBTQ individuals throughout the academic community.

REFERENCES Cole, J. B., & Guy-Sheftall, B. (2003). Gender talk: The struggle for women's equality in African American communities. New York, NY: Random House. Collins, P. H. (2004). Black sexual politics: African Americans, Gender and the new racism. New York, NY: Routledge. Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the opressed. New York, NY: Herder and Herder. Hooks. B. (2003). Teaching community: A pedagogy of hope. New York, NY: Routledge. Johnson, R. G. (2009). Social equity in the new 21st-century American: A case for transgender competence within public affairs graduate programs. Journal of Public Affairs Education, 17(2), 169-185. Hutchinson, D. L. (1999). Ignoring the Sexualization of Race: Heteronomativity, Critical Race Theory and Anti-Racist Politics. Buffalo Law Review, 47(1), 1-116. Lugg, C., & Koschoreck, J. (2003). The final closet: lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered educational leaders. Journal of School Leadership, 13(1), 4-6.

SECTION I GETTING PERSONAL

Section 1 includes three chapters from higher education administrators, faculty and community activists. These chapters share personal narratives describing the lived experiences of those who are often marginalized within academia. Each section encompasses many aspects of the authors’ personal and professional lives.

CHAPTER 1

IDENTITY AND FLUIDITY Processing Sexuality, Race, and Religion J. M. JOHNSON

Joshua Moon Johnson

My identity as a sexually-fluid, multiracial, Christian man led me into the career that I both love and despise. I direct a lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) center at a major state university in California, and my daily work reflects the identity that I daily live. If I were a White American, heterosexual man I would likely have landed in a different position and even a different career field. As a multiracial and feminine college freshman in Alabama 10 years ago I gravitated toward student affairs because it espoused inclusion and support. My social justice passion was further flamed as I saw hate and inequality on college campuses affecting others and me. After 5 years in university residential life, I moved into a position where I was paid to advocate and support LGBTQ college students. I only had a slight understanding of how this “gay-for-pay” or “professionally gay” job and my identity would collide to empower, challenge and further complicate my identity. Since childhood I have pondered identities and the boxes people like to use to represent them. As much as I hated people trying to put me in a box, I always thought it would be easier if I could easily fit into some

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant, pp. 3–14 Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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category. If I fit in a box nicely, then I could feel included, safe, guided, people would know what to expect from me, and I would know what expectations and rules I should try to follow. My earliest exposure to identity conflict can be attributed to my childhood friends in Mississippi as I defended my race or what I thought my race was. As a teenager I took identity conflict into consideration as I tried to make sense of being a feminine boy. As a young adult, I encountered identity conflict as I tried to discover what it meant to be an evangelical Christian who was romantically attracted to the same-sex, and today, I examine identity conflict as I lead an LGBT center, but do not identify with any of those letters listed in the acronym. The beautifully complex piece of identity is that these conflicts in my life have not happened in isolation, sequentially or as a one-time event. As Jones and McEwen (2000) describe in their model of multiple dimensions of identity, aspects of my identity are salient at different times and the context greatly affects my identity. The context of my identity is largely dependent on my work, as I am paid to represent my sexual and gender identity more than 40 hours a week. My identity is largely influenced by my understanding of postmodern feminism; I agree that these identity categories are culturally constructed and I deconstruct the symbols and meanings of identity categories (Lorber, 2005). Fluidity and the resistance of categories are the themes which have remained consistent throughout my life. The fluidity of my identity has evolved as a survival mechanism. Being Asian-American and multiracial in the rural South can be isolating, and it can even be isolating in student affairs departments. Being nonheterosexual in student affairs can also leave an administrator feeling marginalized and lonely despite the inclusive mission statements, diversity philosophies, ally trainings, and mottos they espouse. As one attempts to find community within queer spaces, other pieces of one’s identity can leave a person feeling excluded and less than accepted. Queer people of color on college campus often report feeling excluded (Poynter & Washington, 2005). In the findings of my dissertation, which examined gay, lesbian and bisexual Christian college students’ experiences, many reported feeling criticized and mocked because of their religious identity (Johnson, 2011). As much as I love my queer community members and my church members, I know those circles usually only embrace parts of me and my identity. The question “What are you?” takes on different contexts to me depending on my surroundings. As a child in Mississippi I knew they wanted to know my race. In my work as an LGBT director they want to know my sexual identity. I still do not know exactly how to answer that question in less than 30 minutes. Most days I celebrate my multiple

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identities and even the challenges that come with them, but also at moments it becomes exhausting. My feelings of isolation within society and on a college campus have provided me with tools necessary to provide inclusive campuses for college students from diverse and multiple-marginalized groups. As I now adopt a postmodern identity and allow myself the freedom to change the way in which I describe my racial/ ethnic identity—I can be biracial, multiracial, Korean American, and White American, EuroAsian, AmerAsian, Happa, mixed, or something new. As I describe my sexual identity I can be fluid, pansexual, bisexual, gay, queer, confused, or nonheterosexual. My fluid, flexible, and complicated identity has evolved, will evolve, and continues to affect what I do as an LGBTQ leader within higher education.

DEVELOPING MY RACIAL IDENTITY My current ability to be comfortable with an ambiguous identity came from my adolescent years processing my racial identity. As soon as I thought I knew what race meant to me I would move to a new environment which changed the game. In Mississippi there was never a question if I was White American; most often I was assumed to be Chinese, Vietnamese, or Pilipino. I became comfortable being Asian American, and I took on the role that people expected. When I moved to New York I was never Asian American; I was most often asked if I was Latino, Jewish, White, or Italian. For once in my life I was around a large population of young Asian American people, and I quickly learned that I was not part of their group. I joined a Korean traditional percussion ensemble and I struggled to fit in because of the way I looked, the way I spoke or could not speak Korean, and the lack of cultural knowledge I had. Renn (2004) has numerous writings on biracial students, and she found that college tends to be a more stressful time for biracial people. My undergraduate experience was not overwhelmingly stressful due to the fact that I was still mostly only around White American people, but when I went away for graduate school I was confronted with both White American and Asian American communities. Throughout processing rejection from multiple racial groups, I came to a place where I felt comfortable not fitting in with any race or ethnic category. During a graduate course on student development, mixed race identity was discussed and a classmate shared that these people should just choose one race or the other to make it easier. I was at the point in my life where I was angry that others did not recognize the existence of multiracial people, so my reaction to him carried the anger I had been holding for 22 years. The way in which I developed a multiracial identity was not fluid

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and is still not fluid even as I am wrapping up my 20s. The linear nature that other racial identity development models suggest such as Phinney’s (1993) ethnic identity development, Poston’s (1990) model of biracial identity development, and Kim’s (2001) Asian American identity development theory did not and apply to my life. Wijeyesinghe (2001) described eight factors which impact the choice of racial identity and assumes there is no one correct choice for multiracial people. The factors included racial ancestry, cultural attachment, early experience and socialization, political awareness and orientation, physical appearance, social and historical context, spirituality, and other social identities (Wijeyesinghe, 2001). Each of these factors play a significant part of my racial identity, but several factors were prominent as I chose to identity as Asian, White, or multiracial at different parts of my life. As a younger person my physical appearance made me identify more as an Asian American person. My early experience and socialization with my Korean American mother lead to feel connected to my Asian American identity; however, her negative views of Asian heritage and appearance also had an impact on my identity. I was homeschooled with my mom and my four other multiracial siblings until I was 14, so from an early age I knew I had Korean ancestry. The factors Wijeyesinghe (2001) described change throughout my life, and as my racial identity has been fluid I became comfortable challenging people’s notions of race. I was assertive and even aggressive when I responded to people’s inquiries to my racial identity. I saw race as a personal identity that was for me and not for others to choose for me. As much as I knew race was socially constructed and that I did not get to choose how I am perceived or treated, I began to become resistant to clearly choosing a racial identity because it carried great weight in what people would expect from me. During this time that I was processing and developing my racial identity, I also was making sense of how my gender expression was connected to my sexual orientation and my religious and spiritual life. My identities did not take turns being developed; they collided, conflicted, and supported one another. Similar to the participants in King’s (2011) study, my identity developed separately, yet simultaneously because of the many factors that shaped how I experienced my environment and myself.

UNDEFINED SEXUAL IDENTITY As the director of an LGBT center and as a feminine man who has mostly been romantically linked to other men in the last few years, I am assumed to be gay. Fully accepting a gay identity would make my job, life, and identity quite simple and easy. Choosing a sexual identity has never been

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easy for me and has actually been more complicated than choosing a racial identity. For most of my life I denied any nonheterosexual identity because of guilt, shame, and condemnation from religious organizations. As I began to deconstruct the messages I received from religious organizations, I became comfortable claiming a sexual identity other than heterosexual. However, society seems to want me to choose a sexual identity, and choosing which of the nonheterosexual identities has not been easy for me. I had been emotionally and sexually attracted to women and men, but bisexuality seemed too constricting for me as I learned more about the diversity of genders and sexes. I am somewhat comfortable identifying as pansexual, meaning that I have an attraction to a wide range of sexual and gender expressions (Boom, 2008). Men often do not even get the option to choose bisexual as an identity. Bisexual men face their own discrimination in society and in LGBT communities; and bisexual women are often eroticized in society. My gender expression is more feminine than most men and many mistake that to mean that I am not attracted to people other than men. It became important for me to explain to others the difference in gender expression, sexual orientation, and sexual behavior. In my previous role as an LGBT director, my identity was questioned because I did not identify as gay. One of the staff members in my office assumed that I was ashamed to claim a gay or bisexual identity, which was why I never explicitly identified with any of the letters in the LGBT acronym. I am now most comfortable identifying as fluid or queer, and the campus in which I work has been largely supportive and understanding. I also question why choosing a label, such as gay or bisexual, leaves me feeling stuck and confined, and I often have remorse because I question if I am trying to remove myself from the stigma that goes with those identities. I also feel guilt because if I claim a more mainstream identity, such as a gay identity, then I could provide more visibility and unity within the “gay” rights movement. My fluid sexual identity leaves many people confused and they wonder if I will later decide that I am no longer gay or that I will no longer date men. I know that my identity can shift and will shift; there is always the possibility that I will become romantic or partnered with people who are men, women, genderqueer, or transgender. I do feel confined, labeled, and predictable if I chose an identity within LGBT. My racial identity development process has largely influenced my sexual identity development process. I am now completely comfortable claiming a multiracial identity as I advocate for people of color and also attempt to understand the perspectives of White Americans and the privilege that goes along with their racial identities. I am becoming comfortable with a fluid sexual identity, and the work that I am paid to do has forced me to process this part of my identity. I am reminded each day of how this part of my identity evolves. Regardless of how I choose

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to fit within the umbrella of nonheterosexual identities, my experience as an educator and as a person is defined by much more than what label I call myself. The experience I have on a college campus is influenced by how people perceive my gender expression, sexual orientation, and my career position as an LGBT director. No one has ever asked me what my sexual identity was before they yelled hate speech or physical threats toward me. As a queer man of color who is paid to advocate for LGBT students’ concerns, I often face challenges with my role as a social justice advocate and educator. Before ever being paid to advocate for LGBT concerns, I was challenging the multiple forms of oppressions that affected people of color, women, immigrants, the working poor, non-Christians, non-English speakers, those with different physical and mental abilities, and the nongender conforming. However, as the director of an LGBT center some expect me to forget about other forms of oppression except those that are included within sexual orientation and gender diversity. I was once told by a committee member on an LGBT task force that I should focus less on racial issues and focus more on the “real” issues because we were on a predominantly White campus. I choose to advocate for all forms of oppression, and, according to Ranking, Weber, Blumenfeld, and Frazer (2010) LGBTQ students of color attempt to hide their sexual and gender identities more often on campus as well as face more harassment than White American students. As a person of color in an administrative leadership position, I must often prove that I can advocate for all students and not just students who have similar identities as myself. Regardless of what position I hold within higher education, I will always advocate for LGBQT people because I recognize the injustice and hate that faces this population on a daily basis. I cannot easily separate my emotions tied to my job as an LGBT director and my emotions tied to me as member of the LGBTQ community. As I advocate for survivors of hate crimes and bias incidents as well as perform restorative justice practices with perpetrators of hate crimes and bias incidents, the emotions tied to personal experiences with hate incidents and bias incidents are deeply involved. I have spent the last 11 years on college campuses as a student, student leader, graduate student, live-in staff member, instructor, and now as an administrator. As a full-time staff member at three college campuses I have been the survivor of hate crimes and bias incidents. I know the fear that LGBTQ students must face in their classrooms, residence halls, and social scenes because of the way in which they are perceived and treated. The experiences of an LGBTQ educator also include those of being an LGBTQ person in a society which currently perpetuates hatred and violence toward LGBTQ people. According to Rankin, Weber, Blumenfeld and Frazer (2010), only 60% of LGBQ faculty members and only 73% of LGBQ staff members stated that they feel very comfortable

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or comfortable with their overall campus climate, and 60% of LGBQ faculty members and 54% of LGBQ staff members observed harassment on their campuses. Faculty and staff members, like students, face harassment, hate and negative climates on campuses across the country.

ALWAYS “OUT” Cass (1979) described the model of homosexual identity development which is often described as the “coming-out” model—meaning the way in which a person comes to identify and claim a gay or lesbian identity. The coming-out process happens in a variety of ways for different people. The coming-out process varies for each person as identities intersect; according to Jones and McEwen (2000) at different times in people’s lives different identities are most salient, which influences how they identify. The process of choosing an LGBTQ identity does not happen at once; it happens over a lifetime and it is a daily decision whether one chooses to openly identify as a member of the LGBTQ community. Some people are assumed to be a member of the LGBTQ community regardless of how they identify because they do not have the ability to “pass” —by passing, I refer to a person’s ability to be seen as heterosexual, cisgender, or gender conforming; however, Sycamore (2006) refers to passing in a broader sense, such as passing with gender, race, class, sexuality, age, ability, body type, health status, religion, ethnicity, or political party. As a director of an LGBT center, I do not get the option to pass and I do not get the option to come out. Many people openly identify as LGBTQ in one setting, but not in others. Some educators will deem it unsafe to come out in front of their classes, in their offices or within their departments because many students, faculty and staff members are not allies to LGBTQ members. Work place discrimination toward LGBTQ people exists even within higher education (Rankin, Weber, Blumenfeld, & Frazer, 2010). As the director of the LGBT center, I am the face of the LGBTQ community on my campus. When I started in my present job, my photo was placed in the school newspaper and on a campus-wide e-mail announcement. I was aware of the level of visibility I would have being a director of an LGBT center, but my sexuality and title precede me in most work settings and even in many social settings since I live in a city of less than 90,000 people. In our culture, one of the first questions people ask someone in social settings is what they do for a living. Within 5 minutes of meeting new people, I have usually told them a great deal about my life. I am comfortable with this for the most part; however, I do recognize that I do not even have the option to not come out.

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SMALL TOWN, GAY GUY I do not consider the town I live in extremely small since I have spent most of my life in towns with populations under 50,000, but it is amazing how fast campus news infiltrates community spaces. Taking a position as a director of an LGBT center not only had large implications for my academic and professional lives, but also my religious and family lives. My religious and spiritual identities have been one of the most salient parts of my identity throughout my adult life. As a protestant Christian who is involved with mostly evangelical Christian organizations, I am often around Christians who are not openly affirming of same-sex relationships. I struggled to find a spiritual community that was supportive of my sexual identity, so sadly I gave up. I am greatly appreciative of churches that are openly affirming, but I have not found one that I receive the spiritual support for which I long. I have settled for churches that operate under the “Don’t Ask; Don’t Tell” philosophy; I compromised and affiliate with churches as long as they do not preach hate toward nonheterosexual people. As I move to a new city, one of my first goals is to get connected with a church. As I took this job as an LGBT director, I worried that I would be condemned as the members and leadership discovered what I did for work. Historically, Christian organizations have not been welcoming of nonheterosexual people; however, there are a growing number of nonheterosexual affirming churches (Schuck & Liddle, 2001). Those who are a part of evangelical churches usually believe that same-sex relationships are perversions and the person involved needs a transforming conversion through Jesus Christ (Bess, 1995). According to Seow (1996), the church is to blame for the discrimination, rejection, humiliation and high suicide rates of LGBT people. Some Christian groups have placed the cause of national tragedies, such as Hurricane Katrina and 9/11, on God’s judgment of same-sex relationships (Kinnaman & Lyons, 2007). Gay, lesbian, and bisexual people who participate in traditional religious groups may disclose their sexuality, but many may keep it undisclosed in order to avoid rejection (Barret & Barzan, 1996). As I entered my church search, I was prepared to share my current job, which would also share my sexual identity. The first church I visited was a large contemporary church, and I enjoyed many aspects of the worship services and ministries. During one Sunday, I met a woman sitting next to me and introduced myself. She also worked at the same university and immediately recognized me from the newspaper as the new director of the LGBT center. I became very nervous as to whether she would attempt to pray for me or avoid me; neither happened and she has become a great ally. The second church I visited had a congregation of about 100 people and was a contemporary church that met in a movie theater; the church quickly discovered my job and identity.

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As I met the pastor on my first Sunday, he immediately knew who I was and asked why the students at my university used the word “queer.” A leader at this church also worked at my university, and I had spoken to his department a few weeks prior. He recognized me when I came in the door and shared with the pastor who I was and what my job was. Neither church congregations condemned me nor made me feel unwelcomed; I am fortunate for the lack of hostility I have recently found at these evangelical churches. I no longer have the option to hide my sexual identity at church, and attempt to compartmentalize my religious and sexual identities. Many people facing conflict with religion, spirituality, and sexuality compartmentalize their identities in order to manage, but stress often occurs as people cannot simply leave their sexuality at the door of the church and then pick it up on the way out (Rosser, 1992). I have been forced to make sense of how my religious and sexual identities take place within my life. Although these conflicts have caused much stress in my life, I am grateful that my role as an LGBT director keeps me focused on my own identity development. SON OF A PREACHER MAN AND WOMAN My role as an LGBT director has also affected my relationship with my family. Both of my parents are Pentecostal Christian ministers who highly disapprove of my “lifestyle” and my job. Throughout most of my adult life it has been easiest to avoid discussing my romantic life with my family, but now I must also avoid discussing my professional life. As topics related to gender and sexuality arises, I am prepared for adamant disagreements to also arise. My family has become somewhat understanding of me advocating for those who are not gender conforming, but they still quite aggressively oppose me advocating for those who are not heterosexual. As I chose to move into the role of an LGBT director I was aware that it would also cause a separation between my family and me. My work as a student affairs educator has always been a large part of my life, and it is difficult to get to know me without knowing about my passion for my work and my education. As an LGBT director, I can no longer share my passions for my work with my family. I hope that one day I can honestly share all of my life’s passions with my family and that they will be able to support those passions; however, for now I am being patient and hoping that progress is coming soon. CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS My life has often felt as if it is a never-ending identity crises. If I am not confused about my race, then it is my gender expression, religion, or sexuality that I am trying to figure out. I serve as a professional educator and

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an advocate for LGBTQ students, so one would assume that my life is figured out. My life is ever-evolving, and I am now comfortable with the fluidity that has occurred and will continue to occur. As I support students who are processing their identities, I am comfortable sharing how my identity development process has occurred. I hope that my lived experiences are able to make students feel less isolated. As I have struggled to find supportive spaces and people within my life, I have remained balanced, optimistic, and focused on further growth. I hope that my life can serve as an example to the students that I advocate for and mentor on campus. I am honored to serve in a role that can create a safer and more welcoming college experience, and I know that my identity struggles aid me in being a cultural engaged educator. As I aim to create more inclusive campuses, I must also be aware of the experiences I am encountering. Many educators who serve within social justice roles can put their own well-being aside in order to best serve students. Professional educators can only withstand a certain level of institutional, cultural, and individual oppression before they face burnout and lose hope. Institutions must consider not only how they support students, but also how they support the faculty and staff members who are coming from marginalized and multiple marginalized backgrounds. Institutions still operate under heteronormative environments. At all of my previous positions, I was regularly asked if I were married or had a girlfriend. As benefits were shared with me, they were always under the assumption that I was in a heterosexual relationship or that I would someday soon be in one. As I was recruited to work at numerous institutions around this country, rarely has an institution provided me with resources about LGBTQ without me having to ask. Higher education institutions must challenge themselves to expanding their thinking to be more inclusive of nonheterosexual people; some of the policies are becoming inclusive, but most institutions still operate under heteronormative thinking. Institutions often have goals of getting diverse faculty and staff to their campuses, but they do not know what to do with them when they arrive. As a nonheterosexual person and a person of color I have often felt isolated. The communities for both of these marginalized identities are limited. Institutions need to place effort into providing spaces for underrepresented faculty and staff members. Many campuses have LGBTQ task force groups; moreover, faculty and staff retention issues should be a priority for these groups. If these groups can provide supportive social and professional environments for faculty and staff members then they will be more likely to remain at the institution; therefore, providing more visible mentors for students who are coming from underrepresented populations.

