Pathos and the LGBTQ Community
In order to gain some insight into the use of emotional appeals in LGBTQ advocacy, we talked to three self-identified members of the community and alums of Michigan State University: Emily Snoek, James Madison and Women & Gender Studies major, now working for The National Coalition of STD Directors in Washington, DC; Erica Shekell, Media Arts and Technology major and former Director of Marketing and Public Relations for MBLGTACC 2013 (Midwest Bisexual Lesbian Gay Transgender Ally College Conference); and Denzel McCampbell, Political Science and General Management major who works for the LGBT Resource Center and completed a congressional internship with the Victory Fund (a political action committee dedicated to increasing the number of openly gay public officials) last summer.
In our discussions with these individuals on the use of pathos in queer rhetoric, one main point came to the forefront: while emotion is a cornerstone of LGBTQ advocacy, it should be tempered by facts. Denzel emphasized the significance of personal narrative in rhetoric, while Emily used “showing the distress of a mother having lost her child to sexual orientation-related depression and bullying the led to suicide” as one example of using powerful, personal stories to engage and motivate an audience. Erica included “an appeal toward goodness” as chief among the emotionally rhetorical devices used by the community—an attempt to “gain sympathy from people by aligning [LBGTQ] causes as ‘supporting love’ or ‘standing on the side of love.’
If an audience feels an emotional connection to a story or an experience shared, they are more likely to make the leap from listener to supporter. This use of emotion is particularly important in reaching out to the “movable middle”—those who have no opinion on LGBTQ rights one way or the other. All of our interviewees stressed the incredibly influential role that emotion can have in rhetoric directed at this group of people. Erica discussed the way that using “justice” when talking to those indifferent to LGBTQ issues can be beneficial; “discussing discrimination in the context of civil rights.” Similarly, Emily linked this use of emotion with an attempt to equate LGBTQ rights with “human rights.” This is a way to get those indifferent to the rights of the LGBTQ community to care about the issue on a more personal level. Similarly, Denzel maintained that “people do not connect with broad, ‘lecture’ style policy talks,” but rather “connect more with knowing who the policy affects and how.” Erica held a similar view; “humanizing LGBTQ people […] is far more effective than any campaign.” Putting a face on the issue, so to speak, is at the heart of much of LGBTQ advocacy.
In our discussions with these individuals on the use of pathos in queer rhetoric, one main point came to the forefront: while emotion is a cornerstone of LGBTQ advocacy, it should be tempered by facts. Denzel emphasized the significance of personal narrative in rhetoric, while Emily used “showing the distress of a mother having lost her child to sexual orientation-related depression and bullying the led to suicide” as one example of using powerful, personal stories to engage and motivate an audience. Erica included “an appeal toward goodness” as chief among the emotionally rhetorical devices used by the community—an attempt to “gain sympathy from people by aligning [LBGTQ] causes as ‘supporting love’ or ‘standing on the side of love.’
If an audience feels an emotional connection to a story or an experience shared, they are more likely to make the leap from listener to supporter. This use of emotion is particularly important in reaching out to the “movable middle”—those who have no opinion on LGBTQ rights one way or the other. All of our interviewees stressed the incredibly influential role that emotion can have in rhetoric directed at this group of people. Erica discussed the way that using “justice” when talking to those indifferent to LGBTQ issues can be beneficial; “discussing discrimination in the context of civil rights.” Similarly, Emily linked this use of emotion with an attempt to equate LGBTQ rights with “human rights.” This is a way to get those indifferent to the rights of the LGBTQ community to care about the issue on a more personal level. Similarly, Denzel maintained that “people do not connect with broad, ‘lecture’ style policy talks,” but rather “connect more with knowing who the policy affects and how.” Erica held a similar view; “humanizing LGBTQ people […] is far more effective than any campaign.” Putting a face on the issue, so to speak, is at the heart of much of LGBTQ advocacy.
