A member of the wedding?
Heterosexism and family ritual
Ramona Faith Oswald
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
ABSTRACT
Heterosexism as an interpersonal dynamic at weddings was
examined using feminist critical science. Data were collected
from 45 gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people who
attended focus groups. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender
participants described multiple interactions in which they
were devalued or hidden, while heterosexuality was elevated,
as well as interactions in which they or another family
member resisted heterosexism. Weddings were perceived to
be difficult, and participation in them was questioned. As part
of their critique of weddings, participants offered a vision of
relationships that was based on commitment, rather than heterosexuality
or material benefits. Results of this study were
used to create a brochure and website for educating heterosexual
people planning weddings.
KEY WORDS: family ritual/weddings ˇ gay, lesbian, bisexual, and
transgender ˇ grounded theory ˇ heterosexism
Proud mothers and tearful fathers. Beaming brides, nervous grooms, and
grandparents offering advice. Poses and flashbulbs and itchy clothes. Petty
arguments behind closed doors. Children abuzz with too much cake and
excitement. Boisterous friends kidding each other about whom will be next.
Although perhaps the most normative of rituals, weddings are not neutral.
Rituals are significant in part because they link private and public meanings,
and demonstrate an acceptance and/or rejection of social convention
(Roberts, 1988). Our society privileges heterosexual marriage, and thus
weddings also link the personal decision to marry with an institutional heterosexual
privilege carrying profound social, legal, financial, and religious
This research was partially funded by a Doctoral Dissertation Special Grant from the
University of Minnesota. A USDA Hatch Grant provided writing support. All correspondence
concerning this article should be addressed to Ramona Faith Oswald, Department of
Human and Community Development, 210 Child Development Lab, MC-038, University of
Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1105 West Nevada, Urbana, IL 61801, USA [E-mail:
roswald@uiuc.edu].
Journal of Social and Personal Relationships Copyright  2000 SAGE Publications (London,
Thousand Oaks, CA and New Delhi), Vol. 17(3): 349­368. [0265­4075 (200006) 17:3; 012713]
benefits. These benefits are not currently available to gay, lesbian, bisexual,
and transgender (GLBT) people. In addition, within current public discourse
and policy, privilege linked to the union of one man and one woman
is bolstered by defining GLBT people as a threat to family life based in heterosexual
marriage (e.g., Federal Defense of Marriage Act, 1996). Thus,
weddings not only celebrate heterosexuality, they also symbolize the multiple
social benefits surrounding marriage that are denied GLBT people.
Weddings, therefore, offer a unique opportunity to examine ways in which
power relations between heterosexual and GLBT people may be reproduced.
The purpose of this study was to examine whether, and how, GLBT
family members perceive heterosexism at family weddings.
Weddings are not, however, theorized to be simplistically scripted events
that are or are not heterosexist. Like all rituals, proper weddings are proscribed
by social authority (Parkin, 1992). Given that family members are
front-stage (Goffman, 1959) during weddings, they are likely to construct
an image of themselves that is consistent with social proscriptions (Cheal,
1988) even if that image belies their non-ritual way of interacting. Because
ritual is a kind of social performance (Goffman, 1959), the discovery of heterosexism
at weddings should not be surprising, even when it is experienced
by GLBT people who are out and relatively accepted in everyday
life. In addition, any analysis of weddings should allow for the possibility
that proper enactment is subverted as individuals pursue their own meanings
and desires in social interaction with others (Parkin, 1992). This potential
co-existence of multiple and competing realities brings out Baumann's
(1992) claim that rituals implicate otherness; they are always constructed
with reference to an outside group. Thus, while many aspects of ritual can
be understood by looking only at the in-group experience, our knowledge
will be deepened, and even challenged, when we look at how that ritual is
experienced and/or perceived by members of the out-group who affect, and
are affected by, the ritual. In the case of weddings, GLBT people do constitute
an out-group in relation to heterosexuals, and their experience
potentially corrects and expands current knowledge about weddings, about
family, and about the consequences social inequality may have for personal
relationships.
The few interpretive studies of heterosexual weddings and related rituals
that have been published have not questioned the heterosexist social context
in which family relations are negotiated. For example, Braithwaite and
Baxter (1995) interviewed husbands and wives about their vow-renewal
ceremonies. Participants emphasized the importance of having their
renewals be like conventional weddings, but did not acknowledge the existence
of any GLBT family members, or the impact that their ritual choice
might have had on others. While Braithwaite and Baxter (1995) examined
how wives and husbands use vow renewal to maintain their relationships,
most other wedding scholars have analyzed the social construction of
gender. Cheal (1988) observed bridal showers and argued that they are
sites of female solidarity where women affirm the ties that they will need in
order to survive sexist marriages. Currie (1993) interviewed brides about
350 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
their wedding planning processes and found that they opted for traditional
symbolism and behavior that subordinated them to their husbands. Brides
defined their choice as a matter of personal preference rather than adherence
to tradition. Braithwaite (1995) participated in co-ed wedding showers
and analyzed the ways in which women, being the ritual experts,
embarrassed men into complying with ritual practices. These existing
studies demonstrate the intercom (Roberts, 1988) by which social interaction
during rituals aligns individual behavior and desires with social norms
that promote conventional gender and heterosexual relationships. This
study adds to existing knowledge an understanding of what happens within
personal relationships when presumptions of universal heterosexuality are
interrupted.
Methodology
Feminist critical science guided this investigation. Demo and Allen (1996)
argued that the family field needs more research on gay and lesbian people
from a variety of paradigms, including critical science. The goal of feminist
critical science research is to promote social justice by using empirical research
to challenge beliefs and practices that exclude non-hegemonic experience and
knowledge (Lather, 1991). This goal requires the development of a standpoint
(Comstock, 1982).
Reflexive practice, the process by which relationships between self, social
location, and knowledge are analyzed, aids in the development of a standpoint
(Lather, 1991). Having a standpoint is a first step towards challenging injustice;
it enables people to see the ways in which hegemonic discourse privileges some
perspectives while obscuring others, and it links this process to ongoing
material inequalities in society (Comstock, 1982). My own evolving critical consciousness
is the base from which this project developed. During two very
intense years, I attended family weddings, had co-workers who got married,
and my partner and I had a commitment ceremony. I initially thought about the
various exclusions that I experienced as products of specific interpersonal
relationships. It was only after talking with many other GLBT people that I was
able to think about heterosexism and weddings as a shared rather than idiosyncratic
experience. I began to identify myself as a member of a marginalized
group rather than someone who just had an alternative lifestyle and a difficult
family.
