In the late 1990s and 2000s, the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ)Footnote 1 and immigrant rights movements were struggling to advance their different agendas in the wake of substantial legal losses in Washington State and Arizona. The movements operated separately, and to some degree in a hostile manner toward one another. For example, in 2004, when leaders of one immigrant rights organization in Washington State proposed intervening in a doomed marriage equality lawsuit on behalf of same-sex couples, members of the organization vehemently objected on religious grounds (Reference O'HaganO'Hagan 2013). In 2008, the No on Proposition 102 Campaign, which failed to thwart the passage of a statewide constitutional ban on same-sex marriage in Arizona, did not include coalition partnerships with LatinxFootnote 2 and immigrant rights organizations or leaders (Arizona Together 2008; Vote No on Prop 102 2008).
Shortly after 2008, these same organizations began to unite through intersectional coalitions around legislation and ballot referendum campaigns, including: statewide marriage equality campaigns in Washington and Arizona; a campaign to provide state financial aid for undocumented students in Washington; and a campaign to stop Senate Bill (SB)Footnote 3 1062 in Arizona, a proposed expansion of the state's Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) that, if passed, would have allowed state businesses to refuse service to LGBTQ-identified people. Despite these notable successes, however, these coalitions have largely been resistant to advancing racial, economic, and gender justice issues that matter the most to the more marginalized members of their respective movements, like immigration detention, police violence, and trans equity.
The achievement of LGBTQ and immigrant rights successes in Arizona and Washington reveals that a paradox exists at the center of coalition formation. On the one hand, coalitions sometimes can form across movements, contributing to new partnerships, fostering lasting unity across organizations that represent people who hold seemingly disparate identities, and facilitating rights campaign “wins.” On the other hand, these newly formed coalitions often reinforce existing hierarchical exclusions through the continued marginalization of those issues that uproot conventional power dynamics the most. This study seeks to explain this paradox. What contributes to successful coalition formation? How do we explain coalitions like the LGBTQ and immigrant rights alliances described above that are simultaneously inclusive and exclusive? I argue that the development of a collective “civil rights past” identity, based in the recognition of common opponents and the construction of a shared social movement past, aids in the formation of intersectional coalitions. The development of a common civil rights past identity is not something that happens automatically, but has to be constructed, highlighted, and worked at. It expands social movements by fostering the inclusion of new groups and constituencies that can aid in the fight to achieve rights campaign “wins” and thwart “losses.” However, at the same time, the mechanics that drive the construction of this collective identity reinforce hierarchical divisions both within and across the groups that compose the newly formed coalitions.
In explaining this paradox, this study draws from the work of intersectionality scholars who decry the casting of social movements within a single-identity, unidimensional lens that ignores and makes invisible important differences (see e.g., Reference Cho, Williams Crenshaw and McCallCho, Crenshaw, and McCall 2013; Reference CollinsCollins 1989; Reference CrenshawCrenshaw 1989; Reference CrenshawCrenshaw 1991; Reference HancockHancock 2016; Reference PuarPuar 2011). Most intersectionality scholars focus on how constructions of single-group identities reinforce social stratification. For example, studies conducted by these scholars explain how the centering of white women's experiences in struggles for gender justice erases the experiences of women of color or how the construction of modern queer subjects depends on the production of terrorist bodies (Reference CrenshawCrenshaw 1991; Reference PuarPuar 2011). Yet, intersectionality also refers to the formation of multi-group identity along different structural strata, across multiple movements. Intersectionality in this sense, for instance, focuses on how the formation of a coalitional identity impacts queer migrants who participate in both mainstream marriage equality and immigration reform campaigns. I adopt this understanding of intersectionality here because it accounts for how collective, coalition-based identity across and within divergent social movements re-produces historic power inequities. At the same time, my study offers a nuanced account of how collective identity can both constrain and enable intersectional advocacy and, in doing so, departs from intersectionality scholarship that focuses on the destructive role of identity alone.
In order to unpack collective identity formation through the intersectional lens described above, I examine two levels of coalitions: (1) across or inter-movement coalitions, and (2) within or intra-movement coalitions. Inter-movement coalitions form between two or more organizations across different social movements. Washington State's Yes on Referendum 74 campaign (Washington United for Marriage) encompassed an inter-movement coalition of both LGBTQ organizations and organizations that represent immigrants and people of color. Intra-movement coalitions form between two or more organizations that compose one social movement. Arizona's movement to stop the passage of a bill expanding the state's RFRA (SB 1062) that would have allowed businesses to refuse to service to LGBTQ people included intra-movement coalitions between queer migrant organizations and organizations that predominately represent the interests of lesbians and gay men within Arizona's LGBTQ rights movement. Inter- and intra-movement coalitions often occur simultaneously in rights campaigns. For instance, the Washington United for Marriage coalition, encompassed collaborations between inter-movement groups (i.e., across LGBTQ movement groups like Equal Rights Washington and immigrant rights groups like OneAmerica) and intra-movement groups (i.e., between LGBTQ movement groups that represent lesbian and gay people and LGBTQ groups that represent LGBTQ people of color).
Recognizing the existence of complex inter- and intra-movement coalitions reinforces a dynamic understanding of “social movements.” The boundaries of “social movements” are often somewhat arbitrary, always contestable, and openly contested. I focus on inter- and intra-movement coalitions in this study because social movements are best understood as a series of shifting coalitions. Social movements are dynamic and volatile entities that are never formed, but always forming. Further, the groups that compose the shifting coalitions that constitute movements are unequally situated. Hierarchal power dynamics determine, to a large extent, which interests are centered within coalitions, or are considered the agenda of the “mainstream movement,” and which interests are considered marginal. As a result, the interests of groups that represent the most privileged members of minority communities are frequently constructed as a movement's core while comparatively less privileged groups (like LGBTQ people of color, trans and queer people, and undocumented immigrants), and the interests that matter to them, are placed at the margins. In other words, movements are coalitions that are constantly changing, and every movement that comes together will also reinforce fractures based on power.
This essay argues that the recognition of a shared civil rights past identity helps explain inter- and intra-movement coalition formation and sometimes thwarts the hierarchical power dynamics responsible for the centering of the experiences and interests of the most privileged constituencies within social movements. However, the episodic nature of rights-based advocacy simultaneously contains and undermines the formation of this collective identity. In order to demonstrate how this occurs, I develop an intersectional critique of movement dynamics within contemporary legal mobilization scholarship. Legal mobilization scholars contend that rights have both expansionist and containing effects on movements (see e.g., Reference Goldberg-HillerGoldberg-Hiller 2004; Reference KeckKeck 2009; Reference Marshall and BarclayMarshall and Barclay 2003; Reference McCannMcCann 1994). However, legal mobilization research focuses on the impacts that rights advocacy has within individual movements at mostly the national level. Consequently, legal mobilization scholarship currently lacks a contextualized, multidimensional critique of rights mobilization that makes inter-and intra-group difference visible. This scholarship largely constructs social movements as entities confined to a limited number of mostly national organizations that have clear goals and agendas. For this reason, legal mobilization research often does not recognize that social movements are formed through constantly shifting inter- and intra-movement coalitions with unstable agendas that can be determined through conflict. This study enhances legal mobilization scholarship through an intersectional critique that focuses on inter- and intra-movement LGBTQ and immigrant coalitions that form around legal rights campaigns.
