I’ve been sitting on this for a while, trying to think of the right way to answer it.
Quite honestly, I’m not sure what my “end goal” is either. The problem is, I don’t think there is an “end goal.” I’m not talking about Clexa Con in an effort to bully someone into submission or to try and win some kind of war. When I talk about things, it’s to point out the problems that are there and discuss them and confront them and deal with issues within our society and within our community. Pointing out the problems in something doesn’t mean anyone who supports it is wrong. It doesn’t mean you can’t like it. In fact, I firmly believe you can like and support something while still talking about what’s wrong with it.
At this point, I don’t know that there is anything that would “make it better.” Because anything they would give now would simply be just that, an attempt at pacifying me so I’ll stop talking. Which isn’t to say they couldn’t somehow do some genuine back pedaling and fix things, but given everything I’ve seen so far, I don’t see that being that case and I would be pretty hesitant to accept anything further as genuine and not just placating. I did want a written apology, yes. When I spoke to the Clexa Con director on the phone, she apologized to me at length, addressing that they had given into bullies and perpetuated a harmful narrative and that she would never want to do that and understood that they’d done the wrong thing. What I wanted, at the time, and what I told her I wanted, at that time, was for them to say that, out loud where people could see it, where they were facing up to those actions and concluding the narrative that had been started by their decision. Because it was and is important to me, that if we’re going to go through all of this, we handle it properly and we dismount well and we learn a thing or two, as a community. It was important to me for them to admit out front that they’d let some loud bullies back them into a corner, and that that is shitty both on their part and on the part of people that chose that as a route to take to try and have me removed. It was important to me that they admit they should not have removed me, that it’s damaging to queer voices to police what we are allowed to discuss and how we discuss it. And that they admit all of that where other people, besides me could hear it. Because having them say it only to me and not out loud felt more like they were trying to play every angle and more like they were trying to still hide from the people who caused this. It made it feel like their PR and saving face on their twitter account was more important to them than the fact that they had silenced another queer person, that they had made people attending feel uncomfortable now, that they had humiliated me and made me into a villain in their story. It made the apology I received, the “personal apology” they keep repeating that they gave me, feel fake. Because what is the good in an apology if you’re scared to give it where people hear it? It’s not admitting you did something wrong if you don’t admit it. It’s not admitting it if you post it three weeks later just to cover it up. I’m sure you all understand that. We all know what those kind of apologies look and feel like,t hey kind where they still only barely get it, where they say just what they think you want to hear.
So now, I don’t think there is an endgame with them. They decided not to put me back on the panel, even after “admitting” that they knew what they did was wrong. So any attempt to do that now, this late in the game, feels a lot like they’d only be doing it to once again save face and cover bad press. I won’t be used for that. I won’t let this discussion and what we’re talking about be used for that.
My own personal continuation of these conversations comes from a few things. The first is that it simply bothers me. This is my blog and that is my twitter and I talk about how I feel about things on them a lot. It’s likely I’m going to continue to talk about this because it really fucking hurt me. It really, really made me feel shitty and humiliated and sad. It still does. People who I thought I really liked, people who I thought really liked me are now saying negative stuff about me because Clexa Con wanted to make me look like a villain. People who I still have great relationships with feel alienated because of this. I won’t get to meet the people I wanted to and spend time with all of you and contribute my voice to the conversations at this con. This is a little known thing but I knew about Lexa. I knew about Lexa and Clexa and Clarke’s bisexuality long before I worked on the show. I knew about them in their conception stages, when they were only being talked about and had just begun to be put on paper. I was quietly excited all on my own. I sat on set when they filmed Survival of the Fittest and watched my friends begin to breathe a real relationship into those characters and tried as hard as I could to contain my own personal excitement, knowing how great it was and how much everyone would love it. I knew about the kiss the day it was being filmed and I watched it air live with one of my friends, knowing it was coming and still losing it like a kid on Christmas. I experienced the sadness of knowing Lexa would die. I felt it when I first found out, and then again when I saw the cards on the board, and again reading the script. I cried in the office watching the dailies. I felt it again when you all felt it, but that time, I felt that sadness for you. No one could have prepared for the impact that death had and I watched you all get your hearts broken and lose hope and nothing could be done. I sat in the fall out of that and tried to listen, tried to remind you that you were allowed to be sad and angry and hurt and devastated. You were allowed to feel hopeless and betrayed and disappointed. In my own life, I reminded people