Despite my developing standpoint, I was challenged throughout this project
to rethink the constructed `myth of us' (Harraway, 1990: 197): GLBT people
are not necessarily alike. I have learned to take seriously the importance of
religion in people's lives, the pull of family loyalty, and the desire of many to
participate in mainstream culture so that I can engage in `open and flexible
theory building, grounded in a body of empirical work ceaselessly confronted
with, and respectful of, the experiences of people in their daily lives' (Lather,
1991, p. 54).
Thus, when I sought to use Comstock's (1982) method for critical research, I
could not follow it exactly. He began with the investigator working with an
established group, and implied that the researcher is an outsider to the group
who tries to understand insider meanings. Because I am an insider, and GLBT
Oswald: Heterosexism and family ritual 351
group membership is not organized in a formal way around weddings, I instead
conceptualized this research more loosely as a community project. Participants
were recruited through community venues and I presented myself as a lesbian
who wanted to know what other GLBT people had experienced at weddings.
Flyers, newspaper and Internet postings, and word of mouth recruiting were all
used to locate participants.
Participants
Recruiting took place within Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota, a place in which
GLBT people are highly visible and relatively accepted. Response was rapid --
most participants were recruited within 2 weeks. Forty-five adult GLBT people
who had attended at least one heterosexual family wedding participated. They
ranged in age from 18 to 71 years. Forty-two participants attended one of nine
focus groups, and two gay male participants attended two focus groups because
they felt that they had more to say.
Twenty-six participants identified as female, fifteen as male, and four as
something other than male or female (I will refer to them as transgender).
Twenty-four women identified as lesbian, fourteen men identified as gay, and
two women and one man identified as bisexual. One transgender participant
claimed a bisexual identity, while the other three self-identified as queer,
femme, or oriented to drag culture.
I had originally planned to recruit only gay male and lesbian participants.
However, it quickly became clear to me that doing so would unnecessarily
alienate members of the community who identified themselves as other than
gay or lesbian, male or female. Rust (1992, 1993) argued that social scientists
typically ignore bisexuality, or conceptualize it as homosexuality. When recruiting
for this study, I tried to be inclusive of the range of non-heterosexual identities.
I use the acronym GLBT because insiders considered it the inclusive and
correct identifier for this community.
Thirty-three participants were white with primarily northern and central
European ancestry, and twelve participants were people of color with African,
Hispanic, Native, or Caribbean ancestry. An attempt was made to recruit
people of color for the first six groups. When this largely failed, three groups
were added that specifically welcomed people of color. This was successful
when I personally invited participation, and relied upon personal contacts who
vouched for my trustworthiness.
Seventeen participants grew up in Catholic families, but only seven were currently
practicing. Nineteen participants claimed no religious identity, eleven
belonged to a Christian denomination, six were Jewish, and five practiced
Wicca (numbers do not add up to forty-five because people could claim more
than one religion).
Thirty-one participants described themselves as middle class, seven as poor,
and three as working class. The remaining three refused to answer the question.
Twenty-three participants worked in human services, seven were students, five
did clerical work, three were political activists, and three did not answer the
question (not the same three who refused to indicate class). There was also an
engineer, an accountant, a mechanic, and a retired dress designer.
In addition to providing demographic information, participants rated the
degree to which they were out to themselves as GLBT (M 5.7), and the degree
to which they were out to their families (M 5.0), on a scale of 1 to 6. The mean
scores suggest that participants were committed to living openly as GLBT, and
352 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
at least one other person in their family of origin was aware of their sexual orientation.
It is important to realize in the analysis presented below that at every
wedding some (or all) family members were aware of the GLBT person's
sexual orientation.
Focus group interviews
Comstock's (1982) second step is for the researcher to work with the group to
construct intersubjective agreement about the experience of oppression.
Participants are encouraged to talk not only about their experiences, but also
about what those experiences mean, and why they participated in the way that
they did. This is not to say that group members have to have identical experiences
or interpretations, but rather that they should come to some understanding
that what they have experienced is linked to power relations that also affect
other group members. To facilitate this, it is important to create what
Habermas (in Rediger, 1996) referred to as an ideal speech situation in which
participants are not afraid to speak openly. For this reason, interviews were
held in locations considered friendly and familiar. They lasted approximately 2
hours 30 minutes. I served pizza as a way to facilitate group bonding before the
interview started.
During the interviews, participants were asked about: (i) their general opinion
of heterosexual weddings; (ii) their experiences at the last wedding they
attended; (iii) how their experiences were shaped by gender, culture, class, age,
race, and religion; (iv) why they chose to attend; (v) how they knew that their
experiences were real (i.e., what criteria they used in order to validate their
experience given that they were interacting with people and symbols who were
often invalidating); (vi) what they would like to have been different; and (vii)
how they would like this research to be used. These open-ended questions were
intended to generate data about weddings without imposing researcher pre-
conceptions.
Patricia Nelson, my African-American lesbian research assistant, and I alternated
responsibility for facilitation and recording. As facilitators, we took a
fluid approach, covering all topics but following the group lead when deciding
when to ask each question. The interviews generally proceeded as Krueger
(1994) suggested, starting with general, moving to specific, and ending with
application and closure. As recorders, we were silent and tried to sit outside the
group (although in two locations this was not possible) so that everyone sitting
at the table would be an active participant.
I intentionally recruited a qualified assistant who was of a different race from
myself (I am white) with the intent of constructing a research environment in
which differences were noticed and accepted at both the visual and verbal level
of experience (it turned out that we also differed by age and class). Participants
were told that we were interested in hearing about their lives and that we
expected people to have differences and disagreements. They were encouraged
to ask questions of each other, and of us. There was evidence of intersubjective
agreement, such as when participants nodded, agreed, reproduced, and
expanded upon each other's stories. At the same time, each interview also had
multiple instances when participants disagreed with each other or pointed out
how their experience was different from someone else's. In the analysis presented
below, I integrate a range of perspectives and experiences.
