As a queer person whose gender identity doesn’t fit into one of two neat boxes, I was stunned by the insistence that all concertgoers form “male” and “female” lines before entering Friday night’s show. Student event organizers moved up and down the lines shouting, “Women on the left, Men on the right!” and took it upon themselves to identify the genders of those waiting, pointing to people they took to be standing in the wrong line and gesturing for them to move over. I stood in line on the right, but was repeatedly reminded that I was in the “wrong line” and ordered (not asked) to switch sides. By way of the gestures and inflections of those imploring me, I was made to feel reprimanded for my bad behavior.
When I reached the front of the line I met two male-bodied students ready to pat down every “man” entering the show. One of them asked me why I wasn’t “in the girl’s line.” I replied that I wasn’t a girl. I was then asked, “Are you sure?” — as if I’d forgotten my own gender identity! — to which I replied that I was. The student apologized and informed me that I’d have to be patted down anyway. Not having been trying to avoid this pat-down in the first place, I allowed them to do their job and I entered the concert.
I want to say here that I don’t blame the students for blindly assuming they knew my gender based on my appearance. I recognize that gender-normative assumptions are deeply ingrained in our culture, and this was only one of innumerable occasions where I’ve had to assert myself and face potential ridicule for bucking these norms. The fault lies not in the students as individuals, but rather in the set-up of the event. Of the hundreds of shows I’ve attended in my life, including those at large venues, I’ve never had to identify my gender upon entry. Pat-downs are a routine and, for better or worse, expected part of attending a conventional concert, but typically there are security agents of mixed gender at every point of entry, and individuals can direct themselves to where they feel most comfortable. No gender is assigned in these cases; individual judgment is enacted, the exchange is brief and everyone moves on to what they’re actually there for. While this system is not free of problems, it certainly avoids the needless anxiety and discomfort embedded in Friday night’s approach.
Navigating a queer-phobic culture is difficult and exhausting for those of us on the margins of gender identity. I hope for this not to be the case someday, but for now it’s the reality, and I have no illusions about this. I recognize that safe, sensitive and respectful spaces for queer-identified folks are few and far between, and I negotiate these spaces as best I can. There are some spaces, however, which should be held to a higher standard. Amherst College, situated as it is in the left-leaning Valley and sharing resources as it does with a number of private, left-leaning institutions, has a responsibility to foster a climate of respect and sensitivity for marginalized communities. While I don’t think anyone expects perfection, least of all myself, an effort to recognize insensitivity in action should not be too much to ask.
—Taryn Amina
Amherst resident