This year, Standing Against Discrimination was the theme for Singapore’s annual Pink Dot rally for LGBTQ rights. So it felt like an appropriate time to pen down some thoughts on homophobia I’ve been having for a while, and how I’ve come to understand its connection to transphobia, to sexism, and to misogyny. Of course, that these oppressions are related, or that they intersect, is something already taken for granted by the feminist anti-racist left, and by liberal (post-)millennials more broadly. But I want to go further than that — I want to point out that if we understand these oppressions in a certain way, then we will see that these oppressions are fundamentally the same, that homophobia is transphobia is sexism is misogyny.
Now, this might seem like a strong assertion, so let me be a little more precise: By equating these terms, I do not mean that they share the same everyday meaning — they obviously do not. Rather, I want to argue that they share the same root, the same ontological basis. And that basis, as I understand it, is misogyny: the prejudice against and oppression of anyone or anything associated with femaleness, womanhood, and/or femininity. This is not a new idea — if you’re already familiar with queer and trans feminism, you’ve probably heard some version of this argument already (e.g., from Julia Serano). But if you’re not, it might appear quite a conceptual leap. So before breaking things down, let me be clear about what I’m not trying to say.
I am not saying that being queer is the same as being trans is the same as being a woman — each of those experiences is very different, and importantly so. Nor am I saying that this is only way of understanding the relationship between these oppressions, or even of defining them — when it comes to political concepts like ‘homophobia’ or ‘sexism’, the truth is that which is useful, and I just hope to offer something useful. Finally, I’m not trying to extend this equivalence beyond the present moment in global history — there are times and places in history with plenty of sexism, but not homophobia as it operates today.
But right here, right now, if we accept a certain (useful) way of defining these terms, then it is true that homophobia is transphobia, that transphobia is sexism, and that sexism is misogyny. Recognizing these truths shows us not just the pragmatic importance of queer, trans, and feminist solidarity, but that this solidarity is, in a certain sense, logically and morally necessary. To act otherwise would be to commit hypocrisy. So with all that in mind, let’s take things step by step.
Homophobia is transphobia
“You’re a boy, aren’t you? So how can you like other boys? You’re a girl, aren’t you? So how can you like other girls?”
Given how the fight for LGBTQ rights has evolved over the past few decades, it is understandable that many observers see the fight against transphobia as relatively new, compared to the fight against homophobia. Taking this narrative for granted, one might then come to see transphobia as somehow additional, or derivative to, homophobia.
But even setting aside the flaws of that narrative — let us not forget that it was trans women who threw the first bricks at Stonewall, and that the line between gay and trans is not always clear in the self-understanding of queer people (especially outside of the West)—I want to argue that this gets the order wrong. Rather homophobia is a form of transphobia, because transphobia — in the broad sense I prefer to understand it — is the hatred and prejudice against not conforming to the gender role assigned or perceived by society. And, in the eyes of mainstream society, same-gender attraction is a particularly egregious form of gender non-conformity.
Just think about the children. You’re a boy, aren’t you? So how can you like other boys? You’re a girl, aren’t you? So how can you like other girls? When LGBTQ youth are bullied by their parents or peers, they almost inevitably face these questions. They are policed for failing to conform to the default heterosexual gender norm, and this failure is quickly associated with other forms of gender non-conformity — gay boys are punished for being “sissies”, even if they aren’t feminine, while gay girls are punished for being “tomboys”, even if they aren’t masculine. They are, in other words, subject to transphobia. Homophobia is transphobia, because in today’s society, to be perceived as a man who desires men, or a woman who desires women, is to be perceived as a violator of acceptable gender roles.
Of course, with the success of LGB activism in the past few decades, there has been an increase in acceptance for men who love men, and for women who love women. And so, in places where gay acceptance has progressed ahead of trans acceptance, and people have learned to see sexuality as separate from gender, it might be more accurate to say that homophobia was transphobia, at least to some extent. So it is that we now have figures like Milo Yiannopoulos, a virulently transphobic gay man.
This is a cautionary tale, because it shows the pitfalls of trying to separate gender from sexuality too cleanly, even though that distinction is often useful — it leads one to forget that homophobia has long been rooted in the hatred of gender non-conformity. Indeed, forcing a split between sexuality and gender was precisely the political strategy used by white, “respectable”, cis gay men (and women) in the US to advance their rights, at the expense of everyone who was gender non-conforming or trans. Here in Singapore, where the struggles for both queer and trans liberation are nowhere near over, let us not make that mistake. Let us tackle the problem at its root. Let us end homophobia by ending transphobia.
Transphobia is sexism
Discrimination on the basis of gender identity is discrimination on the basis of sex.
But if we understand transphobia as the hatred and oppression of anyone who fails to conform to the gender role mandated for them by society, then what is transphobia other than sexism? For sexism, at least from one point of view, is the prejudice against and oppression of anyone on the basis of their presumed role in sexual reproduction — their presumed sexual physiology, anatomy, genetics, etcetera, but also the roles and functions that are presumed to be attached to those “biological” phenomena. Since society mandates gender roles on the basis of presumed sexual biology, and since people are oppressed for failing to conform to those gender roles, transphobia is a form of sexism.
This is why, despite being a trans person myself, I am not entirely a fan of the language in anti-discrimination ordinances that list ‘gender identity’ alongside ‘sex’ as protected categories. Discrimination on the basis of gender identity is discrimination on the basis of sex, so it feels redundant to list both, as if they were entirely separate categories of being. To me, listing them separately betrays a failure to grasp the tight connection between transphobia and sexism, and perhaps even perpetuates the idea that ‘gender identity’ is new and fictional, while ‘sex’ is original and real. This makes it all the more easy to pit the rights of trans people against the rights of (cis) women, who are now framed by both Western conservatives and trans-exclusionary feminists as the ‘traditional’ and ‘legitimate’ victims of sexism.