Immediately after each interview, I sent each participant a thank-you card.
A week later, I tried to contact all participants for a check-in. I asked the 31
Oswald: Heterosexism and family ritual 353
participants who I reached what they thought about their experience, if they
had anything to add about weddings, and if there was anything I could do for
them related to this project. Responses indicated that the experience was positive
and that people wanted to receive any materials that were developed.
Data analysis
Because critical science attends to the language of participants and the group
dynamics out of which data are constructed (Comstock, 1982), interviews were
audio-recorded, and then transcribed verbatim. Transcription produced
approximately 300 single spaced pages of data. Because transcripts were completed
over the course of several months, I analyzed them in the order in which
they were completed. After using open and axial coding procedures (Strauss &
Corbin, 1991) with data from focus groups one, two, and four, the performance
and resistance of heterosexism emerged as a core category to which other categories
were linked. Core categories are threads that pull together and explain
other categories (Strauss & Corbin, 1991). Although we never asked directly
about heterosexism, without it, none of the data made sense. Heterosexism was
the thread that pulled together and explained the myriad of interactions, meanings,
and motives that participants expressed. The remaining six transcripts
were then selectively coded (Strauss & Corbin, 1991) for data regarding the
enactment of, and resistance to, heterosexism. By analyzing both heterosexism
and anti-heterosexism, I was able to integrate a range of experience within one
theoretical frame, and avoid presenting heterosexism as all-encompassing. In
addition, my constant comparative selective coding process (Strauss & Corbin,
1991) was such that I continually moved back and forth between transcripts
and analysis looking for data that would qualify or contradict my emerging
theory.
Validity
Ensuring that the researcher has captured participant realities is the next step
in Comstock's (1982) method. Lather (1991) calls this working to obtain the
yes-of-course response from participants. Toward this end, a draft of this manuscript
was mailed to each participant and honest comments were requested.
Comments were offered over the telephone or in person, and were positive.
In addition, two participants returned the manuscript filled with editorial
comments.
Critical science research has catalytic validity (Lather, 1991) when it results
in social change. Praxis refers to the process of moving between research and
social change. Comstock's (1982) conception of praxis involves the researcher
working with the group over time to put their knowledge into action. However,
he assumes that the researcher is working with an established group that is
committed to social action. This assumption did not fit the design of this study.
In addition, given the constraints of graduate school, it was not realistic for me
to pursue an ongoing social action relationship with participants (Rettig, Tam,
& Yellowthunder, 1995). My compromise was to ask how they would like the
results of this study to be used. Participants overwhelmingly wanted their
family members (and other heterosexual people) to access expert information
about how to include them in family events. They did not, however, want to be
the experts. At their request, I used the results presented here to create an educational
brochure and matching website (www.staff.uiuc.edu/~roswald) targeting
heterosexual people who are planning weddings. Both include practical
354 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
advice about how to be inclusive, offer resources, and encourage readers to
think about the impact of heterosexism on them and their GLBT loved ones.
The website includes a guest book where visitors can post their own experiences
at weddings. Participants have been instrumental in the distribution of
brochures despite their lack of involvement in creating the actual copy.
Although the brochure/website project does not strictly adhere to Comstock's
(1982) interpretation of praxis, I believe it is true to the spirit of critical science.
Although praxis in this study is limited, there is evidence that participation
led to varying degrees of critical consciousness. Before attending a focus group,
most participants in this study had thought about weddings in terms of their
personal experience as well as political implications. Some had engaged in political
discussions. However, few had discussed their experiences with other
GLBT people in any depth, and none had openly discussed their feelings and
experiences with heterosexual family members. I believe that the research
design used led participants to think more deeply about how their lives are and
are not shaped by heterosexism, and what they might do about it. In their closing
statements, and in follow up comments, many participants indicated that
they had come to be more reflexive than reactive about weddings. Their `ideologically
frozen conceptions of the actual and the possible' (Comstock, 1982, p.
371) had thawed into a sense that they had choices about how to participate,
and had clarified their own values about marriage in relation to dominant
discourse.
Results and Discussion
Heterosexism was central to the experience of GLBT people at family weddings.
It contributed to a sense that weddings were rife with social meanings
and practices that devalued GLBT people. A sense of emptiness and unfairness
at weddings was pervasive, and led participants to question, and even avoid,
participation in these family rituals. Exceptions to this main narrative are integrated
into the analysis presented below.
Doing heterosexism
Heterosexism in this study was a dynamic whereby heterosexuality was elevated
while GLBT identities and relationships were hidden or devalued. Thus,
heterosexism was not a property of individuals, nor was it merely a contextual
factor. Like West & Zimmerman's (1987) concept of `doing gender', heterosexism
emerged from social interaction that linked ideology with behavior.
Given that heterosexism is also a macro-level phenomenon, this finding supports
symbolic interactionist, feminist, and ritual theory assumptions that social
and cultural meanings and practices are negotiated within interpersonal interaction
(Cheal, 1988; LaRossa & Reitzes, 1993; Osmond & Thorne, 1993).
Behavior is neutral with regards to meaning; action is meaningful or purposeful
behavior that is shaped by conditions not necessarily under the control,
or in the awareness, of the actor (Comstock, 1982). Whether due to ignorance,
ambivalence, or meanness, all of the heterosexism reported by participants was
perceived to be action rather than behavior. Given the design of this study,
there is no way to determine what those they interacted with were intending or
perceiving.
What follows is an account of how heterosexism was performed and resisted
Oswald: Heterosexism and family ritual 355
from the onset to the conclusion of the wedding ritual. Because critical science
accounts should use the language of participants (Comstock, 1982), I make
extensive use of quotes. All participants have been given pseudonyms.
Invitations. Wedding invitations are typically extended to both partners in a
heterosexual couple or, if the heterosexual person is single, to that person and
a guest. When invitations were sent to GLBT family members, and either
allowed for a guest or invited a partner, then these invitations were small but
profound gestures that symbolized the GLBT person's inclusion in his or her
family of origin, and the sender was perceived as resisting heterosexism. When
invitations were not sent to GLBT family members, or were sent with
conditions that pressured the GLBT person to hide or change, then the act of
inviting was perceived as doing heterosexism.
