June 08, 2008
A note to me mates
G'day:
If you would like to read updates about my trip to Chirstchurch, please visit me on Facebook!
-Ben
February 28, 2008
Will you be my facebook friend?
Thanks to my sister, I have decided to join Facebook!
I have a Facebook profile.
Will you be my Facebook friend?
-Ben
February 22, 2008
The Gay Lisp, and Getting a Taste of my own Medicine
I received the following E-Mail on Wednesday, February 20, at about 3:30 from Jason DeRusha, a reporter at Channel 4:
Benjamin:
I'm a reporter from WCCO-TV, doing a segment tonight on Accents.
As part of my work, a friend asked about the fact that many homosexual males tend to speak with a lisp, and was wondering why that is, and how that came about originally.
I was told you'd be a good one to ask.
Any thoughts?
Of course I have thoughts on the topic; Are you nuts? In the past, I have not been particularly enthusiastic to talk to the popular media about this topic, because it seems to uncover a lot of people's misconceptions about the nature of human language. Worse yet, it does so in the context of a topic that people have many preconceptions and negative attitudes about, on both sides of the aisle, so to speak. I am averse to getting caught up in discussions like those had in the media in about 1997 about African-American English related to the Oakland School District's policies regarding AAE and literacy.
In this case, though, I thought it was right to respond. Why? Well, first, I yammer on incessantly in class that it is our responsibility to be civically engaged, and to work for the greater good. If someone from the community asks me a question about a topic on which I have some expertise, I suppose it is my duty to respond. It's just the right thing to do.
Second, however, it seemed like not doing so would be a little hypocritical, this week in particular. The basic gist of the question that I was being posed was to write about a technical topic for an educated and interested lay audience. I had just collected an assignment in Speech Science in which I asked students to explain analog-to-digital conversion to an educated and interested lay audience. How could I ask my students to do one thing, then shy away from doing the same thing when someone else asked me? I know that my "rateyourprofessor" comments imply (through the clever use of asterisks) that I'm a jerk (I can only imagine that the four asterisks describing me refer to that, and not to some other four-letter word), but I'm not going to apply a double standard. If I ask my students to do one thing, I should do the same when it's asked of me.
So, I responded. The prose flew off my fingertips fast and furious. I was fortunate enough to have Hannah Julien stop by during the middle of my writing, and she copy edited paragraph by paragraph. I hit "send."
Then it didn't show up on the air. No matter. I had a nice E-Mail the next day from Jason DeRusha saying that he appreciated the depth of the response. He said that he would talk about it in his blog. I indicated that I would post the full text of my response to him in my blog, and that, if he liked, he could add a link to my blog in his text.
So here goes. My original response is blow, in bold
Thanks for your question. Indeed there is a strong popular culture stereotype that gay men lisp, at least in English-speaking countries. An immediate challenge to evaluating this stereotype comes when considering what it actually means to lisp. The term 'lisp' has generally been abandoned by speech-language pathologists (people who assess and treat disorders of speech and language). However, we can presume based on older definitions and popular-culture descriptions that a lisp involves some sort of an errored production of sounds like "s". When children produce errors on those sounds, they often produce them either with the tongue protruding between the teeth, making words like "sigh" sound like "thigh," or with air flowing out of the sides of the mouth, making a word like "sigh" sound somewhat 'slushy', almost like "shly." We will call these protruding and slushy productions 'misarticulations.'
Do gay men lisp, in the sense of producing misarticulated "s" sounds? The short answer is No. The long answer is even more interesting.
Previous studies have examined this topic two ways. First, people have compared the "s" productions of self-identified gay and heterosexual men to examine whether the stereotype that gay men lisp can be substantiated. Second, people have played samples of words containing "s" to groups of listeners and asked them to make inferences about the sexuality of the person who produced them. In general, these studies have found that SOME (but definitely not ALL) gay men produce "s" differently from their heterosexual peers. However, the specific characteristics of these distinctive "s" productions are very different from those of misarticulated (i.e., 'lisped') "s". Indeed, at least three studies report that the characteristics of "s" in some self identified gay men is in the opposite direction of what we would expect if the these talkers were producing a 'lisped' "s." They were actually closer to the productions of a hyper-correct, carefully produced "s". Let's call this "clear s". These production patterns are not the inevitable consequence of a person's self-stated sexuality. Though there is a stronger tendency for gay-identified men to produce the "clear s" variant than heterosexual men, some gay-identified men don't produce this variant, and some heterosexual men do.
