[âRespectability politicsâ refers to attempts by marginalized groups to garner acceptance by convincing the dominant majority that they too are ânormalâ and therefore worthy of respect. We saw this happen with the mainstream gay rights movement over the last half century, as activists and organizations worked to shift the public discourse away from the âdisreputableâ topic of sexuality, and toward more ârespectableâ issues, such as marriage, adoption, and military service. This respectability strategy is perhaps best captured in the popular slogan âWeâre just like you, except for our sexual orientation.â
Notably, this slogan does not call for straight people to accept queerness per se, nor does it claim that all queer people deserve to be treated with respect. Rather, it implies that there are ârespectableâ people and âdisreputableâ ones, and that the âweâ in âweâre just like youâ deserve to be in the former category.
Of course, in a society where many people are deemed âdisreputableâ because of their race, class, disability, or other traits, these appeals to respectability failed many multiply marginalized queer people. Furthermore, queer subpopulations who were viewed as particularly âdisreputableâ at the timeâsuch as bisexual and transgender peopleâwere often explicitly excluded from the movement over concerns that we might âhold backâ the progress of gay and lesbian people. In other words, respectability politics always leaves behind the most marginalized, as well as the most sexualized, segments of any minority group. For these reasons, many contemporary queer activists are opposed to recycling this strategy.
âContagiousness politicsâ is a term of my own making, and it refers to attempts to placate the dominant majorityâs fears that they might become âinfectedâ or âcontaminatedâ by a particular marginalized group. For LGBTQIA+ people, such fears have typically centered on the assumption that straight people can be âturned queerâ via interacting with us. Perhaps the most effective contagiousness-politics slogan of the gay rights movement was âweâre born that way.â There have been extensive debates about this slogan, with some queer people expressing concerns that âborn that wayâ suggests that we must suffer from some kind of âbirth defect.â Others are concerned that the phrase implies that no one would willingly choose to be queer, and/or that it erases some individualsâ experiences with shifts in identity or gender/sexual fluidity. While I agree that the slogan fails to capture many intricacies regarding how queer people come to be, I believe its effectiveness lies largely in its ability to allay straight peopleâs fears of contagiousness. After all, if people are âborn queer,â then that means that straight people canât âcatchâ it from us.
There is another gay rightsâera message that has received considerably less attention but seems to have served a similar purpose. Namely, lesbians and gay men would often assure straight people that they were not sexually interested in them. They would point out that gay men are attracted to other gay men, and lesbians to other lesbians, and they meet one another in queer-specific settings, such as gay bars or m4m/f4f dating sites. These messages seemed designed to convince straight people that they need not âpanicâ about being âseducedâ by a queer person.
While the notion that queer and straight people inhabit entirely separate dating pools may hold true for exclusively lesbian and gay people, it doesnât necessarily apply to other gender and sexual minorities. Bisexuals are attracted to people across multiple genders, trans and intersex people vary in our sexual orientations, and so on. In fact, this âseparate dating poolsâ message insinuates that it would be a bad thing if a queer person were to take an interest in a straight person, or vice versa. Such flawed messaging helped to create the apparent paradox that we now find ourselves in, where the straight majority openly accepts people who are in same-sex relationships, while simultaneously harboring fears of âsexual deceptionâ and being âcontaminatedâ by queerness themselves.â]
julia serano, from sexed up: how society sexualizes us, and how we can fight back, 2022