Most participants were invited to family weddings. Several, however, were
not. Gloria Ramierez was not invited to her aunt's wedding `because they're
really prejudiced . . . they won't talk to me because I'm bisexual.' Gloria
attended the wedding anyway `because it was this big family event and I would
be the only person not there.' Her aunt then told her not to attend the reception.
Gloria conceded the struggle and went home.
GLBT people who were in long-term relationships recalled wedding invitations
in which their partners were not invited. For example, Lucy Gibbons was
invited to a wedding where the bride called and `specifically asked me to not
bring Karen to the wedding . . . it was appalling to me . . . she had this fear that
I was going to bring Karen and embarrass her.' Karen did not attend the wedding
because she was not welcome, and Lucy attended as if she were single;
they did not resist.
Some relatives resisted heterosexism by allowing or encouraging their GLBT
family members to bring a date to the wedding. GLBT family members felt
tremendously affirmed when this happened. For example, Aaron Loeffler's
cousin `called and said "you know what, we want to make sure that you bring
somebody and that be whomever you want, that person is welcome." ' Aaron
went on to say that he had:
been to weddings where [his date or partner] isn't included, and they know that I'm
gay, and they specifically leave off the `and guest' part even though all the rest of my
friends or family have `and guest' listed on theirs . . . when people include `and guest'
it's definitely an ally move [the group agrees].
When their partners were invited, several GLBT family members were compelled
to attend the wedding just to reciprocate the support shown to them by
the sender. Barbara Greene and her partner attended a wedding together after
they had broken up just because both their names were on the invitation.
Having her relationship validated on an invitation by family members was so
important that Debbie Miller, who has attended more than 25 family weddings,
`saved every envelope that says "Debbie Miller and guest." '
Clothing. GLBT family members who attended weddings agonized over what
to wear. Dressing up is expected at weddings because it symbolizes both the
importance of the event, and the demarcation of ritual from every day life.
GLBT participants did not challenge the belief that wedding guests should
wear special clothes, but they did seek to break rules about what those special
356 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
clothes could be. Participants struggled with how to `feel comfortable for who
I am, and yet not make other people uncomfortable' (Terry Novitski).
What one wears symbolizes who one is; clothing signifies identity. In order to
maintain the heterosexual meaning within weddings, participants need to
appear heterosexual, which means that they need to look conventionally male
and female. Participants felt intense pressure to comply with this symbolism.
Several lesbians who conformed to the rules of dress described their attire as
`being in drag', because it meant that they physically represented exaggerated
notions of helpless and petite femininity that were incongruent with their
`zaftig' bodies and lesbian or bisexual identities. Nathan Lowry was told by his
parents not to wear a festive tie because it `looked too trendy [meaning gay].'
A male-to-female transgender guest wore flowing pants to one family wedding
and has since been banned from attending any others: `They're calling it a dress
now, but it wasn't' (Jess Avery).
Breaking gendered dress codes limits heterosexual power by presenting
other options for identities and relationships. It was difficult, however, for lesbians
to break gender rules and not play into stereotypes that they want to look
or act like heterosexual men. For example, Debbie Miller intended to wear a
tuxedo in her sister's wedding but changed into a dress at the last minute
because all 14 groomsmen were wearing her chosen outfit: `It was this huge
crisis for me, and my sister was very homophobic, . . . I didn't have the gall to
wear the tuxedo because I didn't want to look like them.' Within the GLBT
community, Debbie's tuxedo would perhaps have been seen as `lesbian' rather
than `male.' The contextual nature of identity implied here suggests that the
struggle to dress appropriately is the struggle to translate meaning from a supportive
social context to one in which there is no foundation on which who one
is can be expressed or understood.
At weddings where at least some family members were openly supportive of
their GLBT relatives, lesbians felt more permission to dress as they wished. For
some that meant wearing `an awesome dress' (Laura Bryce), and for others it
meant wearing pants. Kaitlin Owens felt permission to challenge her sister's
choice of a bridesmaid's dress because she was out to her: `My sister would hold
up some ridiculous dress and say, "oh I think you should try this on." But then
I would suggest some equally hideous dresses for her. So we compromised.'
Several lesbians described the process by which they decided to wear comfortable
clothes. For example, it took Rosa Mancini `four weddings to figure out
that I could wear a vest, slacks, and loafers.'
The wedding party. Being asked to participate in the wedding party is an act of
inclusion. GLBT family members who were bridesmaids and groomsmen participated
in the ritual construction of family and friend support for the couple
getting married. This was, however, a mixed blessing. As bridesmaids paired up
with groomsmen, and vice versa, GLBT family members were expected to symbolize
heterosexuality during the wedding while hiding their GLBT identities
and same-sex relationships. For example, Beth Stein was a bridesmaid, and her
partner was the Matron of Honor, at a wedding where the bride and groom
tried to keep their relationship submerged from view. Beth and her partner
resisted invisibility by coming out as a couple:
The Matron of Honor walks in with the Best Man, and so who was I supposed to walk
with? . . . I ended up being paired with this kind of football player, tall, straight guy
Oswald: Heterosexism and family ritual 357
who drank lots of beer . . . and the bride and groom did not take the time to say who I
was. You know, there would be these social things like parties and little things and
they would go, okay, `this is so and so and his wife blah blah', `and this is so and so his
wife, blah blah', `and this is Beth . . .' They wouldn't say what our relationship was.
And it was like, after having a commitment ceremony and being with my partner for
25 years I thought, `oh, did you forget already that we're married?' [she laughs]. And
this kept happening, so my partner continued bringing up exactly who we were. So
we're rehearsing and I'm supposed to be going in with this football player, and he
goes, `So! So! How do you know the bride or the groom?' And I just said, `well, I'm a
[she sighs], her sister is my partner.' And he goes, `OH! What business?' [the group
laughs]. And I said, `we're lesbians'. And he went, `Ooooh.'
God talk. Religion permeated the weddings described in this study. It served
to promote heterosexuality as a religious imperative, and to denigrate homosexuality.
