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Gay asserts that there are dominant cultural ideals and rules, unspoken and ever-changing, about how Black people should be. Black public figures tend to promulgate these unreasonable standards: For example, Bill Cosby and Don Lemon have been notorious in suggesting that Black people could win white acceptance and overcome racism by behaving in certain ways. This phenomenon of respectability politics overlooks institutional racism and places the burden of ending oppression on the shoulders of the oppressed.
For Gay, the better alternative would be for society to allow Black people to be comfortably human. She points out that Black public figures who have achieved success and promulgate respectability politics are rarely willing to help others achieve their level of success. In short, respectability politics cannot end racism because racism doesn’t care about respectability, wealth, education, or status. What is instead required is community support from the bottom up and demands for systemic change.
In 2013, Texas Senator Wendy Davis filibustered a legislative measure trying to close 37 of Texas’s (then) 42 abortion clinics. The filibuster was livestreamed on YouTube, partly because none of the major news networks were covering the story. Gay emphasizes the duality of social media: It can be trivial, but it can also draw attention to significant issues. Gay also posits that the difference between social media and major news outlets is becoming more pronounced. Good journalism requires the kind of time and research that social media doesn’t allow, and it seems that major news networks are not keeping up with the pace at which social media moves.
While smart journalistic perspectives would be helpful, ordinary people have had to turn to Twitter and other social media sites, as well as the Internet as a whole, to do their own research. Gay notes that there have been times when traditional journalism has been useful, such as when the Supreme Court struck down Section 4 of the Voting Rights Act and disenfranchised a significant number of voters, but there have been other times where social media was more useful in informing the public, such as when the Supreme Court overturned the Defense of Marriage Act. She concludes that in the modern age, traditional journalism’s role is to provide grounding and context while social media reminds society to be present and conscientious.
Gay has been thinking about reproductive freedom in the context of widespread national and state debates about abortion and birth control. Men have dominated these debates, seemingly forgetting that women have always protected themselves against unwanted pregnancy. Gay sees the contemporary debates as a ploy to distract the masses from attention to economic issues, the racial climate, the health care system broadly, LGBTQ+ rights, wars, and global threats to humanity’s existence.
Gay asserts that pregnancy is simultaneously a private and public experience, with public intervention ranging from the mild and necessary (such as doctor’s appointments) to the overt and interruptive (such as legislation). Gay points to the various ways that the right to abortion has been contested since it was established in 1973 by Roe v. Wade. For example, several states have required pregnant people to have ultrasounds before abortion procedures, with some states trying to mandate transvaginal ultrasounds. Some states require waiting periods, multiple sonograms, and pre-abortion counseling designed to discourage pregnant people from going through with the abortion. Gay finds the tactics to limit reproductive freedom “invasive, insulting, and condescending” (272), and she asserts that women should have the right to choose what happens to their bodies. She also questions what role doctors play in reinforcing the limitations, given their oath to serve the best interests of their patients.
Gay reiterates that the debates over reproductive freedom are a diversion tactic, but she also emphasizes that they show reproductive freedom is negotiable and therefore not an inalienable right (although she believes it should be and struggles to accept that her body is up for legislative debate). She discusses debates about birth control, saying the current debates are an affront to Margaret Sanger’s legacy and the work she and other women in the early 1900s did to secure the right to contraception. Gay notes that the fight for birth control is directly related to the risk that women face when legal abortion access is limited, which requires them to turn to illegal procedures that put their lives and fertility at risk. Furthermore, birth control gives women the right to choose when (or if) they will assume the responsibility of rearing a child.
Not only do congressional hearings on birth control leave women out, but the public also demands that women justify their decision to use contraception, as if being a sexually active human who doesn’t want to get pregnant is not enough of an explanation. Gay points out that an unspoken fact in the birth control debates is that men don’t want to assume their fair share of responsibility for contraception or subject their own bodies to legislation. In addition, there is profitability in birth control being a women’s matter. Gay ponders starting an underground birth control network, warning that the worst is yet to come.