of that same thing, over and over. I told them they’d never understand how you felt, that they’d never know what something like this can mean to you. I sat in the discourse of the months that followed, negotiating the terms under which we were allowed to fight and be sad with every other faction on the internet, negotiating the validity of Clarke’s representation in the coming episodes and seasons and storylines and what that meant to each of us, differently. I thought a lot myself, privately, as a bisexual woman about what Clarke meant to me and what she would mean going forward. Clarke’s bisexuality was introduced to me through Lexa, and what is her representation now, without that? What are the rules? Are there rules? Questions I don’t have answers to yet. Questions I’m sure I’ll never have real answers to, that we’ll see create discourse in the episodes and seasons to follow, and in television to follow for many more years. Questions we could have talked about, on a panel about bisexual representation that I had been invited to speak at. This might seem like a long, emotional, waxing poetic but the truth of the matter is that as self important as it may sound, I know that I am one of you. I know that I felt those feelings, maybe differently, maybe alone, maybe in silence but I understand – and please God, don’t ever tell me that I don’t again – the impact of Clarke and Lexa, of Lexa who was a character unlike any before her and Clarke who represents of piece of me that no other leading lady on television ever has. Being a part of that convention, being a part of you, being part of the history and the community and the conversation that is this movement and this relationship meant and still means the world to me. So unfortunately, whether you like it or not, whether you believe I’m “ruining it for other people” or “being too negative” I’m going to continue to talk about it. The same way you’re all going to continue to talk about the things that you feel. The way we should continue to always talk about the problems our community faces, the problems our community continues to contribute to within ourselves, the problems we face as individuals, the validity of our sadness and our anger at any level, big or small, personal or as a whole.
And no, my “endgame” is not to get the convention ruined or cancelled. My endgame is not to strip you of your opportunities to meet each other or to find community there or to meet your idols. I would never, ever want to take those things from you. You deserve whatever little happiness you can find in this universe that doesn’t always want you to have it. No matter how angry you are with me, no matter how much you hate reading this, no matter how much you hate me or wish I’d just stop talking for one minute for once, you will always be an important part of this community, and as such, an important part of me. I will carry you with me, I will fight for you and against you, I will continue to preach the importance of your feelings and your anger. And maybe some day, I will do the one thing that this moved me to make sure I never give up on, and I will write a story and maybe, it’ll mean something to you. Maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll hate it. And if you do, I hope you’ll tell me. Because your voices are important and powerful and they move entire mountains and industries.
Short term, in the small lens that is this convention, it may look like this is all aimless. Like I’m talking just to hear my own voice, like I’m still angry about something that is over and done with, like I’m beating a dead horse that can’t give me anything, anymore. That tried and failed. As many dead horses will continue to try and fail, or fail some of us but not others. You may feel like it’s a self important crusade and you may be right. I may be acting out of pride and hurt and my own emotions. I won’t deny that. And no, there may not be anything they can do now to fix that. But this isn’t just one thing. It isn’t just one tiny pebble dropped into an ocean. It’s another pebble, among many, many other pebbles, among large boulders and rocks that ripple our community time and time again and that we must talk about, and we must learn from and we must listen to each other regarding. The bottom of our floor is already laden with the boulders and pebbles of previous experiences and all we can do is continue to throw them back out. My endgame doesn’t exist because there is no end. There’s no solution. We fight for as long as we live and in the case of our fictional heroes, long after we die. We can only continue to give voice to these issues, to give voice to our own feelings and to talk about these things.
To answer your question, what do I want? I want the people who think I’m the bad guy to consider beyond the small lens. I want us within our community to start regarding each other a little more, to start respecting one another a little more, to start being objective and empathetic so that we can understand a narrative no matter what side of it we happen to land on. I want us to continue to be a community that doesn’t cast one another out but embraces the voices and the views and the cries of each and every member of it beside us no matter how soft or how loud, how gentle or how harsh. I want us to put our community before allies, to question people who would use us and hurt us. I want us to protect the young members of our community that will come after us, and the ones who might fall for the promises of someone who doesn’t understand again. I want us to hold each other up even if we don’t agree with what someone stands for. I want us to stand for their right to stand anyway. I want us to continue to do more than just survive and always ask for better. We deserve better.
Tag: clexa con
This blog supports
@laynemorgan
Because fuck everyone else and also she was done dirty.
I’m with you Layne.