This denigration was felt by participants who listened to `the religious
figure standing in front of however many people saying "the Lord this, the Lord
that", you know, "your vows are recognized by the Lord". When I'm sitting
there it feels like the priest or minister is saying "you don't belong here because
you're queer" ' (Jason Royball).
GLBT family members listened to the religiously based sexist and procreative
content of weddings that they attended, and quietly disagreed. During the
focus group interview, participants voiced their concerns. Dave Knaebel said:
before I came out, I'd go to a wedding and hear the vows and be all emotional and
happy, and nowadays I hear, `you must obey your husband' and `you must be fruitful
and multiply' and `bear children', and suddenly the wedding becomes very uncom-
fortable.
Hannah Sadler heard Catholic vows that `allude to the man being dominant,
"I'm going to be your protector, ruler, Promise Keeper, white knight" . . . and
that incites me . . . and it sort of scares me that people say these things and don't
question them.' GLBT relationships are typically organized by an ethic of
equality, not domination (Kurdek, 1993), and marriage is not a cultural prerequisite
for GLBT parenthood. The procreative and sexist imperative heard
by GLBT participants was not only offensive, it did not mesh with their cultural
expectations.
Hearing the validation that heterosexual couples automatically receive for
conforming to religious expectations exacerbated already hard feelings about
being invisible and/or invalidated. For example, Susan Peterson is a practicing
Christian, and her brother is serving a life sentence for murdering his girlfriend.
Susan attended his wedding in prison and was `so taken with the fact that . . .
everybody was okay with this wedding . . . everyone was so supportive and
"God this" and "God that" and I thought, you know, I couldn't even bring a
woman into this family and have her be welcomed, and yet my brother's wedding
is accepted and welcomed and he's a murderer.'
In addition to listening, some GLBT family members were lay readers in the
ceremony. They voiced the very ideas that excluded them. For example, at her
brother's wedding, Lynn Regan read a passage from the Bible about God blessing
all married couples. Lynn's family is fundamentalist Christian. She considered
resisting by saying `all couples' rather than `all married couples,' but
couldn't find the nerve. Kaitlin Owens, who is comfortably out within her
family of origin, and whose family attends a more liberal church, was able to
358 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
negotiate the reading with her sister. Kaitlin read `my love is like a leaping stag'
from the Songs of Solomon, rather than a passage inferring that God ordains
only heterosexual couples.
Family portraits. Wedding portraits document who is considered a family
member and who is not. They are artifacts shown to others, and thus they incorporate
beliefs about how a family should be represented publicly. If GLBT
family members (or their partners) are included in pictures, then their membership
is solidified. Family photographs presented a situation in which GLBT
guests questioned whether they and/or their partner would be included. For
example, Beth Stein and her partner attended a Christian wedding in the
bride's rural hometown. Beth and her family did not know how safe it was for
them to be openly Jewish. When it was time for family photographs, the photographer
did not understand that Beth and Sarah were a couple and kept
trying to separate them when all other couples were positioned together.
Finally the bride yelled, `they're together!' Beth said that:
we felt confused and surrounded . . . and my family of origin was silent, my brother [the
groom] didn't say a word. It was the bride who decided to say something, and part of
it was that we were on her turf, but, there's this blending stuff about being Jewish, of
trying not to make waves, but also there's this stuff about speaking out against
oppression, and here was a place where my family chose to blend in, they could have
stood up for me and they didn't. I felt very let down.
Other participants were excluded from photographs; their existence as
family members was erased in one quick flash. Lori Milford was in the back of
the room at her brother's wedding when she noticed that the family photographs
had been taken without her:
And I thought, did the photographer not know that there was also a sister? All the
questions that suddenly came through my mind, and yet my emotions were so close to
the surface that I couldn't ask, I felt too vulnerable to ask, `was I supposed to be in this
picture and if so can we take it again?'. . . nobody noticed, my brother never said `wait
a minute, my sister should be here.'
Believing that they would be excluded led some participants to resist by
avoiding the situation. Karen Johnson and her partner:
ducked out of my brother's wedding after the cake thing so as to avoid the family pictures.
Because I know what would have happened. She would not have been recognized
as family in those orchestrated pictures, and that would have just killed me . . .
we ditched, basically . . . At that point I'd rather that my family deal with my unexplained
absence of me in the photos than me having to live with the absence of my
partner in them.
Catch the bouquet and garter. Participants understood catching the bouquet to
be a time when unmarried females unite around the possibility of heterosexual
marriage for all women, and compete with each other to be next. Where the
bouquet ritual symbolized the importance of marriage for women, the garter
ritual was understood to symbolize male bonding over the sexual domination of
women within marriage. The values underlying these rituals were in conflict
with the values held by GLBT family members. Participants described the bouOswald:
Heterosexism and family ritual 359
quet ritual as silly, but were `repulsed by the whole idea of degrading this
woman who just got married' (Dave Knaebel). `The garter is not fun, it's angering.
It's like, you're marrying her so now you're going to show the other men her
leg? . . . This brings us right back to the ownership of women. "What's important
in a wedding?" "Oh yes, the way the bride's leg looks." Yuk' (Laura Bryce).
A few single lesbians in this study were able to participate jokingly in the
bouquet ritual: `Every once in a while I'll get in there and try to catch the bouquet,
which is like a brilliant joke amongst all my friends' (Hilary Smith). Other
GLBT family members participated half-heartedly in whichever gender ritual
they felt pressured to embrace. Joseph Montero `just stood there and tried to
look like I was interested in the garter, but it was hard for me.' Many GLBT
family members, single or coupled, avoided the garter and bouquet by getting
refills on their drinks, taking pictures, or making some other socially appropriate
excuse. Several sighed with relief when brides and grooms chose not to
pursue these rituals: `It was really nice for me to not have to face that [and pretend]
that I'm out there trying to catch the flowers' (Ann Heller).
During the bouquet and garter rituals, GLBT guests (even those who were
`out' and in committed relationships) perceived heterosexual guests as treating
them as if they were single women and men who desired heterosexual marriage:
`I think the bouquet is the worst part of the wedding for me. Because, like
even when I was there with my partner, people were like, "Get up there, you're
single!" And I'd be like, "fuck you!" . . . I just find it so frustrating and so humiliating'
(Terry Novitski).
