This is Not Allyship

In February of this year I did my first ever stand up comedy set, and it was an amazing experience. I didn’t write about it at the time because, unfortunately, the event ended on a quite negative note whose effects continued to intrude into my life for weeks to come. Eventually the ripples calmed and the internal tension I felt as a result subsided. Until recently, when new provocations awakened them once again.

I have refrained from writing about what happened because I prefer to address things on a personal, direct level whenever possible, as I tried to do in this situation. However, I feel like my efforts to respond in this way have reached a stand still. No, worse, I feel that my voice as a woman, and in particular as a transgender woman, have been disregarded by those involved, who have preferred to stand with someone who can boost their status and profile and bring money and recognition to their organization. And I call bullsh*t on that.

The problem began with the final act of the show in February. The show, called the Estrogen Hour, highlights female comics and raises money for the Leukemia society. In that particular February show, the closer was a high profile local drag queen name Tempest Du Jour. Part way into her set, which included jokes about mental health and body size as well, she launched into a series of “jokes” about trans people. I couldn’t believe my ears. The jokes were inappropriate in any context, especially from someone who bills herself as a leader in the LGBTQ community. That they came after two openly transgender/non-binary comedians, including myself, had already performed, made them particularly tasteless. My friend and I got up and walked out in protest. Afterwards the organizer of the show came up to me in the lobby and asked if I was okay. I told her that I was most definitely not okay, that Tempest’s jokes were deeply offensive. She responded that she was sorry but that she couldn’t control what the comedians in the show chose to say. Later she posted a picture of herself and Tempest with a glowing caption.

I do not know Tempest, or the individual who plays that role, personally. I shared what had happened with other members of the trans community who did have personal contact with her. Through private messages we communicated the deep offense she had caused to our community. The response we received was rude, dismissive, and entirely unapologetic. She issued pseudo-apologies about being sorry “if someone was offended” and told us to get thicker skins. She chose to play the role of victim. She pointed to her status as a “leader” in the LGBTQ community. She claimed she couldn’t be anti-trans because, after all, she once had a trans boyfriend. Rather than respond with a willingness to listen, apologize, and learn, she chose to blame the trans community for attacking her.

When it became clear that no sincere apology was coming, members of the community along with key cisgender allies started communicating our concerns with local organizations who had relationships with Tempest. She was slated to host a high profile LGBTQ fundraising event the following week. When the problematic nature of having a host who had offended the trans community and refused to acknowledge the problem was brought to the attention of the event organizers, they chose to remove her from the event and replace her on extremely short notice. In the coming weeks, other organizations similarly removed her, standing in solidarity with the trans community at the potential expense of their fundraising efforts. This is allyship. Tempest responded with further statements of victimhood, but still no acknowledgement of the underlying problem.

The issue then quieted down for a time, until in June when I noticed a post on social media by the leader of another local organization that works with those with HIV. This post praised Tempest as a leader in the LGBTQ community. I reached out privately to the organization’s leader and shared what had happened, letting him know the deeply problematic nature of Tempest’s response, which at this point is more significant than the original jokes. This individual thought about it, then asked me if I would meet personally with Tempest. I declined, because doing so would be to retraumatize myself, and I did not feel like the goal of the meeting was true reconciliation. Rather, it was viewed as an attempt to bring equally aggrieved parties together. But without an apology, there can be no attempt at reconciliation. This is not a situation where both sides are in an equal situation.

Then, just two weeks ago, I heard again from the leader of the organization, informing me that he and his organization were going to have Tempest host their major fundraising event again this year and that he hoped I would understand the reasons for doing so. I initially responded that in this case there was no way I would be attending the event. After reflecting further on it overnight, I wrote further that I felt like I was being gaslighted, that my word as a woman concerning what had transpired earlier in the year was not being believed. It did not have the same credibility as the word of a cisgender gay male, the person behind the persona of Tempest. They preferred to support Tempest because they valued the relationship with her and the money she could bring to their organization more than their allyship with the trans community. The director of the organization took offense at my calling out this gaslighting and marginalizing of my voice as a trans woman. His response reflected the response received from Tempest when she was initially confronted with the problematic nature of her jokes.

A conversation occurred between SAGA and the organization. The board of the organization followed this meeting with an email that was remarkable in its tone-deafness to the deeper issues. They expressed that they felt it was only “fair” to invite Tempest to share her perspective with the board, but that regrettably there was not adequate time to do that before the event (even though I had made the director aware of the issue two months prior.) Nor was I or others directly involved invited to speak directly to their board (It was assumed I would come as a member of the SAGA delegation.) The burden is being placed on me and the trans community to peacefully resolve the issue, rather than on the one who perpetrated the offense in the first place.

The board email also leaned strongly on the financial impact of Tempest’s presence at the event, indicating that the organization cared more about the potential loss of funding than the statement her presence makes to the transgender community. They tried to balance this with statements about how they serve everyone under the LGBTQ tent. I have no doubt that they would not discriminate in their services to trans people with HIV. But their response, and a similar response directly from the director to an individual who wrote expressing their concerns about Tempest’s presence, indicate that the organization and its leadership remain blind to their bias and privileges, and place greater value on the voices of those they perceive to be more powerful and influential.

I have been deeply involved in this conversation from the very beginning. I have sought to raise and resolve issues privately, but it has reached the point for me where I feel like my voice is not being respected in this conversation. I was at the original event. I have seen the emails. I have seen the “apologies” posted by Tempest. I have not sought to hide my identity in this issue. Tempest has blocked me from her social media, and the person behind her persona has not acknowledged me directly in any way. I have been accused to seeking to destroy her career. I am not attempting to destroy anyone’s career. I am, however, stating that you cannot claim to be an ally of the LGBTQ community if you are willing to throw the T part of that community under the bus for the sake of your career or your fundraising. That is not allyship. What I have seen so far is an exercise in white cisgender gay male privilege that refuses to acknowledge its own biases and privilege. And I will no longer let that pass unchallenged. For us to be a strong, united, LGBTQ community, we need to be able to have the hard conversations. We need to be able to sit in the discomfort of being called in for our words and behaviors that offend others. This applies to me as well. When I’m invited to that kind of conversation, I’m willing to join. Until then, don’t ask me to sit at a table of reconciliation that isn’t about acknowledging the harm done by one’s insensitivities.

Peace out.