This is important: they tried to silence/invalidate a queer woman over a serious point that ClexaCon should have embraced at a potential panel. They kicked her out then worked with the male ‘ally’ to make sure he was given ‘respect’ over the issue and allowed to leave with the appearance of dignity.
They didn’t give it to Layne. They showed that they only cared about how things ‘seem’ vs. how they ‘are.’ Layne, a queer woman,was belittled by supporters of a convention for queer women over an issue concerning queer women and so-called ‘allies.’ It is nonsensical.
What they wound up doing? Invalidating the point of their own convention.
I know so many have been hopeful for this event, still want to go, are hopeful ET and ADC show up and I hope, if the event still pans out, attendees (guests and fans) make sure this issue isn’t swept under the rug or ignored. Don’t let them pull a Jason Rothenberg.
Best to you, @laynemorgan.
Imagine these scenarios:
In the wriiters’ room of a television show, there’s a queer woman. This is good because that television show features a romance between two women. During a discussion about one of the scenes, a straight man – let’s call him George – proposes a scenario. The scenario doesn’t sit well with the queer female writer – let’s call her Susan – and she think it’s a bad idea. Maybe it has some homophobic undertones or plays into a harmful trope. Susan isn’t sure if she should say anything. George is a writer that all the other writers love. The fans love him too because he wrote a great storyline between these characters in another episode. He’s worked on the show longer than Susan and he’s always nice to everyone. After some deliberation Susan speaks up. The conversation goes like this:
Susan: Maybe we should do something different. That storyline feeds into this problematic trope. I’m worried about what it would perpetuate and how it would effect queer viewers.
George: I’m not worried about that, Susan. I wouldn’t ever harm our viewers. I think it’s a good story.
Susan: You might think so, but you’re a straight guy, not a queer woman and I know that that particular story element has some homophobic undertones in it. If you wouldn’t hurt our viewers, I think we should reconsider that.
George: I’m not homophobic, Susan. I’m an ally. I wrote the last episode with this couple and the fans loved it. I might not be a queer woman but I think it’s unfair of you to use my sexuality as a straight man against me. I’m a writer and I know good stories.
Susan: A good ally would listen to what I’m trying to say.
George: I would listen but you just attacked my storyline, Susan. I’m not homophobic. It’s really unprofessional of you to accuse me of that.
The conversation fizzles out, if it hasn’t already because at one point or another Susan has to be quiet. She has to be professional. This is a work environment and she isn’t going to fight with George in the writers’ room. But now there’s tension. Most of the writers side with George. Later that day, before the room ends, in front of everyone George says “Susan, if you want to come to my office and talk to me privately and respectfully about your accusations, you can.” Susan feels pretty uncomfortable at work for the next day or so. The way George said that, especially in front of others, made her out to look angry or disrespectful. She was expressing a legitimate concern. A few days later another thing comes up. A character is going to say a line about a bisexual that’s biphobic. It’s supposed to be funny. George wrote the joke. Once again, Susan interjects. Another writers speaks up and tells Susan she should stop attacking George. They know this issue is important to her but she really needs to let her crusade go. Not everything is homophobic, Susan. Susan is quiet and for the rest of the season, if something problematic comes up, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t want her colleagues to think she’s angry or unreasonable or too emotionally or too strongly tied to her sexuality and community because those things could harm her reputation.
Now we’ll take scenario two:
A queer woman – let’s call her Martha – is at a party. One of her best friends, a guy named David says something offensive about lesbians to Martha’s other friend who also is a queer woman. Martha stops him and tells him that was a shitty thing to say. Martha has had a couple of beers – as has everyone else – and she’s prone to being emotional when she’s drunk. Normally she wouldn’t engage because of that but this is David. David has always been supportive of her. But Martha’s other friend speaks up instead, telling Martha this isn’t her place and to butt out and that David is a good ally. While Martha doesn’t want to speak on her friends’ behalf, she knows what David said was really problematic. She apologizes to her other friend and says again that she was bothered by what David said. Her tone is pretty angry. She’s now on the defense. There’s a disagreement and angrily, Martha storms out of the house. “Sorry about that.” Says Martha’s friend to David. “Don’t worry about her. I know what a great ally you are.” David smiles and goes about drinking his drink. Later, he bumps into one of his guy friends. “What the hell happened earlier?” Asks the guy friend. “Oh you know, Martha just got all crazy and said I wasn’t an ally.” “Bro, that’s ridiculous. You marched in Pride last year with your gay brother.” “I know! It’s okay though. Martha’s crazy. Even her lesbian friend was mad.” “I get it bro, sometimes these girls think everyone is out to get them or that just because we’re straight we don’t understand. Maybe we’d understand better if they didn’t come unhinged over little stuff that doesn’t mean anything.”