Denzel also pointed out the differences between approaching that middle ground and approaching an openly hostile audience. “It differs slightly because with those with indifference, there is room for education,” he wrote. “With those who are opposed, you have to break down a barrier in order to educate.” As most opponents of gay rights use morality appeals—the LGBTQ community is anti-family, gay marriage threatens the institution of marriage, etc—there is a very emotionally charged rhetoric being used against LGBTQ rights. Denzel discussed these techniques, calling them “hate and scare tactics […] without any factual basis.” Erica viewed them similarly, highlighting “fear” and “disgust” as the primary emotional basis for many anti-gay arguments.
This differentiation brings into question the issue of facts, which all of our interviewees agreed should be present behind any emotional appeal. Emily weighed in on this facet, saying, “I think research and data are of vital importance, something I learning throughout my time in political science […] as well as now in the public health field. In order to convince someone to give you money or legislate based on your argument or even agree with you, you must speak based on what are perceived to be facts and not values. […] When you use data and research to support your opinions, data that were found using widely agreed upon scientific and scholarly research practices, then you can argue with those who oppose your viewpoint.”
In that same vein, Denzel wrote, “I respectfully respond to opponents with my argument and factual information. I believe education is key.”
In regards to the use of anger in LGBTQ rhetoric, Emily and Denzel agreed that while anger has a place in advocacy, it is often unwarranted. Emily argued that “when [anger] is used as rhetoric for an argument it does more harm than good,” while Denzel maintained that “there’s not a need for anger. Anger is not effective when it comes to advocacy. Passion, sure—and sometimes passion and anger get blurred. Anger is just a negative reaction that will make attitudes even worse than they are. There should always be positive passion with the goal of educating.”
Conversely, Erica viewed anger more positively, calling it “completely justifiable in cases of extreme violence [against LGBTQ people].” She talked about using anger as “an important tool in bringing attention to these horrific crimes and the realities of discrimination against LGBTQ people in general.” Most importantly, she sees the use of anger as a rhetorical device as part of a larger attempt to showcase the LGBTQ community as a group of individuals “whose moods, opinions, and dispositions vary as widely as anyone’s.” This goes back to “putting a face on the cause”; making sure that the diversity and inclusivity of the queer community is emphasized.
This differentiation brings into question the issue of facts, which all of our interviewees agreed should be present behind any emotional appeal. Emily weighed in on this facet, saying, “I think research and data are of vital importance, something I learning throughout my time in political science […] as well as now in the public health field. In order to convince someone to give you money or legislate based on your argument or even agree with you, you must speak based on what are perceived to be facts and not values. […] When you use data and research to support your opinions, data that were found using widely agreed upon scientific and scholarly research practices, then you can argue with those who oppose your viewpoint.”
In that same vein, Denzel wrote, “I respectfully respond to opponents with my argument and factual information. I believe education is key.”
In regards to the use of anger in LGBTQ rhetoric, Emily and Denzel agreed that while anger has a place in advocacy, it is often unwarranted. Emily argued that “when [anger] is used as rhetoric for an argument it does more harm than good,” while Denzel maintained that “there’s not a need for anger. Anger is not effective when it comes to advocacy. Passion, sure—and sometimes passion and anger get blurred. Anger is just a negative reaction that will make attitudes even worse than they are. There should always be positive passion with the goal of educating.”
Conversely, Erica viewed anger more positively, calling it “completely justifiable in cases of extreme violence [against LGBTQ people].” She talked about using anger as “an important tool in bringing attention to these horrific crimes and the realities of discrimination against LGBTQ people in general.” Most importantly, she sees the use of anger as a rhetorical device as part of a larger attempt to showcase the LGBTQ community as a group of individuals “whose moods, opinions, and dispositions vary as widely as anyone’s.” This goes back to “putting a face on the cause”; making sure that the diversity and inclusivity of the queer community is emphasized.
Podcast
In addition to our interviews here, we also interviewed several LGBTQ community members and advocators for a podcast. We again focused on the use of pathos in LGBTQ advocacy, turning our focus specifically to how personal narratives of teen suicide can be used successfully and sensitively, as well as how righteous anger can play an important role in emotional rhetoric. Our interviewees for this podcast were Katie Livingston, a PHD candidate in Queer Studies and Rhetoric; Allegra Smith, a graduate student who has worked for the LGBT Resource Center at Michigan State University; and Josh Braude, a junior at MSU who has served on the board of PRISM, an LGBT caucus on campus.
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