Heterosexism, racism and psychology
Psychological research has often focused on the effects of racism
and (less often) heterosexism upon marginalised groups. However, a
brief survey of the literature suggests that we have seldom examined
how social norms around race and sexuality work to privilege particular
groups of people, nor have we adequately addressed how these norms
inform the discipline of psychology itself (notable exceptions being
Dudgeon et al., 2000; Howitt & Owusu-Bempah, 1994; Kitzinger &
Perkins, 1993; Kitzinger & Wilkinson, 1993). Whilst it is indeed
the case that the recent turn to both whiteness and queer studies have
made some impact upon the discipline (e.g. Fine, 1997; Mun Wong, 1994;
Riggs, 2004), there still does not exist a sustained critique of
heterosexual or white race privilege from within the mainstream.
One of the outcomes of this failure to attend to issues of privilege is
that psychological research focusing on sexuality or race primarily
examines the experiences of non-heterosexual and non-white individuals
respectively, the implication being that issues of sexuality or race
are only of relevance to these groups of people. Whilst this may for
many be a relatively commonsense assumption, we propose that there is a
great need for dominant group members within the discipline to (a)
explore how their/our identities are most often left unexamined, and
thus (b) recognise how this often results in a failure to acknowledge
how certain (dominant) groups experience privilege as a result of the
oppression of other (marginalised) groups. In other words, a focus
within psychological research or practice primarily on the experiences
of marginalised group members may do very little to examine how
marginalisation occurs precisely because of particular social norms.
In order to demonstrate one of the ways in which we as psychologists
may examine our own privilege, we draw on examples from our own work,
and highlight the ways we have challenged or colluded with privilege.
Inherent within this examination are our own statuses as privileged and
oppressed individuals: that is, each of us has multiple statuses in
society (such as those shaped through discourses of gender, sexuality,
race/ethnicity and economic status); all of which have differing values
accorded to them. Some statuses confer privilege, whilst others are
experienced as oppressive. We engage in this examination in the spirit
of productive critique: our goal is not to attack the discipline,
rather to create a dialogue over how we as psychologists (and
particularly those of us who identify as dominant group members) may
best address issues of racism and heterosexism within the discipline.
Heterosexism and racism – Commission and omission
In her work on focus groups, Braun (2000) suggests that heterosexism
may appear in two forms: either by commission – ‘the explicit
articulation of heterosexist assumptions’, such as assuming that a
person’s partner is of the ‘opposite sex’;
or by omission – ‘the lack of disagreement with, or challenge to,
heterosexist talk’, such as failing to challenge heterosexist
statements made by others. Understood
in these ways, heterosexism occurs in research that privileges
particular social norms around sexuality, and that fails to challenge
or adequately explore these norms.
We would also suggest that these notions of commission and omission may
be tentatively mapped across to examine racism in Western societies. We
do not believe it is productive to claim that experiences of oppression
are ‘all the same’. Our point is that racism often plays out in
research and practice settings as the result of implicit norms, whereby
the values of the dominant white culture are taken as the norm.
Dominant group members may then have little motivation to explore how
we/they stand to benefit from social norms around race.
Racism by commission is well illustrated in Tannoch-Bland’s (1998) work
on white race privilege. She proposes that white privilege is evident
when, as a white person:
l I can, without material loss, choose to be surrounded by people of my race most of the time.
l I can get ‘flesh’ coloured bandages which match the colour of my skin.
l If I am depressed, I can go to a counsellor,
psychologist or psychiatrist who shares my basic cultural assumptions
and psychic world view, and who will not explain that I must change my
belief and value system, forfeit my cultural identity, in order to
exist in this society without a high level of pain.
These examples demonstrate how the norms of white culture shape the
everyday lives of all people – either to privilege or oppress. Those of
us who are white can presume that our cultural values are the norm,
that other people will see the world the way we do, and that our health
will not be hindered (and will most likely benefit) from ongoing
histories of oppression.
In the boxes on these pages, we challenge the assumption that equality
exists within psychology by providing some examples of how we have been
oppressed and privileged by, and have challenged and colluded with, the
social norms that exist in regard to race and sexuality within the
context of psychological research. The ‘oppression and privilege’
example (see box below) shows how experiences of heterosexism do not
negate the benefits gained from identifying as white in a culture that
privileges white Western values. The second box (also below) examines
how heterosexism played out in a specific research example.
The second scenario illustrates very well Braun’s (2000) question: What
is more important – collecting data or challenging oppression? It also
highlights our earlier point about privilege: it may often be the case
that dominant group members conduct research in ways that potentially
ignore their/our location as part of a dominant culture, something that
may well impact upon our participants if they do not identify with the
same cultural group. In other words, it is often presumed that our
research will not be harmful to our participants, yet, as this second
example suggests, simply carrying out research without interrogating
privilege may not necessarily translate into research practices that
are either non-discriminatory or non-oppressive.
This point about research and privilege highlights the power relations
inherent in psychological research and practice, and from which
psychologists cannot easily escape. For example, whilst we suggest that
there is a need to challenge heterosexism and racism, we also recognise
the threat that exists for being accused of ‘bad research practice’.
