Book Review: Bell and Binnie, The Sexual Citizen

David Bell and Jon Binnie.
The Sexual Citizen: Queer Politics and Beyond.
Polity Press, 2000, 176 pp.
$Cdn. 38.50 paper (0-7456-1654-2), $Cdn. 92.95 cloth (0-7456-1653-4)

Much of the political activity among Queer communities takes place through a rights-based understanding of citizenship. Gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, and trans-people regularly struggle for the right to be included in wide array of social institutions. In The Sexual Citizen David Bell and Jon Binnie ask us to consider the usefulness of thinking about sexual politics through the lens of citizenship.

“After two decades of debate — not just in the academy, but in law courts and state offices, and on the streets — we feel that the time has come to reflect on the question of sexual citizenship; to ask was it worth it? What have we learnt from the debates, where are we now, where do we go from here?” (1).

To answer these questions, Bell and Binnie examine some of the particular locations — marriage, the family, the military, urban city-scapes, the market, globalization, and intimate/love relations — in which claims to citizenship are currently being made. The story they tell is one filled with ambivalence. While recognizing the effectiveness of political mobilizations around rights, they also remind us “that the fundamental articulation of citizenship matches rights with responsibilities — and we need to be mindful of the responsibilities that sexual dissidents are made to carry in the trade-off for rights” (142). In their examination Bell and Binnie illustrate that those who stand to lose the most in this trade-off are those who already have little to begin with.

When this necessary trade-off intersects with demands for rightful inclusion in institutions that are deeply heteronormative we are often faced with the fact that some dissident sexualities do not, in any way, approximate that heteronormative model. For example in chapter 3, the authors argue that regardless of how we articulate the notion of family, as in “families we choose,” family is still understood within fairly constrained terms — as privatized, coupled, and monogamous. Those who, for whatever reason, do not live their sexual selves in privatized, coupled, and monogamous terms are necessarily excluded from the protection afforded by being recognized as family. For Bell and Binnie, the trade-offs inherent in citizenship inevitably lead to the construction of “good” gay citizens — those who conform, as closely as they might, to a heteronormative model — and “bad” gay citizens — those unable or unwilling to conform to privatized or coupled articulations of sexual identity.

Bell and Binnie argue, however, that citizenship trade-offs do more than exclude certain individuals or groups from the securities of citizenship. Trade-offs also constrain the mode of sexual politics altogether. Because citizenship inevitably means balancing rights with obligations, the practice of sexual politics is limited to fitting dissident sexualities into heteronormative structures, rather than a rejection of heteronormativity. Thus, for example, while inclusion within marriage secures intimate associations through legal protection, this also functions to close down other possibilities for living as a sexual citizen. The effect is to validate the practice of passing as the only legitimate mode of sexual citizenship.

This aspect of Bell and Binnie’s analysis is, of course, well-trodden ground. The question as to whether sexual freedoms are better gained through either a rights-based assimilation or a rejection of the status quo has been a central point of debate in sexual politics, starting with the emergence of the homophile movement of the late fifties. Since the late eighties, the politics of AIDS, ACT UP, Queer Nation, and queer theory have helped illustrate how operating within normative systems functions to further oppression. A central notion emerging from these endeavors is the argument that if we can’t, in good faith, work within normative structures, then we had better opt for a politics of transgression in an attempt to dismantle them.

“In one sense, that’s what the hard choices facing the sexual citizen are: the push towards rights claims that make dissident sexualities fit into heterosexual culture, by demanding equality and recognition, versus the demand to reject settling for heteronormativity through, for example, sex positive strategies of refusal” (141).

