LGBT Acceptance in the Home

Home Life magazine

                            The Simpsons

Traditional Home magazine

House of Leaves - Mark Z Danielewski

Bizarre Foods host Andrew Zimmern

Representative of a Google search on "home."

 Holy Moley, Me-oh-My, you're the apple of my eye
Girl, I've never loved one like you

Man, oh man, you're my best friend,
I scream it to the nothingness
There ain't nothin' that I need

Well, hot & heavy, pumpkin pie,
chocolate candy, Jesus Christ
There ain't nothin' please me more than you

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I'm with you

"Home" lyrics - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

 Many of the examples that I have presented above capture some aspect of the physical, normative home we discussed in class. Magazines focused on the home, as well as television shows and advertisements paint a picture of the idyllic home, a sort of mommy, daddy, two beautiful children and a dog style “perfection” that mainstream American society embraces. We can see this in the depictions of family (see the cover of Home Life, The Simpsons, American Airlines commercial) but also in the physical outline of the home as well. The screenshot above from AMC’s Mad Men depicts the kitchen (always perfectly clean, I should note) as viewed from the living room. The front door to the house leads to the living room after passing through the parlor. Domosh and Seager discuss this traditional home layout in their chapter “Putting Women in Place.” They argue that this home layout characterizes the division of public and private spheres of life, which is a theme that is laced throughout the television series.

Other examples demonstrate a deeper conception of home. For example, the song “Home” by Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros touches on another aspect of home we discussed in class: namely, that home is more than a physical location. This theme comes out strongly in a number of class readings, including “Routes to Home” and “The Everyday Geography of the Homeless in Kansas City.” The authors of these articles, May et al. and Rollinson respectively, detail that in order to properly grasp the complexities of homelessness, it must be understood that home is not just a roof, it is a place of welcoming acceptance, love, and social processes.

 Finally, it is worth noting that not every depiction of home in mainstream American society is of the normative variety. For example, in almost every episode of Bizarre Foods America, host Andrew Zimmern is invited to a family’s home to understand an unusual food way. While most of these people would be considered mainstream Americans, the show depicts a particular aspect of their lives that would not be immediately knowable and represents an alternate geography of home. Similarly, in the novel  House of Leaves, author Mark Z Danielewski creates a home that is literally (and substantially, as the characters gradually learn) larger on the inside than the outside. The structure of the house acts as a metaphor for, and directly parallels, the secrets the family members keep from each other, and represents that while love and acceptance are important aspects of home, it is an eminently private place.

The goal of this ad campaign will be to raise awareness of LGBT rights and acceptance. Hunter (2008) demonstrates that a number of LGBT teens are kicked out of their homes because of their sexual preferences or transgendered identities. He tells a heart breaking story of what can happen when a caring home is not provide for these under privileged youth:

Eighteen-year-old Kelly R.¹ was homeless. At the age of sixteen, her parents kicked her out of her home because she is transgender. Subsequently, she ran away from the group home in which she had been placed by the Administration for Children’s Services. When the weather got too cold for her to sleep outside and she could not earn enough money from prostitution to rent a hotel room, she stayed at a large emergency youth housing facility in lower Manhattan. The staff regularly forced her to bathe in an open showering facility with the shelter’s male occupants. One day in the shower, a group of these males attacked her. They beat her against the cement floor until her entire body was inflamed with contusions. They did not stop until her jaw was ripped from her face. This all occurred with staff present. This actually happened to a transgender girl in 2002.² Sadly, similar acts of violence against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) youth in emergency and transitional housing programs for homeless youth are very common.³

This is an affront to the equality that Americans profess to care so deeply for, and even more critically a shocking statement of how closed mindedness affects the very foundation of families. Every parent claims to wish nothing but the best for their child, suggesting that this issue should be nonexistent. It isn’t. Self-examination is required for anyone who wants the best for their children but denies them the comfort, love, and acceptance of home simply because they are different from themselves. This campaign will target parents whose own ideals prevent them from providing a home for their children.

While it is easy and certainly important to examine this issue as a problem regarding homelessness, I believe it is more important to target the issue where it begins: the home. Ideally, this campaign would do a number of things. I would first like to target magazines such as the ones I describes above. While the majority of Americans likely find this idea of home to be just what they want, it also contributes to the notion that anything else is unacceptable, so I would like to encourage writers for these magazines to include in their stories homes that are made not only of the “normal” heterosexual couple with heterosexual children, but also stories of parents who embrace, love, and care for their LGBT children, or are in fact LGBT themselves. Perhaps this would encourage those who read these magazines to think more critically about what home can truly mean.