This project relies on a sociolegal research framework used by both legal mobilization and intersectionality scholars (Reference ChuaChua 2014; Reference CohenCohen 1999; Reference McCannMcCann 1994; Reference StrolovitchStrolovitch 2007). The results presented draw from 51 semi-structured, in-depth interviews conducted in Washington State and Arizona between December of 2014 and December of 2015. Interviews were conducted with a broad sample of coalition players in each state, including: organization leaders, advocates, community workers, and politicians. In order to connect with potential interviewees, I conducted a series of participant observations that encompass a broad range of events, such as protests, educational forums, public membership meetings, pride events, Latinx LGBTQ club and drag nights, and a rally protesting Sheriff Joe Arpaio's immigration policies. Unlike previous studies, which study national organizations or single movements, this study focuses on grassroots, coalition-based mobilization across and within two movements. In doing so, this essay explores the extent to which inter- and intra-movement coalitions formed to “win” rights or thwart rights “losses” represent and serve intersectional and more marginalized communities—groups in social justice movements that are largely ignored and unacknowledged within contemporary scholarship.
Using Intersectionality to Expand Legal Mobilization Studies
Scholars are increasingly sophisticated about how they study the implications of legal policies on social movements. Initially, many law and society scholars examined the impacts of legal reform efforts by focusing on litigation alone, arguing that litigation largely contains social justice movements, provoking electoral and policy setbacks that thwart any legal gains achieved in court (Reference KlarmanKlarman 2004; Reference KlarmanKlarman 2014; Reference RimmermanRimmerman 2002; Reference RosenbergRosenberg 2008). Other legal scholars who focused on litigation highlighted the expansionist potential within legal rights “wins,” arguing that rights serve as a useful strategic choice for social movements (Reference Cummings and NeJaimeCummings and NeJaime 2010; Reference EskridgeEskridge 2002; Reference PinelloPinello 2006). Legal mobilization scholarship expands upon these studies, adopting a broader conceptualization of law that encompasses institutionalized legal strategies, legal norms and symbols, and legal discourse (Andersen 2005; Reference Bernstein, Marshall, Barclay, Barclay, Bernstein and MarshallBernstein, Marshall, and Barclay 2009; Reference Goldberg-HillerGoldberg-Hiller 2004; Reference KeckKeck 2009; Reference Marshall and BarclayMarshall and Barclay 2003; Reference McCannMcCann 1994; Reference ScheingoldScheingold 1974). Many legal mobilization scholars argue that the appropriate way to measure legal reform efforts is not by “initial goals, local scale conflict, or immediate outcomes,” but by “lasting impacts on subsequent struggles—i.e., whether they are successfully contained or potentially expansionist in nature” (Reference McCannMcCann 1994: 307–08). However, there are not many studies that examine the containing and potentially expansionist nature of legal rights reforms by focusing on inter- and intra-movement dynamics.
Most legal mobilization research adopts a unidimensional, national, and single-axis social movement focus. These studies tend to examine “social movements” by focusing on just a few leading organizations that have clear goals and trajectories. As a result, these studies miss the full complexity of movements, which usually develop out of inter- and intra-movement coalitions or a larger number of organizations of varying size, sophistication, and visibility. For example, almost every major legal mobilization work that studies the LGBTQ rights movement looks to national organizations or focuses on the extent to which a limited number of movement organizations advance issues that predominately concern white gay men and lesbians, like marriage equality and incorporating sexual orientation and gender identity and expression into anti-discrimination laws (see e.g., Reference AndersenAndersen 2006; Reference Duam, Barclay, Bernstein and MarshallDuam 2009; Reference Fisher, Barclay, Bernstein and MarshallFisher 2009; Reference Goldberg-HillerGoldberg-Hiller 2004; Reference KeckNeJamie 2013; Keck 2009). These studies, while ground-breaking in their contributions to research on the potential and limits of the law, do not engage with how rights impact inter- and intra-movement coalition dynamics across the multiplicity of identities that make-up the LGBTQ movement. In other words, most legal mobilization studies on the LGBTQ rights movement lack an engagement with intersectionality.
This study, thus, enhances legal rights mobilization scholarship by highlighting the importance of inter- and intra-movement dynamics. At its core, intersectionality theory exposes how “single axis thinking undermines legal thinking, disciplinary knowledge production, and struggles for social justice” (Reference Cho, Williams Crenshaw and McCallCho, Crenshaw, and McCall 2013: 787). It is deployed in order to make visible the struggles of those who hold intersectional identities and to reveal how grassroots organizations adopt strategies that transcend unidimensional struggles for change (Reference Cho, Williams Crenshaw and McCallCho, Crenshaw, and McCall 2013; Reference CollinsCollins 1989; Reference CrenshawCrenshaw 1989; Reference CrenshawCrenshaw 1991; Reference HancockHancock 2016). Intersectionality scholars are critical of institutional legal strategies for social change. They argue that legal rights force groups into individualistic identities that reify rather than challenge institutional inequalities and contribute to the systematic deployment of state violence against people who hold identities that are legally constructed as “undeserving” (Reference AlbistonAlbiston 2009; Reference BagenstosBagenstos 2006; Reference BrownBrown 1995; Reference KandaswamyKandaswamy 2008; Reference ReddyReddy 2011). Contemporary critical race and queer studies scholars who employ intersectionality argue that the pursuit of legal rights “wins” marginalizes the interests of bisexual identified individuals, people of color, and queer and trans people by limiting the imaginations of those who advocate for social change within these communities and forcing them to accept mainstream movement “wins” that rarely directly serve their interests (Reference ChávezChávez 2013; Reference CrenshawCrenshaw 1991; Reference DugganDuggan 2003; Reference EngEng 2010; Reference HarrisHarris 1993; Reference PuarPuar 2007; Reference PuarPuar 2011; Reference SpadeSpade 2011; Reference StoneStone 2012: chapter 6; Reference StrolovitchStrolovitch 2007; Reference YoshinoYoshino 2000).
Intersectionality scholarship predominately makes this critique by focusing on how identity is constructed within individual subjects or single movements, often at the national level alone. However, intersectionality also refers to the formation of collective identity along different structural strata, across multiple movements at both the local and national level. This study adopts an understanding of intersectionality that centers on the formation of collective identity across and within multiple movements. In adopting this understanding, I develop a nuanced argument that collective identity both contains and enables intersectional advocacy, departing from many intersectionality scholars’ assertions that collective identity formation is destructive.
This study illustrates the significance of the theoretical insights developed by intersectionality scholars, applying them to an empirical study of coalition formation. I focus on how coalitional identity forms within inter- and intra-movement coalitions and the impacts that this identity has on marginalized movement constituents. In this vein, this study follows the path of intersectional interest group scholars like Strolovitch (Reference Strolovitch2007) who examine the potential and limits of coalitional politics at the national level (Reference StrolovitchStrolovitch 2007: chapter 6). In order to accomplish this, I focus on the unique position of both marginalized and mainstream social movement organizations in two state contexts (Washington State and Arizona) and develop a new theoretical concept born out of interviews with organization members. I argue that the creation of a common civil rights past identity based on shared opponents facilitated the creation of coalitions in both states and, in doing so, expanded movement mobilization. However, the formation of this collective identity was tempered by statewide offensive and defensive campaigns for legal rights “wins,” which simultaneously constrained the potential of the newly formed movement coalitions.