Where Bell and Binnie begin to part with much queer thinking is in their consideration of this choice and the identification of their analysis as “post-queer.” This is not, for the authors, a rejection of queer politics. Rather it indicates the current “negotiations and transformations in sexual politics” that the term queer has brought in its wake. They note that political choices are seldom simple, and to frame sexual citizenship as a choice between either assimilation or queer transgression hides the ways in which class informs our struggle for recognition. Class-based exclusions are a “vector of the unevenness of access to the enabling possibilities of aspects of sexual citizenship” (144). Bell and Binnie favor neither an assimilationist, rights-based politics nor a queerly informed politics of transgression and argue persuasively that both modes of sexual politicking carry with them class-based possibilities and limitations. The challenge of the sexual citizen is in negotiating this tension. Thus, while queer transgressions are enormously productive — witness the ways in which ACT UP activism changed the face of gay men’s health care — they also note that queer transgression is available only to a privileged few. At the same time, while the not-so-queer sexual citizenship activities associated with, for example, the right to occupy physical space or market space have been enormously productive — witness the continual exodus of men and women to major urban centers in their desire to find life and love — they note that being a hip urban homosexual requires material resources not available to all.

The scope of The Sexual Citizen is broad. In 146 pages of analysis, Bell and Binnie explore the articulation of sexual citizenship in the context of marriage, the family, the military, (urban) space, the market, increasing globalization, and intimate love relations. The six chapters devoted to these examinations are preceded by an introductory chapter conceptualizing their understanding of sexual citizenship and a second chapter situating the emergence of sexual citizenship in current social and theoretical trends. A brief summarizing chapter on the nature of the hard choices the sexual citizen faces concludes their analysis. Bell and Binnie point out that they are not interested in re-hashing many of the debates on the nature of (sexual) citizenship, but would “rather cut to the chase”. As a result their conceptual and theoretical elaboration is somewhat brief and limited almost entirely to a consideration of class, creating a book that may be of only passing interest to those with more conceptual or theoretical interests. In its brevity, however, this book is tantalizing, evocative, and approachable. Classrooms with senior undergraduate students interested in contemporary sexual politics would find many useful starting points for further exploration and anyone keen to begin thinking carefully about our current struggle for sexual rights would do well to engage with Bell and Binnie’s critique.

Russell Westhaver
Department of Sociology and Anthropology
Simon Fraser University
rwesthav@sfu.ca