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Isolation and lack of community can easily force a faculty or staff member to want to leave an institution, but hate crimes and bias incidents can cause a faculty or staff member to quickly seek a new environment. I faced several hate- and bias-related incidents on one campus within a 3-month period, which motivated me to do a job search in order to find a campus and community where I did not have to fear for my safety. At that time I was not aware of actual definitions of hate crimes or hate incidents, and I did not know how as a staff member I could report them. Institutions must have systems in order for students, faculty, and staff to report hate crimes and receive institutional and community. LGBTQ educators are necessary on college campuses as institutions aim to support students coming from diverse backgrounds. Many LGBTQ students do not have visible role models within their lives, so faculty and staff play vital roles as they provide examples of well-balanced LGBTQ identities. As LGBTQ educators are attempting to provide positive examples and mentorship opportunities for students, however, they are also attempting to make sense of their own identities as they are also fighting institutional and cultural oppressions. As a multiracial, nonheterosexual, Christian educator who is leading an LGBT center, I am constantly attempting to balance my personal identity with my position as an LGBTQ leader. The fluidity of my identity has caused me to struggle throughout my life, but has also provided me with a deep understanding of identity conflict and development. I am committed to ongoing examination of my identity and with being honest with the struggles I have had and will likely continue to have. I fully embrace my personal identity struggles and will utilize the newfound knowledge to lead a new generation toward discovering beautifully unique, complicated, and undefined identities.

REFERENCES Barret, R., & Barzan, R. (1996). Spiritual experiences of gay men and lesbians. Counseling & Values, 41(1), 4-12. Bess, H. H. (1995). Homosexuality in the evangelical experience. Open Hands, 11(3). Retrieved from clgs.org/homosexuality-evangelical-experience-0 Boom, L. (2008). The theory of pansexuality. Sexologies, 17(1), S73. Cass, V. C. (1979). Homosexual identity formation: A theoretical model. Journal of Homosexuality, 4(3), 219–235. Johnson, J. M. (2011). Christian college students in same-sex relationships (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). Northern Illinois University, DeKalb, IL. Jones, S. R., & McEwen, M. K. (2000). A conceptual model of multiple dimensions of identity. Journal of College Student Development, 41(4), 405-416.

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Kim, J. (2001). Asian American identity development theory. In C. L. Wijeyesinghe & B. W. Jackson III (Eds.), New perspectives on racial identity development: A theoretical and practical anthology (pp. 67-90). New York, NY: New York University Press. King, A. R. (2011). Environmental influences on the development of female college students who identify as multiracial/biracial-bisexual/pansexual. Journal of College Student Development, 52(4), 440-455. Kinnaman, D., & Lyons, G. (2007). Unchristian: What a new generation really thinks about Christianity … and why it matters. Grand Rapids, MI: BakerBooks. Lorber, J. (2005). Gender inequality: Feminist theory and politics (3rd ed.). Los Angeles, CA: Roxbury. Phinney, J. S. (1993). A three-stage model of ethnic identity development in adolescence. In M. E. Bernal & G. P. Knight (Eds.), Ethnic identity: Formation and transmission among Hispanics and other minorities (pp. 61-79). New York, NY: State University of New York Press. Poston, C. W. (1990). The biracial identity development model: A needed addition. Journal of Counseling and Development, 69(2), 152-155. Poynter, K. J., & Washington, J. (2005). Multiple identities: Creating community on campus for LGBT students. New Directions for Student Services, 2005(111), 41-47. Rankin, S., Weber, G., Blumenfeld, W., & Frazer, S. (2010). 2010 State of higher education: For lesbian, gay, bisexual & transgender people. Charlotte, NC: Campus Pride. Renn, K. A. (2004). Mixed race students in college: The ecology of race, identity, and community on campus. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Rosser, B. R. S. (1992). Gay Catholics down under: The journeys in sexuality and spirituality of gay men in Australia and New Zealand. Westport, CT: Praeger. Schuck, K. D., & Liddle, B .J. (2001). Religious conflicts experienced by lesbian, gay, and bisexual individuals. Journal of Gay & Lesbian Psychotherapy, 5, 63-83. Seow, C. L. (1996). Homosexuality and Christian community. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press. Sycamore, M. B. (2006). Reaching too far: An introduction. In M. B. Sycamore (Ed.), Nobody passes: Rejecting the rules of gender and conformity (pp. 7-19). Emeryville, CA: Seal Press Wijeyesinghe, C. L. (2001). Racial identity in Multiracial people: An alternative paradigm. In C. L. Wijeyesinghe & B. W. Jackson III (Eds.), New perspectives on racial identity development: A theoretical and practical anthology (pp. 129–152). New York, NY: New York University Press.

CHAPTER 2

TRANSCENDING BOUNDARIES AND TRANSFORMING KNOWLEDGE Transgender Leadership as a College Student, Mentor and Educator S. MILLER

Shae Miller

HERE I AM … Around the time that I was accepted to attend graduate school as a student in the sociology department at the University of California, Santa Barbara, I had begun to sense that I was reaching my capacity as a queer youth outreach worker in San Francisco. I did not, however, look forward to leaving the safe haven of a city where my queer aesthetics went relatively unnoticed, or were at least common style; where most of my friends were queer, transgender, gay, lesbian, dyke (and on and on) identified. I had fears of walking into my first discussion section as a teaching assistant, of standing in front of a class of undergraduate students who would look me up and down, from my facial piercings to my mohawked hair, and

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant, pp. 15–27 Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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judge me “gay.” The question of whether or not to come out to students was answered differently by other gay and lesbian graduate students on campus. Some said I should come out while others discouraged me from doing so. Truthfully, I did not think I had much of an option, seeing as how my appearance was likely to give me away. Students would either deem me “totally punk rock” or “gay.” I was relatively sure of that. So Let’s Rewind a Bit I am sitting in a bar in the Mission District in San Francisco. My friend, this transgender guy who went to Santa Barbara years ago, is telling me about this amazing queer activist community that was thriving at the UCSB (University of California, Santa Barbara) when he attended. He says they fought for the institutionalization of gender-neutral bathrooms and accessible spaces for people with disabilities on campus. I later learned that this group, since disbanded, was known as PISSAR (People in Search of Safe and Accessible Restrooms), and that the leaders of PISSAR had been concerned with and responsible for a great deal of change on campus with regards to gender and sexual equality. Fast-Forward 2 Months My coworker, who is a queer, Asian American woman who also went to the University of California, Santa Barbara, is telling me that I will love UCSB. “The QPOC (Queer people of color) community is amazing there!” she exclaims. “They’re doing all of the queer student organizing on campus.” So I visit. It’s April, and all of my expectations about a campus abounding with blond surfer-esque students are seemingly realized. The campus gay pride parade is in full effect, there are rainbow stakes lining the lawns and all 12 of the students marching are moving through the quad in a display that hardly draws attention from their surrounding peers. “Oh G-d,” I think to myself. “Am I really going to live here?” The first thing I remember missing when I arrived at UCSB to start my studies was the presence of other gender queer or transgender people on campus. But Looks Can Be Deceiving, and I Wasn’t Looking Very Hard As a community organizer, I should know that there is often more to our flourishing communities than meets the eye. Granted, the commu-

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nity has grown over the past few years since I’ve been here, in an upswing of social movement activism and participation around gender diversity, but I was slow to see the amazing work being done here until I immersed myself in the undergraduate community and began mentoring students. But I’m getting ahead of myself ….

A BIT ABOUT ME I stand at 5’ 1¾” —with shoes on. I am a 29-year-old, White, culturally Jewish, sexually queer, genderqueer, female-bodied person—blonde haired and blue eyed, no less—and I am alternately read by the people in my life as: a straight femme, a hipster, a punk rocker, a boi, a tranny fag, a lesbian, a dyke, or a queer, depending on my audience and my appearance on that day. Despite the fact that I was assigned female at birth and am read by most people as a woman, I am not cisgender. Cisgender, from the Latin root “cis” or “same,” is a term used to describe people who are not transgender or who “have only ever experienced their subconscious sex and physical sex as being aligned” (Serano, 2007, p. 33). On the contrary, I identify as transgender or as gender queer, though I don’t identify as a man. I’m just Shae. Well, I’m More Than That, I Suppose I am the “daughter” of a White mother and a Black Stepfather, Both From Working Class Backgrounds, And I Am “sissy” To A White, collegeeducated brother who is 6 years younger than me, and who is one of my most ardent allies. During my childhood, in the late 1980s and early 1990s, my mother was employed as an HIV educator and researcher. Through her activist and friendship networks I grew up in a community of mostly gay men. From a young age, I was socialized as an activist and was a peer-educator throughout junior high and part of high school. It should therefore come as no surprise that my areas of study are genders, sexualities and social movements. More specifically, I study queer student activism, a combination of my intellectual and personal passions and a negotiated decision that I made to allow me to do all of this work for school while following my deep desire to engage in community activism. In my fourth year at UCSB, my education continues to be community based. About half of my education comes from colleagues in my home department of sociology and from the feminist studies department. The other half comes from the students, faculty and staff whom I work with outside of the classroom, as a student leader.

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I am a graduate student advisor for SASS (the Society for Accessible and Safe Spaces), a transgender and gender queer student group whose mission is to increase accessibility and safety on campus for gender nonconforming folks and people with disabilities. In addition, I work with students from other queer organizations on campus to implement programming and workshops related to their academic and political interests. As a graduate student I have also developed and taught undergraduate courses of my own, the most recent of which was transgender theory. Given the ways I am read, I often have to speak up to be recognized as sexually or gender queer. Sometimes I wear heels and lipstick. Sometimes I bind and am flat chested in a button up and tie, or dressed down in casual jeans and a t-shirt. Those who ask, or who have talked to me at any length about my gender, know that I considered transitioning a few years ago but that I now identify as gender queer and prefer the grammatically incorrect but nonetheless gender-neutral pronoun: “they.” But very few people ask, and most of the people I have those conversations with are also gender queer, transgender, or close allies. With the exception of a few close friends in the department (and all of the students who took my transgender theory course last year), my colleagues and students refer to me with feminine pronouns (“she”), along with most of my off-campus friends and all of my family. Because my gender identity is pretty fluid at the moment, for the most part I don’t mind being referred to this way. It is not enough for me to say I am gay or lesbian or bisexual. In fact it would be inaccurate not only because of the multiple genders and sexualities I am attracted to but because of my own fluid and constantly shifting gender and sexual identities. Sometimes I’m transamorous—“attracted to those who transgress gender boundaries” (Sojka, 2011), sometimes gay, always queer. But without the whole story, all of these categories are merely hints into identities that are far more complex and contradictory than each could hope to fully capture. So why all of this information about me? Because who I am, how I am read, and what I do are integral to my roles as a student, researcher, and teacher.

“OUT” IN THE CLASSROOM Being small and femme, my authority has been challenged in the classroom. As a queer/gender queer person, I chose not to heed warnings that I should not come out to my classes (although I should be clear that I

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didn’t think my research focus or physical appearance left me much choice). Instead of avoiding what I saw as the inevitable influences of my identity on students’ perceptions of me, I embraced my identity and strive for an atmosphere of mutual respect in the classroom. This does not mean I come out to all of my classes as transgender, but I do discuss experiences around my own gender and sexual identity where they are relevant to course materials. My teaching philosophy is that the classroom should be a collaborative space where learning is an ongoing process that takes places between all members. Knowing that sociology resonates more with students who can connect theories to their own lives, I try to facilitate them in making those connections. I try to lead by example, using my own experiences to discuss course materials rather than only expecting them to use theirs. I respect students’ ideas and opinions, making it clear that their voices matter, offering them multiple opportunities to practice being heard. That is not to say I don’t catch flak from students who think my courses are “too queer,” “too gay” or any variation of those critiques. For queer students who are often ignored in the classroom, however, these courses offer them an opportunity for recognition. Likewise, I have found that straight students who make unknowingly homophobic remarks or who are developing their own skills as allies, are often grateful for the self-reflexive opportunities they have been afforded in the classroom. I strive to expand their notions of homophobia and transphobia, impress upon them the ways that their own lives are gendered and sexed, and illustrate the ways that their own race, class, and gender privileges impact the lives of others. By using my own experiences, I can also avoid the trap of tokenizing the experiences of queer students and students of color. As a result, I have often felt less vulnerable in the scary ways I anticipated, and more vulnerable in ways that facilitate reciprocal teaching moments as we explore challenging subject matter together. This approach reflects the fact that I see my roles as teacher, advisor and community leader as inseparable. Many students are transformed by the theories they read in classes and want to do something about social injustices. Other students see injustices but don’t know yet how to articulate their discontents. Therefore, when I develop an undergraduate course, I ask myself which readings and assignments have inspired me in the past and which ones are most likely to stimulate students’ interests in social justice. Then I create opportunities for interested students to participate in some sort of direct action connected to the course material. For example, when I taught transgender theory, I used Calling All Restroom Revolutionaries (Chess, Kafer, Quizzar, & Richardson, 2008) to provide a history of transgender and disabilities activism on our campus. I

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then offered extra credit to students who completed PISSAR checklists verifying the accessibility of gender-neutral, single stall, and ADA(Americans with Disabilities Act) accessible restrooms on campus. As a result, SASS was able to document the locations and statuses of all of these restrooms and is set to create an online map for student access. We owe our success to the students in my course, nearly all 60 of them, who took the initiative and seized the opportunity to apply their academic training in tangible ways.

UNDERSTANDING PRIVILEGE AND EXPERIENCE IN LEADERSHIP As much as I know my queer gender and sexual identities can make me susceptible to trans/homophobia, I still inhabit a relatively privileged position. For example, despite the fact that I grew up in a multiracial family and have an intensely personal commitment to antiracist work, I am not a person of color. This means, among many other things, that I do not experience racism directed at me on a daily basis and my actions are not generally read as raced, nor are they described by others in racially charged ways. Although I often wear “boyish” or professional “men” attire, as a femme person who was assigned female at birth, most students and colleagues are either oblivious to my gender queer identity or don’t understand it enough for it to make an impact on their perceptions of me. To be White and read as femme and cisgender allows relative invisibility and safety on campus. This means I have the ability to speak out against racism without being read as defensive or overly sensitive. I can also generally speak up when people say homophobic things without being gay-bashed or gender-bashed. In most cases, I appear to be an ally when really I am a gender queer and sexually queer person who has intimately experienced the impacts of homophobia, transphobia, and racism on family members and loved ones. I see these relative invisibilities as privileges, however undesirable, and believe it is my responsibility to challenge people who make racist, homophobic, or transphobic statements in my presence, which can actually happen quite often when people read my gender or my Whiteness as signs that my racial and sexual politics align with theirs. I have become even more attuned to my privileges and my obligation to challenge them since most of the students I mentor are queer students of color. Many of the most active students on our campus are queer students of color, and I am often one of the few White people in queer student spaces. My own experiences of coming out or of develop-

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ing queer community on campus often differ from the students with whom I work, not only because of their racial and ethnic backgrounds but also because of other identities and affiliations. As a result, I have learned not to make assumptions about what it means to come out to family and friends as gender nonconforming or as nonheterosexual. I have also come to appreciate the loving and often challenging negotiations that many students engage in when working to bridge their multiple communities of affinity on campus. I also understand the challenges inherent in relating to gender or sexually queer students who aren’t privileged with the same choices around visibility and trans/homophobia that I am afforded. While I recognize the value of my role as an activist and educator who has relative privilege, I also know the importance of refusing to concede to stigmas against sexual and gender queerness, particularly when many students don’t have the option of divulging their “differences” to others. This is also why, in an academic climate that still has a long way to go in terms of gender and sexual equalities, I took the opportunity to write this piece, knowing full well what could be at stake for my professional career.

BELONGING Despite my own involvement in the transgender and gender queer communities, I find that the ways I am read can prevent me from being recognized by students as a community member or potential ally. As a result, space can be a tricky thing for me. I have often experienced confusion around which spaces I should and can inhabit, and in what capacity I should be present. At any given moment, I could be a student, teacher, mentor, ally, or friend to the people around me. My own transgender identity has also posed a challenge for me. For example, when a number of students created SASS on campus, I struggled over whether I should attend “closed” meetings that were only open to transgender and gender queer folks, since I was not physically transitioning. Despite my own involvement in the transgender and gender queer communities, the ways that I am read can prevent me from being recognized by students as a member of the community and I don’t want to deter their involvement. I recently fielded a critique from a transgender student who said that they knew there was a transgender group on campus (SASS), but that they hadn’t attended because they didn’t think anyone in the group was actually transgender or gender queer identified. Although I know that all

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of the members of SASS, myself included, are transgender, gender queer, or questioning, this was a reasonable concern given the diversity of transgender identities and how transgender is defined. The term “transgender” can refer to a “wide range of gender-variant practices and identities (Stryker, 2008, p. 19) and is often used to refer to someone who does not conform to gender norms and expectations— though these “norms” are culturally and historically contextual. Transgender people can be: gender nonconforming; identify or live as a gender other than the one they were assigned at birth; or identify as neither man or woman/male or female. Used as an umbrella term, transgender can mean that someone identifies in a multiplicity of ways including but by no means limited to: gender queer, gender fluid, gender fuck, transsexual, male-to-female (MTF), female-to-male (FTM), FTF, MTM, bigender, two-spirit, butch, femme, transfeminine, and transmasculine. There are multiple sources discussing the use of these terms as well as contestations over “both/neither” and “either/or” discourses within transcommunities (Roen, 2002). Some transgender students and friends of mine have expressed concerns about not being “trans” enough either because they haven’t outright rejected the gender binary, or because they haven’t transitioned physically to embody a gender other than the one they were assigned at birth. Because being “trans” can mean so many different things to so many different people, not all transgender students will transition physically or socially in a particular way, nor will all of them necessarily want to transition at all. Understanding gender queerness and transgender identities intellectually, or even with regards to others, however, has been a completely different experience for me than coming into those identities for myself. If a student told me that they had considered transitioning over a year ago and now were gender fluid, I would be readily confirm their right to enter a space with other gender nonconforming students. But my own decisions not to physically transition have led to largely self-imposed issues of authenticity that were more difficult for me to work through. The riddle of whether I belonged became partially resolved for me when I agreed to cofacilitate a University of California, system-wide transgender student retreat. Particularly after the recent critique of SASS, I was wary of entering a trans space and being misread as cisgender, and that if this was the case my presence might not be welcome. What I found instead was that students’ identities spanned a range of gender and sexual identities. While many participants had transitioned or intended to, many were also questioning, finding ways of living their gender queer identities without physically transitioning, or were negotiating physical and social transitions in a number of different ways. Showing up, sharing my own stories and hearing theirs, turned out to be a healing experience for me.

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One thing I have learned through my experiences as a student, teacher, and community leader, is that the work I do is as much a learning experience for me as for those who I mentor. I had to become okay with not knowing and with opening my heart to the experiences that we shared. All of our stories are important. Stories about where and who we have been, who we have become and what we intend to do with our futures. Stories of uncertainty and of self-assuredness. There are so few transgender and gender queer role models out there for students, and until spaces are created where they can connect with and recognize one another, there are even fewer role models in their own peer groups. At 29 years old, I have found that my roles as a mentor and as a friend are often blurred and develop into beautiful, multifaceted relationships. I feel that my students and I engage in mutual learning through our stories, our experiences and the actions we take around creating accessible spaces for ourselves and for others on campus.

STILL A STUDENT I had a profound moment of clarity regarding my complex roles as a mentor and peer this year when an undergraduate student “mentee” of mine was working to secure funding for a student retreat. We had been working together to secure funding but they had taken the lead, attending meetings and negotiating with student government to “make things happen.” I had to miss a funding meeting due to one of my seminars, but had said that if they needed me I would leave early to attend. They accomplished their goals without my help and, upon telling the student my plans to leave early, if necessary; they turned to me and said: “No, Shae, your first responsibility here is as a student, not an activist.” While this story may provide a relatively boring anecdote to most people, I hope that it will speak to people who are negotiating the delicate terrain between their roles as students, staff, mentors and friends. This story captures one of many moments where I was reminded that education as well as activism is a two-way street, a multiple-way street even. Teaching and learning cannot happen unless all parties are willing to share their strengths and weaknesses, and remain open to transforming their own perspectives. Having professional and personal identities that are rife with beautiful contradictions, I feel lucky to have the opportunity to explore those complexities with students on a daily basis. Remaining open to the yet unexplored territories of my own gender and sexuality, and finding new ways to create space for students to engage in dialogue and action, has impacted my own identity and experiences as a gender queer student, teacher, and mentor on campus.

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RECOMMENDATIONS FOR WORKING WITH GENDER QUEER AND TRANSGENDER STUDENTS Part of the irony of my writing this chapter is that my identities as a trans/ gender queer/sexually queer person hardly make me an expert on the “how-to” of working with transgender and gender queer students. I do, however, have some solid recommendations for administrators based on my own experiences working with gender queer and transgender students, as well suggestions offered by students who attended the transgender student retreat this year.

Train Faculty, Staff and Administrators It is important to hold ongoing social justice trainings for faculty, staff and student leaders on your campus. Like “Safe Zone” trainings that are held at some campuses to, trainings about trans-specific resources and support should be made available and mandatory for those working with students on campus. This includes residence hall advisors, faculty, staff, student interns and employees, administrators and clinicians throughout campus. Remember that not all transgender students are gay and that “gay friendly” is not inherently transgender friendly, so Safe Zone trainings and safe spaces for gay students are not always enough. It is especially important that counselors and clinicians on campus have trans-specific knowledge and training. This is not only important so that students can access care for transrelated health and wellness, but so that students can seek out services for a variety of mental and physical health reasons that are unrelated to their trans-statuses without facing discrimination from misinformed or uninformed staff. Project H.E.A.L.T.H (2010) is a great training resource for transcompetent health care in California and I encourage you to check out their site at project-health.org/ . They may also be able to advise campus administrators outside of the California area on local resources for similar trainings and assistance.

Advocate for Safe and Accessible Spaces It is important that gender-neutral and single-stall restrooms be available to students on campus. I won’t belabor the details of how to advocate for gender-neutral restrooms in this chapter because Chess et. al. (2008) provided great suggestions; complete with a checklist for determining the transgender and ADA accessibility of restrooms. The

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importance of these spaces, however, cannot be underscored enough since restrooms can be a site of gender policing as well as gay and gender bashing for many students. Once you have documented where the gender-neutral or single-stall restrooms are on your campus, create a map for students so they can easily locate them between classes and throughout their daily routines.