Pharr (1988) theorized that gay men are equated with women as a way to
negatively sanction homosexuality, and in this study gay men found themselves
`shunted into a female role' (Kyle Monroe) during the bouquet ritual. Nathan
Lowry:
was sitting down with all my friends and all the girls got up to catch the bouquet. And
one of my male friends hits me and says, like, `why aren't you going up there?' Which
at first I thought was really cool, but then I realized that he was kidding, and then, I'm
like, `yeah, whatever, dork' [the group laughs]. Yeah, no kidding . . . it was just so
awkward, because with whom am I supposed to associate? Especially since some of
my friends are associating me with the girls who are going up there.
Dancing. GLBT family members consciously decided whether or not to dance
during the reception. Dancing at weddings was described as a performance governed
by the following heterosexist rules: Men and women are expected to
dance together, and `women can dance together, maybe not slow dance, but
. . . two men who dance together are out to get laughs, you know. My family
would joke, "oh the groom is going to dance with the best man, ha ha ha", and
it was meant to be hilarious. It was meant to be ridiculed . . . because "just look
what they're suggesting" ' (Dave Knaebel).
Faced with these perceived rules, many participants chose not to dance.
Some explained their decision as a product of internalized homophobia: `I feel
threatened by the possibility of going up there, it's that homophobia inside of
me pushing out going, "oh there's no way I can pull my lover on the dance
floor" ' (Aaron Loeffler). Other participants felt coerced by homophobia
within the ritual, rather than within themselves: `We were together, people saw
us together, but somehow . . . we had pushed every barrier, but that was one we
couldn't break through' (Karen MacDonald).
360 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
The pressure to dance in heterosexual pairings was deeply felt. For example,
against her wishes, Joan Prutsman felt expected to, and did, dance with a
groomsman at her mother's wedding, and Barbara Greene felt obliged to dance
with her estranged father, who led despite her insistence that she did not want
to follow. At several weddings, the pressure to dance heterosexually was overlaid
with expectations of heterosexual matchmaking: Dave Knaebel went to a
wedding alone (because his partner was specifically not invited) and during the
reception, where:
a heterosexual aura filled the room, um, suddenly everyone was trying to set me up
[with a woman] . . . they'd ask me questions and just try to be really heavy matchmakers
. . . and I wasn't comfortable . . . but I submitted to the pressures to a certain
extent. I danced with her.
Carl Schultz left his brother's reception because his relatives kept saying `oh
don't you want to dance with that woman or that girl?'
Some participants subverted this pressure by seeking out `safe' heterosexual
dancing partners, such as cousins or siblings. Others used polite excuses to
avoid the situation: `slow song, bathroom break . . . slow dance, time to leave
again' (Dave Knaebel). The dollar dance, a staple in working class weddings
where guests pay a dollar to dance with the bride or groom, provided an opportunity
for GLBT guests to break the perceived heterosexual-pairing rule.
Several participants described how they were the only one of their sex in line
to dance with the bride or groom. For example, Jason Royball `stands in the
line for the groom . . . it's always a joke, but it's never a joke for me . . . because
I don't make it a two second dance -- they're dancing with me. I get my dollar's
worth!' In contrast, several participants described how they wanted to dance
with the bride or groom but `didn't feel free to do it' and sat out (Terry
Novitski).
A few lesbian couples danced together non-sexually after negotiating the
issue: At her father's wedding in rural New England, Laura Bryce's partner did
not want to dance as a couple because `some redneck will come and shoot us.'
Laura replied, `Look, if they're here they're here for my father's wedding --
they're not going to turn around and shoot his daughter on the way out. Maybe
the next day [she laughs], but not on the way out! Once we got past that we
danced, but the fear was pretty real.'
When same-sex couples overtly resisted the perceived rules and danced
together as lovers, they had a profound impact on other GLBT guests. Joseph
Montero watched two men slow dance and `wanted that to be me! . . . I was like,
"oh my gosh! Look at that, look at those guys!" . . . It just felt so different to see
two guys do it . . . it was pretty incredible.' Beth Stein and her partner were the
only lesbian couple dancing:
and we were dancing slow songs and fast songs and we were just out there, we had a
great time . . . and at the end of the reception the bride's mom came out to everyone
as a lesbian! She was just sobbing, the bride hadn't known, it was incredibly moving,
it was this gift . . . the bride's mother's partner was there as `the roommate' and it's like,
us being out dancing at this wedding was a catalyst for someone to come out and for a
family to get closer.
Silencing. Rituals usually include some proscription against talk that would
challenge or contradict the symbols being enacted (Roberts, 1988). GLBT
Oswald: Heterosexism and family ritual 361
guests in this study often felt obliged to not say anything about their personal
lives even when they observed heterosexual guests doing so. For example, Kyle
Monroe heard people talking:
about what was new in their love lives, their marriages, whatever, and all of a sudden
when they got to me it was `well, um,'. Even though they knew I had just moved in
with my boyfriend. `So are you going back to school? What's your favorite color?' [the
group laughs].
Heterosexual guests were not perceived as telling GLBT family members to
remain silent. Rather, participants described a sense of feeling coerced by the
ritual, of `pretending to be straight even though everyone there knew I was gay,
but I was still acting straight because I couldn't be gay [in that setting]' (Nathan
Lowry).
Like all other dynamics described in this article, silencing was resisted. A few
GLBT guests did try to talk about themselves even though they felt ignored or
discounted for doing do. For example Amber Lawrence mentioned happily
that she `had a new lover!' but noticed people glazing over and changing the
subject. Also, there were heterosexual guests who went out of their way to talk
openly with their GLBT relatives. Carl Schultz's sister, for example, kept
checking in with him to see if he was doing okay. Stories of guests who tried to
include them, even if their attempts appeared awkward, were shared. For
example Lynn Regan was approached by a woman who patted her arm and
asked very sincerely, `Did you have to come out like Ellen [DeGeneres]? [the
group laughs].'