Case Selection: LGBTQ and Immigrant Rights Coalitions in Washington and Arizona
This study examines LGBTQ and immigrant rights coalitions through case studies of two states: Washington State and Arizona. With just two case studies, I cannot provide a complete or general account of coalition formation and inter- and intra-movement dynamics here. My goal is instead to illustrate some of the complexity of coalition formation and the need for more attention to coalitions in the study of legal mobilization. Washington and Arizona provide a good pairing because some similarities make it possible to study coalition formation in each state while other sharp differences between the two states mean that they can together reveal considerable complexity in movement coalition building at the local level.
The key similarity: effective cross-movement coalition building developed among LGBTQ and immigrant rights groups in both states fairly recently and along similar timelines. In Washington, there were few signs of effective cross-community coalition work in the early 2000s. In 2005, only one immigrant rights organization (Hate Fee Zone, now OneAmerica) signed onto an amicus brief filed by civic and community leaders in support of gay and lesbian couples fighting for marriage equality in the case Andersen v. King County. By contrast, during the 2012 Referendum 74 campaign for marriage equality, a wide array of organizations that represent immigrant communities endorsed the referendum. Similarly, in Arizona, when the state passed a same-sex marriage ban in 2008, the campaign to thwart the initiative included no visible partnerships with immigrant rights organizations or organizations representing communities of color. Since then, as documented in (Reference ChávezChávez's 2013) pioneering book Queer Migration Politics, coalitions between LGBTQ and immigrant rights organizations have formed at the local level in Arizona.
While the timing of coalition formation is similar across the two cases, Washington and Arizona contrast sharply on other important dimensions. The sequence of rights advances and obstacles that have influenced coalition development were quite different in the two states. The two states also present two very different political contexts. Throughout the mid-2000s and 2010s, following significant policy losses in the 1990s, LGBTQ and immigrant rights organizations experienced a series of successes in Washington, a state that leans heavily Democratic. During this time, Washington experienced the institution of in-state tuition for undocumented college students, the passage of an LGBTQ inclusive nondiscrimination act, the legalization of marriage equality, and the passage of a law providing state financial aid for undocumented students. By contrast, throughout the same period of time in Arizona, a hostile state government that leans heavily Republican instituted a series of debilitating rights losses for LGBTQ, Latinx, and immigrant rights organizations. Between 2000 and 2010 alone Arizona enacted a stringent voter ID law that also limited access to state public benefits for undocumented persons, banned in-state tuition for undocumented students, passed a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage, and passed the virulently anti-immigrant SB 1070 (the Support Our Law Enforcement and Safe Neighborhoods Act), which enables local police to stop suspected undocumented immigrants and question them about their immigration status. Critics argues that SB 1070 effectively legalizes racial profiling (Reference CohnCohn 2012; Reference JohnsonJohnson 2012). Yet, despite contradictory trajectories of rights “wins” and “losses,” inter- and intra-movement coalitions have emerged within the LGBTQ and immigrant communities in each state. By looking at both Arizona and Washington, contrasting cases of coalition development, this project provides a broader account of the role of rights in inter- and intra-movement coalition formation than studies that look only at national organizations alone or states with similar demographics and similar political contexts.
Data and Methods
My examination of the process of coalition formation relies primarily on the sociolegal and historical context framework used by some intersectionality and legal mobilization scholars (Reference ChuaChua 2014; Reference CohenCohen 1999; Reference EngelEngel 1984; Reference ErnstErnst 2010; Reference GleesonGleeson 2012; Reference LevitskyLevitsky 2007; Reference McCannMcCann 1994; Reference MerryMerry 2000; Reference StrolovitchStrolovitch 2007). The results below were drawn from 51 semi-structured, in-depth interviews with LGBTQ and immigrant community leaders conducted from December 2014 through October 2015 in Washington State and Arizona. I conducted 25 interviews in Washington and 26 in Arizona. The use of in-depth interviews is particularly well suited for investigations of identity politics, legal mobilization, and intersectional alliances as it “is useful for uncovering aspects of a phenomenon that may remain hidden, [and] because…the…trust that can be established between the researcher and subject in an in-person interview is invaluable when encouraging subjects to define issues for themselves” (Reference SimpsonSimpson 1998: 163).
In order to uncover how collective identity formed through rights campaigns expands and limits movement mobilization, I interviewed organization leaders, advocates, community workers, and politicians who were active in and supportive of the campaigns associated with inter- and intra-movement coalitions in Washington and Arizona. I also interviewed those who helped build inter- and intra-movement coalitions in both states, but were sharply critical of rights campaigns in each state. I utilized two interview protocols, one for organization leaders and one for advocates, community workers, and politicians. These protocols were designed as a loose guide for the interviews in order to allow interviewees the freedom to construct their own personal advocacy stories. I anticipated that organizational leaders might have a difficult time talking about alliances within their movements, so I began by asking more general questions about alliance building. I then asked about alliances across and within movements more specifically, including questions about coalition work in statewide rights campaigns. Before each interview, participants were presented with an informed consent form. Each interview was recorded and lasted anywhere between about 30 minutes and 2 hours depending upon interviewee availability. At the end of each interview, interviewees completed a post-interview demographic survey. The interview analysis presented below is compiled from discourse patterns and common experiences recognized through the interview process and by using NVivo's qualitative research software to code patterns in transcribed interviews.
In conducting these interviews, I first identified potential interviewees through local newspaper articles and organization archives naming key advocates and leaders. After reaching out to all identified potential interviewees whose contact information was readily available, I used a snowball sampling technique to identify additional potential interviewees who are active in inter- and intra-movement coalition building in both states. Further, I engaged in participant observations whenever possible in order to connect with interviewees. Overall, I participated in over 35 public organization events such as protests, educational panels and forums, volunteer opportunities, and public membership meetings in order connect with interviewees. Participant observations varied in length from anywhere between 2 hours to 12 hours per event.
The results presented are meant to convey the coalition experiences expressed during the course of my research. With this said, it is also important to recognize the limits of this research. This research does not provide a comprehensive analysis of every legal and political campaign (or attempted campaign) that interviewees have been involved with in the past. Rather, it is designed to identify those moments interviewees recollect as most important to inter- and intra-movement coalition building with the understanding that memories of these moments and their believed importance may shift over time, but, are crucial for learning about how communities form collective identity. The life experiences recounted by interviewees are personal advocacy stories, which, in many cases, played out against a background of racism, classism, homophobia, transphobia, and sexism. The below sections include excerpts from some, though not all, of these advocacy stories.
Forming a Collective Identity Based on a Common Civil Rights Past
The formation of a common civil rights past is crucial for coalition building because organizations that represent distinct identities often do not recognize a single, collective identity on their own. This has a great deal to do with how power dynamics influence the way that identity groups align along the progressive spectrum. In Washington State and Arizona, there is a divide between mainstream and marginalized organizations within the LGBTQ and the immigrant rights movements individually that hinders the formation of intra-movement coalitions. In each state, organizations that represent the issues and interests of the most privileged segments of minority populations form the mainstream core, while organizations that represent intersectional members or members with comparatively less privilege are placed at the under-resourced margins of progressive social movements. This divide is much larger in Washington than in Arizona because mainstream organizations in Arizona lack institutional power since they largely do not have the ability to influence statewide policy outcomes, agencies, and political leaders in a Republican-controlled state. Thus, in Arizona, the formation of intra-movement coalitions between mainstream and marginalized organizations and inter-movement coalitions among divergent social movements are even more crucial for representation in politics than in Washington. Mainstream organizations include large 501(c)(3) and 501(c)(4)Footnote 4 civil rights and social services organizations, and minority chambers of commerce. These organizations operate using similar organizational models and may share a common core of corporate funders. Marginalized organizations align around what are perceived as more radical interests like immigration detention, police violence, and trans-inclusive gender justice. These organizations can be small 501(c)(3) organizations, they can be fiscally sponsored by larger mainstream organizations, or they can be composed of volunteers who unite under a common name and mission but have not applied for nonprofit status with the Internal Revenue Service (IRS).