However, this is likely an unrealistic goal. If the Ad Council were the only group to fund this campaign, television commercials would be used to get the message across. The Ad Council’s commercials are often very simple and visually striking. My commercials would be the same, perhaps depicting parents accepting and reassuring a coming-out teenager. In lieu of a commercial, I have constructed a poster using Adobe Illustrator:

 

Religious Markers and Nevigation Through Public Space

We chose for our marker a religious symbol not commonly seen in Athens, or indeed in public almost anywhere we've ever experienced. The yarmulke, or kippah, is a small cap worn most often by Jewish men in order to keep their head covered, usually in religious buildings and much more rarely in public space. We chose this marker because we believe that most people would recognize it instantly, yet also have very little experience in public spaces interacting with people wearing them.

A stack of yarmulkes

The spatial boundaries created by our marker were interpersonal, as people we passed often averted their eyes or, alternatively, stared. For instance, when we spent a few minutes in the Alden Library, a student sitting near us would constantly glance and stare at us, then avert his eyes when we returned the glance. It seemed as if we were a spectacle to him, as this was almost certainly the first time he’d seen someone with a yarmulke in the library. As a second example, as Ken sat on the gunless Civil War monument on the college green, playing with stranger’s dog, the owner would not acknowledge him.

Ken being ignored

 Ken greeted them, but they didn’t say anything in return and refused to engage him, suggesting that they were either uncomfortable or unsure of how to act around him. Finally, a third example for which people’s behavior created a boundary was when we entered the Campus Bookstore. In this instance a large group of girls was browsing in the t-shirt section while the three of us split up throughout the store. Rich made the point of walking in their direction in order to gauge their reaction. He noticed that they stared on several occasions and when he left he heard them giggling. These reactions made us feel out of place while we may not have felt that way had we been unmarked. We did not feel unwelcome in any official sense, but we were less comfortable than we would have been normally. For all of these instances it is clearly impossible to know for sure if their reactions were based on our marker, but it is not unreasonable to assume that it influenced their behavior.

Proudly displaying our yarmulkes

The reactions of the unmarked to us in public spaces varied by location. When we were out in the open, playing football and throwing a Frisbee, people frequently regarded us with curiosity. This would be a pretty atypical sight in Athens, as we can personally say that we have never seen anyone in this town where a yarmulke in public. Further compounding upon the “weirdness” of the situation was our own behavior in public. In this case we were have fun and recreating, which is certainly not the behavior people would expect of someone wearing a religious symbol outside of a place where it’s typically worn, like a synagogue. Ken’s girlfriend Ari was kind enough to accompany us and be our photographer, and when she met us on the college green she saw a woman taking a picture of us. We didn’t notice because our backs were turned (making our yarmulkes clearly visible, we might add), but according to Ari it was incredibly obvious that she was taking our picture. Another example on the opposite end of the spectrum occurred at Tony’s bar. The bartender seemed to smirk, again likely because buying a drink is not typical behavior of someone wearing a yarmulke. However, we also felt as though he could “see through” us, realizing that we were probably not Jewish. The reason we think this is that when we entered the bar we asked what the cheapest drinks available were, completely forgetting many of the stereotypes associated with Jewish people regarding money. In this instance, we unwittingly perpetuated a stereotype that the bartender likely had and clearly recognized, which led us to believe that he caught on to the act. 

The Smiling Skull: wearing our yarmulkes where we probably shouldn't

In order to navigate public space while refusing to remove our yarmulke, we would have to be hyper aware of the stereotypes associated with our group. Largely, these stereotypes exist in regards to money management and frugality and are often perceived to be negative. So if we refused to remove the yarmulke, we would be much more selective about the places we could actually go. For example, most Jewish people would likely remove the Yarmulke before entering a bar, for reasons related to both the out group and in group. What we mean by this is that we would need to be conscious about the perceptions of our own group and where they would “allow” us to go while wearing the yarmulke. Clearly it’s inappropriate to wear it into a bar from the perspectives of both the Jewish in-group and the rest of the public out-group. In our case, it’s not simply a matter of understanding the embodiment of Jewish people in relation to others, but to the Jewish group as well. We worried about offending any actual Jewish people we met throughout the project due to our actions, behavior, or presence in places we might not be “allowed”, and we believe it’s not unreasonable to think that other Jewish people wearing their yarmulkes in public would think about these same issues.

