How much can red stilettos actually hurt?

For better or worse, looks like this is the first in a series of posts relating to gender and sexuality issues here at Princess Tradescantia.

Today's thoughts were precipitated by a friend's post on Facebook regarding the picture to the left. This photograph is from a fundraising event at my alma mater, Western Kentucky University, which aimed to raise awareness about sexual abuse and violence about women (the full article from the event is here). My friend, who also attended WKU, asked for my thoughts on the event.

It's not shocking this event has garnered attention in subsequent months. Although events like this have taken place in other locations for years, Bowling Green, KY is a fairly conservative area. When combined with the participants representing a fraternity, that steadfast bastion of gender binary, opinions run very hot about the intentions, sincerity, and consequences of this event.

I spent a lot of time thinking about how I actually feel. I spent a lot of time reading others' viewpoints about this event. I've decided my conclusions are fairly simple. This was a fundraising event, and the goal was to spread awareness about domestic violence. Could they have accomplished their goals in another way? Sure. Could they have donated the money they spent on heels instead? Of course. Did some of the participants use it as an opportunity to mock the transgender and transsexual communities? Perhaps. Are there hypocrites in the group, who are themselves perpetrators of sexual violence? Possibly.

My opinion boils down to a very simple argument. Their goals could've been accomplished just as successfully in a different manner. All of the bones of contention voiced by opposers would've still occurred: there would still be homo- and trans-phobia, and there would still be less-than-sincere participants. There is an advantage to the red stiletto approach, though. There is now a group of men living in a conservative area who no longer find it quite so shocking that men might wear high heels. They've allowed themselves to be seen and photographed wearing stilettos, and maybe a few of them even kept those shoes. The event was planned with good intentions, and they met their goal of fundraising and attention. Additionally, I argue that simply by virtue of wearing heels for a mile walk, these men added to the normalization of acceptance of such behavior. That little bonus, to me, is well worth it.

Or maybe I just like the gender-bending aspect of watching men wear high heels.

Sally Ride was gay. Does it matter?

I struggled with the title of this post.

Read the standard press release about Sally Ride's death. It remarks on her status as the first female U.S. astronaut in space, her scientific and educational accomplishments, and her legacy as a role model. The last paragraph of the article refers to a partner, Tam. A whole generation of female, queer, and allied scientists scratch their heads: "Sally Ride was GAY? I'm so ashamed for not knowing!"

A deeper look at news tributes reveals that she never publicly outed herself as a lesbian. In fact, she chose to keep her personal life private. Several news articles even include quotations from her former husband, another astronaut, while still relegating her partner of 27 years to the last paragraph.

Sally was renowned, as President Obama has noted, for "inspiring generations of young girls to reach for the stars." She didn't choose to be female, and she couldn't hide it. She accepted the label of female role model and continued her work of encouraging young women to pursue math, science, and technology. I imagine her position as a public figure felt precarious at times, and outing herself would've certainly politicized her career yet again.

After her passing, Sally's family has decided to reveal her sexuality. I'm sure there will eventually be controversy from many political camps. The temptation to dissect her life, decisions, and career will be irresistible, both for opponents of equal rights and those of us who can now relate even more to her viewpoint.

Does it really matter, though? Being gay doesn't affect one's ability to perform scientific experiments, or to educate about science. On the other hand, she purposely chose not to become a spokesperson for gay rights, so should she become one now that her voice cannot be heard? I'd rather not politicize her life any further.

The most poignant writing about Sally's death I've read so far points out two relevant issues. First, Sally was a federal employee as an astronaut, which again highlights the lack of benefits for same-sex couples given our government's failure to acknowledge such relationships. Second, and more importantly, Tam is the survivor and will bear the brunt of any fallout from such an announcement. She has still lost her partner, though, and my heart hurts widespread knowledge about her relationship only after it has ended.

I only offer opinions, and a bit of empathy, from the perspective of a young, queer, female scientist. Sally fought many battles to help pave the road of my career, and regardless of who she loved and when, I am very grateful.