In Washington and Arizona, the emergence of inter- and intra-movement coalitions corresponded with the extent to which organization leaders, advocates, and community workers within marginalized and mainstream organizations developed a common civil rights past identity. A common civil rights past identity is a collective understanding of an organization's connection to a shared past based on a core of common opponents. This collective understanding also involves the construction and highlighting of civil rights movement and social movement narratives. Opponents often manifest in specific individuals, including politicians and leaders of interest groups that target minority populations over prolonged periods of time. However, opponents might also refer to a more generalizable fear of community ostracism as a result of one's identity, for example, as an LGBTQ-identified person or undocumented individual. Seemingly, divergent organizations form a collective civil rights past identity when they recognize that the same messagings, attacks, and fears experienced as a result of their own members’ identities also apply to other minority identities. For instance, the experience of “coming out” as LGBTQ is a collective understanding of past that applies to LGBTQ people alone and involves considerable fear of community ostracism or “othering” by those who do not hold this identity. According to my interviews with organization members, organizations that represent undocumented LGBTQ people were able to initiate the formation of a common civil rights past identity between queer migrant and lesbian and gay organizations within the LGBTQ rights movement. They did this in limited circumstances by emphasizing the similarity between “coming out” as LGBTQ and “coming out of the shadows” as undocumented—a similar collective past experience that involves fear of community isolation for both. In recognizing the similarities between experiences of “coming out,” members from divergent groups were able to form a collective understanding of past, based on generalizable opponents, that aided in the formation of intra-movement coalitions between queer migrant organizations and LGBT organizations that had historically de-emphasized or ignored queer migrant constituents.
Multiple interviewees talked about or implied that an understanding of shared past based on opponents was crucial to the formation of mainstream LGBT and immigrant coalitions in both Washington State and Arizona. Interviewees’ discussions of the importance of opponents in the formation of collective identity are aligned with LGBTQ studies and social movement scholars who argue that opponents play a prominent role in movement activism and that shared ideology and political threats are causal factors in coalition formation (Reference Cornfield, McCammon, Van Dyke and McCammonCornfield and McCammon 2010; Reference Dorf and TarrowDorf and Tarrow 2014; Reference FetnerFetner 2008; Reference Isaac, Van Dyke and McCammonIsaac 2010; Reference McCammon, Van Dyke, Dyke and McCammonMcCammon and Van Dyke 2010). Sociologists who study coalitions have long recognized that shared goals and ideology contribute to coalition formation. For instance, (Reference Cornfield, McCammon, Van Dyke and McCammonCornfield and McCammon 2010) argue that a “growing convergence of ideological orientations” contributed to the formation of a coalition between the American Federation of Labor and the Congress of Industrial Organizations (AFL-CIO) in 1955 (Reference Cornfield, McCammon, Van Dyke and McCammonCornfield and McCammon 2010: 80). Constructing a common past based on opponents plays a prominent role in coalition unity because it helps solidify the contention that organizations devoted to civil rights struggles are all part of the same community and have overlapping goals. The interviews discussed in this section demonstrate the utility of opponents to coalition unity by explaining how this contributes to the development of a common civil rights past identity within organizations that are part of inter- and intra- movement coalitions.Footnote 5
In the following exchange, Harry, the former leader of a mainstream LGBTQ organization in Washington who identifies as white and gay, discussed how shared opponents eventually helped in the formation of an inter-movement coalition by shifting labor organizations in Washington toward greater acceptance of lesbian and gay rights:
Harry: That was a big shift also from 2004. In 2004, I was working on a campaign for [a Democratic party candidate] and the labor groups were not on board on what they call the 3Gs: Guns, God, and Gays…. The first thing they said is we like you [candidate's name] …but you're not good on this. Our members care about Guns, God, and Gays…. But that was showing that the conversation was not there yet within the labor organizations and that shifted a lot over the last 10 years from 2004 to 2012.
Interviewer: What do you think shifted it?
Harry: I think it was things like Ref 71 [the passage of the “everything but marriage,” domestic partnership law]. You know, they saw the right people turn out, to support it. I also think that [my organization] had been part of the social justice conversation because of our alliance with [another progressive organization], and that the candidates that we were supporting were the candidates they were supporting. We have the same opponents. You know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. [Emphasis Added]
Harry argued that lesbian and gay organizations’ support of the same candidates and opposition to the same candidates as labor organizations ultimately helped shift labor organizations’ position on lesbian and gay rights issues. This enabled labor and mainstream LGBTQ organizations to rely upon one another in various electoral contests and legislative battles on progressive issues other than those that were considered specific to their own groups. Harry explained that this inter-movement labor and mainstream LGBTQ alignment grew over time as his organization visibly demonstrated its support of issues that mattered to coalition partners by both endorsing their campaigns and devoting whatever resources his organization could. By supporting cross-cutting issues like those central to the labor movement, his organization became a part of the long-term “social justice conversation.” This commitment to other groups’ causes and goals, combined with the presence of the same core opponents, helped to solidify the understanding that organizations serving divergent communities were on the same team over time.
In addition to unifying inter-movement coalitions, mainstream organization leaders in Arizona described how interactions with opponents further bolstered awareness around intersectional issues and emphasized the urgent need to work on inter-movement issues. For example, Louis is a former marginalized organization leader and inter-movement coalition leader in Arizona who primarily works on issues that impact communities of color, immigrants, and workers. In our interview, he described how interaction with opponents empowered members, strengthening immigrant and worker commitments to LGBTQ issues. Louis related an incident that occurred during a canvassing experiment that involved conversations with conservative voters in Scottsdale and Mesa, Arizona about supporting the inclusion of sexual orientation and gender identity and expression in the state's anti-discrimination law:
Louis: …One of our team members who is lesbian and African American was out canvassing and these boys asked her what she was doing and started calling her, you know, not only racial epithets, but also derogatory terms about her identity… and it was the both of it. It was the getting attacked for being both black and lesbian that really just hurt.
And it was so clear…that she was getting it from multiple angles. And the team was very, very angry. We almost abandoned the project. Before that the police had come and put one of our canvassers in handcuffs for some reason. [The canvassers] didn't end up getting arrested but even that was just offensive and obscene….
Interviewer: Oh that's horrible.
Louis: Yeah…and she's one of our most popular team members. She's just really fun and sweet and everybody loved her…. So we had to… you know [the other organization leader] and I came down for the de-brief and were like, listen, if this is too much like if we should not be out here in Scottsdale/Mesa like this, you know if it's just too heavy, let's call it quits. We don't have to take this abuse.
And the team like viscerally, you could almost feel them like lean in. I said, because [we] had said, hey don't force them, you can't force them to do this. So I said, I want you to know everyone we can stop. You don't have to do this. And, the team leaned in and were like, No! All of them were like, No! We're not going to, if we give up we let them win. We've got to finish.