Thus, in challenging normative assumptions (such as confronting racism
with our peers or raising the topic of non-heterosexual families with
students) there is always the risk that we may be accused of unethical
practice. Whilst we don’t have any answers to this dilemma, it is an
important issue to raise, as it has serious implications for the role
of activism in research and practice.
Routinely examining privilege
The previous points about power and the role of activism in both
research and practice highlight the need for any challenge to privilege
to move beyond simply identifying omissions or commissions. Thus as
Braun (2000) suggests, we also need to examine more broadly the power
structures that are endemic to research and practice, and to develop
more ethical ways of asking research questions that are built around
examining multiple power relations, instead of considering them post
hoc.
In this light, it is important to bear in mind that participants and
researchers or practitioners and clients interact with one another
through a myriad of social relationships. For example, non-white
participants may feel oppressed by the racial norms and privileges
employed by white researchers, and non-heterosexual practitioners may
feel attacked or ridiculed by heterosexual clients. Positions of power
thus do not automatically correspond with who is conducting the
research or providing the therapeutic practice. Rather, our location
within the relationships we have to others results from the
intersecting ways in which we are identified according to the norms of
race and sexuality (amongst many others). Whilst it is possible that
researchers and practitioners may refuse to involve or treat any
participants or clients who enact racism or heterosexism against them,
this does not prevent the researcher or practitioner from feeling
oppressed or abused. Similarly, clients and participants who feel
oppressed by practitioners or researchers may terminate their therapy
or research involvement, but this does not necessitate a challenge to
the practitioner’s or researcher’s privilege. Our suggestion, then, is
that an examination of privilege needs to be undertaken by dominant
group members as part of a reflexive practice, rather than on the
instigation of those who may find our privilege oppressive.
In contrast to the tenets of positivism (which often lead researchers
to assume a position of objectivity), we have suggested that whilst
psychological practice and research may be constrained by factors such
as ethical obligations, time limits and difficulty in accessing
appropriate sample groups, there is still a great danger inherent in
leaving privilege unchallenged. For example, in the experiences that we
explored earlier, ignoring privilege often resulted in us marginalising
our own identities as activists, when we instead focused on our
identities as researchers. This highlights for us the importance
of understanding how our location as researchers (and this could
equally apply to practitioners) is often one that holds great
privilege, and that there is a pressing need to be accountable for our
privilege (Riggs, 2004).
We propose that any approach to examining privilege must therefore
include an understanding of power that refuses a simplistic notion of
dominance/ marginalisation, and which instead examines the complex ways
in which we are situated in relation to what is deemed the norm.
Challenging heterosexism and racism from this starting point would
therefore be about more than pointing out offensive statements or
‘including’ minority groups in research or practice settings. Rather,
it may involve examining how we are implicated in the work that we do
as psychologists, and how we may stand to benefit from racialised and
sexualised hierarchies. How are they played out within our research and
practice, and what assumptions do we draw on when we formulate research
questions or make judgements in a practice setting? With this in mind,
those of us who experience privilege may be better placed to challenge
our privilege, rather than continuing to take for granted the benefits
we receive from identifying as members of a dominant group.
Central for all
Examining privilege requires a willingness to understand how those
of us who experience oppression as a result of sexual orientation (for
example) may well in turn be involved in practices of oppression
towards to groups of people who differ from us in race, gender,
ethnicity or class (Hooks, 1981). This may be as implicit as the
privileges that those of us who are white experience, or as explicit as
knowingly refusing to support the rights of marginalised groups other
than our own. Looking at experiences of oppression should thus entail
looking at experiences of privilege; in other words, it should involve
an examination of how our experiences of oppression may intersect with
our privileges and vice versa (Croteau et al., 2002; Riggs, 2006).
Finally, we would suggest that these issues should be of central
importance to all psychologists, rather than simply those who work with
marginalised group members, or who themselves identify as belonging to
a marginalised group. Racial and sexual norms are not simply ‘factors’
that need to be considered in research and practice – they in many ways
constitute the identities of all people living in Western societies
(Riggs & Augoustinos, 2005). Understanding the ways in which race
and sexuality intersect – amongst other forms of social difference:
disability, class, religion, and so on – is thus central to
understanding psychological phenomena. To do otherwise would be to
discount the experiences of privilege and oppression that shape our
lives.
- Damien W. Riggs is in the School of Psychology, University of Adelaide, Australia. E-mail: [email protected].
Acknowledgement
Damien thanks Precilla for all of the hard work that went into writing this article, and just wishes she were around to see it come to fruition.
Box 1: Some of my recent research has involved examining how lesbian
and gay foster parents are represented within psychological research
and in society more broadly. Whilst at times this has resulted in my
experiencing discrimination, it has also resulted
in times when I have felt my values as a gay foster parent and
researcher to be respected. In one particular such instance I felt
encouraged when
a social worker sought to speak with me about my experiences as a
foster parent in a same-sex relationship. During this conversation,
several (heterosexual) foster carers were listening, and were variously
nodding in agreement or supporting what I was saying. It felt amazing!