Pressure to marry. At the same time that GLBT family members were
expected to keep their lives quiet, they were sometimes asked `when are you
going to get married?' The question was perceived as a kind of `doublewhammy'
that increased feelings of discomfort. For example, Anthony Watson
was physically ill in his car after attending a wedding where he hid being gay.
At that wedding, everyone had been asking, `Oh when's Anthony getting married?'
He wondered:
how do I tell these people that there's no damn way I'm getting married in the traditional
sense of having a big Italian wedding, you know?! It's just a weird struggle
inside of you when you're sitting there and all the people are wondering, `where's your
girlfriend?' . . . It's a very uncomfortable feeling.
Some participants were asked when they would marry even by people who
know they were GLBT. The question is perhaps asked of anyone at a wedding
who is not heterosexually married, and is perhaps offensive to anyone who feels
that heterosexual marriage should be a choice rather than an obligation. It had
an additional meaning for GLBT guests, however, in light of the fact that samesex
marriage is illegal, and because it put them in the position of wondering
whether or not it is safe to come out to the person asking. GLBT family members
not faced with this question were those who felt that their GLBT identities
and same-sex partners were more or less accepted within their extended
families of origin.
The meaning of weddings
In order to more fully understand the experiences of GLBT people, we need to
362 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
know what meaning they attach to that experience (Comstock, 1982). Brief discussion
of meaning differences between GLBT and heterosexual family members
was offered earlier when it related to specific constructs being explored. I
now explore the more over-arching meanings about weddings that were
implied or described by participants.
Hollow rituals are experienced when the symbols constructed are not congruent
with the symbols desired, and/or when they are performed out of obligation
rather than sincerity (Roberts, 1988). In this study, participants used the
term hollow repeatedly to suggest that weddings exclude them, and they felt
that conventionally scripted weddings were especially alienating. Many GLBT
family members appreciated the `promise and the hope at weddings' and the
sense that marriage was an incredible `act of faith between two people'
(Thomas Kincaid). However, `there were also feelings of jealousy . . . because
I'm never going to be able to share that experience with my family in the way
that my brother did' (Ann Heller).
Participants also felt that weddings were overly materialistic, that family
members tended to focus on gifts and money more than the commitment being
made. For example, Thomas Kincaid recalled that:
there are all these arguments about money. And `she didn't send this' and `they only
had this kind of appetizer', you know? My god! Is this really what people are thinking?
I mean right at the wedding reception people are talking about `whose idea of
food was this?' And it's like, wow!
Rachel Greenberg continued his thought, `It's all measured up, they're measuring
the worth of the marriage by the money that was spent on it.' The materialistic
emphasis was insulting to middle-class GLBT family members who did
not receive comparable help when setting up their own households or entering
into committed relationships. They were perhaps hoping to maintain their class
privilege despite being oppressed as GLBT. In poor and working class families,
GLBT family members did not expect such gifts, but observed that the wealthier
sides of their family were passing it on. `There's a lot of anxiety and anger
when it comes to somebody having a lavish wedding . . . a big part of it is the
money [because my parents never had any]' (Jason Royball).
Participants discussed what it would take for heterosexual weddings to be
inclusive of, and positively meaningful for, GLBT family members. Making
weddings about commitment rather than any particular kind of relationship
was the general theme (see website for practical suggestions). Gillis (1996)
argued that weddings are becoming more individualized and less traditional in
part because brides and grooms are personalizing their ceremonies.
Participants in this study, however, pointed out that `personalizing' does not
necessarily change the meaning, or the social power behind that meaning (see
also Currie, 1993). In order for weddings to truly change, participants believed
that heterosexism must be resisted rather than disguised. As Jason Royball
said, it will take more effort than putting `everyone in cowboy outfits.'
The inclusive weddings that GLBT family members had experienced were
described as similar to same-sex commitment ceremonies; they were focused on
commitment rather than heterosexuality. Karen MacDonald said:
they weren't materialistic, they weren't requesting gifts, they wrote their own vows.
Actually when you think of it [the wedding was] similar to what gay people do when
they have their own commitment ceremonies: They have their own vows, it's very
Oswald: Heterosexism and family ritual 363
small, its more focused on friends . . . family was not [necessarily] invited. [There was]
a lot of preparation to the ceremony and the meaning behind it rather than the parties,
the gifts, the reception.
Motivations for attendance and nonattendance
We need to understand why people participate in the ways that they do
(Comstock, 1982). Despite the inequities that they face, GLBT family members
love and feel loyal towards their siblings, parents, and other relatives, and want
to be supportive of their relationships: Joan Prutsman is `happy for anyone who
can find a mate, be they straight, gay, or whatever.' Many participants said, `of
course I would be there;' failing to attend was not an option. In some families,
not showing up would have led to more conflict than showing up and suffering
through the events. Over and over, participants voiced that they did not want
to make a scene and take away from the bride and groom's big day. Many
hoped that their loyalty and affection would be reciprocated, but few believed
that this would ever happen, Jess Avery wondered:
would they come through and fill the role that I want them in? I don't think so [the
group agrees]. I think I'd have a lonely little thing on a deserted beach somewhere, a
small fire going. And that's the double exclusion; `yes you must submit to what we
want you to be in this ceremony, and no, we will not commit to what you want.'
The decision not to attend family weddings, or to attend only under certain
conditions, was sometimes made after being mistreated. Kyle Monroe:
decided I'm not going to any more straight weddings. I've been to a lot of them, and I
can't really see any of them as a positive experience for me . . . I've had too much of a
negative experience to ever go through it again.
Most of the time, however, participants found a way to negotiate involvement.
Some decided to attend only weddings where their partner was also equally
included. Others, such as Debbie Miller, found polite excuses for limiting their
attendance:
I'm at the age where my nieces and nephews are getting married, and thank God I
belong to a track club that runs on Saturdays! [the group laughs] I avoid the church,
shower at the club, rush into the reception with the gift and rush out before the dance.
I say `glad for you! Happy day! Blah, blah, blah.'