Gay points out America’s obsession with heroism and the embodiment of ideals that ordinary humans cannot achieve. However, purported heroism is ubiquitous to the point that it is diluted, which Gay believes is a result of people being so cynical about humanity that ordinary, decent human behavior appears “heroic.” She also points out the suffering and sacrifice that heroes face, but she understands why society aspires to heroic status, given that heroes also fight for justice.
Gay considers George Zimmerman’s hero aspirations when he murdered Trayvon Martin. However, she emphasizes that the case is not about heroism but rather race. She points to the irrationality of Zimmerman’s self-defense claim, which relied on attributing superhuman/demonic qualities to Martin as well as the stereotypical association of young Black men with criminality. This brings Gay’s discussion back to the idea of justice and its relation to heroism. She questions whether or not a guilty verdict for Zimmerman would really be justice for Martin. Gay concludes that justice would be overcoming the pervasive cultural belief in superhuman qualities and recognizing that Martin was merely a young boy—that is to say, a human.
Gay asserts that danger does not have a specific look. She points to the discourse around Dzhokhar Tsarnaev as a prime example. His being featured on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine demonstrates that American society holds certain ideas about who looks dangerous and who doesn’t. The accompanying article, written by Janet Reitman, reinforces the idea that he looks like the kind of “normal American teenager” to whom empathy and understanding are afforded (286). For Gay, the discourse exemplifies white privilege, which affords Tsarnaev the retention of humanity and a low threshold for forgiveness.
Gay compares the treatment of Tsarnaev to the treatment of Trayvon Martin. Where people looked for the good and humanity in Tsarnaev in the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombings, people worked overtime to uncover Martin’s failings and demonize him, despite him being the victim. Gay identifies this difference specifically, and the way society sees danger generally, as racial profiling and points to New York’s “stop and frisk” laws as another example. She also cites Katheryn Russel-Brown on how America treats Black people as the repositories for its fear of crime and danger and on how media images reinforce this association. Gay concludes that the Rolling Stone cover indicates that danger cannot in fact be profiled.
In this essay, Gay discusses Paula Deen’s unapologetic racism to make the point that everyone could stand to improve in terms of racism. After Deen was sued by a former employee for workplace harassment, the deposition transcript revealed that Deen regularly engaged in racist behavior, such as using the N-word and making antisemitic jokes. Given that Deen is an older white woman from the Deep South, Gay is baffled by the public’s surprise at the revelations, although she acknowledges that her own lack of surprise reflects her biases and ideas about the South. She sees Deen’s casual racism as an indication of Deen’s cultural conditioning—that is, being surrounded by like-minded people who take racism for granted.
However, Deen’s behavior also defied the unspoken and complex rules of racism—i.e., knowing when, where, and with whom to exhibit racist behavior and how to behave in private and public settings. Gay cites Teju Cole on how the ensuing Internet uproar is really about Deen breaking those unspoken rules. Gay recalls an encounter with her landlord’s receptionist that illustrates the rules of racism in a multiracial context. She explains how the receptionist felt comfortable making racist comments to her about Korean neighbors. While Gay didn’t take the opportunity to educate the receptionist about the inappropriateness of racism, she does wonder why the receptionist felt comfortable displaying that racism to her and what the receptionist might actually have thought of Gay.
Gay discusses Anders Behring Breivik’s murder of eight people in Oslo, Norway, as well as 69 people (mostly teens) on the island of Utoya on the same day. Gay describes the tragedy as so incomprehensible that it tests the limits the language. She notes how the media discourse around Breivik largely expressed disbelief that someone who looked like him could perpetrate such an act, and she points out that the Wikipedia page on Breivik emphasizes his extreme views so as to explain how he could become such an egregious perpetrator. Even the King of Norway chose grace in his public speech on the tragedy. Gay posits that everyone has the capacity to do hurtful things but that the capacity for the scale of harm and how far people will go to assert their beliefs differ. She wonders what Breivik feels, although she admits that she fails to feel compassion for him. At the same time, she doesn’t want him to face the death penalty.