Don’t Make Assumptions, But Respect Students’ Wishes Not outing students without their consent is sort of a “golden rule” of working with sexually queer students that is seldom translated onto working with transgender students. I don’t think that transgender students are necessarily outed by administrators and professors due to a lack of desire to support them, however. The very ways that gender queer or transgender students are addressed in their daily lives are dependent upon gendered pronouns and qualifiers that most people take for granted. Therefore a well-meaning peer, mentor, teacher or administrator may unwittingly “support” their transgender fellows into precarious situations by correcting pronoun usage and consequently outing the student to people they did not intend to come out to. Being outed can also endanger students or invalidate their identities. Ultimately it is up to the student whether or not they want to come out to a large group, to one person at a time, or not to come out at all. Some students may want to use their preferred gender pronouns and names in classrooms and other public spheres, while others may want to use their legally assigned names and genders. When students do request that we use specific gender preferred pronouns and names, it is important that we respect those wishes. Students may not always have the resources to change their preferred genders and names on official class rosters, but when students come to us asking that we use their preferred names and genders in the classroom, for example, we need to honor them. One student relayed to me how touched they were when, upon telling a language professor they neither identified as a Miss or a Mister (a required prefix for exercises in class), the professor asked if there was a prefix they would prefer and gave them time to think it over. It is also our responsibility as educators and campus facilitators to support students who experience harassment and transphobia within their peer groups. If a student refuses to recognize someone’s preferred pronoun or name, we must recognize that as harassment and respond accordingly.

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I have worked with students spanning a spectrum of different desires and embodiments, and I have stumbled along the way. I have sometimes offered well-intentioned but misguided support, and have made erroneous assumptions about people’s goals and ideas of what transition would look like—many of these misconceptions were based on my own desires and needs around transition and recognition at the time. What I have learned, however, is to ask. Just ask. What gender pronoun do you prefer? Would you like me to use your preferred gender pronoun in general? Just when we are together? In specific groups or spaces? If a student approaches me now for support around transitioning, rather than launching into a list of resources for hormone therapy and gender confirmation surgeries, I first ask them what they mean by transition and go from there. Social and physical transitions can cover a huge range of outcomes and journeys. Keeping in mind that for many students gender fluidity is also a part of their identities, I try to impress upon them that their confusion, questioning, or lack of “answers” is also okay. For students who want to transition from one gender to another, I provide as much support as I am able to and then refer them to other people or resources that are more capable of meeting their needs.

Know Your Campus Resources— and Make Them Available to Students What do you do if a transgender student comes to you looking for information about gender neutral housing, hormone therapy, name change procedures, transcompetent counselors or clinicians, or how to come out to their professors? Not having experience isn’t an excuse. Familiarize yourself with the resources that you have on campus or, if you don’t have transgender resources on campus, connect with people at campuses where you know they do. Learn how they advocated for the resources they have and take the steps necessary to get the ball rolling so that resources, regulations, and procedures are as transparent as possible to students seeking to navigate them. As an example, on the website for our campus LGBTQ center, there is a specific transresources page that was created by an intern last year (http:// wgse.sa.ucsb.edu/sgd/Resources/transgenderresources.aspx). On this page we have a list of transcompetent clinicians on campus as well as how-to guides for navigating bureaucratic processes such as name changes, and how to obtain insurance coverage for hormone therapy and surgeries (coverage that all University of California campuses have to offer at this point). Many campuses with online transresources also include a brief glossary of terminology and best practices for being a transgender ally.

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Acknowledge Your Privilege and Address It Be aware of your cisgender privilege. This last recommendation can be a tough one, particularly for people who are new to transgender rights and issues. But just like White privilege impacts students of color, cisgender privilege has real implications for ’ experiences on campus. Simply stated, cisgender privilege is “the double standard that promotes the idea that transsexual genders are distinct from, and less legitimate than, cissexual genders” (Serano 2007, p. 162). There are numerous resources for educating yourself as well as your students about cisgender privilege and what it means to benefit from normative assumptions about sex and gender. Serano (2007) offers a great overview of cisgender privilege and action steps for combating it in her book Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity. Lurie’s (2003-2012) “Action Steps for Being a Trans Ally” (tgtrain.org/ steps.html) and the Cisgender Privilege checklist (2008) (queersunited.blogspot.com/2008/08/cisgender-privilege-checklist.html) can also be great tools for educating yourself and others. These suggestions are by no means exhaustive, but they are a start in the right direction.

REFERENCES Chess, S., Kafer, A., Quizzar, J., & Richardson, M. U. (2008). Calling all restroom revolutionaries! In M. B. Sycamore (Ed.), That’s revolting! Queer strategies for resisting assimilation (pp. 216–236). Berkeley, CA: Soft Skull Press. Cisgender Privilege Checklist. (2008, August 15). Queers united. Retrieved http:// queersunited.blogspot.com/2008/08/cisgender-privilege-checklist.html Lurie, S. (2003–2012). Action steps for being a trans ally. Retrieved from tgtrain.org/ steps.html Project H.E.A.L.T.H. (2010). Retrieved from project-health.org/ Roen, K. (2002). ““Either/or” and “both/neither”: Discursive tensions in transgender politics” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 27(2), 501-522. Serano, J. (2007). Whipping girl: A transsexual woman on sexism and the scapegoating of femininity. Emeryville, CA: Seal Press. Sojka, C. J. (2011). Partners of transgender people. In S. Seidman and N. Fischer (Eds.), The new sexuality studies reader (2nd ed., pp 236-242). New York, NY: Routledge Press. Stryker, S. (2008). Transgender history. Berkeley, CA: Seal Press. Transgender Resources. (2010). Retrieved http://wgse.sa.ucsb.edu/sgd/

CHAPTER 3

CROSSROADS AND COMPLEXITIES Experiences of a Queer, Desi, Hindu Man in Student Affairs R. G. BHATTAR

Raja G. Bhattar

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly…. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.” —Anaïs Nin

I live at the crossroads of my identities. As a South Asian/Desi queer man from a working-class, orthodox Hindu-Brahmin family and being the first in my family to complete undergraduate and graduate degrees, I often find myself in spaces where I do not quite fit in. Whether at a family gathering, community organizing event, or in a professional setting, I find

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant, pp. 29–37 Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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myself looking around to see if anyone looks, sounds or acts like me. Though I am sure I am not unique in the isolation I feel while balancing multiple intersections (Tatum, 2000), I unsuccessfully tried to isolate these different aspects of myself into simple, predefined boxes for many years. While I was the obedient and well-mannered Desi guy or the loud lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) rights advocate, I attempted to keep these aspects of my life separate. Thankfully, as I have progressed through my education and professional career, I have come to appreciate and integrate these complex layers of myself (Abes, Jones, & McEwen, 2007). As Nin suggests above, we are constantly changing, growing, adapting to our environments. For this chapter, I examine four identities that are critical aspects of my self-concept. I refer to them as the “four pillars” that make up the basic framework of my identity while other aspects shift and change on a regular basis; namely queer, Desi, Hindu, and male. I have consciously chosen to focus on two visible (male and Desi) and two invisible (queer and Hindu) identities to provide a unique look into these aspects. As we uncover the deeper layers of ourselves and the issues we need to work through, we create the possibility to live an authentic and extraordinary life.

“We’re Here! We’re Queer! Get used to it!” —Queer Nation As a queer man of color, my sexuality has been a critical part of my life. Queer is a term that has been reclaimed by many younger generations of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and questioning community as a way to unite our shared experiences of being an underrepresented and invisible part of society (Act UP, 1990). I also prefer this term because it breaks from traditional LGB labels that do not encompass the fluidity of experiences and diversity of sexuality in our world. It is a political statement to challenge traditional binary concepts of sexuality. Working in LGBT affairs, my sexuality, often an invisible identity in most other roles on campus, becomes the platform for the social justice work I do. I love going to work every day, knowing that I am the director of an LGBT center on a campus with over 60% students of color. Even after 40 years of activism and visibility, LGBT students, staff, and faculty (especially LGBT people of color) continue to face invisibility, harassment, and violence on campuses everywhere (Bhattar & Victoria, 2007; Kumashiro, 2001; Poynter & Washington, 2005; Renn 2007; Wall & Evans, 1991). As a college student, I did not have any role models that identified as queer people. Though I had great heterosexual mentors of

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color and White LGBT mentors, I had difficulty in integrating my racial and sexual identities. Finding a handful of queer people of color in graduate school was a critical experience where I finally found professionals that could relate to my unique experience. A major motive for going into student affairs was to be a visible mentor so that future students would not feel the isolation I felt on a campus with thousands of people. In previous campus positions, I have been the only or one of the very few out and visible queer people of color and often felt tokenized, serving on campus-wide committees as the “all-in-one” diversity representative. Especially on search committees, I found myself having to be the “diversity voice”, asking questions that address social justice issues and consistently bringing awareness to issues of inclusion in the search process. Though I have chosen this field of work, it is not only my responsibility to address questions of diversity. All of us on campus are responsible for championing issues of social justice by understanding issues of privilege and being vocal allies in creating inclusive campuses (Johnson, 2005; Sanlo, Rankin, & Schoenberg, 2002; Torres, Howard-Hamilton, & Cooper 2002; Washington & Evans, 1991).

I have become a queer mixture of the East and the West, out of place everywhere, at home nowhere. —Jawaharlal Nehru Growing up in an insulated community and an orthodox Indian family, I was aware of my ethnic identity from an early age. After school, my parents would teach me about Indian history and unsuccessfully tried to teach me how to write in several Indian languages. I was involved in many celebrations commemorating regional festivals and religious holidays. My parents made sure I understood that, “We made the sacrifice of leaving our home country so you could have all this. Remember always that you are Indian first, then American” (R. Bhattar, personal communication, June 21, 2001). Though I used to refer to myself as Indian or Indian American, as I have become more involved in broader social justice work and personal exploration, I have begun to identify as South Asian or Desi. “South Asian” is a Western term used to describe people from the Asian sub-continent (including India, Pakistan, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal and Maldives Islands) because of shared histories and cultural values. A more recent term, Desi (“from the motherland” in Hindi), is a movement to reclaim our identity with our languages while uniting for purposes of solidarity and visibility (Accapadi, 2005). This region is home to hundreds of languages and though the term Desi is still not inclusive of

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this diversity, I feel it better represents our experience as a community and provides a political message about defining ourselves in our own words, rather than Western cultural definitions. Even as I struggle to get comfortable in my ethnic/cultural understanding, I find myself having to defend my “Desi-ness.” Ever since I decided to shave my head starting in 2007, I have been labeled as “racially ambiguous” by many people. I find that the inability to place me into a preconceived notion of a particular race frustrates people. On a regular basis, I have had the following conversation in social and professional settings: “Where are you from?” “India. I’m Desi-South Asian,” I reply. “Really? Wow, I can’t believe it! I would have never guessed. I thought you were …” I am not sure when or how my ethnicity became part of a guessing game. It is exhausting to constantly explain myself to people and have them question whether or not I am telling the truth. This conversation only gets more complicated when I come out as queer. Being involved in national conversations around issues of intersectionality on campus, I know I am not an anomaly in this experience. Indeed this is an experience that occurs too often on campuses and in our communities. When such events take place, I feel lucky to have a strong support network of professional colleagues across the country that can commiserate with this experience and serve as a venting board.

Aham Brahmasmi—I am Brahman, the Universal Spirit —Yajur Veda Growing up in an orthodox Hindu family, I am very connected to my spiritual roots and find myself fascinated with Hinduism as a religion and a way of life. With over 6,000 years of history, it is a complex religion with many regional differences, contradictions, and perspectives (Vivekananda, 1992). Coming from a long lineage of Hindu Pujaris (spiritual leaders) and having spent many years helping my father at the temple, I learned the basics of Hindu scriptures, such as the Vedas, which provide the foundation for the Hindu world view and way of life. “Ekam Sat Vipraha Bahuda Vadanti” (“Truth is one, though people see it in many forms”) is a phrase from the Yajur Veda that has become a cornerstone of my personal philosophy. It is the belief that though we come from different perspectives, communities and identities, we share basic human values that connect us.

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Particularly in diversity and social justice work, I often find myself in conversations with people who see the world differently; when I take time to understand where they might be coming from, I see that we both are trying to make sense of our lives from what we have been taught and how we have experienced this world. When I engage in a conversation rather than a confrontation, I make way for them to do the same. “If I do not speak in a language that can be understood there is little chance for a dialogue” (hooks, 1995). This is clearly easier said than done but as community builders we must begin by listening to the other perspective rather than going head-on in explaining our view on the topic. Some of the best social justice conversations I have had have been with people with vastly different perspectives on the world. Particularly with people in the queer community, there is often a perceived mutual exclusivity between religion and sexuality (Love, Bock, Jannarone, & Richardson, 2005). Yet for me, this is not possible; I understand my queerness because of my spiritual roots and my understanding of my Hindu spirituality is the result of the soul-searching process of coming out to myself. Religion often gets badmouthed in queer circles, though this is changing (Love et. al., 2005; Renn, 2007). I believe this is because our understanding of religion is transforming from a ritual and dogma-based perspective to a more spiritual and individual understanding of divinity. Swami Vivekananda states, “the secret of religion lies not in theories but in practice. To be good and to do good—that is the whole of religion” (1907, VI.245). It is not sufficient for us to understand the basics tenets of our religious beliefs; we must incorporate them into the daily fabric of our life. Aham Brahmasmi signifies the interconnectedness of all beings to each other and Brahman, the Universal Spirit. As someone who struggled with questions such as “Why did God make me this way?” and “Is something wrong with me?” this phrase reaffirmed my understanding of my relationship with the Brahman. If I am the Universal Spirit and if this Spirit is the source of perfection and all of creation, then I am perfect in my complexities and not a mistake of creation, rather I am the embodiment of intentional energy. Though this may sound a bit self-indulgent, I believe it is important to remember our connection to the Spirit. In the words of the great Sufi poet Rumi (2004), “Now is the time to know; That all that you do is sacred” (para. 6).

Masculinity has become a relentless test by which we prove to other men, to women, and ultimately to ourselves, that we have successfully mastered the part. —Michael S. Kimmel

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I am able to do the work I do because I am a man. I live my life as I wish because I am a man. Though I face challenges as a queer man of color, I still bear privileges that affect others around me. The qualities of this “part” are visible through visual and cultural cues all around us. Having seen my sisters and female friends struggle to break from cultural notions of “how a woman should act,” I know what a privilege it has been for me to have the freedom choose to go away from family for college, and challenging cultural expectations by moving across the country to pursue my personal and professional interests (rather than moving in with my parents and fulfilling their vision for my life). In a previous position as the assistant director for the women’s center (along with the multicultural and pride centers on campus), I took the opportunity to explore my understanding of masculinity, engage in conversations with male students through a selfidentified male discussion series, and served as a visible male ally on campus. As men, understanding our privilege and our contribution to sexism is critical to developing inclusive social justice movements (Kimmel, 1994; McIntosh, 1988). Rakesh Ratti (1993), a pioneer in chronicling the South Asian LGBTQ community, powerfully makes the case for understanding male privilege, especially within an LGBTQ perspective. We live in a world that has been continually defined by men, a world in which men have zealously protected their position of power. As women [and other subordinate gender identities] assert their right to share in that power, this issue is bound to come to the forefront. (p. 48)

The “issue” in this context is the lack of voices from lesbian, bisexual, queer and transgender constituents at decision-making realms. When they are not at the table, how can we hope to have any form of inclusive strategy to empower our entire community, not merely those at the top. Having worked at several institutions, every year I hear gay men, particularly White gay men, speak of their oppressed identities with regard to sexual orientation yet not able to understand the privilege that comes with their gender. This experience is similar to White students exploring racial privilege. “I find that White students often resist centering racism in their analysis, feeling that to do so invalidates their oppressions. These students also feel that these oppressions make them ‘less’ racially privileged” (DiAngelo, 2006). Clearly this is a powerful struggle to undertake because acknowledging our privilege also brings the responsibility to do something to undo this privilege (McIntosh, 1988). As stated earlier, understanding our many identities and their intersections is critical developing a broader understanding of social justice and strategies for addressing issues in our communities. Since we do have

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privilege as men, we can utilize this privilege to make more equitable spaces for other genders. Gender inequality is a fact of life that men are not daily mindful of, yet the inequality between men and women affects us all through oppression for women and gender role confinement men. Yet another complex layer of male privilege is cisgender privilege. Cisgender, from the Latin root cis (same as), is relatively new terminology and preferred as a more inclusive alternative to “traditional” or “normal” gender identity (Buijs, 1996; Green, 2006). In other words, cisgender serves as a complement to the term “transgender.” Transgender (sometimes shortened to trans or TG) people are those whose psychological self (gender identity) differs from the social expectations for the physical sex they were born with. To understand this, one must understand the difference between biological sex, which is one’s body (genitals, chromosomes, etc.), and social gender, which refers to levels of masculinity and femininity (Gender Equity Resource Center, 2011). As someone who at birth and currently identifies as a male, I prefer the term cisgender to other alternatives since it equalizes the term transgender. Instead of labeling oneself as “normal,” and thus marking those who identify as transgender the “other,” one has the option to identify as cisgender. A key component to being an ally from a dominant community is shedding the perceived normalcy of our experience and I believe this term does just that with regard to gender. I also acknowledge the gender privilege I get not having to worry about which bathroom to use on campus. At a previous institution, a visiting colleague came to our center and asked to be directed to the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. It was not until this moment that it occurred to me that we did not have a gender-neutral bathroom close to our center without having to walk across the campus. Though I had been on campus for more than two years, I had not taken time to locate the gender-neutral bathrooms, simply because I did not have to. That was my privilege. As a self-described ally to the transgender community, it was a moment where I realized that being in a dominant community requires me to be more intentional in being aware of this identity. It is easy to forget the impact of my gender; focusing instead on identities for which I am marginalized (Johnson, 2005).

We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are. —Cicero As we uncover more layers of identity and deepen our understanding of our contradictions and complexities, we develop a more authentic

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sense of being. “The act of giving birth to oneself is miraculous and terrifying, but unlikely to be calm” (Yoshino, 2006, 14). Though difficult and often emotional, unpacking our privileges and honoring our oppressive identities, can be the means for us to fully understand our power in being change agents. Truly this is the critical component of creating inclusive communities. Understanding privilege and actively working to dismantle it makes the difference (DiAngelo, 2006). As a queer person of color from a nondominant religious/spiritual community, my freedom is tied up in the freedom of people with dominant identities. Similarly, as a man, I have a responsibility to work in supporting and empowering women and Transgender community members (McIntosh, 1989; Johnson, 2005). We must develop more spaces for authentic dialogue about our experiences; where we can learn, engage and exchange ideas. Indeed this is how we can create community. This is how I see things, what do you see? REFERENCES Abes, E. S., Jones, S. R., & McEwen, M. K. (2007). The role of meaning-making capacity in the construction of multiple identities. Journal of College Student Development, 48(1), 1-22. Accapadi, M. (2006). We are Asian Americans too! South Asian (Desi) Americans in the Context of Asian America. Paper Presented at the 19th National Conference on Race and Ethnicity, Chicago, IL. Act Up New York. (1990). Queers read this. Retrieved from actupny.org/documents/ queersreadthis.pdf Bhattar, R. G., & Victoria, N. A. (2007). Rainbow rice: A dialogue between two Asian American gay men in higher education and student affairs. The Vermont Connection Journal, 28. Buijs, C (1996). A new perspective on an old topic. Retrieved May 22, 2011, from groups.google.com/group/soc.support.transgenderednewsgroup DiAngelo, R.J. (2006). My class didn’t trump my race: Using oppression to face privilege. Multicultural Perspectives, 8(1), 52–56. Gender Equity Resource Center. LGBT Resources. (2011). Definition of terms. Retrieved from geneq.berkeley.edu/lgbt_resources_definition_of_terms Green, E. R. (2006). Debating trans inclusion in the feminist movement: A transpositive analysis. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 10(1/2), 231-248. hooks, b. (1995). Facilitating reflection: A manual for leaders and educators. Retrieved from uvm.edu/~dewey/reflection_manual/quotes.html. Johnson, A. G. (2005). Privilege, power and difference (2nd ed.) New York, NY: McGraw-Hill. Kimmel, M. S. (1994). Masculinity as homophobia: Fear, shame, and silence in the construction of gender identity. In H. Brod & M. Kaufman (Eds.), Theorizing masculinities (pp. 119-141). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Kumashiro, K. (Ed.) (2001). Troubling intersections of race and sexuality: Queer students of color and anti-oppressive education. Oxford, England: Rowman & Littlefield.

