Out in the country: youth, media, and queer visibility in rural America

293 Pages·2009·5.397 MB·English

by  Mary L. Gray

Outi nt he
Country
Youth, Media, and
Queer Visibility in
Rural America
Mary L. Gray
NEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS
New York and Londcm
NEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS
New York and London
www.nyupress.org
© 2009 by New York University
Ali rights reserved
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gray, Mary L.
Out in the country : youth, media, and queer
visibility in rural America / Mary L. Gray.
p. cm. -(Intersections: transdisciplinary perspectives
on genders and sexualities)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-8147-3192-5 (el: alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-8147-3192-9 (el : alk. paper)
ISBN-13: 978-0-8147-3193-2 (pb
ISBN-10: 0-8147-3193-7 (pb
1. Gay youth-Kentucky. 2. Rural population-Kentucky. l. Title.
HQ76.27.Y68G73 2009
306.76'608350973091734-dC22 2009006120
New York University Press books
Manufactured in the United States of America
e 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
p 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Por Catherine, our nieces and nephews,
and in memory of Grandma Doree,
the mother of all PFLAG moms.

Contents
Acknowledgments ix
Preface: Never Met a Stranger xi
Introduction: There Are No Queers Here 1
PART 1: Queers Here? Recognizing the Familiar Stranger
2 Unexpected Activists: 35
Homemakers Club and Gay Teens at the Local Library
3 School Fight! 61
Local Struggles over National Advocacy Strategies
4 From Wal-Mart to Websites: Out in Public 87
Queering Realness
PART 11:
5 Online Profiles: Remediating the Coming-Out Story 121
6 To Be Real: 141
Transidentification on the Discovery Channel
7 Conclusion: Visibility Out in the Country 165
Epilogue: You Got to Fight for Your Right ... to Marry? 177
Appendix: Methods, Ad-hoc Ethics, and 185
the Politics of Sexuality Studies
Notes 197
Bibliography 229
Index 261
About the Author 279
vii

Acknowledgments
I am deeply indebted first and foremost to the individuals who
shared their stories for this project. Without their participation and en­
couragement, this book would not have been possible. I would like to par­
ticularly thank Natalie Reteneller, for her tireless spirit and many hours of
thoughtful reflection. She has been an inspiration, as have the Louisville
Youth Group youth leaders and mentors. The insights of AJ, Mary Bird,
Gina Cooper, Jakob McDougale, Michelle B., Ed and Jane McCurley, and
Shaun A., Joe B., and Dale Green were invaluable.
This research was funded, in part, by a fellowship from the Sexuality
Research Fellowship Program of the Social Science Research Council sup­
ported by the Ford Foundation. An earlier research award from the Gay
and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation's Center for the Study of Media
and Society also contributed to the completion of this project.
While living in Kentucky, I could not have asked for a group of more
supportive colleagues than those I found at the University of Louisville
and the University of Kentucky. The faculty and staff of the Women's and
Gender Studies Program and Professors Susan Kelly, Caro! Mattingly, and
Rick Zimmerman were generous sources of strength and wonderful role
models.
I am grateful to the many teachers and colleagues who have sustained
me. Geof Bowker, Steve Epstein, Larry Gross, Leah Lievrouw, Vince Ra­
fael, Michael Schudson, Ellen Seiter, Susan Leigh Star, Oiga Vasquez and
the University of California at San Diego Communication Department's
staff, graduate students, and faculty were especially patient and nurturing
with my growth as a scholar. I have garnered wonderful mentoring from
my Social Science Research Council fellowship adviser, Joshua Gamson,
and engagement with friends and scholars Ron Day, John De Ceceo, Mark
Deuze, Betsi Grabe, Rae Greiner, Judith Halberstam, Karen Hossfeld, Toi
James, Esther Newton, David Delgado Shorter, Carrie Sloan, Heide Sol­
brig, Matthew Stahl, Fred Turner, Zak Szymanski, and Nina Wakeford.
ix
x Acknowledgments
Colleagues associated with the Society of Lesbian and Gay Anthropolo­
gists are priceless. If it hadn't been for SOLGA, I doubt IO still be in aca­
demics. Indiana University's Department of Communication and Culture
has been a dream academic home. Ali the faculty and staff contributed to
the growth and polish of this manuscript in immeasurable ways. 1 want
to particularly thank Dick Bauman and Barb Klinger for comments on
pieces of this puzzle and Yeidy Rivero and Phaedra Pezzullo for cocktails
when I didn't know what to do with those pieces of the puzzle. The Gen­
der Studies Department at IU has been a second academic home. Mar­
lon Bailey, Sara Friedman, Colin Johnson, and Brenda Weber are nothing
short of inspiring as colleagues. llene Kalish, and her staff at NYU Press,
helped me step into the shoes of the writer. Thank you for your keen
editorial eye and your seemingly indefatigable patience. A special thanks
to Suzanna Walters, whose tireless cajoling and sharp intellect kept me
giving more than 1 thought I could give. Thank you for your thoughtful
comments and patience. Without Verda Hamparson's emotional support
and the editorial prowess of Doris Brosnan and Andrew Brosnan, 1 would
likely still be working out the rough outlines of this manuscript and am
therefore forever in their debt. I want to extend a special note of thanks to
Leigh Star. She believed in me, gently coaxed me in productive directions,
and helped me understand the contributions I could make as a scholar.
Leigh gave me a strong sense of lineage and intellectual heritage that 1
will always treasure and look forward to passing on to my own students.
To the Tuckers and the Guthries-1 wouldn't be here without you.
Thank you. Catherine Guthrie has been my rock and soft place to land for
the length of my scholarly career. Every <lay, she has made me feel more
loved, wise, and at peace with the world and my place in it. I would not
be the person, scholar, or writer I am today without her. May 1 have a life­
time to show my appreciation and !ove.
Preface
Never Met a Stranger
When I· talk about researching what gay visibility in the me­
dia means to rural youth claiming a queer sense of identity, most people
want to know how I ever found enough kids to ask. They also ask if, as
a queer-identifying woman, I was scared traveling around "the middle of
nowhere" asking about such things. First, you have to understand that I'm
the kind of person who has, as the saying goes, "never met a stranger:'
While children raised in cities might learn to manage the press of strang­
ers through distance and aloofness, my small-town upbringing taught me
to assume the (ladylike) posture of pre-emptive friendliness. Far from
feeling estranged out in the country (and sometimes embarrassed to ad­
mit this to my urbane friends), I felt at home.
Growing up in California's Central Valley, I was surrounded by
twangy, dustbowl-singed drawls as thick as any I would encounter
while doing my research in rural Kentucky and the small towns scat­
tered along its Illinois, Indiana, West Virginia, and Tennessee borders.
My inclination to use "y'all" allowed me to fit in fairly seamlessly with
my new surroundings. My white skin, gender neutrality ( or, at least,
not notably butch by country standards), and familiarity with small
towns helped me feel at ease with the people I met and the circuitous
rhythms of country life. I sensed that the experiences of youth living
in presumably simple and isolated places would shed light on how pro­
foundly complicated, mobile, and mediated rural youth identities are
because of my intimate familiarity with these places. Such communi­
ties produce far more complex, dynamic experiences and expressions
of sexuality and gender than characterizations about rural America
lobbed from the Left or the Right. I meandered through regions of the
mid-Southern swath of the United States as a stranger but with a deep
sense of acquaintance.
xi