The canvassing experiment was the first time the organization directly worked on an LGBTQ issue. In this exchange, Louis described how a series of negative interactions, culminating in a racist and homophobic attack, bolstered his organization's desire to continue the canvassing experiment; these negative interactions became a source of power and unity. When asked to stop, members refused to give up and, instead “viscerally leaned in,” forcefully articulating their desire to continue the experiment so as to not “let them win”—to not let the attackers “win.” In the face of intense opposition, a canvassing experiment that was not attached to a current rights campaign suddenly became an empowering moment, emphasizing the urgent need to continue the inter-movement coalition work the organization had only just begun.
Interviewees argued that recognizing a common core of opponents, like those described in the canvassing experiment incident above, is necessary for organizations to develop a common civil rights past. The presence of a common civil rights past helps interest group leaders and members recognize how minority communities are connected, creating the possibility for long-term coalition relationships. Rachael, who works for a marginalized organization, clearly articulated the importance of creating a common past for coalition unity. Rachel conducted workshops with mainstream organizations to encourage the formation of inter-movement coalitions. During her interview, Rachel described how the recognition of a common civil rights past unites organizations in this manner:
We generally start off [our workshops], so an organization like [mainstream progressive women's rights group] or unions that are predominately white that have done strategic partnerships with us, they bring together their staff, their board, and their core leaders, and we need to build collectively a shared understanding of our history that weaves all of our movements together, so the civil rights, the immigrant rights, the LGBTQ justice, the labor unions. You need to be able to see the timeline of where our work has both been intersected and also been siloed. And then I think just walking through that timeline, people kind of see we are facing the same opposition, we are facing the same kinds of attacks, the messaging that they use against our communities are fairly consistent across different communities, whether it's because you're abnormal, or immoral, or criminal, or you know a threat to the American way of life, right? So those kinds of messagings are fairly consistent across our marginalized communities.
According to Rachel, the development of a common civil rights past identity can be the basis for a long-term inter-movement alliance. It builds strength between groups by calling out common opponents and illuminating how these opponents strive to divide marginalized communities rather than unite them. Furthermore, Rachel described how inter-movement coalitions form through the building a “shared understanding of our history that weaves all our movements together.” Thus, it is not only the recognition of common opponents, but, also, the creation of a common social movement narrative that incorporates the LGBTQ movement with the immigrant rights movement, labor movement, and civil rights movement that contributes to inter-coalition formation.
Marginalized organization leaders in Arizona also articulated how creating a common civil rights past through the development of shared community experiences contributed to the formation of intra-movement coalitions between queer migrant organizations and LGBT organizations on the one hand and queer migrant organizations and the undocumented community on the other. Multiple marginalized organization leaders, advocates, and community workers accomplished this through “double coming out forums,” conducted in the 2010s throughout the greater Phoenix area. Below, Manuel, who identifies as a member of the LGBTQ, Latinx, and migrant communities and serves as a marginalized organization leader, delineated how these forums helped create the collective community necessary for intra-movement coalition building:
Manuel: Double coming out forums came about because we saw and we understood that the only way to build in essence our mission is to build bridges between the LGBT community and the undocumented community so that we build a powerful movement where we're both like pushing each other, right? And like maybe catapulting off of one another so that we can, we can help each other forward.
But we started with the double coming out forums because we understood that the same fears that we felt when we were coming out of the shadows as undocumented were the same fears that we felt when we were coming out of the closet, right? So understanding this we were able then to go to LGBT organizations and talk about, first, we would touch upon coming out of the closet and then we would talk about coming out of the shadows, right? And then people could relate. [Emphasis Added]
Manuel explained how the “double coming out forums” emphasized that seemingly dissimilar identities have a shared past. Within the LGBTQ community, “coming out of the closet” and the fear surrounding potential community ostracism as a result of articulating one's identity is a unifying community narrative. Similarly, “coming out of the shadows” as undocumented involves a considerable fear of community ostracism that supports a collective community narrative. Manuel described how his organization would highlight these shared experiences of fear around identity recognition in order to create a collective past or a narrative in terms through which “double coming out” forum attendees could relate, understand their shared experiences, and build intra-movement coalitions. In his interview, Manuel explained that he both conducted “double coming out” forums with mainstream LGBT organizations and broke down gender norms in the migrant community by holding drag shows in migrant community spaces.
Expanding, Containing, and Fragmenting Collective Identity through Rights Campaigns
In many cases, the adoption of a long-term, common civil rights past identity depended on a group's or individual's experience within rights campaigns. Four of the major offensive rights campaigns in Washington StateFootnote 6 discussed during the interviews were: the referendum campaign to secure benefits for domestic partners in 2009 (Referendum 71); the marriage equality referendum campaign in 2012 (Referendum 74); the legislative campaign for state-funded financial aid for undocumented students in 2014 (the Washington State DREAM Act aka Real Hope ActFootnote 7); and the campaign to increase the voting rights of minority constituencies in Washington in 2015, which initiated with a failed ballot initiative, grew through an American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) lawsuit, and solidified in a legislative campaign (the Washington State Voting Rights Act). Given the historic institutionalization of LGBTQ, Latinx, and immigrant community opponent groups in Arizona, interviewees in Arizona focused on defensiveFootnote 8 rights campaigns during their interviews. Four of the major defensive rights campaigns described by interviewees in Arizona were: the proposition campaign to ban in-state tuition for undocumented college students in 2006 (Proposition 300); the proposition campaign for a state constitutional ban on same-sex marriage in 2008 (Proposition 102); the legislative campaign to increase local law enforcement involvement in federal immigration enforcement in 2010 (SB 1070); and the legislative campaign to allow businesses to refuse service to LGBTQ individuals based on religious beliefs in 2014 (SB 1062).
Rights campaigns helped create coalitions within and across LGBTQ and immigrant rights groups in part because they provided strong incentives for organizations and members to work together. Identity-based movements often do not provide their constituents with direct individual benefits. Rather, people frequently join movement organizations and participate in movement activism because they are devoted to the movement's cause. Rights campaigns are particularly volatile moments that threaten movement constituents with a severe “loss.” As a result, they provide extraordinary ideological incentives that movement organizations can use to recruit and activate new members and create cross-movement coalitions that are not present outside of critical movement moments. When these critical moments end, movement organizations often experience membership decline as ideological incentives disappear. For this reason, in her study on the rise and decline of support for the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), Jane Mansbridge argues that the decline of ideological incentives as the critical ERA moment “faded into history” contributed to the loss of membership within organizations committed to passing the ERA (Reference MansbridgeMansbridge 1986: 120–21).
Each rights campaign ultimately initiated a conflagration of advocacy that had the power to both unify new individuals and constituencies never reached before and divide organizations and individuals devoted to the cause in the aftermath of the campaign. For this reason, advocates analogized rights campaigns to “fires,” “machines,” “vortexes,” “explosions,” and, my favorite analogy, “neutron stars.” Each analogy captures how rights campaigns are moments that burn brightly and quickly, carrying the potential to both mobilize cross-community constituencies and collapse in on local organizations once they disappear. Due to their large mobilizing and activating capacities and the urgency placed on organizations and individuals to “fight” to secure a “win,” marginalized and mainstream organizations work much more closely together during the lifespan of an episodic rights campaign. This provides the opportunity for the formation of a collective civil rights past identity that can aid in the formation of inter- and intra-movement coalitions during the lifespan of a rights campaign.