These are the kinds of scenarios that are perpetuated when we tone police and silence queer women or any angry minority for trying to engage with “allies.” Or for trying to engage with any kind of disagreement or conversation with straight people or within the community. It’s really important to stop writing one another off has “angry” or “unprofessional” or “disrespectful” every time we try to bring things up. All it does is tell the rest of the world that it’s okay to see us that way. All it does is continue to silence the voices that want and need to fight in their day to day lives. In either of these cases, if Susan lost her job or Martha’s friends stopped talking to her, you’d hear over and over things like “it wasn’t because she was queer. It was because she was unprofessional.” Or “It wasn’t about her sexuality she was just always offended and had a bad attitude.” It’s easy for straight people to see us this way. It’s easy for straight people to not be able to understand and to always get to take the high road. They don’t know what these fights feel like. They might be allies but they don’t know what it means to have these fights tied to your well being and your emotions and what it means to be so frustrated all the time that no one is listening. It is so important to not silence the voices of queer women, to not feed into what society tells us about feminists and queer women being just angry and irrational and disrespectful. Not perpetuating those harmful stereotypes starts within our own community and with how we talk about one another and allow one another to be treated.
I know these scenarios (and too many more besides) so well.
When you seek to silence another human being you disagree with, or want to shut down a conversation because it upsets you, because you’re uncomfortable with it, you have just acted in favour of de-legitimising another human being.
If you’re in the queer community, you should understand how wrong that is. That’s our history. It shouldn’t be our future.
Because I’m seeing these terms bandied about a bit, I’d like to put this out there:
When you’re dealing with an oppressed minority, ideas like ‘respect’ and ‘professionalism’ can take on new meanings: they can become euphemistic language to police this oppressed community into ‘behaving.’ You have to see who really benefits from seeking such ‘behavioural modifications.’ Historically, this is how a patriarchal society has long oppressed women.
It’s wrong and if you can’t understand that, give yourself some time. Take about ten years then look back. Time brings clarity to many things. Including ‘what seems’ vs. ‘what is.’
‘Respect’ and ‘professionalism’ can work well when everyone is equal. But things are not equal and never have been.
Respect should be an unconditional human right – whether you ‘behave’ or not.
I can’t believe that Layne Morgan, a queer woman, got kicked out of clexacon, meant for queer people, because some people got angry about the comments she made about a straight white guy taking advantage of the some of us. Honestly this whole thing is such bullshit.
SUCH utter & complete bullshit. I stand with Layne.
This.
The folks behind Clexa Con have damaged the legitimacy of their event catering to the ego of a questionable ‘ally.’ How do you take their message seriously at this point?
To ClexaCon and it’s coordinators:
Please take the time to understand why everyone is so disappointed with the way you’ve handled the Layne situation. I’m not gonna rehash the entire day’s worth of discourse but I will tell you that you’ve effectively killed any credibility the con had by basically telling every wlw who was excited to attend that a straight white male’s feelings are more important than theirs, even at a wlw convention.
Please please realize that it’s okay to want allies-hell, we need them. But not at the expense of actual wlw. I know that society has conditioned all of us to coddle and appease straight white men who show even the slightest bit of decency towards us, but if they’re true allies, they won’t turn their back the second they receive some polite and justified criticism.
@laynemorgan is one of us, and she’s used her platform to help our cause. So to see you treat her exactly the way the world treats us is confounding. This convention is supposed to give wlw the voice the Straight White Dudes who rule the media won’t, and the first thing you do is drop her in favor of a Straight White Dude? How are you not seeing the irony here? The hypocrisy?? How are you not seeing the message you’re sending to the rest of us wlw?
You’ve been silent so far and that’s some bullshit. Apologize. To Layne and to the wlw you just disappointed. Make an actual heartfelt attempt to understand why your actions were shitty, and then make an actual heartfelt attempt to rectify them. Don’t ruin something that so many young women (and others!) on here were so excited about. Especially over a grown ass het white dude who can handle himself.
The Doctor Is Out 