Gay, Inc.: The Nonprofitization of Queer Politics

244 Pages·2018·2.661 MB·English

by  Myrl Beam

Gay, Inc.
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Gay, Inc.
The Nonprofitization of Queer Politics
Myrl Beam
University of Minnesota Press
Minneapolis
London
Portions of chapter 4 were published as “At the Limits of ‘By and For’: Space, Struggle, and
the Non- Profitization of Queer Youth,” Scholar and Feminist Online 13, no. 2 (Spring 2016).
Copyright 2018 by Myrl Beam
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval sys-
tem, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published by the University of Minnesota Press
111 Third Avenue South, Suite 290
Minneapolis, MN 55401- 2520
http://www.upress.umn.edu
Printed in the United States of America on acid- free paper
The University of Minnesota is an equal-o pportunity educator and employer.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Beam, Myrl, author.
Title: Gay, Inc. : the nonprofitization of queer politics / Myrl Beam.
Description: Minneapolis : Univ Of Minnesota Press, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and
index. |
Identifiers: LCCN 2018001926 (print) | LCCN 2018020173 (ebook) | ISBN 9781452957760 (e-book) |
ISBN 9781517901783 (hardback) | ISBN 9781517901790 (pb)
Subjects: LCSH: Nonprofit organizations—Middle West. | Gay liberation movement—Middle
West. | Neoliberalism—Middle West. | BISAC: SOCIAL SCIENCE / Anthropology / Cultural. |
B USINESS & ECONOMICS / Nonprofit Organizations & Charities.
Classification: LCC HD2798.M58 (ebook) | LCC HD2798.M58 B43 2018 (print) |
DDC 362.89/6457630977—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018001926
UMP BmB 2018
Contents
Introduction 1
1. Neoliberalism, Nonprofitization, and Social Change 21
2. The Work of Compassion: Institutionalizing Affective 41
Economies of AIDS and Homelessness
3. Community and Its Others: Safety, Space, and Nonprofitization 81
4. Capital and Nonprofitization: At the Limits of “By and For” 117
5. Navigating the Crisis of Neoliberalism: A Stance of 149
Undefeated Despair
Conclusion 189
Acknowledgments 203
Notes 207
Index 229
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Introduction
We, the Left, have been described as being weak, fractured, disorganized.
I attribute that to three things: COINTELPRO. 501(c)(3). Capitalism.
Susanne Pharr, Plenary Session, “The Revolution Will Not Be Funded:
Beyond the Non-P rofit Industrial Complex” Conference
More insidious than the raw structural constraint exerted by the
foundation/state/non- profit nexus is the way in which this new industry
grounds an epistemology— literally, a way of knowing social change and
resistance praxis— that is difficult to escape or rupture.
Dylan Rodriguez, “The Political Logic of the Non-P rofit Industrial
Complex” in The Revolution Will Not Be Funded
In June of 2013, timed to hit right before Gay Pride events, the Ali For-
ney Center in New York City—t he largest social service agency for LGBT
homeless youth in the country— released a video to promote a fundrais-
ing collaboration with the gay- owned design house Nasty Pig. Nasty Pig
donated T- shirts designed by gay celebrities like Alan Cumming, Michael
Stipe, and Adam Lambert to be auctioned off to benefit the center. In
the video promoting this fundraiser, Carl Siciliano, the executive direc-
tor of the center, articulates a familiar explanatory narrative for queer
youth homelessness— family rejection. According to this narrative, the
primary cause for queer youth homelessness is homophobia within, and
rejection from, the family. “Homophobia,” he says, “has a way of mak-
ing children— teenagers— destitute. They come out and then they are put
out.”1 According to Siciliano, the root cause of this queer kind of homeless-
ness is homophobia— it literally is making children destitute.
Homophobia, on its own, is not making children destitute. Being des-
titute is making children destitute. Racialized poverty, not homophobia, is
the root cause of homelessness, including queer youth homelessness.2 This
1
2 · IntroduCtIon
is certainly not to say that many queer youth who are homeless do not have
fraught relationships with their families of origin, experience homopho-
bia, and get sent away from the home they knew. That can be the case for
some young people, but it is only ever a piece of the story, and importantly,
it doesn’t explain homelessness, especially persistent homelessness. When
a young person with access to resources gets put out, that doesn’t neces-
sarily translate into homelessness, and, when it does, the homelessness is
not often long lasting. Instead, for most queer youth experiencing home-
lessness, that homelessness is due to entire families and communities liv-