Collective Identity and Defensive Rights Campaigns in Arizona
Defensive rights campaigns have the greatest mobilizing and activating potential because they occur as a result of opponent mobilization and, thus, reinforce a collective civil rights past identity within movement coalitions. Many interviewees discussed how mobilizing and activating the explosive SB 1070 defensive rights campaign was within the immigrant and Latinx communities. Diana, an organization leader with a marginalized group that primarily serves immigrants and communities of color but also partners with and supports local queer organizations, directly and eloquently emphasized this during her interview. In the following excerpt, Diana explained why SB 1070 was an activating moment:
Diana: Yeah I mean a lot of it is I think it was fear and the anger…the fear that you were going to be separated from your family and the anger that someone had control over that. And all of that, right? And then because…that was one of the first blatant things that happened, but they had been doing it right? Like they did the English-only law, Prop. 200, they did Prop. 300, they had been doing different laws that had affected our community, 287g, Secure Communities, and it had been happening but none of us had really noticed or really activated to it.
But SB 1070 was so blatant, racist, that it shocked us. And it awoke us. I don't know, some people weren't shocked because they had seen it coming, but for a lot of us that were not involved, that were younger, [we] had no idea….
So it had been happening, right, and attrition through enforcement, making our life so miserable that we would self-deport. And they would talk about it, blatantly and loudly and say this is what we want – we want you to self-deport, we want you to leave, right? Russell Pearce, Joe Arpaio, talking about Tent City and that's like his concentration camp and…2010 was a very loud year of them speaking. And I think for us it was a decision point of are you going to fight, or are you going to leave?
And a lot of our families wanted to leave, a lot of our families did leave, and for some of us, we couldn't even afford to leave. So you just had to make a decision and I think, for me, it was, someone questioned me and said are you going to fight? And, I said yes, right, but then other, and so that's how we, that's how it happened. You have to ask people, you have to, in the conversations, it doesn't just happen I feel like. So when it happened to me I was asked by someone.
When I went to Jorge it was the same question. Are you going to fight? I went to Maria, to Pamela, to Fernando, to Diego, to Clara, to everyone, they all had to make the choice if they were going to fight or not. And 2010 provided that opportunity for us to make that choice and we chose to fight. And here we are continuing that.
According to Diana, SB 1070 was the “loudest” and most “blatantly racist” of a history of anti-immigrant and anti-Latinx laws in Arizona. In her interview, she discussed over a decade of exclusionary laws passed in the state, including Proposition 200 in 2004. Modeled off of California's Proposition 187, Proposition 200 was one of Arizona's first successful anti-immigrant ballot initiatives. It restricted the availability of state public benefits for undocumented persons and included a Voter ID provision that required prospective voters to offer proof of citizenship when registering to vote (Reference CampbellCampbell 2011; Reference DíazDíaz 2004). Portions of Proposition 200 have been eliminated through a series of federal lawsuits (Reference SandersSanders 2013). Diana also discussed anti-immigrant laws like Proposition 300, which eliminated in-state tuition for undocumented college students, and 287(g)Footnote 9 and Secure Communities,Footnote 10 federal programs that enable local law enforcement to become federal immigration enforcement agents in Arizona. This intense anti-immigrant history culminated in the passage of SB 1070, which, Diana argues “shocked” a new generation of advocates into action, forcing them to confront threats posed to their community by Arizona's anti-immigrant rights movement.
Diana's discussion of history as well as the fear and anger spurred by opponent activists like Russell Pearce (the State Senator who orchestrated SB 1070) and the infamously anti-immigrant Sheriff Joe ArpaioFootnote 11 reinforces a common civil rights past identity that, in the aftermath of SB 1070, would ultimately enable many immigrant rights advocates in Arizona to quickly recognize an affinity or collective identity with LGBTQ organizations, contributing to the formation of inter-movement coalitions during future offensive rights campaigns. This was perhaps most clearly articulated by State Senator and Maricopa County Supervisor Steve Gallardo,Footnote 12 who came out as gay in the midst of the fight to stop SB 1062 in 2014. SB 1062 was the anti-LGBTQ bill that would have allowed businesses to refuse service to LGBTQ people based on religious beliefs (Reference HardinHardin 2014). The bill was ultimately vetoed by then-Governor Jan Brewer under intense pressure from the local business community as threats of a statewide boycott from national businesses loomed. In the below exchange, Senator Gallardo discussed both how SB 1070 helped to create inter-movement coalitions and how the dual anti-immigrant and anti-LGBTQ bills in 2010 and 2014 reinforced a common civil rights past identity, based on shared opponents:
Senator Gallardo: I think 1070 really woke up people and you started to see the faith community step up, you started to see the African American community step up, but that was, that was the time … that we, that you started to see more coalesce of a coalition.
But even with 1062, I went to the, I had to go to the immigrant community, some of our immigrant community and say, hey, you know, hate is hate. Let it be an attack on immigrants or an attack on the LGBT community, hate is hate and we need to stand with the LGBT community.
We had a press conference with those that you would normally see at those immigrant rights rallies that were standing in opposition to 1062. And it was a good message to send.
Interviewer: So do you think it wasn't just that you had these bills but also that it was the same group of extremists that were pushing them that really brought people together?
Senator Gallardo: Um-hmm. I think that started to resonate that we need to be working together. It was the same group. The same group of legislators that were pushing all of the anti-immigration stuff that would push the attacks on women's reproductive choices or push the attack on LGBT community, whatever. It was the same group of folks, same handful of legislators.
In his interview, Senator Gallardo first explained that SB 1070 was an important mobilizing moment that helped activate cross-community support for immigrant rights issues from groups that previously had not participated in attempts to thwart anti-immigrant laws. Senator Gallardo described how SB 1062, the next major defensive rights campaign after SB 1070, further helped to create alliances between LGBTQ and immigrant rights groups by emphasizing how members of both communities shared the same opponent past. The “same group of legislators,” the same opponents or “enemies,” who pushed anti-immigrant laws likewise targeted LGBTQ people when they tried to pass SB 1062 in 2014. The dual defensive rights campaigns contributed to the formation of inter-movement coalitions by reinforcing that both communities are subjected to the same “hate,” the same “attacks.”
Other LGBTQ community advocates also described how these dual defensive rights campaigns assisted in the creation of inter-movement coalitions by emphasizing a common civil rights past that extends well beyond each rights campaign. For instance, Roger, a white LGBTQ community advocate who works with mainstream LGBT organizations and marginalized organizations, described his support of efforts to stop SB 1070 and SB 1062 as follows:
Roger: I was there as an individual, I didn't want to miss it because it was the closest thing I'd ever seen in this state to the equivalent of our March on Washington that the gay community's done a couple times….
[F]rom an immigration standpoint, in the same way we saw Senate Bill 1070, we then saw 1062. And so, in both cases, I mean with 1070 there most definitely was a gay community presence and a response, both through [mainstream LGBT organization name redacted] and then individuals. And we were very, very pleased and grateful, then when 1062 rolled around that there was indeed, I think people remembered that we were there for them and we were there for each other and so naturally that really helped. Like the MLK holiday, that issue rose many, many years ago, ultimately what drove the decision [Governor Jan Brewer's decision to veto SB 1062] was economics and it was chambers of commerce and people saying, you know, we've got nearly a million of square feet of a convention center and we've got a lot of companies that don't want to move their businesses here even though we've most of the year have a great climate.