I was actually being listened to and respected by a group of (white)
heterosexual foster parents and a social worker!
Once the conversation ended, one of the foster parents asked the social
workers how the ‘Aboriginal problem’ was going. The building that we
met in was in the city, and the foster parent was referring to the
ongoing contests over space between the local white majority and the
indigenous people who are the traditional owners of the land on which
the city stands. When the worker replied, ‘OK, I suppose,’ the foster
parent then proceeded to elaborate her question, by stating that she
used to work in this building, and always felt uncomfortable going
outside for a cigarette or to get lunch, as there were always
Aboriginals sitting around outside. They would often ask for money
or a cigarette, she said. The worker then replied by saying, ‘We don’t
see many of them near here any more – I don’t have those problems.’
This line of conversation made me extremely uncomfortable, exacerbated
by the fact that two indigenous social workers were sitting nearby. At
this stage we were called back to the larger group to resume the
meeting, and I did not make the opportunity to challenge the foster
parent’s comments.
Here it is possible to see how I was involved in racism by omission – I
failed to challenge the foster parent’s (and indeed the worker’s)
comments about indigenous people. My experience of feeling safe in the
(predominantly white, heterosexual) environment led me to be in tacit
agreement with their comments. Thus my choice not to ‘risk’ confronting
the people (and thus potentially losing the rapport we had developed)
was made possible by my location as a white person. This demonstrates
how all white people are complicit with racism – it is not simply the
case that the two people who spoke about ‘Aboriginal problems’ were
racist, and I was not. Rather, my location as a white person means that
I am always already complicit with their comments – I stand to benefit
from the same privileges as they do, and I too live on land stolen from
indigenous people.
This example also shows how privilege and oppression are so closely
related. Whilst I (as a white gay man) have often experienced
heterosexism, I have not been subjected to racism directed against me.
Indeed, I benefit from racism for – I am able to move about in public
spaces and ask questions about foster care most often without challenge
because I am white. (For more on the difference between racism for and
racism against, see Fine, 1997.) This may be a markedly different
experience for an indigenous person (for example) seeking to do the
same thing.
Heterosexism by commission and omission – Precilla Choi
Following the completion of a focus group study, my colleagues and I
realised that we had been heterosexist by commission and omission. We
felt that we had potentially silenced any non-heterosexual woman in the
group by assuming a heterosexual norm. As feminist researchers, and
particularly for those team members who did not identify as
heterosexual, we were aware how heterosexism operates, yet failed to
consider it in the planning and development of our study. Thus, our own
oppression as women and/or as non-heterosexuals, and in my case as a
person of colour, did not prevent us from oppressing others. Having
seen the problems that arose from this first study,
I was determined in my next research study to actively challenge heterosexism.
My next project explored how ideologies of femininity impact upon young
girls’ (aged between 12 and 16 years) lived experiences. Once again a
series of focus groups was conducted, though I was concerned in these
that as someone who is child-free by choice I did not know how to talk
to teenagers and would not be able to establish adequate rapport. One
topic of discussion was what the girls wished for their futures;
in response, marriage and motherhood were always brought up by the
girls. Initially, when they did so I did not assume they meant
heterosexual marriage and parenting and asked them about the
possibility of same-sex marriage and parenting in order to avoid the
explicit silencing of any non-heterosexual girls and to challenge the
heterosexual norm. When I did this, the response tended to be silence –
a silence that was sometimes uncomfortable or, at other times, just a
non-response because the girls did not seem to know what to say. Either
way, this interfered with the flow of the focus group and thereby had
the potential to reduce the quality of the data collected.
It was also during one of these silences that I suddenly remembered
that teaching children in schools about the existence of homosexuality
is controversial and even not allowed in some countries, which made me
more anxious than I already was. What if the girls told their parents
or teachers that we discussed this and this made them unhappy? In the
information provided in order to gain informed consent, no mention was
made of the topic of homosexuality – was this grounds for complaint
about me to the university human research ethics committee? I decided
not to risk it and reverted to heterosexism by omission.
Weblinks
Australian Critical Race and Whiteness Studies Association: www.acrawsa.org.au
Heterosexism Enquirer magazine: www.mun.ca/the/themain.html
Students Challenging Racism and (White) Privilege: www.canopyweb.com/racism
Discuss and debate
What are some ways we can build challenges to discrimination into
our research practice so as to avoid accusations of unethical practice?
How are white and heterosexual privilege often reinforced in psychological education?
What does the term ‘ethical’ mean in the context of societies that are
founded upon implicit racist and heterosexist (amongst other) norms?
How can the discipline of psychology (and the BPS more specifically)
shift its focus to dominant group members/institutions so as to
challenge privilege?
Have your say on these or other issues this article raises. E-mail
‘Letters’ on [email protected] or contribute to our forum via www.thepsychologist.org.uk.
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(Please note that some pictures may have been removed for copyright reasons)
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