Social and historical context
An interpretive account of action, meaning, and motives is not sufficient for
feminist critical science. The account must be also positioned within social
and historical context (Comstock, 1982). The idea that weddings could be
problematic for GLBT family members is perhaps recent. For example,
Beth Stein described how different it felt to be at a family wedding in the
1970s. Attending a wedding where her partner was not invited `upset' her,
but the meaning behind her emotions `didn't sink in for years.' The lesbians
that Beth associated with at that time did not have commitment ceremonies
or wear rings to show that they were in a relationship. Feeling excluded at
364 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
heterosexual weddings `was just a given' back then, while today she has the
expectation that she and her family should be included in their family of
origin rituals. Beth's experience is congruent with Weston's (1991) analysis
of the shift from GLBT people defining family as heterosexual only, to differentiating
between families of origin and families of choice.
To simplify Weston (1991), as the costs of coming out (such as being
arrested, institutionalized, or blacklisted) have diminished and the modern
GLBT civil rights movement has grown, more GLBT people feel free to
disclose their identities, and to expect that their identities and relationships
will be accepted if not affirmed. The GLBT tradition of making family out
of friendship and community has continued to evolve. In addition, GLBT
people have increased access to alternate insemination and other routes to
parenthood, and have made inroads in the area of domestic partnership
benefits. Thus, not only have GLBT people come to define their own
unique relationship structures as relevant to heterosexual society, but they
have also inserted themselves into dominant family categories of parent,
child, and spouse as openly GLBT people. This transformation has cooccurred
with major changes in heterosexual family structure and the growing
expectation of heterosexual people that their own diverse family forms
be accepted. Even when acceptance and affirmation do not occur or are
contested, and even though GLBT relationships have no legal recognition
and few social privileges, the expectation is growing that they should. This
moral imperative has opened the closet door and allowed a questioning of
the relationships between heterosexism and family life. The analysis presented
in this article is made possible by this social transformation.
Implications
Doing heterosexism at weddings was much more complex than hiding the
existence of GLBT family members. Yes, sometimes GLBT people were
excluded outright, such as when they were not invited, not photographed,
or not spoken to. But other times, there was more of an insidious redefinition
in which GLBT persons were asked to change themselves so that they
would not have to be excluded: Wear this, say this, do that, and then you
will be included. Often, these conditions for inclusion pressured the GLBT
family member to approximate gender conformity. Thus, this research does
support the idea that weddings reproduce gender relations (e.g., Cheal,
1988; Currie, 1993). It goes further, however, to complicate gender by
showing its interrelationship with heterosexism (see also Pharr, 1988).
Resistance to heterosexism was also complex. Sometimes it was a simple
and blatant refusal to do something. However, resistance at weddings was
more likely to be indirect and socially acceptable -- it was accomplished in
ways that subverted but did not overtly challenge heterosexism. The prevalence
of subversion, rather than more overt resistance, suggests that GLBT
people have partially accommodated themselves to heterosexism within
their families of origin. This suggests that GLBT family members someOswald:
Heterosexism and family ritual 365
times compromise their own well-being in order to preserve family ties.
Given the tenacity and pervasiveness of heterosexism in our society, and
the expectation of front-stage behavior (Goffman, 1959) at weddings, it is
not surprising that GLBT family members found it difficult, or even incomprehensible,
to consider directly challenging mistreatment meted out by
their families. This does not mean that GLBT people deserve or enjoy
being marginalized. Rather, it speaks to the power of heterosexism to create
a situation in which GLBT people have double binds rather than choices: If
you are real, you may lose your family. If you hide, you may lose yourself.
The double binds experienced by GLBT people suggest that they inhabit
a paradoxical position within their families of origin, and within the wedding
itself (in contrast to unmarried heterosexual people who may feel
excluded by a wedding, but not by their family of origin). Hill-Collins
(1991) described outsider within as the position of being subjugated in a
social situation where dominant cultural norms are being acted out and
insiders fail to notice, much less question, your subjugation. The outsider
within understands the inside rules, but also understands the powerrelations
behind those rules and what alternative realities they obscure. As
outsiders within, GLBT family members bring our attention to withinfamily
diversity.
We need to move beyond the assumption that families are either straight
or gay. Most current research on GLBT relationships focuses on the
romantic and parenting relationships that gay and lesbian adults create
(e.g., Patterson, 1992; Kurdek, 1993). This research is extremely important.
At the same time, it should be noted that people have families of origin and
families of creation that incorporate both heterosexual and GLBT members
(cf. Weston, 1991; Crosbie-Burnett, Foster, Murray, & Bowen, 1996).
Empirical work in this area has tremendous potential for the development
of more inclusive family theory. An example is my study of young women's
social networks after a young woman came out to herself as bisexual or lesbian
(Oswald, 2000). Coming out transformed not only the newly bisexual
or lesbian woman, but also her heterosexual siblings, parents, friends,
lovers, and coworkers, and their relationships with each other. By exploring
GLBT and heterosexual loved ones in relation to each other, we avoid
setting up gay versus straight dichotomies, and instead are able to see how
each affects the other. Future research should be designed to account for
multiple perceptions of the same phenomena.
Although this study sampled only GLBT people, it is important to investigate
whether, and how, heterosexism shapes the lives of heterosexual
people. Participants in this study offered a vision of weddings that was
based on commitment rather than heterosexuality or material benefits. The
critique underlying this vision reveals distaste for hetero-normative scripts
that may be shared by heterosexual people. What is the experience of heterosexual
people at weddings? Do they also feel hollow? Overly materialistic?
What values are driving their vision of relationships? We need
comparative research that locates the experiences of heterosexual people
within a heterosexist context.
366 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 17(3)
Finally, a note about policy. Although a link between the sociopolitical
and the interpersonal was made, perceptions of interpersonal dynamics
were emphasized. This emphasis reflects my intention to offer information
that practitioners can readily apply to their work with families. It would be
a mistake, however, to not consider the implications for policy. Participants
continually explained the quality of interaction between themselves and
members of their families of origin as shaped by the legal and socially
accepted derogation of GLBT relationships and identities. This suggests
that when we debate marriage rights, or any other policy issue that shapes
the lives of GLBT people, their partners, and children, we need to remember
that the parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles of
GLBT people are also being affected. Any family policy should be assessed
for its impact on both heterosexual and GLBT people, and an equal distribution
of benefits should be one criterion for success.
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