And we also have conventions that won't come here because of our anti-immigration, the perception that most of Arizona [is anti-immigrant], because of Sheriff Joe and all the things that make it into the international news, that for the grand majority of us, it's really an ongoing embarrassment.
According to Roger, the anti-immigrant and anti-LGBTQ movements that activate groups and individuals by passing or attempting to pass laws that target these communities are deeply rooted in an inter-movement civil rights past. SB 1070 was not an isolated attack on a single community. Instead, Roger described how activism around SB 1070, spurred by a common core of opponents, was reminiscent of the LGBTQ community Marches on Washington, massive political rallies in Washington, D.C. conducted in the 1970s through the early 1990s in order to draw national attention to various forms of state violence directed at the LGBTQ community. At the state level, Roger argued that both SB 1070 and SB 1062 were “like the MLK Holiday”—the political moment in the late 1980s and early 1990s when opponent groups in Arizona moved to prevent the state from adopting Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as a state holiday. For Roger, these intense defensive moments are important mechanisms of both inter-movement and intra-movement mobilization. Thus, later in his interview Roger argued that “1062 was one of the best things that happened to us because it's that slap in the face, a slap in the face that any community needs to wake up the sleeping giant that is an otherwise unengaged electorate” [Emphasis Added].
Despite the movement expansion that occurred through the formation of a common civil rights past identity facilitated by defensive rights campaigns like SB 1070 and SB 1062, these defensive campaigns simultaneously contained collective identity through the marginalization of some movement constituents and, in doing so, limited mobilization. Defensive rights campaigns are incredibly traumatic moments that most negatively impact individuals who exist at the margins. Nicolas, a former organization leader who has worked with mainstream immigrant rights organizations and marginalized migrant LGBTQ organizations in inter- and intra-movement coalitions articulated how the trauma inflicted by laws like SB 1070 and the failure of the federal DREAM Act in 2010 disproportionately impacted those who hold intersectional identities during his interview.
Nicolas: Yeah, well in 2010 the DREAM Act failed in the Senate and during that time or a little bit after there was just kind of like a calm of well what's next because nationally it was a big movement and then also here locally with the passage of SB 1070 in April 2010, it was a huge loss – the passage of SB 1070 in Arizona and then a bigger loss with the failure to pass the DREAM Act.
And so after that there was a calm about what was going to happen next and what we could do. And I remember late 2010 just taking time to reflect and also to talk to a lot of my peers about where we were within the coalition and the work that we did and just immigration and all that. And I started to hear stories about friends that are gay and talking about their experiences during SB 1070 for example. One of the, the stories that impacted me the most is a story about a friend of mine after SB 1070 passed….
So then after SB 1070 passed one of my friends said that right before it passed his parents found out that he was gay. And so when SB 1070 passed we had this mayhem here in Arizona where people were just leaving and his parents and his family were one of those families that packed up and moved to Texas. And my friend said that when SB 1070 passed and they were getting ready to leave essentially his parents told him that if he wanted to go with them that he couldn't be gay anymore. And for him, I mean just, it was big because not only is he dealing with being undocumented in his family, but now on top of that he's being kind of alienated by his family because of his sexual orientation…
And so, when he said that, I started to talk to other friends about how they, how they also experienced being LGBT and in this movement…. That's when, yeah and so that was late 2010, early 2011, and during that time, I started, because I am gay myself, it's just not something that I put out as part of my immigrant story so to speak. It was never something that we emphasized.
So then, when I started sharing my story I started thinking about how do I highlight this aspect of my story and how do I draw like these similarities between what's going on with immigration now and being gay and discrimination and things like that. So then I started talking to my friends about their interests and just expanding their stories and then eventually we, we decided to form [LGBTQ migrant group name redacted] and this was kind of in tandem with what my peers across the country were doing in bringing out this issue of LGBT immigrants more.
Nicolas related how LGBTQ undocumented persons in Arizona both initiated inter- and intra-movement mobilization in the aftermath of the 2010 defensive rights campaigns and were disproportionately harmed by these campaigns. Nicolas's friend experienced a dual ostracism as his family was forced to flee Arizona in the wake of SB 1070 and his family refused to take him with them unless he renounced his sexual orientation. Yet, within this moment of social and familial trauma Nicolas and other advocates created an opportunity for inter- and intra-movement mobilization and organizing, creating new organizations in order to ensure that their interests were represented in mainstream LGBTQ and immigrant movements organizations that had previously failed to recognize those who exist at the intersection.
Other advocates and organization leaders criticized defensive rights campaigns as moments that disproportionately assist bigger, mainstream organizations that are better situated to capitalize on the tremendous amount of money that flows into immigrant and LGBTQ communities from national organizations that are interested in thwarting opponent advocacy. This disproportionate distribution tears away at the newly formed common civil rights past identity. For example, Manuel, a marginalized organization leader, argued that in the aftermath of SB 1070, as LGBTQ migrants started sharing their stories, “it started to become trendy to have UndocuQueers in your organization. We'd see a lot of our people like have an exodus I guess of our membership and then funnel into these organizations that at first weren't accepting but now because they need the funding and because it's sexy to do this kind of work, now have undocumented or UndocuQueer people in their organizations.” For Manuel, this presented the “biggest problem” within local queer migrant organizing as the attention and funding shifted toward mainstream organizations that, he argued, “took advantage” of the sudden interest in his community identity, tokenizing queer migrant community members. Tokenizing occurs when larger mainstream organizations invite the participation of marginalized community members without placing them in leadership roles or broadly tackling issues that disproportionately impact these individuals, like immigration detention, economic security, and healthcare. (Reference PuarPuar 2014) and others recognize tokenizing in this form as a “gestural intersectionality” where the mere presence of the intersectional subject is used by organizations to show “intersectionality” despite the fact that mainstream agendas remain unchanged (Reference PuarPuar 2014: 78; see also Reference HancockHancock 2016; Reference StrolovitchStrolovitch 2007).
Collective Identity and Offensive Rights Campaigns in Washington
Despite the constraining effects of rights campaigns on the formation of collective identity described above, many interviewees also emphasized the positive movement-building capacity they found within these advocacy moments that simultaneously bolstered the formation of a collective, coalitional identity in Washington. For example, Tom, an LGBTQ person of color and the former leader of both a large progressive organization in Washington and a mainstream LGBT organization, discussed how a common core of opponents helped unify LGBTQ and immigrant rights organizations in an inter-movement coalition in 2009, during the “everything but marriage” campaign, which legalized domestic partnerships for same-sex couples in the state:
Tom: If you care about more revenue for programs that serve low-income communities, the people that are trying to oppose this are some of the same people that are trying to oppose marriage equality and a lot of all the other socio-economic issues that we care about. So we were able to kind of quietly make the argument to [groups that advocated for socioeconomic issues and communities of color] that our opposition is trying to divide us and that we need to stick together because that is the only chance that we have to win.
Interviewer: So identifying common opponents was a big component in terms of getting people to agree?
Tom: Yes and obviously the big boogeyman that we could point to was Tim Eyman who was behind a ton of it. You know he was obviously the first one to move on I-200 [the statewide affirmative action ban], he was the genesis behind it and played a significant role in a number of the anti-LGBT measures as well. So it wasn't like we were making stuff up. It was like this is clearly, if you are paying any attention at all, you know that this is part of some plan by our opposition to divide us. So I think that we were able to make that argument quietly to our various coalition partners to get on board and do what they could to support these issues.