Crossroads and Complexities 37 Love, P., Bock, M., Jannarone, A., & Richardson, P. (2005). Identity interaction: Exploring the spiritual experiences of lesbian and gay college students. Journal of College Student Development, 6(2), 193-209. McIntosh, P. (1989). White privilege and male privilege. In J. F. Healey & E. O’Brien (Eds.), Race, ethnicity & gender (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press. Poynter, K. J., & Washington, J. (2005). Multiple identities: Creating community on campus for LGBT students. New Directions in Student Services: Gender Identity and Sexual Orientation: Research, Policy and Personal Perspectives (Special Issue), 41-47. Ratti, R. (1993). Lotus of another color: An unfolding of the South Asian gay and lesbian experience. Boston, MA: Alyson Books. Renn, K. A. (2007). LGBT student leaders and queer activists: Identities of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer identified college student leaders and activists. Journal of College Student Development, 48(3), 311-330. Rumi. (2004, March). Now is the time to know. Retrieved from rumi.tribe.net/thread/ f413b0f4-b3e8-4119-8898-8572d7ec5f3d Sanlo, R. L., Rankin, S., & Schoenberg, R. (2002). Our place on campus: Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender services and programs in higher education. Santa Barbara, CA: Greenwood Press. Tatum, B. D. (2000). The complexity of identity: “Who am I?” In M. Adams, W. J. Blumenfeld, R. Castaneda, H. W. Hackman, M. L. Peters & X. Zuniga (Eds.), Readings for diversity and social justice. New York, NY: Routledge Press. Torres, V., Howard-Hamilton, M. F., & Cooper, D. L. (2002). Identity development of diverse populations: Implications for teaching and administration in higher education. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Wall, V. A., & Evans, N. J. (1991). Using psychosocial development theories to understand and work with gay and lesbian persons. In N. J. Evans & V. A. Wall (Eds.), Beyond tolerance: Gays, lesbians and bisexuals on campus. Alexandria, VA: American Association for Counseling and Development. Washington, J., & Evans, N. J. (1991). Becoming an ally. In N. J. Evans & V. A. Wall (Eds.), Beyond tolerance: Gays, lesbians, and bisexuals on campus (pp. 195204). Washington, DC: American College Personnel Association. Vivekananda (1907) Complete works of Swami Vivekananda. Retrieved from ramakrishnavivekananda.info/vivekananda/complete_works.htm Yoshino, K. (2006). Covering: The hidden assault on our civil rights. New York, NY: Random House.

SECTION II SHARING LOST VOICES

Section II includes four chapters; each chapter shares voices of those normally excluded from research. Each author’s identity is shared as an aspect of their research. Their complex identities affect their research interests, findings, and interpretations

CHAPTER 4

EVERYONE IS BISEXUAL Updating Klein’s Model for the Postmodern World F. GIORDANO

Francesca G. Giordano

ABOUT MY IDENTITY I am currently the program director for the master’s of arts in counseling psychology at The Family Institute, Northwestern University. Prior to my current position, I was a professor of counseling in the Department of Counseling, Adult and Higher Education at Northern Illinois University. While at NIU, I was the coordinator for the LBGT certificate program. One of my clinical specializations is sexuality counseling with clients living sexually alternative lifestyles. I have written and presented on transformational anger. I am a bisexual (which is true for everyone) woman (which is not true for everyone) who has been in the same partnership with a man for 35 years. While my membership within the LBGT (lesbian/bisexual/gay/transgendered) community has sometimes been controversial for others, it has always been a part of my lived experience. My leadership in the community has not only been demonstrated by professional experiences, but my commitment to mentorship and friendship with others.

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant., pp. 41–50 Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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EVERYONE IS BISEXUAL: UPDATING KLEIN’S MODEL FOR THE POSTMODERN WORLD The “B” in LBGTQ is an understudied and somewhat controversial topic. In the last decade, bisexuality has been reconceptualized, from a manifestation of internalized homophobia to a healthy sexual attraction including both genders. Many researchers have documented that changes in sexual attraction and partner choice are normal across one’s lifetime, and that these changes include self-identification, attraction, fantasy, and behaviors (Vrangalova & Savin-Williams, 2010). Many personal narratives suggest that a Kinsey-like, linear scale ranging from homosexuality to heterosexuality (Kinsey, Pomeroy, & Martin, 1948) does not adequately or accurately describe their lived experiences. The issue of bisexuality is further broadened by our increasing awareness of the flexibility of gender expression and its independence of sexual attraction and behaviors. Organizationally, LBGT organizations often look to identified gay/lesbian individuals for leadership, and classify others—notably bisexuals—as supportive “friends.” Klein’s (1993) model of bisexuality is often used to challenge the Kinsey scale and it more reliably reflects and accounts for actual life experiences. This chapter will consider bisexuality as a common and healthy experience for many individuals, and a normal element of everyday sexual orientation and behavior. Using the Klein model as a jumping-off point, we explore the implications of bisexuality as a normal and common experience for all people and consider the implications of this view of bisexuality to the culture of higher education leadership.

KLEIN’S MODEL UPDATED Klein’s (1978) original model was an attempt to define bisexuality. He suggested that sexual orientation is a complex manifestation of seven interacting variables: sexual attraction, sexual behavior, sexual fantasy, emotional preference, social preference, sexual lifestyle, and self-identification. He developed the Klein sexual orientation grid, wherein each variable is rated on a 7-point scale of same-sex versus other-sex and focus on the past, present or ideal. Klein’s grid attempted to reflect the complexity of sexual orientation by emphasizing developmental change over time (past and present) and the effect of personal values (the “ideal”). Importantly, the grid acknowledges that sexual orientation is not solely sexual behaviors, but includes relational connections, political identification and lifestyle choices. Researchers in bisexuality, however, have often limited their attention to selected elements of Klein’s model, notably sexual attraction, sexual fantasy, and sexual relationships

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(Thompson & Morgan, 2008). Others have eliminated bisexuality completely for conceptual and methodological simplicity (Rust, 2000). While attempting to account for human flexibility of sexual orientation, such definitions of bisexuality have tended to focus on sexuality and eliminated or deemphasized other factors, such as intimacy or social connection. This oversimplified concept of sexual orientation has led to an inadequate understanding of the issue, as existing on a linear scale from heterosexual through bisexual to homosexual. The effect has been to limit social, political, and to some extent even scientific awareness of the complexity of the issue, and the broad acceptance “identity”—along a similar, linear scale—as a way of understanding sexual orientation. Clearly census and survey checkboxes indicating one’s sexual identity reinforce this idea. Vrangalova and Savin-Williams (2010) suggest that in self-reporting their sexual identity, individuals begin to experience it as a “uniting and stable aspect of one’s self-concept” (p. 92). From a social constructionist perspective, perhaps when we routinely identify our sexual orientation within this framework, we internalize it and begin to accept it uncritically. Our own life experience suggests otherwise. Savin-Williams (2005) research indicates that contemporary youth perceive their own sexual orientation as having broader options, partly through a greater diversity of experience. Beyond youthful experimentation, diversity of experience may create or enhance flexibility in identification and a more expansive selfunderstanding. Parker, Adams, and Phillips (2007) connected bisexual identity to worldview—our deeply held schemas of culture, values, generalizations, and philosophy mashed together, creating our unique, individual perspective. This suggests that a limitation of sexual orientation to sexual attractions and behaviors neglects the importance of cultural experiences on sexuality. We must add into this mix to the new understanding of gender expression found in queer theory and transgendered studies. These offer us the possibility of reconceptualizing gender as an aspect of the self that is affected by identity politics. For example, Butler (1993) has critiqued gender as formed by both social and learned behaviors as well as natural, biologically determined (or “hardwired”) brain-based factors. Fassinger and Aseneau (2007) suggest that when individuals do not exhibit traditional, socially-defined and expected behaviors associated with their perceived gender, they manifest a type of “gender transgression.” Social permission for, or toleration of, such gender transgression clearly varies with sexual orientation, and is therefore likely a separate dimension of such characteristics. Explored aspects of sexual orientation—being transgendered, experimenting with one’s gender expression or identity, or intentionally creating acts of gender transgression, for example—do not seem to be connected to sexuality in any concrete or uniform way. While it is certainly possible that such

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behaviors are indicative of sexual orientation, it seems increasingly clear that they are equally likely aspects of social rebellion, peer affiliation or any of a number of other influences. Klein initially implied that sexual orientation incorporates aspects of relationship affiliation and intimacy. Individuals clearly differ in how they experience the adult manifestations of attachment; Bowlby (1969/1982) suggested that our primary need for safety and security is linked to our ability to create close affectional bonds with others. Our capacity for intimate attachment is obviously critical in developing an intimate relationship with a sexual partner, but also plays a similar role in our friendships and other affiliation networks. Individuals with a strong sense of self are able to build strong bonds with others, while maintaining a healthy individual identity. Mohr and Fassinger (2003) explored the implications of attachment to sexual identity development and the coming-out process, but did not consider the implications of a multidimensional view of sexual orientation. Attachment theory suggests that early life experiences create affiliation and attachment patterns, which are acted out in later life. For example, early life experiences (usually parental interactions) can enable or encourage intimate self-disclosure to relationship partners of either sex in adult life. It is a controversial but compelling idea that these preferences might be considered an aspect of sexual orientation. From this perspective, adult patterns of attachment, whether manifested in friendship or intimate relationships, are aspects of sexual orientation. Put another way, the formative influences that guide us in choosing friends and business associates seem to be the same ones that lead us to our sexual relationships. UNDERLYING ASSUMPTIONS THAT HAMPER THE ACCEPTANCE OF A BROAD VIEW OF BISEXUALITY It is clear that we are burdened with a number of inappropriately normative, underlying assumptions about the nature of sexual orientation and sexual identity. The first assumption is that opposite-sex attraction and behaviors are the foundation of sexual orientation. Despite the fact that the Kinsey scale clearly has an “all homosexual” pole, and the Klein 7point continuum has a “same sex only” terminus, the question of a person’s sexual orientation and sexual identity never seem to arise when someone is considered “straight.” For example, we rarely question how sexual attraction develops in most children, but only seem to be interested in identifying the roots of same-sex attraction. When we broaden our understanding of sexual orientation to include all people, we can come to understand it follows a normal human developmental process.

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When we apply this idea to everyone, we are more likely to comprehend the broad variety of human experience. The second assumption is that sexual orientation and sexual identity is only about sexual behaviors. Rarely is the discussion of sexual orientation broadened to take into consideration issues of intimacy, friendship, attachment, and other relationships. In terms of human experience, there is clearly variation in gender preference in these arenas. People often exhibit a marked preference for same sex friends or opposite sex friends, and they often relate or self-disclose to their friends using similar patterns of communication—regardless of their stated or actual sexual orientation. Within the normal variation of individual capacity for intimate communication, we see preferences for one gender or another, unrelated to sexual orientation. I think about the “alpha male” who is comfortable and open about his strong bond of friendship with his male buddies, but cannot express his genuine and deeply held love for his wife, even when he is sexually intimate with her. The third assumption is that sexual orientation and sexual identity can be understood without reference to the social and political context in which we are all embedded. We use sexual orientation and sexual identity just as we use race or gender or even social economic status, as demographic variables and look to them as correlational or predictive factors in the study of human behavior. There is an underlying assumption that people in general can access their most personal experiences and answer questions about them accurately without being influenced by socially normative forces. This leads to very simple and objective questions such as “check the box that best represents your sexual orientation”—and may evoke answers that are meaningless and independent of their external environment. In other words, I may check a box that indicates that I am straight, but this may not capture the complexity of my actual experiences, thoughts, and feelings. In fact, it might indicate more about the effects of social pressure on me than anything else. I may tell myself I am straight and want others to belief I am straight regardless of my actual experiences. These aspects of humanity are so affected by social context that it is almost impossible to experience them outside that influence; they are, after all among the most social of experiences. A pure social constructionist might say this is true of all aspects of human experience, but it seems especially pervasive relative to sexual orientation and identity. As a result, it is very difficult for us to view sexual orientation objectively. THE ROLE OF STIGMA Stigma and marginalization are significant barriers to understanding bisexuality from a multidimensional view. Fassinger, Shullman, and

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Stevenson (2010) explore the powerful impact of stigma and marginalization on LBGT leadership. They suggest that this social context offers a useful framework for understanding leadership styles and role choices. This may also help to explain certain aspects of the social resistance to a broadened definition of sexual orientation. LBGT individuals experience frequent indignities, slights and even threats or violence, denigrating questions of “psychological health” are often implied in everyday interactions; systematic denial of civil rights is common. They truly have minority status and often experience individual and collective powerlessness to overcome adversity and define or direct their life experience. As a result, LBGT identified individuals engage in selfprotective coping strategies, including identity concealment (Fassinger, Shullman, & Stevenson, 2010). Three consequences of this are directly relevant to our discussion: First, oppression is defined as a group of individuals being able to identify themselves as distinct from, and exert force over, others. At its foundation, prejudice is a belief in the inherent inferiority of the different. Without such separation and distinction, there can be no oppression. The stigma and marginalization applied to bisexuality could not exist if we were all, to any significant extent, acknowledged as bisexual. Bringing this presently marginalized sexual identity into the mainstream threatens a majority power base. This highlights why resistance to this conceptualization of sexual orientation is so strong. The second consequence is even more vexing. Minority status can often lead to social identification, community and empowerment, and discrimination or persecution can produce solidarity and commitment. Academic disciplines such as queer theory exist in part because of such constructive reaction; those of queer sexual orientation have determined to see that their views and experiences find social expression. True empowerment is about giving voice to such genuine experience. Unfortunately, a side effect of closing ranks is that everyone must get in line. The broad definition of bisexuality suggested here is often seen as diffusing the issue, or even as disloyalty to the group. You see this manifested in the struggles of many LBGT groups to embrace bisexual members. Hostility around being able to “pass” as straight, changes in partner choice or sexual identification from gay/lesbian to straight can be especially problematic. Thus there is not only majority resistance to the concept, but minority resistance as well. Nonetheless, it remains true that sexual orientation, sexual attraction and behavior are unique individual expressions, and must be identified as such, just as any constructive, intimate, sexual and loving relationship must be acknowledged and validated. Finally, there are the profound political problems often grouped under the term “biological imperative.” These problems can be described as a

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reciprocal relationship between reproductive biology and social institutions, which produces and sustains an environment of bias. LBGT individuals are systematically denied the right to marry or adopt children, and many other essential everyday experiences of free people, justified on the basis of the inherent characteristics of reproductive biology. Campaigns for the civil rights of LBGT individuals are thus often centered on the concept of sexual orientation as an inherent, biological characteristic, fixed and unchangeable. This is not well-supported by research, but is understandable in a world where even the hint of possible changeability has given rise to phenomena such as ‘reparative’ therapy (wherein LBGT individuals are encouraged through therapy to change their sexual orientation to heterosexual) or more coercive forms of social normalization. Again, these things cannot be separated from the larger context of stigma and marginalization. In a world free of bias against LBGT lifestyles, where all individuals were equally valued and free to explore their own preferences or orientations, a biological basis could be more objectively explored as one explanation of some characteristics of sexual orientation. Psychological, social and a broad variety of other factors could be explored in others.

IMPLICATIONS TO LBGT HIGHER EDUCATION LEADERSHIP This alternative view of sexual orientation has several implications to higher education leadership, including residence life personnel, faculty and college counselors. The first implication is a need for more general acceptance and validation of alternative lifestyles, gender expression choices, and identities. College is often a time of experimentation and exploration. While generally less peer-dominated than high school, in the college years, identity is more individually determined (Chickering & Reisser, 1993). Students find themselves in communal living environments, which still exert considerable peer pressure, and concentrate the influence of others on their individual development. Compounding this pressure, college is a time of sexual exploration; sexual relationships are more self-directed and often establish sexual patterns both temporary and long-term. Residence life, Greek life, and other type of peer advisors and professional personnel devoted to the developmental growth of students need to be exposed to a much broader view of sexual orientation. These support personnel, both professional and paraprofessional, create opportunities for college students to explore their personal experiences and be exposed to a different point of view. Many resident assistants or instructors of a freshmen orientation class know that there is nothing a group of college students like better than a “controversial idea” to be

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explored in discussion. If this type of leadership was exposed to a broader definition of bisexuality, they could help facilitate exploration. This could lead to increased social acceptance and even less stigma. Matt Bernstein Sycamore (2006) aka Mattilda, edited a compelling book called Nobody Passes, presenting many stories of people’s attempts to live lives of unconventional sexual orientation and gender identification. While filled with moments of joy and humor, the pain of misunderstanding and rejection permeates the book. When reading a book such as this, it becomes very clear that many people’s lived experiences not do fit into neatly defined boxes of gender, sexual orientation or race. Their experiences are often defined by silence and isolation, reinforcing their status and self-definition as outsiders. Many of these college students lack role models, and higher education faculty and staff who could be role-models are often reluctant to address marginalized orientations—or to bring attention to their own bisexuality. Acceptance of more inclusive sexual orientation models such as the Klein grid could help create safety, define student’s lived experiences more accurately, and facilitate much-needed relational connections. The second implication is that a broader view of sexual orientation and identity may allow college counselors to better help students struggling with identity issues. When a college student enters the therapeutic relationship with the question, “Am I gay?” the counselor can address this question with greater complexity and richness. The question becomes “Who am I?” meaning, “how do I live a life of authenticity?” versus the simplistic questions of “who am I sexually attracted to?” or “what does a same-sex encounter mean?” This view of sex orientation allows it to be part of a therapeutic process, as part of a definition of the self. It potentially allows for a safer exploration of the connections between early life experience and attachment without the implication of psychological trauma or ego damage. Ellis (2005) suggests that psychoanalysis must be transformed to accept the reality of bisexuality, and emphasizes the importance of “the rejection of normative assumptions in relation to sexualities and sexual identities and a view of these as fixed or essential” (p. 408). The potential to develop and integrate a solid sense of self is clear. The final implication of a broad-based acceptance of this view of bisexuality within higher education is the encouragement of interdisciplinary studies in the area. Diverse academic areas such as psychology, English, women’s studies, sociology, biology, and philosophy can come together to explore the intersections of gender, sexuality, biology, and the unique narratives of individuals. This author worked at a large Midwestern state university, which offered undergraduate and graduate academic certificates in LGBT studies. This type of academic interdisciplinary program creates

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a common forum for faculty from a wide variety of disciplines. All the faculty and staff were committed to the program for both personal and professional reasons, and as the program was an academic one, a demonstrated teaching or research focus on LGBT areas was required. An academically sound, theoretically grounded and broad-based conceptualization of sexual orientation and sexual identity helps to make cooperative programs such as this possible. Additionally, it encourages interdisciplinary research by create variables and theoretical constructs that contribute to seeking external funding. This chapter has offered an updated use and interpretation of Klein’s sexual orientation grid, and suggests the implications of its application to a broader understanding of human development. The chapter has offered ideas about current assumptions about sexual orientation that inhibit this broader view and barriers to its acceptance. It is the hope of the author that this chapter has evoke an emotional as well as intellectual reaction in its reader, and that the chapter will be used to facilitate continued discussion and exploration.

REFERENCES Bowlby, J. (1982). Attachment and loss: Attachment (Vol. 1). New York, NY: Basic Books. (original work published 1969). Butler, J. (1993). Imitation and gender insubordination. In H. Abelove, M. A. Barale, & D. Halperin (Eds.), The lesbian and gay studies reader (pp. 3-21). New York, NY: Routledge. Chickering, A. W., & Reisser, L. W. (1993). Education and identity (2nd.). San Francisco, CA: Jossey Bass. Ellis, M. L. (2005). Sexual languages/cultural bodies: Transforming psychoanalysis. Psychodynamic Practice, 11(4), 405-415. Fassinger, R. E., & Arseneau, J. R. (2007). “I’d rather get wet than be under that umbrella”: Differentiating among lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender people. In K. J. Bieschke, R. M. Perex, & K. DeBord (Eds.), Handbook of counseling and psychotherapy with lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender clients (2nd, ed., pp. 1950) Washington, DC: American Psychology Association. Fassinger, R. E., Shullman, S. L., & M. R. (2010). Toward an affirmative lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender leadership paradigm. American Psychologist, 65(3), 201-215. Kinsey, A. C., Pomeroy, W. B., & Martin, C. E. (1948). Sexual behavior in the human male. Philadelphia: W. B. Saunders. Klein, F. (1978). The bisexual option. Westminster, MD: Arbor House. Klein, F. (1993). The bisexual option (2nd ed). New York, NY: Haworth Press. Mohr, J. J., & Fassinger, R. E. (2003). Self-acceptance and self-disclosure of sexual orientation in lesbian, gay, and bisexual adults: An attachment perspective. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 50(4), 482-495.

50 F. G. GIORDANO Parker, B. A., Adams, H. L., & Phillips, L. D. (2007). Decentering gender: Bisexual identity as an expression of a non-dichotomous worldview. Identity: An International Journal of Theory and Research, 7(3), 205-224. Rust, P. C. R. (2000). Criticisms of the scholarly literature on sexuality for its neglect of bisexuality. In P. C. R. Rust (Ed.), Bisexuality in the United States: A reader and guide to the literature (pp. 537–553). New York, NY: Columbia University Press. Savin-Williams, R. C. (2005). The new gay teenager. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Sycamore, M. B. (2006). Nobody passes: Rejecting the rules of gender and conformity. Emeryville, CA: Seal Press. Thompson, E. M., & Morgan, E. M. (2008). “Mostly straight” young women: Variations in sexual behavior and identity development. Developmental Psychology, 44(1), 15-21. Vrangalova, Z., & Savin-Williams, R. C. (2010). Correlates of same-sex sexuality in heterosexually identified young adults. Journal of Sex Research, 47(1), 92-102.

CHAPTER 5

THE KNOWLEDGEABLE COUNSELOR Helping Youth to Deal With LGBTQ Issues T. R. TOLLERUD

Toni R. Tollerud

ABOUT MY IDENTITY I have always found myself marching to a different drummer. I did not date much in high school and I had a variety of friends. In college, I did what society expected of me, I met a great guy, fell in love, and got married. We had three children. But I was not the type of woman who would settle for raising a family, stay at home baking brownies, and working in the PTA. Having been a teacher prior to having children, I believe I had a calling that required me to go back to school and to do more in education. In my doctoral program, I joined the statistics of being a casualty of graduate school by divorcing my husband. It was after that when I met a wonderful woman, my current spouse, with whom I fell in love. She has become my lifelong partner of more than 24 years and, in 2011, our state passed laws that allowed us to hold a civil union event, making our partnership legal.