Gay argues that while social media and blogs offer space for the public to grieve collectively, some people use such media to distance themselves from emotional discomfort or to take political stances in the wake of tragic news. Thus, the Internet sometimes costs the public the privilege of time, space, and distance to properly think through, feel, and care about tragedy. An example is how people used social media to create a hierarchy of tragedy and grief in the aftermath of Breivik’s murders, suggesting that Amy Winehouse’s death, which occurred shortly after, was less deserving of people’s grief and compassion. Gay believes that people should understand that tragedy, grief, and compassion are multiple, not finite, and not neat.
Where Gay’s earlier essays deal primarily with artistic renderings of society/culture, Part 4 emphasizes the political structures and ideologies from which those creative renderings emerge. Gay demonstrates that racism and gender oppression are embedded in the political apparatus and thus trickle down into society and culture. There is an emphasis on behavioral guidelines, racial profiling, and reproductive freedom.
Respectability politics, the subject of Essay 29, has been an important motif throughout the text, contributing to the theme of The Burden of Responsibility Placed on Marginalized People. Here, Gay illustrates why respectability politics cannot end oppression, defining the term as “the idea that black (or other marginalized) people simply behave in ‘culturally approved’ ways, that if we mimic the dominant culture, it will be more difficult to suffer the effects of racism” (258). She goes on to argue that respectability politics overlook institutional racism and place responsibility for overcoming racism squarely on the shoulders of the oppressed. Gay also points to the normative standard—that is, whiteness—that respectability politics suggest Black people should aspire to (259). Her emphasis on the standard calls back to her argument that patriarchy is a system of tiered oppression with stratified privilege even within a marginalized group. This explains why public figures like Bill Cosby and Don Lemon are the loudest in promoting normative standards. However, as Gay illustrates with the example of Oprah encountering racism in everyday life, “[r]acism doesn’t care about respectability, wealth, education, or status” (260).
The respectability discussion illustrates that racism involves a complex set of behavioral guidelines and rules, spoken and unspoken, that both in- and out-group members use to police each other and uphold the system. Essay 34, demonstrates that these behavioral guidelines are not limited to the marginalized group. In order for systems of oppression to exist, the dominant group must know how to behave. Gay uses Paula Deen as an example of what happens when someone flouts those guidelines: “The real reason Paula Deen’s in the news is not because she’s racist, but because she broke the unwritten rules about how to be racist” (292). Deen mistakenly thought that her success and wealth would insulate her from public backlash, but contemporary American society does not view overt racism as acceptable, in part because obvious bigotry threatens to expose subtler or more systemic forms of oppression.
Also in this essay, Gay again alludes to the complex and sometimes unexpected stratification that systems of oppression entail. While Black people are typically considered the lowest rung on the racial hierarchy, with certain Asian people occupying a position of “honorary whiteness,” the secretary for Gay’s landlord felt comfortable making a racist comment about Korean tenants to Gay (293). Perhaps in this moment, Gay becomes sufficiently “American” for the secretary to feel some solidarity with her in terms of considering the Korean couple out-group members. The episode also points to stratification within the Asian community; perhaps the secretary would have felt racially closer to the Asian couple if they were Chinese or Japanese. Gay demonstrates her awareness of the complexity and fluidity of racial boundaries and othering when she wonders what the secretary thinks about her, or why she felt comfortable showing her casual racism to Gay (293).
Behavioral guidelines for the dominant group also influence the discourse surrounding criminality. Gay argues that the Tsarnaev cover feature is “a reminder that we have certain cultural notions about who looks dangerous and who does not” (285). She underscores the point in Essay 35 when she notes how the media emphasized Breivik’s appearance and their disbelief that he could carry out the Oslo and Utoya massacre, “expect[ing] the perpetrator of this crime to have brown skin and a Qur’an because we need to believe that there is only one brand of extremism” (295). In both discussions, Gay makes pointed observations about the amount of compassion afforded to these people simply because they are white. The discussions build on the motif of the illusion of safety, with added attention to racial profiling and how American and global society associates Blackness with criminality.
