Dear “brocialists”: You don’t know shit about gender politics

By Jonno Revanche

“Identity politics are absurd and reductionist.”

I’m at the corner store near my university listening to a group of my peers (members of socialist alternative) having a clinical conversation about people that are presumably like me; queer people, specifically, people who feel the need to talk about their “identity” a lot. I feel slighted. The conversation serves as a reminder that there is no safety in politics, no matter if you’re on the right or left, from the over-arching forces that seek to disenfranchise queer people and make them feel small.

You see, rationalising an “identity” is something a lot of us have to do to feel okay with ourselves, especially when accurate representations don’t already exist. It should be considered a blessing to not have to think about that, but is too often taken for granted.

“Identity politics” as I understand them are brands of politics that take into account the situations of one’s race, sexuality, gender, class, physical ability, and even taste. Nowadays when people talk about identity politics, they’re often referring to a liberal sort of social dialogue used primarily on somewhere like tumblr. Identity politics have been the driving force behind gay rights liberation as well as black activism. And these movements have actually inspired radical change; even taking into account socialist ideologies along the way.

Looking back on these histories makes me realise that “identity politics” have actually created a whole lot of positive change when other radical movements have failed to do so.

Initially I wasn’t sure why this particular university incident had caught me in such a way. I mean, just two days earlier I’d been laughing to my friend about identity politics in a crowded cafe. I had spoken critically about identity politics too, because I think they’re often see as the “be all and end all” to oppression, and that simply isn’t constructive. Identity politics have been co-opted by institutions, by “cool” magazines and companies that want to appeal to open-minded young people, and have often been removed from their radical origins. Just think of how many places use AAVE (african american vernacular english) in their headlines and advertising spiels in order to give themselves a strange cultural cred, even though to do so is a form of cultural appropriation.

While identity politics can absolutely still be useful to individuals and to movements, there are times when the subject simply turns into a conversation used to gain leverage over other people. Too often these conversations completely omit the structures that perpetuate identity separations in the first place. Simply discussing things like transphobia won’t break down those systems, but it will help those people alleviate the harm and confusion those structures bring. That’s not to say things like queer politics, or race politics, are absolutely necessary for individuals to understand why they are discriminated against, and find a way to rebel against those institutional forces.

When it comes down to it, all “identity politics” can really be defined by is “individuals speaking about their contextual experiences.” Identity politics is just a way for people to make sense of their environment, find an explanation as to why they’re being oppressed or delegitimised, and engage in conversation with other people about it. That’s pretty much all there is to it, because it’s such a huge, huge categorisation of different movements. It’s an umbrella term which can even be narrowed down to movements like feminism. And historically it’s pretty clear that advances for these people would not have been possible without these very targeted, specific movements, and all their respective intersections.

Saying you don’t care about identity politics is saying you don’t care about addressing your whiteness or straight privilege within a progressive scene. It means you’re insecure about the ways you benefit from normative ideas and not ready to surrender that privilege in order to liberate others in the same way. Saying you don’t care about identity politics is a way for people in left/radical spaces to reassert their cultural capital while still holding power in these otherwise “progressive” places.

Ayesha Siddiqi, editor of The New Inquiry, recently made some similar points on twitter:

“There’s this type of white dude staff writer whose whole thing is being upset that w.o.c. are more relevant than their bylines rn. so they make fun of like, tumblr tropes, identity politics, and cultural criticism w an eye towards race/gender. these guys don’t know what to do now that they arent the center or the authority…they think that by mocking trends they’re positioning themselves as savvier, but these arent trends they’re shifting tides, and you just sound old. they judge any enthusiasm from young poc w contempt, hoping contrarianism is still a safe bet now that rest of us are leading conversations.”

While Ayesha is mainly talking about a different space, it still speaks of my experiences with “brocialists”. These people still end up benefiting from hegemony while remaining in these activist circles, taking up space, and speaking over other people who probably need to be heard more. It’s often hard to know what their motivations are, when they’re directly trying to maintain power over those within their midst with more to lose from heteropatriarchy and colonialism/capitalism. When they are at the front, leading the rallies, dominating the spaces, they are proving that their activism is all about fluffy self-affirmation, establishing personal power, and guilt, as opposed to actually constructive unification.

A recent piece for vice popped up while I was in the process of writing this, and it was on a similar topic – socialists who had “righteous attitudes but a dodgy attitude to girls.” In it, the writer Sasha Borissenko affirms:

“By pretending to the world, and probably themselves, that they’re all about liberating the underdog, they get an angelic reputation while staying snuggled into dominant patriarchal structures. In both cases it’s the combination of arrogance, yet empathy for everyone and everything—on their terms—that’s the true signifier of brocialism.”

It’s obviously upsetting hearing so-called male “progressives” write off my experiences as if they were steeped purely in Internet pseudo intellectualism. I’ve experienced dysphoria all my life, have always felt trapped by rigid constraints of gender. I’ve always sought a healthy middle ground where I can enter into dialogue with other people. For me, talking about my identity and negotiating it, even just with myself, is a necessary tool of survival. It’s part of an over-arching process that most trans people find themselves entering in: for us, there is no simple answer.  We don’t have all the institutional tools and histories to back ourselves up and feel safe by merely existing. By having discussions with ourselves and others about our “identity” we can find solace in knowing that we’re not alone.

For these dudes though, all they seem to be doing is hiding their homophobia and transphobia under the guise of socialism. I don’t buy the theory that capitalism created things like sexism and transphobia, something many leftist bros believe. I think it supports it, but there have been many other systems throughout history which have belittled and oppressed women and non-white folks. I find it hard to believe that all those problems would simply dissipate after some socialist-bro-initiated revolution.

I think we need to learn to stay in our own lane and continue to ensure that our activism is one that centres the experiences of the most trodden on, instead of trying to speak for them or over them.

Being a lefty does not excuse you from the homophobia or transphobia that society has taught you. Listen, self evaluate, and realise that until your own form of revolution is here, some of us are still going to have to live through the tough times.

Accompanying image (featuring Jonno) by Tasha Tylee for Fucking Young Magazine.