Perception studies have shown that listeners are sensitive to the relationship between "clear s" and men's sexuality. When people hear one of these "clear s" productions, they tend to label the talker who produced it as gay-sounding. This is true even when they are played audio-only signals of content-neutral speech, i.e., when they hear a production of a single word like "sack", and they don't have any other information about the speaker, like a picture or a video clip. Perceptual studies also show that listeners are sensitive to the stereotype that gay men lisp. People are more likely to label a talker as gay-sounding if they are played a word with a misarticulated "s" than if they are presented with a correctly articulated "s". Put more succinctly, participants' behavior in perception experiments suggests both a knowledge of the actual relationship between "s" production and sexuality ("clear s" talkers are rated as gayer-sounding than talkers who produce a plain "s") and the stereotype (talkers who produce plain "s" are rated as more-heterosexual sounding than those who produce misarticulated "s").
So, we have an interesting dichotomy. Gay men don't lisp. If anything, the speech they produce is far from 'lisped', at least insomuch as we can define 'lisp'. Nonetheless, people seem to believe they do. Why, then, did this stereotype arise? Nobody has a definitive answer to this question, but a few reasonable conjectures can be made. The conjecture starts out with the valid observations that stereotypes about gay men are overwhelmingly pejorative, and that many people hold very negative views about gay men. Maybe the "lisp" stereotype arose as part of a broader popular-culture belief that gay men were somehow weaker, more ineffectual, and child-like--after all, children lisp. We can find some evidence for it by looking at portrayals of gay men in film, particularly in the middle of the last century. Gay male characters were often portrayed as weak and ineffective. Part of this portrayal was often a lisp. Perhaps the lisp was intended as a cue to the audience that they should view the character as child-like and weak. I emphasize that this is just one conjecture about the origin of this stereotype.
You might come back and ask "why do gay men produce especially clear instances of the 's' sound?" If you were to ask this, I would immediately come back and invert your question and ask "Why would anyone--gay or straight--NOT produce especially clear instances of the 's' sound?" After all, a clear "s" would presumably be easier to hear and to understand, particularly in the presence of background noise. Put differently, why do we treat the variant associated with gay-sounding speech as the distinctive variant that requires a special explanation, and not the variant associated with heterosexual-sounding speech? The answer to this question is no less complex than the answer I provided in the last paragraph. One of the hallmarks of human speech production is that it is highly variable. One of the hallmarks of human speech perception is that it is, well, less variable. People can do a good job of understanding lots of different variants of sounds--like plain "s", "clear s", "lisped s", etc.--as instances of a single category, "s". This means that humans are free to use different variants of sounds to construct their social identities without worrying about compromising speech communication. Some groups can use one particular variety of a sound to show--either intentionally or unintentionally--that they are members of a particular social group, and another group can use a different variant. The question of sexuality and "s" isn't unique here. Look around the Metro. Some people have traditional Minnesota pronunciations of words like "boat"--you know the pronunciation I'm talking about--and others have other pronunciations. Think of how a Californian might say "boat." Why is that? Well, certainly some of it relates to where the person is from. If the person is from far outstate, then chances are that they say the traditional Minnesotan "boat" because that's how it was said by everyone who they heard growing up. But once those people move to areas with a little more linguistic diversity, there is nothing keeping them from changing their pronunciation of "boat" to something less Minnesotan-sounding. Why would they continue to produce the Minnesotan "oa" in "boat"? Maybe it's a way of showing--either consciously or tacitly--their identification as someone who is from outstate. And since we're mentioning it, linguistic variation isn't the only way that people can construct social identities. There are lots of different types of clothes that people can wear (though on these cold Minnesota days, one is ill-advised to attempt shorts). Why am I sitting here in jeans, a maroon v-neck sweater, and brown sport coat, and not in a grey wool suit? The answer is that I'm using the permissible variation in clothing to show different aspects of my personality: a sport coat to show I'm a professor, a maroon sweater to show my allegiance to the U of M, and jeans to show people that I'm at heart a casual person. Through my words, my actions, and my clothes, I use permissible variation in human behavior to construct and convey my unique identity. I'm not alone here. We all do.