		Canadian Journal of Sociology Online September - Octobert 2001 David Bell and Jon Binnie. The Sexual Citizen: Queer Politics and Beyond. Polity Press, 2000, 176 pp. $Cdn. 38.50 paper (0-7456-1654-2), $Cdn. 92.95 cloth (0-7456-1653-4) Much of the political activity among Queer communities takes place through a rights-based understanding of citizenship. Gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, and trans-people regularly struggle for the right to be included in wide array of social institutions. In The Sexual Citizen David Bell and Jon Binnie ask us to consider the usefulness of thinking about sexual politics through the lens of citizenship. “After two decades of debate — not just in the academy, but in law courts and state offices, and on the streets — we feel that the time has come to reflect on the question of sexual citizenship; to ask was it worth it? What have we learnt from the debates, where are we now, where do we go from here?” (1). To answer these questions, Bell and Binnie examine some of the particular locations — marriage, the family, the military, urban city-scapes, the market, globalization, and intimate/love relations — in which claims to citizenship are currently being made. The story they tell is one filled with ambivalence. While recognizing the effectiveness of political mobilizations around rights, they also remind us “that the fundamental articulation of citizenship matches rights with responsibilities — and we need to be mindful of the responsibilities that sexual dissidents are made to carry in the trade-off for rights” (142). In their examination Bell and Binnie illustrate that those who stand to lose the most in this trade-off are those who already have little to begin with. When this necessary trade-off intersects with demands for rightful inclusion in institutions that are deeply heteronormative we are often faced with the fact that some dissident sexualities do not, in any way, approximate that heteronormative model. For example in chapter 3, the authors argue that regardless of how we articulate the notion of family, as in “families we choose,” family is still understood within fairly constrained terms — as privatized, coupled, and monogamous. Those who, for whatever reason, do not live their sexual selves in privatized, coupled, and monogamous terms are necessarily excluded from the protection afforded by being recognized as family. For Bell and Binnie, the trade-offs inherent in citizenship inevitably lead to the construction of “good” gay citizens — those who conform, as closely as they might, to a heteronormative model — and “bad” gay citizens — those unable or unwilling to conform to privatized or coupled articulations of sexual identity. Bell and Binnie argue, however, that citizenship trade-offs do more than exclude certain individuals or groups from the securities of citizenship. Trade-offs also constrain the mode of sexual politics altogether. Because citizenship inevitably means balancing rights with obligations, the practice of sexual politics is limited to fitting dissident sexualities into heteronormative structures, rather than a rejection of heteronormativity. Thus, for example, while inclusion within marriage secures intimate associations through legal protection, this also functions to close down other possibilities for living as a sexual citizen. The effect is to validate the practice of passing as the only legitimate mode of sexual citizenship. This aspect of Bell and Binnie’s analysis is, of course, well-trodden ground. The question as to whether sexual freedoms are better gained through either a rights-based assimilation or a rejection of the status quo has been a central point of debate in sexual politics, starting with the emergence of the homophile movement of the late fifties. Since the late eighties, the politics of AIDS, ACT UP, Queer Nation, and queer theory have helped illustrate how operating within normative systems functions to further oppression. A central notion emerging from these endeavors is the argument that if we can’t, in good faith, work within normative structures, then we had better opt for a politics of transgression in an attempt to dismantle them. “In one sense, that’s what the hard choices facing the sexual citizen are: the push towards rights claims that make dissident sexualities fit into heterosexual culture, by demanding equality and recognition, versus the demand to reject settling for heteronormativity through, for example, sex positive strategies of refusal” (141). Where Bell and Binnie begin to part with much queer thinking is in their consideration of this choice and the identification of their analysis as “post-queer.” This is not, for the authors, a rejection of queer politics. Rather it indicates the current “negotiations and transformations in sexual politics” that the term queer has brought in its wake. They note that political choices are seldom simple, and to frame sexual citizenship as a choice between either assimilation or queer transgression hides the ways in which class informs our struggle for recognition. Class-based exclusions are a “vector of the unevenness of access to the enabling possibilities of aspects of sexual citizenship” (144). Bell and Binnie favor neither an assimilationist, rights-based politics nor a queerly informed politics of transgression and argue persuasively that both modes of sexual politicking carry with them class-based possibilities and limitations. The challenge of the sexual citizen is in negotiating this tension. Thus, while queer transgressions are enormously productive — witness the ways in which ACT UP activism changed the face of gay men’s health care — they also note that queer transgression is available only to a privileged few. At the same time, while the not-so-queer sexual citizenship activities associated with, for example, the right to occupy physical space or market space have been enormously productive — witness the continual exodus of men and women to major urban centers in their desire to find life and love — they note that being a hip urban homosexual requires material resources not available to all. The scope of The Sexual Citizen is broad. In 146 pages of analysis, Bell and Binnie explore the articulation of sexual citizenship in the context of marriage, the family, the military, (urban) space, the market, increasing globalization, and intimate love relations. The six chapters devoted to these examinations are preceded by an introductory chapter conceptualizing their understanding of sexual citizenship and a second chapter situating the emergence of sexual citizenship in current social and theoretical trends. A brief summarizing chapter on the nature of the hard choices the sexual citizen faces concludes their analysis. Bell and Binnie point out that they are not interested in re-hashing many of the debates on the nature of (sexual) citizenship, but would “rather cut to the chase”. As a result their conceptual and theoretical elaboration is somewhat brief and limited almost entirely to a consideration of class, creating a book that may be of only passing interest to those with more conceptual or theoretical interests. In its brevity, however, this book is tantalizing, evocative, and approachable. Classrooms with senior undergraduate students interested in contemporary sexual politics would find many useful starting points for further exploration and anyone keen to begin thinking carefully about our current struggle for sexual rights would do well to engage with Bell and Binnie’s critique. Russell Westhaver Department of Sociology and Anthropology Simon Fraser University rwesthav@sfu.ca http://www.arts.ualberta.ca/cjscopy/reviews/ September 2001 © CJS Online