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Who we are is strongly shaped by our life experiences. I refer to myself as bisexual. I have loved both men and women and enjoyed the experiences. My background has afforded me a broad array of life-choices and experiences. These have informed my work as a professional counselor, counselor educator, lesbian, role model, writer, and spiritual person in many ways, but three worth mentioning. First, it required me to be open to traditional AND nontraditional life-styles, to accept all people for who they are, to verbalize this in stating my opinions and beliefs, and to advocate for those who were invisible to the world. Being open and accepting must have left a positive mark, since two of my sons were able to honestly embrace their own lifestyles and to come out as gay. My third son is in a biracial marriage. I am grateful for the ability to embrace differences in an open and affirming way and to model this for others. Being a leader who is affirming and supportive of LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer) issues has required me to speak out and advocate for all people who need to be heard. The minority voice is often stilled. With my education and professional position, my identity has enabled me to work for social justice in the schools and in the lives of young people. I have worked in the church to advocate for fairness and equity. I have written professionally on the subject and served on state and national committees to advocate for LGBTQ youth. I have helped start gay-straight alliance groups in schools, supported after-school opportunities for youth needing connection, and educated future teachers and counselors on their importance in making school a safe place for every student. My words, my work, and my example have made a difference in the lives of many. Finally, my identity has had a strong impact on my political views and in my work for justice within the community and the nation. In 2011, when my state passed civil union legislation, I helped organize a community event where over 10 same-sex couples registered for a civil union license. Over 200 community people came to support our rally and march. It was beautiful. It was affirming. It gave voice to who we are as gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered individuals, seeking a peaceful place in our world. THE KNOWLEDGEABLE COUNSELOR: HELPING YOUTH TO DEAL WITH LGBTQ ISSUES Professional counselors in the schools and in the mental health field have an ethical duty to serve the needs of LGBTQ students and their families. In the school setting, youth have a legal right to a safe school environment and to be able to learn without fear of bullying, harassment, or physical or emotional abuse. Yet, all too often the school has not been a

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safe place and LGBTQ youth have gone unsupported, disenfranchised, marginalized, and harmed physically and mentally. The situation is often further exacerbated for youth of color. It is time that professional counselors take a leadership role and step up to the challenge to put an end to this discriminatory behavior and intervene intentionally. To do so takes an increased awareness about the situations facing LGBTQ youth, knowledge to make effective interventions, a commitment to become a justicefocused professional. This chapter will look at the prevailing problems that youth face, review some of the literature that clearly demonstrates the negative and even life-threatening outcomes and offer suggestions for what counselors need to do to raise awareness. Young people need to know there is support from professionals who will advocate and enable them to grow and development normally and successfully. Professionals must also be willing to act without fear of retaliation for addressing the needs of these youth in their communities and schools. COUNSELING INVISIBLE YOUTH: PREVAILING PROBLEMS Professional counselors who work with youth need to be aware of the impact that the struggle for sexual identity and coming out present in the life of an adolescent. Young people, for example, have a difficult time using language to identify themselves around this issue. Ryan and Fetterman (1998) report that while same-sex behavior may be more common with adolescents, they are, however, less likely to report themselves as gay or lesbian for fear of rejection or discrimination. In a study conducted with junior and senior high student in Minnesota, it was found that 88% of the students identified themselves as heterosexual, 1% said they were bi, gay or lesbian, but more than 10% were unsure of their sexual orientation (Remafedi, Resnick, Blum, & Harris, 1992). Gutierrez (2004) refers to LGBTQ kids as the “invisible” group since they generally hide their true feelings from friends and families. This has significant implications for school counselors who must not make assumptions that every youth who comes into the counseling office is heterosexual. The counselor may be the one person in a school, or at the mental health agency, who can offer a young person a confidential place to share their struggle. Due to these additional burdens that LGBTQ youth face, problems may result such as poor academic performance, increased substance abuse, sexually transmitted diseases including HIV, isolation, and increased risk of suicide. Some find the threat of violence or humiliation so overwhelming that they run away. Ryan and Futterman (2001) believe that many youth are on the streets because they came out as gay or lesbian and became “throwaways.” They report, “Agencies serving street youth in Los Angeles estimate

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that 25-35% of homeless youth there are lesbian or gay, and in Seattle, 40% of homeless youth are estimated to be lesbian or gay” (p. 7). Garofalo, Wolf, Kessel, Palfrey, and DuRant (1998) evaluated data collected on high school youth in 1995 in Massachusetts on their youth risk behavior survey. In a comparison of bisexual, gay, and lesbian youth to heterosexual youth, they found that over 25% of the LGBTQ youth reported missing school during the past month because they felt unsafe. This figure is compared to slightly over 5% of heterosexual youth reporting this concern. Additionally, LGBTQ youth were over four times more likely to be threatened with a weapon at school, were twice as likely to be involved in fights, and were three times as likely to require medical treatment after a fight. In an effort to identify where LGBTQ kids find safety, over 70% of these youth in the New York City welfare system reported being victims of violence in foster care, and more than half stated they felt safer on the streets than in group or foster homes. Lipkin (1999) observed, “Gay bashing is the extreme of what may begin as adolescent bullying” (p. 6). One of the most common forms of bullying in today’s school is the use of the term “gay.” Youth commonly report that being referred to as “gay” is emotionally disturbing. Use of the word “gay” as a homophobic slur, conveys disregard or disgust and is meant to impart fear and shame onto those who are at the receiving end of the pejorative term. While some students, genuinely ignorant, may use the term innocently, some smokescreen their underlying homophobia with claims of “It was meant in fun” or “It doesn’t mean anything.” Counselors must become sensitized to the inappropriate use of language as a bullying tool and intervene when terms are used pejoratively by students or by staff. The literature on the risk of suicide for LGBTQ youth raises a staggering concern. In the Massachusetts study (Garolfo et al., 1998), for example, LGBTQ youth reported as four times more likely to attempt suicide than their heterosexual peers. An often quoted study by Gibson (1989), a clinical social worker, suggest that up to 30% of completed suicides are youth who are LGBTQ or questioning. Additionally, this study notes that more than 50% of LGBTQ youth experienced suicidal feelings. While lives and statistics change over time, the bottom line here is that there is clearly an increased risk for these students and a need for counselors to advocate for youth who question or who identify as LGBTQ. In schools, the school counselor must advocate on at least two fronts: (1) individually with the LGBTQ youth to address personal and developmental needs; and (2) within the school community, using proactive strategies to heighten awareness and sensitivity, and to provide a safe environment for LGBTQ youth.

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THE WORK OF THE SCHOOL COUNSELOR AS ADVOCATE How might a professional counselor, especially those in a school setting, begin the work of advocacy? Uribe and Harbeck (1992) recommend three steps to create a school environment that will facilitate receptivity and safety. Establish a school counseling program that helps LGBTQ youth remove the veil of invisibility and that breaks down the wall of silence that keeps students stigmatized and marginalized. Create safe environments at school where students can discuss their sexuality without fear of threat or victimization. Finally, the school counselor proactively educates other professionals in the school about LGBTQ youth and works to promote a nonjudgmental attitude among teachers, administrators, and staff. Advocacy is no easy task. It is one thing to utilize the skill sets necessary to counsel a youth in the privacy of one’s office; it is quite another thing to advocate for LGBTQ students with colleagues such as teachers and school administrators. Counselor advocacy requires personal courage, intentionality, and commitment. The school counselor will need to seek out opportunities such as in-service trainings, help to develop school policies, serve on committees, work with community agencies regarding referrals for students, and talk to parents. The American School Counselor Association’s (ASCA, 2003) developmental model can serve as a framework to design and implement strategies that help students. Four major components from the ASCA model include responsive services, individual planning, curriculum, and systems support. Here are some ways that these four components may serve LGBTQ youth. It is hoped that fear, inertia, or resistance will not limit a counselor’s response, and that creativity will add to and strengthen the recommendations given here. These responses can also be applicable for mental health professionals or college counselors who work with youth who struggle with their sexual identity or who are at a questioning stage. Another way that school counselors can proactively combat homophobia is to link school efforts with community activities such as a pride parade, PFLAG (parents and friends of lesbians and gays) group, or an interfaith vigil against violence. DePaul, Walsh, and Dam (2009) suggest that school counselors are in a perfect position to be leaders in not only providing support for students as they engage in the process of recognizing and accepting their sexual identities, but they are poised to promote important dialogue in the school and in the community about sexual orientation issues. They recommend a three-tiered action plan that encourages counselors to work toward (1) whole-school prevention by creating a safe, accepting, and affirming environment, (2) targeted prevention aimed at the identification of specific students who face the

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daily risk of classicism, racism or heterosexism, and (3) intensive intervention with identified “at-risk” youth who need one-on-one counseling and support. It is clear that the role of the professional counselor working with LGBTQ students is neither simple nor easy, but it is critical in creating a safe environment. We have emphasized the attitudes and actions a counselor might take to establish trust with LGBTQ clients; more specifically, what steps a counselor might consider in response to a student, who, now trusting the counselor, comes out in a session. Our youth are our future. Counselors need to do things differently and with greater intentionality, so that we can engage all workers in higher education toward meaningful and responsible change. Professional counselors must become knowledgeable in the most effective ways to work with LGBTQ youth and become the change agents needed to serve this population. This change will then guide youth toward a future where they are accepted, affirmed, and empowered. This change will also guide communities to stand against hatred, discrimination, and marginalization. It is time to lead with a sense of advocacy and justice.

REFERENCES American School Counselor Association. (2003). The ASCA national model: A framework for school counseling programs. Alexandria, VA: Author. DePaul, J., Walsh, E., & Dam, U.C. (2009). The role of school counselors in addressing sexual orientation in schools. Professional School Counselor, 12(4), 300-308. Garofalo, R., Wolf, C., Kessel, S., Palfrey, J., & DuRant, R.H. (1998). The association between health risk behaviors and sexual orientation among a schoolbased sample of adolescents. Pediatrics, 101(5), 895-902. Gibson, P. (1989). Gay male and lesbian youth suicide. ADAMHA report of the secretary’s task force on youth suicide (Vol. 3). Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, Gutierrez, F. J. (2004). Counseling queer youth: Preventing another Matthew Shepard story. In D. Capuzzi & D. R. Gross (Eds.), Youth at risk: A prevention resource for counselors, teachers, and parents (pp. 331-352). Alexandria, VA: American School Counseling Association. Lipkin, A. (1999). Understanding homosexuality, changing schools. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Remafedi, G., Resnick, M., Blum, R., & Harris, L. (1992). Demography of sexual orientation in adolescents. Pediatrics, 89, 714-721. Ryan, C., & Futterman, D. (2001). Futterman. The Prevention Researcher, 8(1), 6-8. Ryan, C., & Futterman, D. (1998). Lesbian and gay youth care and counseling: The first comprehensive guide to health and mental health care. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

The Knowledgeable Counselor 57 Uribe, V., & Harbeck, K. (1992). Addressing the needs of lesbian, gay, and bisexual youth: The origins of Project 10 and school-based intervention. In K. Harbeck (Ed.), Coming out of the classroom closet: Gay and lesbian students, teachers, and curricula (pp. 9-28). New York, NY: Harrington Park Press.

CHAPTER 6

FACULTY SPEAK The Influence of Sexual Orientation and Spirituality on the Social Integration of Black Scholars D. B. HOLLOMAN AND S. K. ELLISand Stanley K. Ellis Darryl B. Holloman

ABOUT OUR IDENTITY

Darryl B. Holloman Several years ago I had the great fortune to serve on the committee of a young graduate student who examined a concept which he labeled “triple consciousness.” The idea supporting triple consciousness is rooted in the Seminole work of W.E.B Du Bois’s, “double consciousness.” Double consciousness surrounds the notion of what it means to have the duel identity of being both Black and American. Triple consciousness expands Du Bois’s notion to include the multifaceted identities which surround being Black, American, and gay. The graduate student took the premise that holding these separate aspects of identity were partially responsible

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for the failure of Black male collegians in his study to socially integrate not only to their college but also within the larger American social order. Through this study, we learned how often these men felt a strong shroud of invisibility as they moved through their daily social interactions and cultural exchanges. As I reflect on my own personal life I am reminded of how often I have endured a sense of having a triple conscious. Growing up in the Deep South during the 1970s and 1980s, I had no room to explore (at least not openly) aspects of being gay. Being one generation removed from the segregated, Jim Crow South, I had only one choice in life—to be a Black American. The suffrage and subjugation of Black Americans that led us into the late 20th century left little room for the explorations of other marginalized identities. I was taught that as Black Americans, we needed to focus on ensuring that my generation sustained our standing as firstclass American citizens, and any identity, which detracted from that mission, was unacceptable. Additionally, being poor and heavily religious left even less room for me to understand how, and for that matter why, I was gay. Subsequently, as best as I could I learned (and sometimes was taught) to suppress my gay identity. In short, I learned how to make a critical component of my identity invisible. Now nearly 30 years later as I reflect on that suppression I realize that although I have learned to navigate and maneuver it—the invisibility had never completely left. Learning to navigate invisibility is an important aspect of balancing the tightly woven threads which string together my identity as a Black gay male, but the identity still stands as a glaring reminder that there is a component of my self-discovery which must still be hidden from the view of others. Interestingly, as scholars, particularly those of us who teach such courses as student development theory, it is fascinating how seldom we position ourselves as gay scholars within those discussions. Further, as researchers who should remain objective, even in our qualitative work, we are trained to not reveal the various aspects of our self-discoveries within our lines of inquiry. This chapter attempts to dispel that myth—the idea that scholarship should not reflect the pieces of us—that indeed we have held segments of our invisibility far too long from our pedagogical practices. now is the time to shatter the invisibility prism to visible position Black gay scholars into the language and notions of the academy. This chapter displays the journeys of Black gay scholars who reveal the successes and challenges that they face as they have navigated through the educational pipeline. The sole purpose of this work is to empower both gay scholars as well as allies who will undertake the important task of proving a sense of visibility to them as well as their students. This chapter reveals that our identities are not compartmentalized but a holistic explosion of those experiences which help to shape our lives and purpose.

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Stanley K. Ellis I grew up in a very small town in Southeastern Arkansas called Holly Grove. Although all the schools I attended were “integrated” there were only about 7 of the approximately 300 students who were White. They were all related and probably considered as poor as most of us in the Black community. There were Whites who lived in our town and like most rural Southern communities, they resided in their own section, away from the Blacks. Their White children attended private schools or predominantly White schools in neighboring communities. I had several very close friends growing up. One of my closest friends was a White male who refused to adopt his family’s prejudicial views. Another of my friends was a lesbian female who came out to the rest of us in the sixth grade. It was no big deal for me to have a very close friend who was White. It was no big deal for me to have a friend who was a lesbian. The color of neither my friend’s White skin nor my friend’s sexual identity altered our relationships. I believe that their being different from me made me a better person. I learned, without knowing, how to accept people’s individual differences. I also recognized within myself intolerance for injustice toward people because of their differences. I never allowed anyone to take advantage of or mistreat either of my friends because of their differences. To this day we are still close and during class reunions or interim meetings, we enjoy reminiscing about old times, except for my White male friend who is no longer with us as a result of taking his own life shortly after we graduated high school. I am a Black, heterosexual male. I am a minority and often considered an endangered species. I have always excelled academically and enjoyed the educational process. In some form or another, I have always been an educator. In junior high, I worked as a tutor during the summers to help students to successfully move to the next level of learning. In college, I organized tutoring sessions through my fraternity to help my brothers who needed additional help with their studies. It was only fitting that my plight would be into the field of education. It is here that I have found myself with the capacity and tools to inform and educate and to create new knowledge. I consider myself an “empowerer.” It is my calling to not only empower those of the Black race with the tools necessary to improve their stations in life through education and the creation of new knowledge, but I am also charged with this duty to do the same for other marginalized groups. Engaging in the creation and distribution of knowledge that will serve the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer) community is only a small portion of my contribution to the world community as a servant leader.

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FACULTY SPEAK: THE INFLUENCE OF SEXUAL ORIENTATION AND SPIRITUALITY ON THE SOCIAL INTEGRATION OF BLACK SCHOLARS I think for me it has been more complicated being a gay scholar than a Black scholar, particularly among other Black scholars —Drew I try to be the best me that I can be and I think probably the more challenging thing is to try to be Christ-like. That is probably the bigger challenge in the academy than being either black or in a same-sex relationship —Marion Over the past 25 years, scholars and college administrators have grappled with the seemingly complex relationship between Black people and American institutions of higher education. To date much of the research has focused on Black students, particularly Black male collegians, and the difficulty these students have integrating the social and academic environments of their college campuses (Harper & Nichols, 2008; Palmer, Davis, & Hilton, 2009; Palmer & Gasman, 2008; Palmer & Strayhorn, 2008; Strayhorn, Blakewood, & Devita, 2008). Research has also expanded on the experience of Black scholars in the academy (Allen, Epps, Guillory, Suh, & Bonous-Hammarth, 2000; Butner, Barley, & Mobley, 2000; Davis, 1999; Finkelstein Seal, & Schuster, 1998; Jackson, 1991; Jones, 2000, 2001; O’Meara, 2002; Patitu, 2000; Tierney & Bensimon, 1996; Turner, 2003; Weems, 2003). Similarly to the Black student experience, Black faculty members, especially those at predominately White colleges and universities, face challenges in their attempts to socially integrate their academic environments as well. What is lacking in the research on Black students as well as Black faculty members is a closer examination of members of these groups who feel that due to their sexual orientation or ideas on spirituality they fall even further on the social margins of the academy. As noted from the quotes above, gay Black faculty members or faculty members with a sense of spiritual conviction are present within the social structures of college environments. Further, these faculty members are willing, given the opportunity, to express their views on their sexual orientation or sense of spirituality. Examining the views of Black faculty members on sexual orientation or spirituality provides keen insight into how these concepts may influence the ways these faculty members mentor, teach, conduct research, and establish relationships on their campuses. Our study uses a narrative approach to reveal that the sexual orientation or the spirituality of Black faculty members influenced how this group

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established and fostered social relationships within academic environments. The faculty members in this chapter participated in a larger qualitative study of 16 Black faculty members who served on the faculty at both predominately White institutions of higher education and historically Black colleges and universities. Using a phenomenological framework, we conducted personal interviews with participants that ranged 60-90 minutes (Dey, 1993; Merriam, 1998; Morse, Barrett, Mayan, Olson, & Spiers, 2002). Our study revealed that these faculty members viewed their sexual orientation or ideas on spirituality as influential factors in the ways they integrated to social and academic higher education settings.

SOCIAL INTEGRATION BLACK FACULTY MEMBERS WITHIN THE ACADEMY Regardless of background, gender, sexual orientation, or religious affiliation of an individual faculty member, social integration is a key component in how successfully a faculty member gains access, connects, and navigates the academy (Austin & McDaniels, 2006; Patitu, 2000; Sadao, 2003; Tierney, 2000). In their seminal work on promotion and tenure, Tierney and Bensimon (1996) discuss the importance of the social integration on faculty development occurring as early as their graduate studies and in some cases even earlier during their life experiences. In their work, Tierney and Bensimon reveal three stages that influence the ways social integration effect faculty productivity. These authors suggest that anticipatory, organizational, and faculty work are three concepts that are important in the social integration of faculty members to academe. In regards to faculty socialization these three stages cover issues that surround institutional fit and characteristics, campus community, informal and formal mentoring, and the importance of faculty productivity. They state about these stages, “[Although] the experiences, frustrations and challenges of faculty members are often remarkably similar, paradoxically, an individual’s or group’s experiences are also unique” (p. 13). The authors suggest, however, that individual faculty members will interpret and engage differently throughout these various stages. These various levels of engagement are closely related to the personal and professional background of the faculty members as well as how the faculty member views the value of his or her contribution to their campuses. Tierney and Bensimon’s work is important in discussions surrounding the social integration of faculty members because they demonstrate how the perceptions, beliefs, and expectations of faculty members are as varied as the institutions that they serve.