Thank you for your question. It's an interesting one, and the locus of a great deal of misunderstanding in our culture. I hope this answers helps to clarify your friend's understanding of the topic, and that the WCCO viewership finds it interesting. I appreciated the opportunity to talk about this topic.
Not too shabby, eh?
January 10, 2008
The next craze, IMHO Cats
Surely you've heard of LOL Cats. If not, the concept is simple. You take a picture of a cat doing something that could be construed as hilarious, then give it a caption in a weird pidgin-like English, the structure of which has already been debated by Mark Liberman here.
I'm going to attempt to take this another step. Why do cats have to be child-like and mischievous? Can't they contribute to serious scientific and political discourse? I think so. (In fact, I'm apparently not alone. A recent posting on cheezburger shows that cats can also have the same kind of acid-induced psycho-trips that Arthur Clark evidently did, as shown here.)
So, my contribution here is IMHO cats. IMHO is internet slang for In My Humble Opinion. IMHO cats don't shy away from expressing controversial opinions. Examples are below:
And last, Carrie Munson expressing an opinion first suggested to me by Mary Beckman:
December 08, 2007
Vanity, thy name is Rufus (Wainwright)
As my fellow Gay Men of a Certain Age (and Edward Carney, honorary member of this group) know, the greatest CD ever is Judy Garland Live at Carnegie Hall. Go ahead, laugh it up! Ha, ha, ha, isn't that a typical? If this reflects your reaction, go to some other website before reading on. I'm sure there's something you'd find interesting on YouTube.
What a shame, then, that the very talented and often very interesting musician Rufus Wainwright attempted to re-do this by holding his own version of the Concert at Carnegie Hall, matching Ms. Garland's set list and, at times, re-creating her banter with the audience verbatim. The result was released on CD this past week and is, well, inconsistent. Some of the tracks are good, some are terrible, but all of them are suffused with what appears to be an ego the size of Dick Chaney and Lucille Ball combined. (Yes, I chose those two names intentionally.) My recommendation? Forget the overly constraining gender roles that our society has imposed on all of us, put on the original JG CD, and let your heart flutter and bleed.
September 24, 2007
In Support of Civil Liberties (and, by Association, in Support of Larry Craig)
I would like to go on record supporting Larry Craig staying in the senate. I am first and foremost a civil libertarian, and I believe that he--like generations of gay men before him--was the victim of an unconstitutional sting operation, and a culture of homophobia. That he played a part in promoting that culture of homophobia does not make me withdraw my support. To do so would unconscionably hypocritical.
Frank Rich has a great op-ed piece on this. Now that the Times lets people read op-eds, I encourage you all to click this link and read it.
September 19, 2007
In my day, grass-roots activists had dignity and got the job done (or, why Andrew Meyer is an idiot)
As my loyal blog-readers know, I have a history of grass-roots activism, primarily with the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT-UP) and, to a lesser extent, Queer Nation. As part of my work with these organizations, I disrupted a George H.W. Bush speech at the Republican National Convention in Houston, Texas, in 1992. I blogged about that incident previously, prior to my return to Houston a few years ago.
At the age of 36, I think I'm prematurely crusty. Why, you ask? Because the last few days I have heard myself saying "In my day" more often than someone of my age should. In my day, an activist never called attention to herself/himself, we called attention to our causes. When Michael Morrisey and I were arrested at the RNC, we were yelling "WHAT ABOUT AIDS?" We wanted to draw attention to Bush-41's lack of a response to the AIDS crisis, which had reached its fever pitch during his presidency. When the police came to arrest us, we had a simple, rehearsed response: "No violence." We did not resist arrest. We went to jail and were glad to do so. We served time. Period.
