This post has been a long time in the procrastinating, because this is a difficult topic and these are some dirty sheets, but I wanted to comment on Hugo’s reference to the racial demographics of his marriage and his attendance roster. It was–it was!–a variant on the tired old “Some of my best friends are…” non-argument:
FYI, I teach at an 80% non-white college and am married to a woman who is of mixed African and Latin heritage; not a guarantor of my progressive bona fides by any means, but part of a larger picture
I’d like to share my own experience with this kind of reasoning. Before I tell my story, I would like to offer a few disclaimers. First of all, this is not meant to imply that I can empathize with or even identify other similar examples, or even that I myself have any idea of what friendship means. Second, this is a minor instance of the things that can be done in the name of friendship–for example, no one’s dead. Third, I am talking dynamics, not comparing scars.
So there’s this guy who fucks transguys.
Wait, no, that’s a mean thing to say. He makes friends with transguys. He makes friends with as many of them as he possibly can. He attends every support group, every meeting, every event, every party built around transguys. He joins every community and organization focused on transguys, on- and offline. He courts them everywhere he finds them. If you have a pulse and a mangina, he wants to make friends with you. Every transguy in the area knows about him. Many of them have slept with him or been propositioned by him. The transguys he has slept with have nothing in common besides that and their possession of both a pulse and a mangina. I take that back: they also tend to be newly-out and much younger than him.
I should say before I continue that this guy isn’t just one guy. There are actually several very prominent and many more less-ambitious tranny-befrienders out there, guys and gals. But for the sake of simplicity, I’m gonna stick with “this guy.” Think of him as an archetype.
So this guy doesn’t call himself a transguy-fucker, or a trannychaser, or even a “transsensual” (“trannychaser who’s sick and tired of being called a ‘trannychaser'”). He calls himself an ally. An activist. He doesn’t just want to make friends with every member of the transmasculine community. He thinks he is a friend to the transmasculine community. Why? Well, he fucks us. His “activism” consists of trying to get us to give him blowjobs. He shows up at meetings because he wants us to give him blowjobs. He marches in our parades because he wants us to give him blowjobs. He’s conversant with trans theory because he wants us to give him blowjobs. His committment to ending transphobia is incidental to getting blowjobs, except when it is a valuable strategy in his quest for blowjobs.
He’s not terribly interesting, attractive, or good, but lots of transguys sleep with him. He’s right there, after all, and ready to go. I think that he’s also attractive because some younger transguys may think that they don’t have the opportunity for anything else. He’s happy to exploit this belief. He’d be an opportunist, if he weren’t a friend.
Transguys cannot question him. They cannot ask him whether or not he is just in it for the blowjobs–because he does spend a lot of time arranging blowjobs. They cannot ask whether it’s okay to use support groups to trick. They cannot ask whether his love for transguys might more properly be called a fetish. They cannot feel ooged-out or threatened. They cannot want his friendly ass out of their space. If they’re uncomfortable, they must be–wait for it–transphobic! If they’d really rather not fuck him, even, they’re transphobic! They must have problems with their sexuality, with their bodies, with themselves. And if they complain about him, he replies as follows: “Don’t be ridiculous! I love transguys! I had sex with one just last night!” And, really, how do you argue with that?
And whenever anyone complains about this or worse treatment, some transguy will pop up and say, “Wait! We shouldn’t complain! We need all the friendship we can get! We’re lucky to have someone who wants to be our friend!” Handy for his purposes, isn’t it?
His best friends are transguys. His very best friends are transguys. We know he’s a friend to us, because he says so. And because he’s a friend to us, he can’t possibly be using us.
I am not saying that Hugo is this guy because he said that his actual best friend for life happened to be a woman of color, or that so many of his students have been. I do not even mean to pick on Hugo in particular. I am explaining why friends and allies do not award themselves those titles. I am providing one example–a really minor example–of how completely fucking meaningless “friendship” can be. I am showing you how wholly perverted it can become and still fail to lodge like a curse in the throats of people like this guy. (In fact, “friend” is so damn meaningless we don’t even use it anymore. We had to create a whole new word, “ally,” which is quickly becoming just as weak.)
This guy is the larger picture. This guy is the person you evoke when you tell people that you make friends with people like them. This guy is the person you become when you use the acceptance of certain group members to contradict the discomfort of certain others.* This guy is the person you become when you tell people that they don’t know who their real friends are.
*And why is a complaint meaningless without the force of unanimous community agreement behind it?