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Baez (2000) and Sadao (2003) discuss the importance of understanding that faculty of color often view their socialization experiences differently than their majority peers. Baez warns that scholars must condemn higher education practices and norms that produce conflicting situations that reflect differential rewards for faculty members of color. Sadao suggests that, “Acculturation relates to the introduction of and interaction with a new culture, the emphasis being on the potential for compromising one’s previously held beliefs and values to function in the new culture” (p. 399). Sadao further argues that faculty of color actually exist in two distinct cultures: “the ethnic culture where he [or she] was born and raised and the university culture where he [or she] found professional success” (p. 397). Consequently, Sadao identifies the ethnically biased culture of faculty members and the climate of the university as the main factors that inhibit the successful recruitment, tenure, promotion, and integration of faculty of color. Regarding Black faculty members specifically, researchers suggest that these individuals often grapple with integration issues that surround the societal perceptions of race and its influence on predominately White educational environments. Because of these inequities, the special needs or considerations of these faculty members are often overlooked as they attempt to integrate socially and culturally to academic settings (hooks, 1990; Ladson-Billings, 1997; Patitu, 2000). Essien (2003) surmises that these barriers are caused by the failure of institutions of higher education, particularly predominately White research institutions to ensure that minority faculty members receive mentoring, encouragement for racebased research agendas, and funding to support minority-based research projects. Essien suggests that institutions of higher education must create a climate of “belonging within the academic community” for Black faculty members as a means of assisting them in their social integrative process (pp. 63-71). Dixon-Reeves (2003) and Smith and Zsohar (2007) agree that mentoring is an important aspect in assisting the social integration of faculty members. Dixon-Reeves particularly views mentorship as a critical component in fostering the social integration of Black faculty members. Feelings of isolation are often cited as one of the most significant barriers that hinder the mentoring process of Black faculty members, especially Black faculty members who work on predominately White campuses. Tierney and Bensimon (1996) suggest that whereas many faculty members encounter a sense of isolation it may strike Black faculty members in particularly problematic ways due to their underrepresentation at most institutions. Noted scholar Derrick Bell (1994) states, “I soon discovered that, whatever my willingness to conform, my tenured status did not entitle me to admission to the law school’s inner circles. My nontraditional teaching and writing seemed to confirm the faculty’s doubts that a person

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without the usual credentials could be an able Harvard law professor” (p. 29). William and William (2006) report that Black faculty members often find themselves being the “only Black” in their department or one of the few Black professionals on their campuses. The sense of isolation felt by faculty members of color, especially Black faculty members contributes to this group alienating themselves from colleagues, students, and seniorlevel administrators as well as vehicles which led to effective faculty productivity (Johnsrud & Rosser, 2002). Allen et al. (2000) suggests, African-American faculty members face barriers due to the historical, cultural, and social factors that frequently have shaped their relations with Whites generally…. Such inequities produce the achievement discrepancies in contemporary U.S. education that explain the relative scarcity of African Americans as members of the nation’s higher education faculty. (p. 113)

Turner (2003) concludes that issues such as isolation may cause Black faculty members to choose to remain marginalized rather than attempt to integrate into the culture of their department, college, or campus. Scholars provide a broad glimpse into the perceptions and expectations expressed by Black faculty members regarding their views on faculty socialization. These researchers, however, fail to reveal the perceptions of individuals who may feel further marginalized from social structures because of their sexual orientation or thoughts on spirituality. Alex-Assensoh (2003) encourages current research on faculty members of color to stretch beyond the narrowly focused issues in diverse hiring practices and begin to identify and expound on the barriers that prohibit the overall success of these faculty members generally. She further suggests that research on faculty members of color should seek to reveal the heterogeneity of minority faculty in an effort to reflect the differences in the experiences of these individuals. For example, how do gay Black faculty members perceive social and academic structures in higher education? What are the views of these faculty members on how they have been treated on their campuses? How do Black faculty members interpret spirituality? How do those faculty members perceive the ways their spirituality influences their work productivity? Finally, do either of these social constructs hinder their efforts as scholars to integrate within their academic communities? Drawing on the literature regarding the social integration faculty members of color this chapter highlights the personal and professional experiences of gay Black faculty as well as Black faculty members who share their thoughts on spirituality. This chapter examines how each of these constructs influences the social integration of Black faculty members to the academic settings of American institutions of higher education.

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SOCIAL INTEGRATION AS GAY AND SPIRITUAL ADOLESCENTS The gay scholars in our study indicated that their social integration began from them as early as their adolescence. These lessons were not always easy or popular ones, but these faculty members indicated their early integrative efforts surrounding their sexuality were helpful in shaping how they positioned themselves within larger social structures: I think early on my parents knew that I was different intellectually and how I positioned myself in the world. Therefore, it was kind of natural and my father would always say … he always thought I was peculiar and thought it was very important for me to do well in school because he thought I might not be able to do other things (he laughs). My parents created this environment, where I was protected and encouraged to do [my] best —Marion, January 7, 2005 My relationship with my dad was a very close one. We had out challenges particularly when he discovered I was in a same-sex relationship. And so we discussed it with the family doctor, the preacher and the people that he knew. I think he was just surprised that he never picked up on the fact that I was gay. And that was the most distant I’ve been from my father and it took probably a year or two before he came to understand that I was the same person —Adam, December 2, 2004 The two scholars who revealed being gay men discussed having supportive families, particularly supportive heterosexual fathers, during their adolescent years. The scholars shared that this supportive familial network was an important foundation in them understanding how to position themselves later as gay men within social structures that were sometimes not as supportive or understanding of their sexual orientation as Black men. This social support was important in how these men developed as gay adolescents and extended even to the point of them choosing the type of college they would attend: [During] my adolescence and coming to terms with my sexuality and shifting in my early affection. I remember my early affections were only being obsessed with girls in elementary school and middle school, [but] my affections shifted, not overnight but gradually. Since I grew up in sort of an intense community, you were [always] thinking about what your parents thought of you. I think my parents were supportive in all my decisions whether they supported the decision or not and loving me and saying that I am theirs and

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that even when people are critical otherwise and giving me the sort of fortitude that you are loved and that you need to lead your [own] life. My parents were ultra protective when I went to Morehouse, it being an all-male school [because] people were whispering why would he want to [go there] and my parents were like it is a very good school —Marion, December 19, 2004 Likewise, spirituality or a strong sense of spiritual grounding was helpful to scholars in the study as they positioned themselves socially as adolescents. Each participant discussed how important spirituality was to them as adolescents and how deeply a sense of spiritual grounding was placed in them by their parents. Drew states, “My father was from the southern Delaware area so this was like his home. He was very country and very spiritual. Being a church focused person, who was very religious, he had us in church every Sunday and during the weekdays. My father was very strict around behavior and rules” (personal communication, December 2, 2004). Marion adds, “My father would always ask these probing questions that would go to the foundation of people’s belief systems. He wanted to destabilize people about the traditional ways they thought about religion” (personal communication, December 19, 2004). Being introduced to a sense of spirituality so young provided these faculty members with a strong sense of self and how they were positioned in society as Black Americans. Understanding the complexity of spirituality so early in life also helped these faculty members to understand that learning comes in various social contexts that often times falls outside of the classroom: The Bible and newspaper were the major text in the house and my mother and father were both advent bible readers. But my father read it more as an intellectual and humanity text and my mother read it really traditionally as a sacred text and trying to understand that kind of literal doctrine of how you should live as opposed to what it possibly could mean and its alternative interpretations and contradictions —Marion, December 19, 2004 My mother is not so much a strict disciplinarian, but just by the book. My father was a strict disciplinarian so that kind of flowed to us. My father was more reserved because of [his being] a minister. The reason I went into social work is because it is a ministry … a calling —Zeke, March 7, 2011 These senses of spirituality followed these faculty members as they advanced through school and followed them even as they entered the

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professoriate. The participants often spoke of the importance of having a strong spiritual sense that helped guide them through issues they faced with integrating to academic structures as they moved through faculty ranks. The scholars spoke of drawing upon some higher power or how they turned to the lessons they learned as adolescents in regards to how spirituality would strengthen them during difficult times. For the gay scholars, they discussed how having understanding parents and supportive backgrounds as adolescents helped them to adjust as faculty members when they were placed in awkward situations in faculty social setting; or when discussions turned to why they were not married yet, or when did they think they would find a girlfriend. Overall, each of the participants discussed the importance of being introduced to a sense of spirituality or being supported in their sexual orientation earlier in their lives. During such times, the participants reported that when these occurrences made them feel isolated from the social structures of their department or colleges that their early experiences in dealing with difference provided them an opportunity to establish a sense of resilience in their socialization process as faculty members. These scholars found that understanding their social positions as gay adolescents or being trained as youth to draw on their spirituality helped them develop a stronger sense of self as they attempted to integrate to the social rigors of faculty work and life.

INTEGRATING SEXUAL ORIENTATION AND SPIRITUALITY AS SCHOLARS As the participants began their journey into the professoriate they reported having a healthy sense of how to position themselves in regards to their sexual orientation or their ideas on spirituality. The participants found that faculty life presented them with different social experiences that at times challenged their perceptions of how they were taught to handle the social constructs of their sexual orientation or spirituality. The participants discussed how the isolation they felt as faculty members often complicated their attempts to engage these aspects of themselves within the academy. Unlike their previous social experiences where they could connect to some type of support network, the solitary life they experienced as faculty members, at times made their social integrative process challenging. Although not gay, one of the heterosexual participants recounted his challenges as a straight Black man in his attempts to integrate to the social structures of his department. In some instances this made him disconnect his personal life from his professional one:

Faculty Speak 69 You know that a lot of people here don’t even know that I have a wife who is pregnant and that is fine with me because I don’t think that everybody here you can trust to give pieces of yourself but others you can. I also coach, since my son has been four, he has played soccer and basketball. And that life [I have kept] very separate from academic life. (personal communication, December 14, 2004)

This respondent in particular reported that in his other professional experiences he worked to integrate his professional and personal lives, but as a faculty member he insisted that those two aspects of himself were not congruent. Subsequently, instead of embracing both cultures simultaneously the participant insisted that the two remain separate facets. That separation was sometimes intentional, as is the case with the respondent above, but at other times the faculty members in the study reported that sexual orientation or spirituality prompted even more social separation: My white peers have been more willingly accepting of my gayness and it is assumed by white people that I am gay, it is very funny and since they assume that I am gay their point of entry in conversation is with that assumption in mind. For black people they have to accept it directly and until it is said it is assumed that [I am not gay]. —Marion, December 20, 2004 I try to be the best me that I can be and I think probably the more challenging thing is to try to be Christ like. That is probably the bigger challenge in the academy than being either black or in a same sex relationship. I haven’t found that being in a same sex relationship or being black difficult. I am not out on an agenda or anything else except following the passion that I think that the holy-spirit wants me to follow and so my first duty is to be Christ-like and doing the will that I have for my life. The others are secondary in that sense. —Adam, December 29, 2004 These participants indicated that their sexuality and spirituality were definitely an integral component of their personal lives, but in their social interactions as faculty members in higher education the participants learned to treat aspects of their personal and professional lives pragmatically, especially in regards to establishing a productive track record as faculty members. Marion states: In Black cultural studies or Black intellectual studies the infusion of gay people, gay Intellectuals, and gay knowledge [I feel] as an institution there needs to be more attention given to that. I think it is changing, though,

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D. B. HOLLOMAN and S. K. ELLIS because there is a retreat from [the] kind of statements made in mainstream Afro-scholars, in African-American studies particularly, around gay people and Black gay people. It is still somewhat uncomfortable because there is always this tension for Black people regarding their strategies for mobilization for Black people as a whole group. So they give something up, even if it is a gendered agenda. Consequently, if you are taking on gay interests, it infuses with Black people’s struggles in general. It is almost singular and because Black people really can’t afford this sort of multiple personalities it just has to be [solely] about Black people as a political movement [generally]. (personal communication, December 20, 2004)

Even though most of the participants viewed various aspects of themselves as not being congruent to their role as faculty members, they also reported learning to view their personal and professional lives on a continuum. Participants reported taking this approach because they learned that trying to establish some form of equilibrium between their personal and professional lives sometimes hindered their efforts to socialize with others. As a Black woman interested in the promotion of gender studies for women of color, Soraya reported how an experience in graduate school helped her to make later decisions on how she would teach as a professor: [When I was a student] I took a course on women and gender in African History. I go the first day, the professor is white. I thought let me be openminded. He would be great. [But the] syllabus was all white men and women authors talking about women and gender in African history. Then [he] had two African women readings on the syllabus. One was a novel he didn’t take seriously at all because it was fiction. He would ask thoughtful questions about the other author, but [I felt] he trashed her ideas. I just wasn’t happy with how some of my professors dealt with this subject matter. It was very onesided —Soraya, December 17, 2010 Soraya discussed how these types of social interactions in the classroom were critical in her making decisions regarding where she would teach as a faculty member. Soraya decided that her first faculty post would be at an HBCU that was predominately female. Soraya stated, “This is an institution that teaches … that serves black women. I’m a feminist. I’m a black feminist. For me, [this school] is perfect. A lot of the course that I teach are about gender and sexuality, so to have this kind of student body is very good for me” (personal communication, December 17, 2010). Soraya, like many of the participants, discussed that even though they were criticized for the types of institutions where they choose to work, having the opportunity to teach and work in what they saw as comfortable

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social environments far out weighed the prestige sometimes associated with certain colleges. Zeke, who also works at an historically Black college and university (HBCU), stated, “You hear of HBCUs being referred to as the ‘chittling circuit’ [but for me] it’s about helping students like me, who look like me and who have similar experiences like me try to make it through the process and get the same type of education they would get from a PWI” (personal communication, March 7, 2011). These two scholar often spoke of their work in terms of a spiritual sense, almost religious in tone, where the work at their institutions seemed driven by a higher calling or as mentioned by Zeke earlier being a type of ministry. The participants often expressed the sense of conducting what they felt “spiritually-inspired” work. This expression was most often noted when the participants discussed the research or teaching they conducted targeted toward the Black community specifically. The participants revealed that this “spiritually inspired” work often placed them at a crossroads as Black American researchers and scholars: My research is primarily quantitative but I was also a therapist for a long time and so I was never wedded to quantitative work. I felt like I had to understand it and know it quite well to deal with the world that we’re in. I enjoyed it but it never was satisfying enough to capture the complexity, particularly around Black youth and Black families that need methods that are much more complex and get at the details. Because of the ignorance of colleagues and institutions, you almost support that ignorance if you use only quantitative measures which only skim the surface of the complexity of Black culture —Drew, December 14, 2004 I think that junior African-American faculty members see their research in a more classical, sort of [W.E.B] Du Bosian approach, where there is no disconnection between research and the uplift of the community. I think that a lot of the younger academics in that same mode, having said that, I think that their work is more applied and it is more specifically identified as being for a more [racially focused] community. Now the empirical question is how the next generation will fair with tenure and promotion. I think that the generation earlier, there were contributions where we were concerned about issues of racial inclusion … more alignment with mainstream intellectual tradition —Marion, December 20, 1994 Overall, the participants indicated that the academy was still a place that held biases as to what is considered as acceptable and unacceptable

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forms of research inquiry, even when they perceived their research as “divinely inspired” race-based work. Each of the participants, however, reiterated that they felt compelled to conduct race-based research for the Black American community because this community has so few people who are capable of conducting research that speaks to the ails of many members of the Black community. The participants spoke of their research in almost spiritual terms that assisted in empowering the Black American community but they also indicated that they saw their work as helping to inform society.

CONCLUSION Well I guess first of all I don’t see myself as a gay Black scholar and I say that because I see myself as this individual who feels passionate about the issues that surround my life and know that they effect others. I haven’t found that being in a same sex relationship or being black difficult, I don’t see them as challenges in my life because they are not something that I am challenged with. So this question is pedagogically and cognitively challenging for me. To see me that way although people may say that he is a gay Black scholar, I don’t know what that means, you know, what I mean. And I don’t know what a gay Black scholar is supposed to be? I only know what I am supposed to do and I know what I am passionate about. And if those are the characteristics that happen to follow me—then so be it. —Adam, December 29, 2004 The participants in this study represented a microcosmic view into the thoughts and voices of individuals who continue to journey through the academic social settings of American higher education. These scholars provided insight into the life and work of individuals who based on their sexual orientation or sense of spirituality fell outside of the traditional modes found within many social structures in American society. The world of these scholars was one that intersected by race, sexuality, scholarship, expectations, spirituality, perceptions, backgrounds, and experiences but it was a world where none of these concepts stood as distinct segments of their social identity. These scholars in many ways supported the work of Sadao (2003) and others who research the social integration of Black people within American culture, especially within American educational settings. For example, the scholars revealed that there were definitely moments within their social integrative processes as Black faculty members where they felt they were toggling between two or sometime three cultures; and they indicated that at times this was problematic in their attempts to integrate to the social

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structures of their department, campus or institution. The scholars expressed that there were times that they felt misunderstood as Black educators in both predominately White and historically Black school settings and that there were also times when they felt their actions, thoughts, expressions or emotions were misinterpreted within academic communities. The scholars reported times when they experienced a feeling or sense of being isolated or even excluded from the social structures found in American higher education. They reported, however, that due to their sexual orientation or their thoughts surrounding spirituality that in some ways they felt being isolated most of their lives from mainstream America. This sense of isolation was more prevalent and consistence among the gay men in the study but spiritual scholars also expressed a sense of isolation. Both groups felt the isolation most directly tied to their work in the professoriate, where they felt visible expressions of emotions were socially frowned upon by their colleagues. More importantly, some scholars felt their attempts to infuse their sexual orientation or spirituality within their professional teaching or scholarship made them feel even more marginalized. Participants revealed that their attempts to integrate to the social structures of the academy were actually more cyclical in nature and involved them developing resilient strategies that were more fluid. The scholars indicated that even when they did not understand their college environments, and although there were moments when those environments were less than welcoming, they arrived to the academy equipped with social skills that helped them be productive contributors to their campus and college. The scholars noted, however, that oftentimes either the academy or their individual institutions may not have been prepared to receive them as gay Black scholars or scholars who were prepared to express their religious inclinations. The participants felt that even though they brought different perspectives and backgrounds to the academy, they did not believe that the academy always embraced those differences. They reported that the atmosphere they found in the academy did not always resonate with their previous social experiences, and even though those atmospheres did not hinder their advancement through faculty ranks, they believed that those environments at times could have been more supportive in helping them foster and develop social connections both personally and professionally.

IMPLICATIONS This chapter has relevance for university policies and practices regarding those entities concerned with the social integration of Black American scholars. This chapter suggests that as these scholars arrive to their col-

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lege environments they bring their own preconceived notions of how those social academic environments should work best for them. Consequently, it would be important for American institutions of higher education to create welcoming social spaces which acknowledge the varying expectations among this group of scholars. It is also important for colleges to understand, however, that the scholars such as the ones in this chapter may not always have others who they can turn to for support or affirmation. As gay Black faculty members or those who express a sense of spirituality arrive to American college campuses, creating such things as social support groups may assist these faculty members in connecting to the academic social structures of their educational environments. Such opportunities could not only assist these scholars in their efforts to integrate to their campuses but it could also assist these individuals in expanding their views of how the social integrative process can assist them in being more productive in their roles as faculty members. For example, these faculty members may benefit through encouragement to collaborate on research projects as a means of validating their research interests. Such things as collaborative team projects or partnerships with other faculty members, even if those faculty members are outside of their departments, could help to substantiate the research quality and productivity of these faculty members. Such efforts also work toward helping these faculty members not feel as marginalized or isolated. Although Black American scholars share similar experiences, it is important that institutions of higher education recognize the differences among these scholars as well. Black scholars, like all faculty members, come to their campuses from different backgrounds and with various expectations. By institutions of higher education acknowledging these differences they validate the heterogeneity found within this group. Validating the heterogeneity among Black scholars helps to facilitate a more holistic experience for this group as they integrate and advance through faculty ranks.

REFERENCES Alex-Assensoh, Y. M. (2003). Race in the academy: Moving beyond diversity and toward the incorporation of faculty of color in predominantly white colleges and universities. Journal of Black Studies, 34, 5-11. Allen, W. R., Epps, E. G., Guillory, E. A., Suh, S. A., & Bonous-Hammarth, M. (2000). The black academic: Faculty status among African Americans in U.S. higher education. Journal of Negro Education, 1(2), 113.

Faculty Speak 75 Austin, A. E., & McDaniels, M. (2006). Preparing the professoriate of the future: Graduate student socialization for faculty roles. In J. C. Smart (Ed.), Higher Education: Handbook of Theory and Research (Vol. 21). New York, NY: Springer, Baez, B. (2000). Race-related service and faculty of color: Conceptualizing criticalagency in academe. Journal of Higher Education, 39, 363-391. Bell, D. (1994). Confronting authority: reflections of an ardent protester. Boston, MA: Beacon press. Butner, B. K., Barley, H., & Mobley, A. F. (2000). Coping with the unexpected: Black faculty at predominately white institutions. Journal of Black Studies, 3, 453-461. Davis, J. E. (1999). What does gender have to do with the experiences of AfricanAmerican college men. In V. C. Pilote & J. E. Davis (Eds.), African-American males in school and society: Practice and policies for effective education (pp. 134148). New York, NY: Teacher College Press. Dey, I. (1993). Qualitative data analysis: A user-friendly guide for social scientist. New York, NY: Routledge. Dixon-Reeves, R. (2003). Mentoring as a precursor to incorporation: an assessment of the mentoring experience of recently minted Ph.D.s. Journal of Black Studies, 34(1), 12-27. Essien, V. (2003). Visible and invisible barriers to the incorporation of faculty of color in predominately white law schools. Journal of Black Studies, 34, 28. Finkelstein, M. J., Seal, R. K., & Schuster, J. H. (1998). The new academic generation: A professor in transformation. London, England: The John Hopkins University Press, 8. Harper, S. R., & Nichols, A. H. (2008). Are they not all the same? Racial heterogeneity among Black male undergraduates. Journal of College Student Development, 49(3), 1-16. hooks, B. (1990). Yearning: Race, gender and cultural politics. Boston, MA: South End. Jackson, K. W. (1991). Black faculty in academia. In P. G Altbach & K. Lomotey (Eds.), The racial crisis in American higher education (pp. 135147). New York, NY: SUNY Press. Johnsrud, L. K., & Rosser, V. J. (2002). Faculty members’ morale and their intention to leave: A multilevel explanation. The Journal of Higher Education, 73, 4. Jones, L. (2000). Brothers of the academy: Up-and-coming black scholars earning our way in higher education. Sterling, VA: Stylus. Jones, L. (2001). Retaining African Americans in higher education. Sterling, VA: Stylus. Ladson-Billings, G. (1997). For colored girls who have considered suicide when the academy’s not enough: Reflections of an African-American women scholar. In A. Neuman & P. Peterson (Eds.), Learning for our lives: Women, research, and autobiography for education (pp. 52–70). New York, NY: Columbia Press. Merriam, S. B. (1998). Qualitative research and case study applications in education, (2nd, ed). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Morse, J. M., Barrett, M., Mayan, M., Olson, K., & Spiers, J. (2002). Verification strategies for establishing reliability and validity in qualitative research. International Journal of Qualitative Research, 2, 1.