It makes me all of the angrier, then, to see YouTube videos of a histrionic person named Andrew Meyer disrupting John Kerry's speech with what is appears to be a self-serving, self-promoting rant. Though one of the points he makes is important (Kerry conceded the election far too soon, given apparent evidence of voter disenfranchisement), his point was lost in his theatrical arrest, and his bizarre subject-switch. Was Kerry a member of skull and bones? What does that matter? Mr. Meyer, in the unlikely case that you actually read this and are open to criticism, let me tell you this: if you were any kind of an activist, you would focus on promoting your message, not yourself. Nobody remembers the names of the people who protested at the 1992 RNC (outside of our circle of friends and compatriots), but many, many people remember the 1992 RNC as a place where GLBT people made a stand that they would not allow themselves to vilified. That's what quality activism gets you. In my day, we knew that.
September 18, 2007
Tammy Baldwin: An Immediate (and entirely Holistic) Cure for Cynicism
Tammy Baldwin's Lecture last Saturday night was wonderful. It is very easy to be completely cynical about politics, particularly if you allow yourself to read, view, and believe the mainstream media. Hearing Tammy talk about her career, her political agenda, and her completely uncomplicated and unselfish agenda of public service was inspiring. I left that lecture inspired to do more for the public good.
Plus, she autographed her picture in Kevin's copy of the Advocate.
I hasten to point out that I am not adding a link to the Daily Minnesotan about this lecture, as the article failed to mention that her lecture was supported in part by the Stephen J. Schochet Endowment It did mention that the lecture series is named for Allan Spear. (It also failed to mention that funds were raised--almost miraculously--but the inimitable Beng Chang and Anne Phibbs.) As a Gay (yes, I'm big-G Gay, not small-g gay) professor, gay Minnesotan, and gay-studies scholar, I am equally grateful to Schochet, Spear, and Beng, and a story about the talk should have mentioned all of them.
September 07, 2007
Greek to me
After a long week (and yes, this one was indeed a long week), nothing takes one's mind off of work more effectively than cooking a large, elaborate meal. Kevin noticed a rather appetizing picture of pastitsio in Amy Sedaris's book I Like You and said it looked good. I grew up eating pastitsio and moussaka at Kostas restaurant in Buffalo, so I was excited to make it.
What and ordeal.
I mean it:
What.
An.
Ordeal.
It was worse than Coq au vin! Three major components! Also, I made a simple Greek salad, too--cored tomatoes, English cucumbers, red onion, garlic, kalamata olives, and feta. And a homemade dressing. The two dishes together were an effing ordeal.
Fortunately, they were also delicious. And they made me forget about my work commitments! As we used to say in high school: bonus.
August 27, 2007
The Seven Year Itch
It was seven years ago today that I became a professor at the University of Minnesota.
And it was seven years minus one week ago that I walked out of my car after teaching my first class and thought "I'm the professor? Oh no, they're all doomed." Then I broke out laughing.
My first year as a professor--or maybe just my first semester as a professor--I was fascinated by it. I honestly never thought I would finish college, much less graduate school, much less get a job, much less get a job and stay in it for as long as I have. When I walk out to my car today, I'm going to try to remember how I felt walking to fourth street ramp that first day. I was utterly fascinated. Elated. Dumbfounded.
I'm going to try to remember that, because I'm starting to get to be as jaded and bitter as people who I used to resent for being so jaded and bitter. I'm going to try to remember all of the happy moments in my career: that first day, getting my dissertation published, getting my first internal grant, and getting my first external grant. I'm going to try to remember the phrase that my mom had framed in the kitchen, Illegitimi non carborundum, a mock-Latin (and mock-grammatical, for that matter) expression that means more to me today than when I first learned its meaning, 30+ years ago. And yes, when my mom told me the meaning, she used the "b" word. Back then it was a scandal. These days, it's considered good clean language.