The association is clearest in Essay 32, where Gay discusses how Zimmerman’s defense team resorted to demonizing Martin, making “him into a scary black man we should all fear” (283). The defense strategy was all too successful precisely because of the cultural notion that criminality has a racial profile. Gay connects the injustice of Martin’s death to the state-sanctioned policy of stop and frisk as well as the media “myth of the criminalblackman” (289), suggesting the trickle-down effect of politics and media. In Essay 33, Gay points out that the public and the media used normal teenage behavior as evidence of Martin’s purported criminality, denying his humanity. By contrast, the search for explanation as to why Tsarnaev or Breivik committed such atrocities reflects a desire to understand The Fullness and Complexity of Humanity.
Implicit to the discussion of differential reception and treatment is the idea that victims who fall outside of cultural norms and/or behavioral guidelines somehow deserve the tragedy that they face. Gay suggests a similar dynamic regarding Amy Winehouse’s death. She notes that in the aftermath of Winehouse’s death, the response from the public was overwhelmingly judgmental and insensitive: “[H]ow dare we mourn a singer, an entertainer, a girl-woman who struggled with addiction, as if the life of an addict is somehow less worthy a life, as if we are not entitled to mourn unless the tragedy happens to the right kind of people” (299). The responses to both Martin and Winehouse suggest a severe distortion of empathy that systems of oppression produce and reinforce.
Gay’s awareness of that distortion plays a central role in her discussion of reproductive rights. She posits, “If these politicians can’t prevent women from having abortions, they are certainly going to punish them [. . .] severely, cruelly, unusually for daring to make choices about motherhood, their bodies, and their futures” (271). She points out the cruel tactics, such as multiple ultrasounds and waiting periods, designed to discourage women from going through with the abortion. She also points out the distortion in the way that male politicians loudly and wrongly articulated their views. For example, Pennsylvania governor Tom Corbett “suggested women simply close their eyes during the ultrasound” (272), while Georgia representative Terry England “suggested [. . .] that women should carry stillborn fetuses to term because cows and pigs do it too” (272).
This lack of empathy extends to discussions of contraception. Gay identifies “a bizarre new morality” where simply being sexually active and not wanting to get pregnant is not considered sufficient explanation for why a woman would choose birth control (276). There is also little care for the impact that birth control has on women, which can include affecting their hormones, state of mind, and physical wellbeing. For Gay, this points to men’s refusal “to assume their fair share of responsibility for birth control [. . .] [and] allow their bodies to become a legislative matter” (276). Here, Gay alludes to the burden that women face in a patriarchal society; society expects women to shoulder all the responsibility for avoiding pregnancy even though men are equal contributors. In discussing women’s bodies as a legislative matter and reproductive freedom as an alienable right, Gay again points to The Spectrum of Patriarchy and the trickle-down misogyny that undergirds it.
Central to Gay’s argument is the idea that the legislators advocating for restrictions to reproductive freedom ignore the fact that women have gone (and presumably will go) to dangerous lengths to prevent unwanted pregnancy. This alludes to the moral bankruptcy inherent to patriarchy; there is no care or respect for women’s lives, and presumably whatever danger women face in trying to control their own bodies would be a consequence that they “deserve.” In addition, Gay identifies the debate as a “politically convenient” smoke screen to divert the public’s attention away from economic issues, racial issues, LGBTQ+ issues, and “impending global threats” (268). Again, the suggestion is that patriarchy produces such impoverished empathy for marginalized people that male politicians would sacrifice women’s bodies and lives on the altar of their political careers.
Noting the trickle-down effect, Gay also implicates the media in this callousness. In Essay 30, she points out that so many people were watching Senator Wendy Davis’s filibuster on YouTube because “none of the major news networks, not one, carried or covered the last hours of the filibuster” (262). She notes that MSNBC was not only silent during the last few hours but also reported inaccurately on earlier events (264). The CNN anchor referred to Davis’s filibuster as “odd politics at work” and conveyed a tone of “dismissiveness and negligence” (264). This poverty of coverage is a tacit acceptance of the denial of women’s humanity.
If there is any question of the importance of pop culture, Gay illustrates in Part 4 that it is, in fact, a political concern. She zooms out from specific examples and artistic works to demonstrate why and how her earlier analyses are related to a political structure of oppression.
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