To conclude, we'll leave the readers with our individual experiences upon our departure from the group:

Rich:

After our four-hour excursion trotting around uptown Athens wearing yarmulkes, we all split up and went our separate ways. My car was still at Clippinger Hall so I hiked back there to retrieve it. Although I felt more uneasy walking alone then when I was with Zach and Ken, the walk to Clipp was too short to suffice as my individual contribution to this project. Needing gas, I decided that the Speedy gas station on East State Street would be a good spot to conduct my individual portion of this project. While there, I definitely felt more as an outsider inside the store then when I was pumping gas outside. In the store, it was apparent that I was being looked at from a judgmental standpoint. Some people were blatantly starring at me while others would avoid me completely. In regards to the readings from the beginning of the semester, I found the West Hollywood article by Forest to be a good fit for my individual experience. In this article, he explains “the symbolic element is especially important to the normative importance of place because morally valued ways of life are often created, shaped, and reinforced through the construction of real and imagined places.” In a sense, he suggests that the “moral-normatively valued” public space is unmarked by alternative embodiments. While being in a public space like the Speedy gas station, which isn’t marked by religious symbols, I really felt out of place and generally uneasy. 

Zach:

After parting ways I walked home while wearing our corporeal marker and felt much more out of place than I had in the group. I feel as though it was much easier to feel comfortable or supported when we were together wearing the yarmulkes than it was when we were apart. By the end of our time together I had almost forgotten I had it, or at least grown accustomed to it, but that went out the window on my walk home. Hansen and Philo discuss how people with alternative embodiments feel separated and uncomfortable in space that is “designed” for people who fall into the normative category. After my walk home separate from my group, I can certainly say that I understand what they mean. In the public space outside of my home it’s an unwritten rule that these types of religious markers should probably not be worn, and I would likely have felt even more uncomfortable if I had actually belonged to that group. Regardless, by embodying the group I stood out in public and was noticeably different from everyone around me. If that doesn’t make a person hyper aware of themselves, I don’t know what does.  

Ken:

There were dramatic differences from when I was with Zach and Rich and when I was wearing the corporeal marker by myself. First of all, I wore my marker two times without the group: the first time was on the walk home and the second time was on a ride the following morning. 

On the walk home, I was not completely alone.  My girlfriend had been following us all day and was taking picture and videos along the way.  On the way home, we had several people stare blankly at us.  This is a normal occurrence; even though we are the same age, I appear to be drastically older than her.  In public space we often see people stare at us as if we are some sort of freaky couple, such as where the older scraggly-bearded guy has picked up some young high-school age girl (people often ask what her age is), which is not generally accepted in society.  My corporeal marker only added to this; now I was an older looking scraggly-bearded Jewish man who was accompanied by a younger-looking girl.  Several people flat out stared at us as we walked by. My right to express out relationship in public space (Bailey et al 2010)- even through something as simple as hand holding- was increasingly limited as we felt stares from passing pedestrians.  I obviously was not as worried about the situation since I understood that my yarmulke was not a true expression of my faith, but it was a noticeable and uncomfortable thing.  When I was in my group, however, such feeling did not cross my mind.

The next morning I went to meet some friends from the OU mountain biking club to ride.  This was the first day of the year that anyone has been able to show up without winter apparel such as hats or long clothing.  I was the last one of the group to show up so everyone’s attention was focused on me as I, outfitted in skin tight spandex and little else, exited my car with my yarmulke on.  The people who did not know me well silently stared, while the others began to comment.  “What the f@#$, you never told me you were a jew,” or “how does that thing work with your helmet” were amongst some of the more appropriate comments they made that I can post on this blog.  However, I could not keep up the act; everyone quickly called me out on it and my corporeal marker was exposed.  The marker, as a religious symbol, was so uncommon in this type of public space that it was instantly condemned as being “out of the ordinary.”  I don’t think that anyone would have been as quick to judge me verbally if I was in a group though.  My corporeal marker gave way to a wide variety of stereotypes that fellow riders immediately applied to the situation and I feel that this was largely because of my atypical appearance in this type of space.

Navigating through public space, either in a group or alone, posed challenges with my corporeal marker.  Although no one excluded me (or the group) in explicit verbal ways, the instances arose through more passive-aggressive behaviors such as staring or smirking.  By inhibiting spaces that may or may not have been socially acceptable to exhibit our religious markers, we all found that subtle spatial injustices did occur. The right to express yourself in space is not equal for all peoples in certain places (Bailey et al 2010). For us, this was more true in places such as Tony’s or the Smiling Skull where religious expression through a corporeal marker is not the most typical thing that happens.