I found this weeks three readings interesting for the ways in which they highlighted how I interact with my privilege and oppression and the way those two things intersect. While I’m aware that I carry a lot of privilege as an able-bodied white male with a fair amount of class privilege as well, I rarely consider the ways in which I am privileged unless I am confronted with them. For instance as a former dancer, I have had to use a wheelchair as I recuperated from an injury. Immediately I was aware of the ways in which cities, public transportation, commercial and residential real estate are not made for the physically challenged. I never have to consider my physically ability in considering where I live. Misty Copeland helped me recognize the tremendous amount of privilege I have as white ballet dancer. The most obvious, and what I feel Misty has been instrumental in drawing attention to, is representation. I have never had took look hard to find myself represented at all levels of the ballet world. That said, my gender was also always represented in all levels of the ballet world, as there is definitely a disproportionate number of men represented in post-ballet careers from teaching to artistic directorship, with many companies only recently making an effort to diversify those positions. I transitioned into video production after I retired from ballet, which was also a male dominated space, for which my gender was definitely a considerable benefit to me. Across all of this, I have had the benefit of my class privilege. From allowing my family to afford my ballet training from a young age, to having the safety net of their support as I start my career in what is not a very high paying profession, and as I transitioned into a new career and was alleviate of some of the burden of worrying about how I would provide for myself, allowing me to take a chance and make some missteps as I approached a new career. I would say that has been a privilege I have been confronted with a lot in these past few years, career transitioning, making it through the pandemic, and now entering into school, while I have fully supported myself since the age of 19, just having that safety net, knowing help was there if I needed it, has allowed me to pursue avenues and take chances that I might otherwise have not been able to.

As for oppression, I would say that my sexual orientation is the most identifiable source for me. Growing up as a young gay man, I rarely saw myself represented in the media, if at all. As gays did gain representation, we were frequently depicted as the funny friend, prohibited from having a full complex personality, or being the main character. If there ever was a story centered on us, it is frequently depicting some trauma of our existence, from being disowned by our families, to facing bullying and hate crimes, to the loss of a generation of gay men to the AIDS crisis. The message has been repeated over and over again that life as a gay man is a life of suffering. While I understand that maybe the goals of these depictions are to humanize us and allow people to empathize with us, I think we might benefit more from depictions of us living full complete lives. I think we would benefit both from within and without our community. To not have our traumas compounded and reinforced, and to allow people to view us as whole, because to view us only through our trauma somewhat allows us to inhabit a place that is less than for those who don’t have the opportunity to see the other side of it. I try to be selective in choosing health care providers to have someone who is knowledgeable about my community. Even still I have had doctors on two occasions suggest that a cold or infection may actually be an indication that I had contracted HIV, despite the fact that as a white gay man on PrEP (preventative HIV medication) I am actually very unlikely to do so compared with other demographics, but still that stigma continues. I cannot donate blood or sperm, a sanction which carries with it the implication that I am somehow tainted. I was with my husband for twelve years, though it was seven years into our relationship that we were even allowed to legally get married in Florida where we lived at the time. Who I love and the ways in which I am able to express that have been, and continue to be, up for debate. I have been called a faggot enough times in my life to fear public displays of affection with my partner. That same fear comes into account when considering late night subway rides home, or the bars that I frequent, the neighborhoods and cities in which I live, and the places I feel comfortable traveling. I am fortunate in my adult life to have only faced slurs and verbal abuse and never have that escalate to physical attacks, though some of my friends have not been so lucky. I have created a very sheltered life for myself. Most of my friends are gay, I live in a gay neighborhood, on rare occasion do I go to a non-gay gar, I travel to gay friendly destinations. Do I have to limit the scope of my life in this way? No. But I do so to feel comfortable and safe and to live my life in a way where I do not have to give consideration to or regulate my gayness.

Within my oppression I still carry a tremendous amount of privilege. As a white male I am still the most represented member of the LGBTQ+ community, depicted far more than my lesbian/bi/trans/non-binary POC counterparts. And that representation absolutely lends me greater acceptance. Even though I may feel marginalized in my medical care, the truth is that as a white male of my economic class I have greater access to health care. That despite black and latino men being more likely to contract HIV, and black women making up 60% of new infections, preventative treatments were first marketed and made easily available to me. And while fear of violence shapes much of how I approach daily life, again as a white male I am far less likely to face that, with trans POC women facing the greatest threat of physical violence. 

I think this weeks readings have allowed me to see a more nuanced definition of oppression and privilege. I think reading “Oppression”, where she speaks about how we internalize many of the restrictions and limitations we live with and how “one is marked for application of oppressive pressures by one’s membership in some group or category” particularly expanded my definition of oppression. The subtle and insidious ways in which that can exhibit itself, and how while there are intersections, it is still the categorization of being within a certain group that defines one’s oppression, not one’s personal circumstance. I also feel that this definition works in reverse when attributing the benefits of privilege. I appreciated the distinctions of earned strength and unearned power, how some privileges are inherently damaging and serve to dominate, while others are just expectations of society that should be afforded to all.