ing in poverty, without access to affordable housing, trying to survive in
the rubble of the failed social safety net. Public housing, public hospitals,
and public benefits have been decimated over the last forty years while
the prison system has expanded and a shift toward temporary and tenu-
ous labor in the service sector has occurred. Why, if this broader context
of racialized poverty is really at the heart of queer youth homelessness, is
homophobia so frequently identified as the culprit, especially by organi-
zations that should know better, working, as they do, with queer young
people experiencing homelessness? The family rejection narrative is im-
portant insofar as it is a compelling story for Ali Forney’s prime donor
base: middle and upper income white gay and lesbian couples. In order
to have that cash value, the narrative obscures the systemic political eco-
nomic realities of racialized poverty in the United States, and it constructs
queer youth homelessness as exceptional, separate from the figure of the
undeserving poor so readily at hand. In other words, like so many organi-
zations across the LGBT movement, Ali Forney’s approach to an issue it
wants to address is driven by what wealthy donors need to hear in order to
motivate them to give money.
For two years I was employed in a queer youth nonprofit in Chicago
as a case manager, working with young people experiencing homeless-
ness and housing instability, most of whom were queer, many of whom
were gender- nonconforming, and the large majority of whom were young
people of color. For those young people who had experienced family re-
jection, that was only ever one factor among many that attributed to their
homelessness, and for many it wasn’t a factor at all. The actual factors—
Chicago’s crumbling public health and education systems, the destruction
of fifty thousand units of public housing, intense residential segregation
and racialized policing, exclusion from labor markets, gentrification, and
a punitive and policing public benefits system— are much less appealing to
IntroduCtIon · 3
wealthy white gay donors, without whom organizations like the Ali Forney
Center and The Broadway Youth Center, where I worked, would not exist.
This contradiction— between the complex systemic violences that
structure reality for young people and the direct service staff who worked
with them, and the simplistic and individualized narrative used to sell
those services to wealthy donors—i s merely one frustrating contradiction
among many that make working in queer nonprofits so maddening. I re-
member very clearly during my tenure at the Broadway Youth Center a
staff meeting full of shared irritation about the neighborhood gay cham-
ber of commerce organization’s attempts to pressure the Chicago Police
Department to install a “blue light” surveillance camera at the intersection
where our drop- in space was located. This proposed camera would enable
increased policing of the young people who accessed the drop-i n, young
people who were trying to get a meal, see the medical provider, perhaps
meet with their case manager, or just connect with friends. Many had out-
standing warrants, typically for the kinds of economic crimes engaged in
by young people doing what they need to do in order to survive: loiter-
ing, shoplifting, turnstile jumping, writing bad checks, sex work, or petty
drug sales. In the face of this potential for increased surveillance there was
amazing solidarity among the staff, a shared recognition that increased
policing would make homeless queer youth less safe and leave their ability
to negotiate hostile systems even more tenuous, and that it would have a
differential impact on youth of color.
I also remember, though, the shame I felt hours later as I, while staff-
ing the drop- in, interrupted a young person rolling her way past the food
table, filling her paper plate, chatting with her friends, giving them shit,
and told her to put one of the pieces of pizza she grabbed back on the
table so that everyone who came that afternoon would have something to
eat. Me, a white college educated trans-m asculine person reprimanding
an African American trans woman, maybe sixteen, for “taking more than
her share”— as if I was not actually the person in that situation who had
received more than my fair share. I remember trying to make a joke, to be
as kind as one can be while policing the eating choices of someone else, to
make it less humiliating and dehumanizing for that young person, but the
power dynamic was stark, and there was no room for humor. Me, with my
belly full, telling this person to leave drop- in hungry, knowing that those
two pieces of pizza were all she would eat that day, perhaps all she’d eaten
in days. And she looked at me incredulously, like “are you really doing