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O’Meara, K. (2002). Uncovering the values in faculty evaluations of service as scholarship. The Review of Higher Education, 26, 57-80. Palmer, R. T., Davis, R. J., & Hilton, A. (2009). Exploring challenges that threaten to impede the academic success of academically underprepared Black males at an HBCU. Journal of College Student Development, 50(4), 429-445. Palmer, R., & Gasman, M. (2008). “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child”: Social capital and academic success at Historically Black Colleges and Universities. Journal of College Student Development 49(1). Palmer, R. T., & Strayhorn, T. L. (2008). “Mastering one’s own fate”: Non-cognitive factors with the success of African American males at an HBCU. National Association of Student Affairs Professionals Journal, 11(1), 126-143 Patitu, C. L. (2000). African-American faculty balancing the triumvirate: Teaching, research & service. National Association for Student Affairs Professionals Journal, 1, 46-64. Sadao, K. C. (2003). Living in two worlds: Success and the bicultural faculty of color. The Review of Higher Education, 26, 397-418. Smith, J. A., & Zsohar, H. (2007). Essentials of neophyte mentorship in relation to the faculty shortage. Journal of Nursing Education, 46(4), 184-186. Strayhorn, T. L., Blakewood, A. M., & Devita, J. M. (2008). Factors affecting the college choice of African-American gay male undergraduates: Implications for retention. National Association of Student Affairs Professionals Journal, 11(1), 88-108. Tierney, W. G. (2000). Undaunted courage: Life history and the postmodern challenge. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 537-553). San Francisco, CA: SAGE. Tierney, W. G., & Bensimon, E. M. (1996). Promotion and tenure: community and socialization in academe. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Turner, C. S. (2003). Incorporation and marginalization in the academy: From border toward center for faculty of color. Journal of Black Studies, 1, 112-125. Weems, R. E. (2003). The incorporation of black faculty at predominately white institutions: A historical and contemporary perspective. Journal of Black Studies, 2, 101-111. Williams, B., & Williams, S. (2006). Perceptions of African-American male junior faculty on promotion and tenure: Implications for community building and social capital. Teacher College Record, 108(2), 287-315.

CHAPTER 7

TRANSGRESSING AFRICAN AMERICAN MANHOOD IN COLLEGE When (Nonhetero)sexuality Anchors Multiple Identities T. E. DANCY

T. Elon Dancy II

INTRODUCTION

The extant research on African American males in college largely reports the following challenges and outcomes: (a) financial pressures and liabilities; (b) experiences of racism; (c) cognitive and academic paralysis; (d) collegiate maladjustment in historically White institutions; and (e) collegiate dissatisfaction (Allen, 1988; Allen, Epps, & Haniff, 1991; Astin, 1993; Brown & Freeman, 2004; Cuyjet, 1997, 2006; Dancy, 2011c; Dancy, 2011a; Dancy & Brown, 2007; Davis, 1994; Feagin, Vera, & Imani, 1996; Fleming, 1984; Flowers & Pascarella, 1999; Nettles, 1988; Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991; Willie & McCord, 1972). Much of this research, however,

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant, pp. 77–96 Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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has not been clearly disaggregated by the diverse identities and interests of African American males. Accordingly, the sexual orientation of African American males in college has been scant in the literature. Sexual orientation refers to the direction of an individual’s sexuality in relation to the sex or gender that the individual finds sexually attractive (Shively, Jones, & DeCecco, 1984). The plight of nonheterosexual men in society is documented in the literature but this work largely ignores African American men.1 Because of the unique intersections of race and sexual orientation, experiences of nonheterosexual African American men are different from African American heterosexual men and White nonheterosexual men (Rhoads, 1994; Washington & Wall, 2006). Emerging data suggests, however, that African American gay males choose colleges that appear safe spaces to “come out” or authentically live a gay identity in college (Strayhorn, Blakewood, & Devita, 2008). Research also finds this group’s college engagement challenged by perceptions as despised on campus (Strayhorn et al., 2008; Washington & Wall, 2006). In addition, Washington and Wall (2006) reviewed the literature around sexual identity development to offer suggestions for how institutions of higher education can provide support to gay, bisexual, and transgender African American men. Most suggestions include acknowledging and collaborating with gender-sensitive organizations or merging events that promote awareness of race and sexual orientation. Using qualitative approaches, this chapter meditates on the identity construction of African American males who negotiate race, gender, nonheterosexual orientation and other identities at the same time. The data which grounds this chapter is drawn from a larger study of 24 African American men enrolled across 12 colleges in the 19 southern and border states of America (Dancy, 2011a). The purpose for this study is to illustrate how African American males in college negotiate manhood, or meanings men make of themselves as shaped by multiple identities. First, the chapter takes rare opportunity to share my story as a boy and man accused of transgressing manhood norms. Next, I review the extant literature and relevant theory. Then, I discuss researcher positionality and the study methods that contextualize the sections that follow. After presenting an emergent case from the research, the chapter concludes with implications for higher education.

MUSINGS ON MY IDENTITY AS A TRANSGRESSIVE MALE IN EDUCATION My social experiences in school were troubling, deeply hegemonic spaces of race, class, and heteronormative tensions that threatened the develop-

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ment of confidence and sentenced me to years of bullying. Indeed, it was the beginning of a robbing of voice that took decades to reclaim. Gradually, from one grade to the next, I became ashamed of my boyhood first and then my manhood. The public speaking space I so easily inhabited became a space of anxiety. Intellectual pursuits became badges of shame in some social groups. It was then that I realized that my manhood, whatever it was, was transgressing the expectations of my peers. I came to know the magnitude of the importance of normativity in American schools and colleges during the “Black male crisis” era in which policy and intervention initiatives emerged nationwide to address the disparate social outcomes of African American males. The economically under resourced schools in the town in which I lived also reported outcomes that sometimes were more dismal than the national average. The Southern public high school I attended was racialized throughout its academic and social settings. African American and White students preferred separate parking lots for their vehicles and separate seating during assemblies or classroom instruction. While attending high school, I never possessed the kind of power that African American boys used to gain social attractiveness with girls, strike fear in the hearts of childhood foes, and popularize them in peer circles. Though race divisions were clear, boyhood also involved an interaction among race, gender, and other identities. Unfortunately, an African American boy with my social, cultural, extracurricular and academic profile faced a certain “banishment from Black boyhood” in my school (Davis, 2000, p. 61). I would learn this as I matured. When I entered college, I was also aware of my transgressions. In a public historically Black college setting, I noticed that many African American men eluded leadership positions and academic work. A preponderance of African American men engaged only in sports while I chose to engage in university-wide committees and organizations. And while the college setting was more affirming than my school environment, this setting was not without occasional scrutiny and unnecessary requirements to defend my manhood or constant self-reinforcement that I was on a journey of discovery that mattered.

BROTHER OUTSIDERS: (NONHETERO)SEXUALITY AND MULTIPLE IDENTITIES IN COLLEGE The challenges that African American nonheterosexual men encounter when trying to engage within African American communities are documented in the literature (Boykin, 2005; Constantine-Simms, 2001). For instance, Hutchinson (1997) writes that African American nonheterosexual men feel like “men without a people” (p. 5). His contention is that this

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group is under pressure from the African American community to “subvert their manhood and conform to American standards of what it means to be a man as long as antigay attitudes remain firmly rooted in America” (p. 5). According to Hutchinson, a survey conducted in 1995 to measure African American heterosexuals attitudes toward African American nonheterosexual men revealed that African Americans, like Whites, perceived African American nonheterosexual men in hostile ways. Furthermore, the sexism in antigay attitudes is apparent as African American heterosexuals’ feelings toward African American non heterosexual men were more hostile than African American nonheterosexual women. Thus, nonheterosexual African American men who enroll in college are likely from homophobic communities (Boykin, 2005; ConstantineSimms, 2001). Homophobia is defined as the “fear or hatred of homosexuals and homosexuality” (Plummer, 2001, p. 60). Hutchinson (2001) argues that antigay feelings are so intense in African American communities that discussions or activities involving African American nonheterosexual men are largely ignored. The suspicion is that nonheterosexual African American men are not only rejected by many African Americans but also barely tolerated by White nonheterosexuals (Hutchinson, 2001). As a result, this group of African American men may repress, hide, and deny sexuality around family members, friends, and society. Riggs (2001) details the ways in which African American men who “out” gay sexual orientation are further marginalized within an already marginalized group: I am a Negro faggot if I believe what movies, TV, and rap music say of me. My life is game for play. Because of my sexuality, I cannot be Black. A strong, proud, “Afrocentric” Black man is resolutely heterosexual, not even bisexual…. My sexual difference is considered of no value; indeed it’s a testament to weakness, passivity, the absence of real guts—balls. Hence I remain a sissy, punk, faggot. I cannot be a Black gay man because by the tenets of Black macho, Black gay man is a triple negation. I am consigned, by these tenets, to remain a Negro faggot. And as such I am game for play, to be used, joked about, put down, beaten, slapped, and bashed, not just by illiterate homophobic thugs in the night, but by Black American culture’s best and brightest. (p. 293)

African American men who “out” themselves as gay are both marginalized in White America and penalized in Black America (West, 2001). Under the pressures of African American communities, the rules of African American masculinity “admit little or no space for self-interrogation or multiple subjectivities around race” (Riggs, 2001, p. 296). Furthermore, a widely held ideal about African American manhood in the African American community is that African American men “do not flinch, do

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not weaken, do not take blame or sh**, take charge, step-to when challenged, and defend themselves without pause for self-doubt” (p. 296). Thus, African American gay men who embrace themselves are told they are not authentically “Black men” (West, 2001, p. 306). Riggs (2001) writes that African American communities possess a fundamental need to oppress a “convenient other” who can assume blame for the “crises afflicting the Black male psyche” (p. 293). This need, Riggs argues, is at the heart of homophobia in African American communities. He elaborates: [Black gay men] … function as the lowest common dominator of the abject, the base line of transgression beyond which a Black man is no longer a man, no longer Black, an essential Other against which Black men and boys maturing, struggling with self-doubt, anxiety, feelings of political, economic, social, and sexual inadequacy—even impotence—can always measure themselves and by comparison seem strong, adept, empowered, superior. (p. 293)

Thus, African American nonheterosexual men face homophobic victimization in societal institutions like college. Homophobia is defined as the fear or hatred of homosexuals and homosexuality (Plummer, 2001). Researchers argue that homophobia plays a powerful role in male peer culture (Connell, 1995; Constantine-Simms, 2001; Plummer, 2001). Furthermore, men’s hegemonic use of homophobia constructs cultural borders, and enforces certain codes of behavior. Plummer contends: Homophobia has emerged as a complex phenomenon, which plays a fundamental role in reinforcing stereotypical masculinity and in patrolling a key male intragender dividing between “real men” and “others.” In the process, it has become an inescapable conclusion that homophobia has a tremendous influence over all men — not just those who are gay. (p. 69)

Homophobia works in lives of young boys even prior to the development of sexual identities. Young boys learn early to avoid certain foods (i.e., chicken salad sandwiches), certain drinks (i.e., low-alcohol drinks with umbrellas) and certain behaviors (i.e., showing compassion) (Plummer, 2001). Homophobia, therefore, influences how men present themselves to others, their social networks, as well as their education, career and life plans. Accordingly, they are pressured to engage in high-risk behavior (i.e., driving cars dangerously, joining a gang) to build a border between themselves and others perceived as nonheterosexual. Those who do not choose this behavior are heavily scrutinized. Collins’ (2001) work on intersecting oppressions is also helpful to understand the burden that African American nonheterosexual men face.

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Collins contends that African American men are raised with both racism and homophobia, and are therefore far less likely to escape beyond the attitudes of the African American community. This oppressive place gives rise to the hegemonic spotlight of the “down-low” in African American communities like those represented in college. The down-low describes men who have sex with men but keep secret sexual preferences and behavior (Boykin, 2005). Research suggests that African American faculty and staff across institutions must be inclusive of students who are nonheterosexual in similar ways they are mandated to include students of color (Harris, 2003). Few studies, however, investigate how (if at all) nonheterosexual African American men feel a sense of inclusion in college (Rhoads, 1994; Washington & Wall, 2006). Many nonheterosexual and/or gay African American men become members of Black Greek-letter organizations to gain a sense of inclusion. Yet, few studies consider the tenuous relations between the allmale spaces of fraternities and African American nonheterosexual men (Kimbrough, 2003). Study in this area is useful in analyzing the complex male cultural world of fraternities. The disparate experiences of African American nonheterosexual men are potentially intensified in the all-male spaces of college. In general, these spaces more narrowly reflect heteronormativity and homophobia as discussed earlier. Thus, the experiences of nonheterosexual African American men in their efforts to join fraternities are potentially dissimilar to their heterosexual counterparts. For instance, the membership of nonheterosexual African American men in African American fraternities is controversial (Kimbrough, 2003). As such, African American fraternities may deny membership to men who are openly or suspected nonheterosexual (Kimbrough, 2003). Additionally, those who are “accepted” may still not feel they have an equal voice in fraternity endeavors (Kimbrough, 2003). There is a peculiar irony about the tensions gay, bisexual and/or transgender men experience in fraternities. While emerging research notes that the experience of African American nonheterosexual men is one of dissatisfaction, the research often fails to note that men who choose membership in fraternities are all interested in building same-sex relationships among each other (Dancy, 2011a). In other words, while college fraternities may not be homosexual organizations, they are homo-social so there is a persistent “attraction” to other men notwithstanding sexual orientation. The following section theorizes why African American men exclude nonheterosexual men and how these hegemonic efforts result in exclusion of men who are generally transgressive, or, nonfollowers of orthodox manhood.

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THEORIZING BANISHMENT FROM MANHOOD: SEXUAL IDENTITY AS CONTEXT OF (UNDER)PRIVILEGE Theorizing identity, Josselson (2005) observes, Identity is the ultimate act of creativity—it is what we make of ourselves. In forming and sustaining our identity, we build a bridge between who feel we feel ourselves to be internally and who we are recognized as being by our social world. When we have a secure sense of our identity, we take ourselves for granted as being who we are. We feel at home in ourselves and in our world, and have an inner experience of coherence and purpose. (p. 191)

Individuals shape identities in race, class, gender, sexual orientation, spiritual, other social categories and/or selves (i.e., college students, daughters, sons, employees) as well as the intersections of these categories. Thus, studying the ways identities intersect enhances researcher understanding about men in general and elusive groups like African American men in particular (Dancy, 2010a, 2010b). Drawing from a published discussion of the brother code (Dancy, 2011a), I note the ways African American male lives are governed by the rigid identity rules of manhood. Manhood is a multidimensional concept, referring to the self-expectations, relationships and responsibilities to family, and worldviews or existential philosophies that men accept or acknowledge (Dancy, 2010b, 2011a, 2011b 2011c; Hunter & Davis, 1992, 1994). The manhood literature on African American men often conveys the centrality of race and gender (Dancy, 2011b, 2011c; Summers, 2004) though manhood is also shaped by class, sexual orientation, religion, other identities, selves, and positions. Discussed earlier, research and scholarship indicates the narrow articulation of race and gender in African American communities vis-à-vis White communities, particularly for African American men (Dancy, 2011c; hooks, 2004a, 2004b; Collins, 2005; Constantine-Simms, 2001; Neal, 2005). Accordingly, intersectionality theory embeds a way of understanding the intersecting identities of African American men’s lives in American society (Mutua, 2006). At the core of this theory is the assumption that African American men are privileged in society by their gender (man) but underprivileged both by their race (African American or Black) as well as sexuality (nonheterosexual). Additional interpretations stress the importance of context in understanding intersectionality in African American men. For instance, outwardly nonheterosexual African American men are unjustly underprivileged in African American communities and subordinated beyond these communities in public. Thus, both contexts contribute to over-policing and stress in African American nonheterosexual men. Using intersectionality theory is therefore more systemic,

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requiring researchers to study context in determining what identities and identity intersections actually privilege or oppress African American men. Banks (1997) writes, “My life stories influence my perspective, a perspective unable to function within a single paradigm because I am too many things at one time” (p. 99). Multidimensionality theory focuses more closely on the individual, arguing that people embody physical, biological, and social differences at all once (Crenshaw, 1991). Multidimensional models of identity in education rest on a similar assumption (Jones & McEwen, 2000; Reynolds & Pope, 1991; Weis & Fine, 2000). At the center of multiple dimensions of identity is a core sense of self. A core sense of self is understood as one’s innermost identity which are possibly unidentified by others. Outside identities (e.g., race, gender, class, culture), or those presented to world that are often easily named by others, represent significant dimensions and contextual influences. A revisiting of this model argues that individuals’ meaning-making helps them understand contextual influences, self-perceptions of identity dimensions, and the individual perceptions of the relationship between social identities (i.e., race, class, and gender) and innermost core identity (Abes, Jones, & McEwen, 2007). A combination of identities is thus standardized as normal and persons who express themselves transgressively are oppressed by this framework. Across educational settings, African American males have been consistently accused of transgressing pronounced African American male norms for manhood in various ways. Griffin (2001) highlights African American males’ “normal” pathways to manhood in the following critique: Black men swallowed whole the phony and perverse John Wayne definition of manhood, that real men talked and acted tough, shed no tears, and never showed their emotions. When men broke the prescribed male code of conduct and showed their feelings, they were harangued as weaklings and their manhood was questioned. (p. 3)

The manhood script that Griffin (2001) identifies is only a brief outline of the more extensive yet narrow rules of African American manhood. The dominant image of African American manhood in America is the athlete or the criminal, a stereotype of working-class African American men (Collins, 2005). Both images reinforce the Western ideological notion that African American men are all body and no mind, thus any “success” experienced by this group is the outcome of the effort or threat housed only in Black male bodies, not intellect. This understanding of Black manhood, still largely at the center of Western society, reworks historical representations and marginalizes counter masculine representations. As Collins argues:

Transgressing African American Manhood in College 85 Some Black men’s bodies may be admired, as is the case for athletes, but other Black male bodies symbolize fear. Historical representations of Black men as beasts have spawned a second set of images that center on Black male bodies, namely, Black men as inherently violent, hyper-heterosexual, and in need of discipline. The controlling image of Black men as criminals or as deviant beings encapsulates this perception of Black men as inherently violent and/or hyper-heterosexual and links this representation to poor and/ or working-class African American men…. The thug or “gangsta” constitutes one contemporary controlling image.... Mass media marketing of thug life to African American youth diverts attention from social policies that deny Black youth education and jobs. (pp. 158-159)

Collins’s words outline a framework that hegemonically dictates acceptable ways that African American boys and men must walk, talk, dress, think and carry themselves. Because many African American men are guilty of perpetuating the notion that their bodies are sites of hypermasculinity and hypersexuality, they are also guilty of policing other African American men who innately reject these representations. African American males who transgress environmental norms are found in contempt of social laws and thus face glaring suspicion and condemnation. In avoiding these sorts of sanctions, African American males are carefully taught to demonstrate adherence to a “Brother Code” through the display of masculine behaviors (i.e., masculinities) thought to reflect appropriate ideals of African American manhood (Dancy, 2011a). Again, transgressive males are those who, for a variety of reasons, do not adhere to orthodox understandings of African American manhood (Dancy, 2011; Davis, 2001). Trangressors are extremely suspect in African American communities (and beyond), particularly in diverse groups of African American men, as transgressors are representations of nonviolent and perhaps nonsexual manhood. Suspicions largely include Black inauthenticity (i.e., acting “White”) and nonheterosexual orientation (i.e., acting “gay”) (Constantine-Simms, 2001; Fordham & Ogbu, 1986; Majors & Billson, 1992). Thus, transgressors often feel pressure to act as imposters in certain social spaces following a sophisticated scanning technique in which they also negotiate how to present themselves in various contexts. In large part, these negotiations often require choosing between self-acceptance and the acceptance of others. In this consciousness, transgressors learn to mistrust their own racial communities and, in particular, groups of African American men who enforce the code (Dancy, 2011a). Introducing the Study When I reflect on my positions as a researcher, I experience African American manhood from this oppressive underside. Accordingly, I have

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been accused of acting “White” and acting “gay” because I talk and move myself in ways that place me outside the narrow Western ideology of African American manhood, establishing heuristic value in my research. Yet as a heuristic researcher, or one who has a personal experience or intense interest in the phenomenon under study, the challenge is remaining open and constantly analytical when an experience is already present. More specifically, heuristic researchers must engage a process of discovery that is open-minded, relinquishes control, and “tumbles about with the newness and drama of a searching focus” (Patton, 2002, p. 108). A general strategy is to build an instrument in which “questions about phenomena disturb and challenge” (p. 108) but that also potentially raises the anxieties of the researcher and subjects. The data in this chapter is drawn from a larger qualitative study which investigated African American manhood in college and the collegiate role in shaping these constructions. Grounded theory, phenomenological, and case study approaches complemented micro- and macrolevels of data analysis. More specifically, grounded theory guided participant selection and initial coding of data while phenomenological and case study methods guided categorical and contextual analyses respectively. The men selected for this study attended 12, four-year colleges situated across the 19 southern and border states of America. Arguably, these states continued to operate dual systems of higher education despite Title VI of Civil Rights Act of 1964 barring legalized segregation (Brown, 1999). The 12 institutional sites for this study were selected according to their Carnegie Commission classification. Using the most recent classifications doctorate-granting institutions, master’s institutions, and baccalaureate institutions were selected. Within these classifications, institutions were disaggregated according to their historical and predominant student population (historically Black colleges and universities and historically White institutions) and institutional funding (public, private). This matrix resulted in four colleges per Carnegie classification. Given this site selection design, tribal colleges and special focus institutions were ineligible. Twenty-four men enrolled in 4-year colleges and universities were selected to participate in the study. Respondents were African American, traditional college-aged (18-24), and upperclassmen (sophomores, juniors, and seniors). The participants in this study were majoring across a breadth of disciplines, maintained at least a 2.5 grade point average and were involved, or engaged, students in college. This study draws its understanding of engagement from Chickering and Gamson’s (1987) seven principles (i.e., student-faculty contact, cooperation among students) of student activities that reflect “good institutional practice.” Therefore, these activities may include using an institution’s human

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resources, curricular and extracurricular programs or organizations, and other opportunities for learning and development. Data were gathered in face-to-face interviews. Average interview length was more than 2 hours long. Interviews were reviewed for accuracy and then compared against the author’s journals. In general, the interview instrument prompts and protocols were modified as appropriate to inform research questions. Specifically, the interview instrument to gather this data partially included questions from Terenzini and colleagues’ (1994) Transitions to College interview instrument which assessed participant precollege, in-class, and out-of-class experiences in college. Questions from this instrument included: “What is it like for you as a black man getting used to life as a student at (institution)?” and “Are Black men valued here? If no, who is valued? In what ways? If yes, in what ways?” Other questions included “What identities have been significant for you as grew up?” and “Tell me what went into your decisions to go to college?” Additional questions were informed by theory and research around African American male behavior, identity, and manhood development. Grounded theory guided participant selection and initial coding of data. A rigorous coding technique described by Charmaz (2006) was used to keep codes close to data and provide responses to how and why participant experiences were as they described. In addition, phenomenological methods were used to add rigor to the analysis of the interviews. After an initial coding, statements were compared to the research questions to discover “horizons” of spirituality and their interconnections across collegiate spaces (Moustakas, 1994). Last, case study methodologies were elected to draw contextual understandings (historically Black colleges and universities and historically White institutions) with the author drawing heavily on the process of correspondence (Stake, 1995). Stake defines correspondence as the search for patterns or consistency that emerge when data are aggregated. Patterns were grouped per participants, collegiate classification (i.e., Carnegie classification), collegiate funding type (public vs. private), and collegiate context (i.e., historically Black vs. historically White) to display themes that are consistent across these categories. After conducting analysis on each interview, textural-structural descriptions of spiritual identity constructions and collegiate experiences were compiled for each participant. Textural-structural descriptions entail the “whats” and “hows” of experiences (Moustakas, 1994). These descriptions, which captured the themes of each participant’s interview, were e-mailed to participants to serve as vehicles for member-checking. Six study participants were transgressive African American men while two outed themselves as gay. At the discovery of this information, a research question emerged, “How do these men make meaning of themselves as

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multiple identities including gay? How do these meanings influence their college experience and persistence?” All participants who were transgressive responded to additional identity construction questions around manhood, sexual identity, and college experience. The following section entails a representative case of the gay study participants.