These trans-exclusionary framings of sexism arise, I think, because of a failure to recognize the multiple ways in which sex-based oppression can manifest. One way such oppression manifests — which I shall call gender classism — is when the gender roles associated with sexual reproduction systemically disadvantage a class of people. Women, trans or cis, are the paradigmatic class here— and the only class (once trans women are erroneously excluded) recognized as disadvantaged by trans-exclusionary feminists. But really, gender classism also applies to other sex-based social classes who are (or were) recognized but marginalized, such as the hijra of India, or the eunuchs of Imperial China and Korea.
Furthermore, gender classism doesn’t fully account for the sex-based oppression that punishes people for attempting to transcend or contest the roles assigned to them based on their presumed sex. This manifestation of sexism, rather, is gender essentialism — the belief, and the enforcement of the belief, that certain forms of sexual biology necessarily imply certain social roles. And under the broad definition of transphobia that I’ve been using, gender essentialism is synonymous with transphobia.
Once we recognize this fact, then there is really no need to talk about gender identity in order to protect trans and gender non-conforming people — indeed, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission in the US has argued as such. All we need to root out is gender essentialism: to prevent discrimination on the basis that someone ought to act or dress or identify a certain way because of their presumed “biological sex” or “legal sex” — to prevent discrimination on the basis of sex, in other words. No doubt, adding ‘gender identity’ to lists of protected categories has practical benefits — it guards against misinterpretations of the law by transphobes. But instead of listing ‘sex’ and ‘gender identity’ as separate categories, I would still prefer that the ordinances read: ‘sex/gender, including gender identity’, lest people forget that transphobia is none other than sexism.
Sexism is misogyny
A gay man is hated not for being a man, but his association with femininity. A gay woman is hated not for her association with masculinity, but for daring to aspire to it as a woman.
To understand sexism as simply oppression based on one’s presumed sex role, however, is to miss a crucial feature of how sexism operates today. Sexism today is not misandry — the hatred of manhood, maleness, and masculinity — despite what “men’s rights activists” might think. Nor does it target all gendered ways of being equally. No, sexism today is misogyny — the hatred and oppression of anyone associated with womanhood, femaleness, or femininity. And to the extent that even cisgender heterosexual men are oppressed by sexism — because on my view, men can and do oppress themselves — it is because misogyny teaches them to reject and suppress the aspects of themselves that might be deemed feminine in the slightest.
The misogyny inherent to sexism becomes even more apparent if we look at how it manifests in homophobia and transphobia. A gay man is hated not for being a man, but his association with femininity. A gay woman is hated not for her association with masculinity, but for daring to aspire to it as a woman. A trans man, if he is read as trans, is oppressed not for his masculinity or manhood, but because of other’s perception of him as a “female” transgressor. A trans woman, if she is read as trans, is oppressed not because others might perceive her body as “male”, but for her defiant embodiment of femininity and womanhood. In each case, people are punished for mixing “gender essences”, but not because one of those “essences” is manhood, maleness, or masculinity. Rather, it is womanhood, femaleness, and femininity that are considered the inferior, the deficient, the taint.
Unfortunately, not everyone who is queer, trans, a woman, or even a feminist seems to recognize the misogyny inherent to contemporary homophobia and transphobia. Gay men often engage in femmephobia — prejudice against femininity and femme identity — as do queer women. Both trans men and trans women struggle during transition with the misogyny they imbibe from the culture around them. Women, whether cis or trans, can reproduce internalized sexism. And then there are trans-exclusionary feminists, who, in failing to realize that trans women are also victims of misogyny, engage in misogyny of their own.
All of this is why I felt compelled to write this piece. Despite the unified banner implied by the LGBTQ acronym, and despite most feminists being queer and trans inclusive, there continue to be fractures and oppressions internal to our movements and communities. And I fear that this, at least in part, is due to the perception that our struggles against oppression are merely similar, rather than fundamentally shared. So, without ignoring the differences in our experiences, let us recognize instead that homophobia is a form of transphobia, that transphobia is a form of sexism, and that sexism manifests as misogyny. If we oppose one of them, we should oppose all of them.
We could choose, of course, to ignore this. Even as a queer non-binary trans woman, I could choose to ignore the connectedness of the oppressions I face, and how they affect each and everyone one of us. I could choose instead to focus only on the struggles that most directly affect myself. But that would make me a hypocrite. And I am not interested in being a hypocrite. Twenty-two years ago, another queer non-binary trans woman put it best:
“I have no interest in being part of a transgender or transsexual movement whose sole purpose is to belly up to the Big Table and help ourselves to yet another serving of identity Pie, leaving in our wake some other, more marginalized group to carry on its own struggle alone. What I am interested in is the original cultural gesture to regulate and contain what your body and mine can mean, or say, or do.
The point of a gender liberation movement for me … is also about the seventeen-year-old Midwestern cheerleader whose health is destroyed by anorexia because ‘real women’ are supposed to be preternaturally thin.
It’s about the forty-six-year-old Joe Six-pack who wraps his car around a crowded school bus on the way home from the bar because ‘real men’ are supposed to be heavy drinkers.
It’s about the unathletic and fat little boy who’s physically attacked by his classmates everyday after school.
It’s about the two lesbian lovers stalked and killed on the Appalachian trail in Virginia.
It’s about the aging body succumbing to an unnecessary hysterectomy because certain kinds of gendered bodies simply don’t matter as much.
And it’s about the sensitive, straight young man who is repeatedly raped his first year in prison because, within that environment, he’s received as genderqueer, genderdifferent, or simply gendervulnerable.”