Outing the Transgressive Self: Spencer’s Story Spencer is a performer at heart, a singer and a consummate perfectionist who friends would describe as a “crazy man who no one understands when [he] directs a choir”. Spencer’s vocabulary brings to mind words recorded in the Christian biblical canon. For instance, he talks about “the spirit” and about “being evenly yoked” with peers. Spencer moves from obstacle to opportunity, from dream to reality, accomplishing each of his endeavors with ease. No one told Spencer, however, that he was born to experience pain. Embracing identities of African American and gay, however, predestine certain challenges. His mind is a sea of painful memories like the memory of the elementary school teacher who seemed so set on “fixing” him by trying to get him to play basketball with the boys. This, he said, was his introduction to his maleness, a message that his natural movements needed to be “fixed.” Other memories also are ever-present. There were the lies he told his parents in order for them to allow Spencer to pursue music vigorously when they deemed that pursuit, “suspect.” Then there are the pointing fingers, the whispers, the disapproving looks whenever he walks by, the jokes, the piercing sound of the word, “faggot.” And then there was Jesus, always Jesus, who was constantly put in his face as his redeemer and his condemner for his sexual orientation and instincts. Spencer went to church every day of his life as a young boy but could not understand what it meant when church and school told him one identity is wrong but everything else about him (i.e., talent, leadership ability, intellect, personal reliability, and work ethic) are so right. He felt that what was positive about him just had to outweigh the social sanctions. But, apparently, it does not. So everything must be perfect. Nothing must lack. As he moved through his worlds of church, family, school and college, he did so obsessively and compulsively, asking himself all the time “Am I acting too feminine? Is this the standard?” Spencer reached an epiphany during his junior year in college. He reflected, “There are so many negative stereotypes for gay, Black, males… Why? [when] sexuality is nothing more than who you are attracted to and who you sleep with” During our conversation, as Spencer reflected, he looked downward, fidgeting with his dreadlocks, and eventually pulling

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one to rest behind his ear. He began to describe how his fondness for men led to his engagement in same-sex intimacy and how this conflicted with the church and biblical dogma. You know … Christianity is so important to me,” he said as he began to cry: But my issues with this have to be over. It’s too much of a fight…. When you have a good, strong Christian foundation, it’s such a battle [and you’re told] it’s not right because it goes against what’s spiritual but you know in your heart, this is who you are…. I now know [that] who I cannot be negated for anyone…. This is who I am and how I am.”

This central idea was a driving force in Spencer’s decision to “out” his transgressive self in college. When he did this, he also outed his motivational leadership ability—a trait he feels he innately possesses. But perhaps most important for him is that he reached the understanding that one may be Christian, Black, gay, and male all at the same time and that owning these multiple identities is a critical step toward self-actualization. Now in his senior year in college, Spencer says through constant meditation, he has garnered the strength to refuse to accept the intolerant silences for his diverse sexual orientation. Because Spencer elevates his voice, he purported, he is president of his fraternity, a hotbed of orthodox manhood and masculinity. “It was hell coming into this fraternity… I was very nervous … but I don’t wear my sexuality as a broach … and after my first semester in the fraternity [they got to know me].” “People know,” he says, “that when I take control, [the projects] will be right … they know [this] so well, they become frightened.” Spencer suggests that pride in himself pushes others into silence, “No one talks about it. I don’t say [what my sexual orientation is] or wear it on my sleeve. But, if you ask, I’ll tell you. But I never have to [tell others] because no one talks about it.” Thus, Spencer’s manhood heavily embeds notions of resilience and responsibility but also confidence struggles. He says, “You must be confident in what you do and compassionate, a combination of a soft heart and a firm mind … being a Black man … there is no room for sub-par. You must not be afraid to speak out…. The stigma is still on [Black men].” When I asked him how the added labels of Black and gay alter his definition of the phrase, “Be a man.” He replied, Black, gay, man means to be frightened, very frightened, very scared … it’s very negative.” Spencer says that, despite this, he fights against silence in college because it’s the only way he knows to survive. For example, he asserted, “I will speak out against college teachers who [mistreat] me.” He does the same with all others in college. To say nothing, he insisted, takes him backward in the journey to embrace himself.

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Toward Inclusion: Discussion, Implications, and Recommendations Transgressive African American men in college, particularly nonheterosexual ones, are victimized by the hegemonic expectations of their surrounding communities, including African Americans and other African American men. Thus, healthy development of identities is difficult. For instance, Spencer knows his family and counterparts praise him for certain abilities, but he also shared evidence of others’ discomfort around him at best and disdain for him at worse. The nonheterosexual men in this chapter must choose between being “gay” and other identities (i.e., “Black,” “Christian”) and thus walk a balance between cultural authenticity and acceptance in communities that matter to them. Spencer’s story is a data-rich one for understanding transgressive constructions in school and college. Spencer, though terrorized for being gay, improved his social experiences in college primarily through constant meditation and reflection on his ability to win small “battles” in college. Thereafter, he uses social moments in college to act as cultural worker or, in other words, to disrupt stereotypical assumptions about who he is. His story represents one way in which African American men may break through some of the subtle (and not so subtle) pressures that threaten African American men’s development and engagement in college. Simultaneously, Spencer’s words rightfully indict society and the reproduction of stereotypes that he continually struggles to deconstruct. Schools and colleges are settings infected with endorsements of African American men that are patriarchal, hypermasculine and hyper-heterosexual. Thus, because colleges were viewed by study participants as gateways to society, colleges also act complicit in the perpetuation of African American men’s stereotypical understandings of themselves. As reported in diversity research, colleges and universities need to reenvision their work with students as cultural (Brown & Davis, 2000; Dancy, 2010a, 2011a, 2010b). Colleges are not only institutions of higher learning but also cultural spaces. Thus faculty and staff not only “work” but also transfer cultural knowledge, traditions, and values. Colleges and universities should bring together appropriate stakeholders (e.g., administrators, faculty, staff, students, parents) in critical dialogues that expand the meanings that African American males make of themselves, including sexuality. These conversations work to weed cultural tensions and foster inclusive and equitable climates for women and all groups of men. Stereotypes that attempt to locate African American male collegians’ cultural authenticity have no place in college and only fuel the divisiveness that the arbiters of the patriarchal system in America intended.

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Spencer’s words pointed to the potential need for cultural awareness workshops on all campuses to discuss strategies for fostering climates of equity, tolerance and inclusion. Workshop dialogues must consider the intersections of race, gender, sexual orientation, spirituality, skin-color and other consciousnesses. These cultural workshops should be required by institutional policy and held both routinely and as needed with diverse faculty, staff, and student representatives. Thinking about additional identities may inform deeper and more diversified strategies aimed at serving various groups of African American males. These workshops and open dialogues must be at the center of institutional conversations about recruitment, enrollment, retention and persistence strategies. These conversations should occur often to ensure institutional accountability for, and commitment to, serving the needs of ever-changing institutional student populations, particularly males who enroll and graduate from college at dire rates. Colleges are cautioned against engaging African American males as though a monolithic group. As this study demonstrates, some college-going African American males are also transgressive and/or nonheterosexual. Cultural work in higher education involves developing cultural guardians. Cultural guardianship is defined in the literature as advancing professional and personal developments of students by nurturing and protecting respect for different cultural identities (race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, etc.) (Mobley, 2000). Implicated in the notion of cultural guardianship is attention to language usage. The men in this study provided a number of examples of the ways that presumptuous language potentially betrays personnel intentions. Faculty (and all college personnel) need to familiarize themselves with the widespread stereotypical ways in which American society views (non)heterosexual African American men. The intended outcome is that college personnel avoid perpetuating these notions in their thinking and language and shape environments that clarify, tease out and eradicate stereotypes where they reside. In addition, shaping equity pedagogy in class requires embracing communication patterns, norms, teaching, and projects that are culturally sensitive to all African American males. In addition, addressing homophobia involves deconstructing sexism on campus. College personnel and students are in positions to disrupt thinking that women’s and gender studies centers serve women only. First, though, institutions must know the work of these offices and the connectedness of these in the lives of all students will be clear. These centers have the potential to shape the work and career readiness of men by developing the following skills: diversity training, assessing others’ needs, leadership, team-building, creativity, planning, gathering and analyzing information, organizing ideas, writing, self-discipline, and public speaking. In addition,

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center activities and offerings are available in which men may learn more about themselves as gendered beings and gender relations. When possible, student groups and classes should tour these centers to learn more about them. These centers, in turn, may include men by articulating how the centers’ work not only furthers awareness of women’s issues but men’s issues and the intersections of these as well. This fact should be marketed and men enlisted to participate in the office’s efforts. Studies find that men are more inclusive of diverse others when they participate in activities in which they can form relationships (Anderson, 2007; Dancy, 2010a, 2011a). Faculty and student affairs administrators must encourage students to engage with students who are different and to critically reflect on that engagement. Students are encouraged to enter these conversations with intent to understand, not challenge, ridicule, or intimidate. Though faculty members who teach in the STEM fields may not readily identify ways to do this, STEM faculty are positioned to structure group activity where men have opportunities to engage with diverse students and learn about their lives alongside STEM academic content. STEM faculty may also encourage students to participate in activities and enroll in courses which will develop their worldviews. Analysis of Spencer’s interview additionally offers critical fodder for how we theorize about student persistence in higher education. Tinto’s (1994) work suggests that how students perceive the college experience relates to the degree they engage in the social and academic communities of college. Subsequently, negative perceptions of the college experience become predictors of attrition. In other words, students who perceive incongruence between themselves and the institution experience difficulty becoming integrated and are therefore less likely to persist. Tinto details a process in which students navigate through stages of separation, transition, and incorporation. More specifically, students leave the norms of past communities precollege (i.e., family and friends), become exposed to unfamiliar norms, and are incorporated when (and if) they adapt to institutional norms. Once incorporated, according to Tinto, students who experience academic and/or social difficulties face a certain propensity to abandon collegiate persistence despite the odds. The transgressive men’s decisions to persist hold implications for Tinto’s (1994) persistence theory. Study participants’ understandings of themselves as transgressive and/or nonheterosexual men also represent a place from which they persist. Thus, it is possible to remain in college through development of an oppositional identity, one that compels men to persist despite contextual incongruence because that is what men do in general and what transgressive African American men must do. Their persistence reflect unique masculine struggles to escape the stereotypical strongholds of American society. In other words, these men described how

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they located, experienced, but also ignored the misdeeds of their institutions and used college as a means to incorporate themselves into the broader American society, not the institution. While colleges do not represent society in its wholeness, colleges play an important role in the identity development and socialization of transgressive and/or nonheterosexual African American males upon enrollment. Thus, colleges are spaces in which these groups learn to reorganize or reproduce understandings about who they are. Colleges are reminded that their missions not only articulate commitment to teaching and learning for academic outcomes but also shaping students into civically responsible and global citizens. This involves reenvisioning campuses as safe spaces and fostering college students’ ability to think critically about their own development as well as teach and inspire others in similar ways.

NOTE 1.

This chapter uses both of the terms “nonheterosexual” and “gay.” “nonheterosexual” refers to individuals who have sex with both sexes (bisexual) or the same sex but may not hold gay identity. “Gay” refers to men who have internalized the political and cultural identity associated with men who are sexually attracted to men.

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CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS L. W. WATSON AND M. JOHNSON Lemuel W.J.Watson and Joshua Moon Johnson

Higher education espouses values of equality and appreciation for diversity; however, these values can fall short of including faculty and staff who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) identified. Additional challenges with support arise as queer people of color are considered. These faculty and staff members are leaders in the classroom, board room, administrative offices and community organizations, but are often marginalized in their very own campus communities. Regardless of being appointed or paid to be in positions that advocate and serve LGBQT campus populations, LGBTQ faculty and staff take on the responsibility of serving as culturally engaged workers. As culturally engaged workers, LGBTQ faculty and staff mentor newer professionals, remain visible for students and serve as resources to campus communities who lack knowledge about experiences of diverse populations, specifically those from multiple marginalized identities. LGBTQ faculty and staff face microaggressive attacks, microinvalidations, and isolation on a daily basis, which can lead to dissatisfaction with one’s job and possibly retention issues. Those faculty and staff who do openly identify on their campuses and are welcomed often become tokenized and expected to be the spokesperson for all who are not heterosexual or not gender-conforming. As LGBTQ faculty and staff aim to engage a community and work toward equality for themselves and their students; they

Authentic Leadership: An Engaged Discussion of LGBTQ Work as Culturally Relevant, pp. 97–98 Copyright © 2013 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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must receive support from college and university administration. The following strategies should be considered as campuses aim to better serve LGBTQ faculty and staff: • Institute a campus committee that focuses on the climate for LGBTQ students, faculty, and staff. • Provide and widely communicate methods for LGBTQ faculty, staff, and students to report bias incidents, hate crimes, and harassment. • Host social events to welcome LGBTQ faculty and staff in order for them to build networks and community. • During the recruitment process, provide community resources such as LGBTQ-friendly businesses, medical facilities, places of worship, and so on. • Ensure campus nondiscrimination and equal opportunity policies are inclusive of gender identity, gender expression, and sexual orientation. • Provide regular and ongoing training to faculty, staff, and students about gender and sexual diversity. • Examine benefits and ensure they are inclusive of people in samesex relationships as well as transgender people. The resources and support needed to ensure LGBTQ faculty and staff are supported and welcomed on campus are vast; however, the above list is a basic starting point. It is also important to understand the complexity of identity and that no one LGBTQ person’s experience is the same as another’s; the needs of each person varies. Other identity factors greatly affect how LGBTQ faculty and staff are treated and perceive their worlds. A campus with satisfied LGBTQ faculty and staff will, in turn, have a more inclusive campus climate, mentors for LGBTQ students and educators who can prepare all students to better understand social diversity. This variety of narratives shares the experiences and needs of LGBTQ faculty and staff members. Faculty and staff members use their identities to serve students and their campuses culturally engaged workers. Each community is different and each educator engages with their community in a unique approach. Through personal stories, research studies and artistic expression, stories, words, identities, and recommendations, which are too often lost and silenced should be used to empower educators to always engage their communities to provide safe, welcoming, and celebrative communities for all people.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

ABOUT THE AUTHORS THE EDITORS Joshua Moon Johnson is the director of the Resource Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity/Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Services and Women’s Center programs at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Prior to joining UCSB, Dr. Johnson served as an assistant director in housing and dining and residential communities and marketing and public relations at Northern Illinois University (NIU) in addition to serving as the acting director of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender Resource Center. While at NIU, Johnson also served as a teaching assistant for a multicultural education graduate seminar. Prior to joining NIU, Johnson worked in residence life at Binghamton University, State University of New York. Dr. Johnson received a doctorate in higher education and a certificate in LGBT studies from NIU. His dissertation topic was on the experiences of Christian college students in same-sex relationships. Dr. Johnson received a master’s degree in social sciences, student affairs, and diversity at Binghamton University, State University of New York. His thesis was on university services for transgender students. Dr. Johnson also has a master’s degree in marketing analysis from The University of Alabama. He has conducted research in South Korea and the Philippines on social justice and service learning in Asian higher education. Dr. Johnson was a visiting scholar at Sophia University in Tokyo, Japan at the Institute for Comparative Culture. He is an alumnus of the Social Justice Training Institute and has presented regionally and nationally on topics such as media and marginality, queer people of color, multiracial student iden99

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tity, intersections of religion and sexuality, and facilitating dialogues on diversity. He is a trained diversity facilitator and serves as the National Association of Student Personnel Administrators Asian Pacific Islander Concerns Knowledge Community Representative for Southern California and previously for NASPA region IV. Lemuel W. Watson is currently professor and dean at the University of South Carolina; formerly the executive director for the Center for P-20 Engagement and, prior to that, former professor and dean for the College of Education at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, Illinois. He completed his graduate work at Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana. His career spans across various divisions in higher education, faculty and administration, and he has numerous experiences in all types of institutions including 2-year colleges and 4-year institutions, public and private. His research interests include examining educational organizations and how their structures, practices, leaders and policies affect learning, development and outcomes of individuals and communities, especially historically underrepresented groups. In addition, he examines, through critical theory and policy analysis, the impact that sociopolitical and sociocultural factors have on educational organizations and their agents, constituents, resources and operations. Dr. Watson has been a Senior Research Fellow at the C. Houston Center at Clemson University and Research Fellow at the Institute for Southern Studies at University of South Carolina. He is a Fulbright scholar and has written articles and books, and served as editor for several volumes related to educational leadership and administration, human development and higher education. He is a certified master coach by the Behavioral Coaching Institute of Sydney, Australia and a certified trainer through the Center for Entrepreneurial Resources at Ball State University at Muncie, Indiana. In addition, he is a certified systems engineer by Electronic Data Systems Corporation (EDS) of Plano, Texas. Dr. Watson also provides professional opportunities through Watson Consulting Services (lwatsoncs.com).

THE AUTHORS Raja Bhattar, director of LGBT Resource Center at University of California, Los Angeles. T. Elon Dancy II is assistant professor of higher education at The University of Oklahoma in Norman. He joined the OU faculty following faculty appointments at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock and the Univer-

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sity of Arkansas at Pine Bluff. Prior to becoming a professor, Dr. Dancy held various administrative posts in both university advancement and health care settings. His research agenda investigates the experiences and sociocognitive outcomes of college students, particularly related to nexus of race, gender, and culture. Stanley K. Ellis has worked in the capacity of administrator in both the student and academic affairs arenas at several higher education institutions in the Central Arkansas area. His research interests focus on the persistence and retention of African American students and junior faculty members at Black college and university minority serving institution. Francesca G. Giordano is program director for the master’s of arts in counseling psychology, the Family Institute, Northwestern University, Evanston, Illinois. Before joining the Family Institute, she was a full professor in the counseling program at Northern Illinois University. For several years, she also acted in an administrative role as department chair and assistant department chair for the Department of Counseling, Adult and Higher Education at NIU. Darryl B. Holloman serves as assistant vice president for student affairs multicultural programs. Dr. Holloman has worked in student and academic affairs for over 17 years. His research agenda examines how social constructs such as race, parenting, school and community environments influence the access, retention and persistence of minorities within postsecondary settings. Shae Miller, PhD student in Sociology at UC Santa Barbara. Toni R. Tollerud is a professor of counseling in the Department of Counseling, Adult and Higher Education at Northern Illinois University. She holds a Presidential Teaching Professorship. Since 2003 she has completed over 100 workshops on supervision issues across the state of Illinois to meet continuing education requirements. In 2006 she was the recipient of the Illinois Mental Health Counselors Distinguished Service Award and the Illinois Counseling Association Outstanding Research Publication Award.