Tom described in this exchange how the presence of a common group of opponents, as in Arizona, helped unite coalition partners that cared about socioeconomic issues, including immigrant rights organizations. Notably, Tom points to Tim Eyman as a key unifying resource for intersectional coalition alignments. Tim Eyman is a conservative political activist in Washington State who frequently pushes statewide ballot measures designed to limit the rights of racial and LGBTQ minorities and to reinforce “small government” by making it more difficult for the state legislature to raise taxes.
Other interviewees also discussed how the Referendum 74 Campaign for marriage equality in 2012, like the Arizona rights campaigns, solidified relationships across civil rights organization leaders in Washington in a manner that has enabled them to more smoothly move onto new rights campaigns or brought greater community awareness to their organizations and, in doing so, solidified a cross-community common civil rights past identity. One interviewee, David, a person of color who worked with a marginalized LGBTQ organization in Washington, described how the marriage equality rights campaign assisted his organization in this manner:
David: It did help us to build capacity. We had some of our folks get media training. A couple of our staff were actually featured in the marketing pieces. We went around and gave presentations. It helped us to deepen our relationships with some of the organizations in the community [that represent people of color]. It gave us a way to cement those relationships more. It actually raised our profile within the community. A lot of people heard of us who hadn't heard about us before during the campaign, and so that had a lasting effect. After the campaign people still remembered who we are. And that was a result I think of our participation in the campaign.
According to David, the marriage equality rights campaign was a capacity building moment for the organization he is a part of. It deepened the organization's relationship with other community organizations and, in doing so, enabled his organization to work more seamlessly with former campaign partners in lasting inter- and inter-movement coalitions after the lifespan of the campaign. His organization and others later developed workshops on family acceptance of LGBTQ people along with other organizations that serve communities of color—an organizational partnership developed through the Washington marriage equality rights campaign.
Yet, as with defensive rights campaigns in Arizona, David and others were quick to emphasize the constraining aspects of offensive rights campaigns, and marriage equality in particular. For David, the people his organization serves “are worried about having a job, making money, paying the rent, not getting deported—and marriage is not necessarily at the top of their list.” All of the leaders who de-emphasized the extent to which the episodic nature of rights campaigns serve as a resource work with organizations that represent communities of color or serve the trans community. For many of these leaders, the primary benefit wasn't politicization or the mobilization of a movement, but new awareness among other organizations that their group exists, as it was for David.
Furthermore, when leaders frame a rights campaign as an “all or nothing” contest in order to mobilize activists, this can drain both activists and organizations. Some of the activists interviewed, particularly those who hold marginalized identities, talked about how the high-stakes, contest framing of a rights campaign that did not focus on their interests caused them to leave the advocacy arena altogether and to regret their participation in the campaigns and in inter- and intra-movement coalitions. The focus within rights campaigns on concrete, deliverables can be harmful to intersectional relationship building, which often occurs over a longer period of time than the length of the campaign. For instance, Priya is an LGBTQ person of color who worked with both mainstream lesbian and gay organizations and religious institutions during the campaign. She decided to leave the advocacy arena altogether as a result of the ostracization of the interests of communities of color in the marriage equality campaign. Priya described the rights campaign in this way:
Priya: I think we won marriage not because we have a movement, like a real queer movement, it's because we have money and power and that will get you a victory as well. But do we have cohesive LGBT Movement in Washington State? Absolutely not… it was a vortex. [The marriage equality campaign] was an experience, I came out of it being like I never want to do political organizing again. The kind of urgency and also just the nature of the campaign, the urgency behind everything is like, I need this today, I need a million dollars by the end of the week, I need a couple from Vancouver, Washington and then their picture by 3PM today and a quote, and let's put this brown face in and that brown face in just so we have brown faces….
And afterwards the relationships you are building in order to get support from communities of color to really stand up in front of their community and say I vote for this, I want this you know? And after the campaign what's the plan? Are you going to keep, are you going to continue this relationship? No. You just want to be able to take a picture of this brown person speaking in front of a brown audience, voting for marriage equality.
Afterwards you don't care about what's actually effecting this community and what they need and you're not going to stand up in front of your community and say, support the immigrant, you know the next immigrant rights issue. They're not doing it. But you want these folks to do it for you…. It was just like, I'm still bitter, I still have this kind of anger with me and it's just like knowing there's nothing genuine about it and feeling like I don't want to go, I don't want to actually do this.
Priya vehemently argued that the marriage equality campaigns failed to build lasting, genuine relationships between most organizations involved in advocacy. According to Priya, most of the relationships built were superficial and also harmful. What Priya called the “urgency” behind the rights campaign made her feel exploited by, rather than genuinely supported by, the organizations involved in the campaign. This significantly harmed her relationship with the organizations. In this way, rights campaigns function as a double-edged sword: both creating and crippling the formation of a common civil rights past identity by simultaneously reinforcing similarity and difference.
David, the interviewee who explained how the marriage equality campaign helped his organization build lasting relationships with some organizations that serve communities of color, also spoke of them as double-edged swords. David described the marriage equality campaign as a “bad” experience explaining how it created a “win” that came at the expense of communities of color:
David: [The marriage equality campaign] was an opportunity for movement building and that opportunity was not taken. I don't think they were interested in that. And actually you know [a lesbian and gay organization leader in the area] kind of warned me, well it wasn't a warning, he just told me at the very, very beginning before any of the work started, very, very early in the whole process he said, “look, this is going to be a campaign and in campaigns the only thing anybody cares about is winning and everything else is not important.” And that's how it played out. You know they calculated what's it going to take to win and that came I think at the expense I think of communities like ours and organizations like ours, and that was very unfortunate. But it was also a valuable learning lesson for me because I guess that's kind of how liberals behave in a situation like this….
[In another community of color in particular] you could argue that harm was done. You know what I'm saying. If you go into a community and you don't treat people well then they're not going to want to work with you in the future. And they might not care about your issues. In a way, that kind of cements and reinforces some negative stereotypes about communities of color.
Referencing the above discussion, David argued that the rights campaign had a negative impact on communities of color at the same time that it had a positive one. The marriage equality campaign failed to re-distribute resources from large mainstream LGBT organizations to smaller state organizations that represent communities of color; it failed to articulate to these communities a comprehensive intra-movement agenda that was inclusive of issues that matter to people of color. This solidified the perception that rights campaigns are created and controlled by large, well-funded organizations that do not serve communities of color.
For David, mainstream “liberal” political regimes are largely exclusive of communities of color. The urgency of a rights campaign, the intense movement to create relationships to secure endorsements and votes, can result in individual burnout, in organizational burnout, and the feeling that minority communities are solely included in order to “win” rather than because of a genuine affinity for their issues and lives that comes with the recognition of a shared past. This reinforces difference in a manner that further destabilizes the collective, common civil rights identity needed for inter-and intra-movement coalition formation. Further, it may make groups like David's wary of participating in future inter- and intra-movement coalitions, which, in turn, reinforces pre-existing negative stereotypes about communities of color held by those who lead large, well-funded organizations as communities of color stop working with them.
Conclusions
The interviews reveal that inter- and intra-movement coalition formation is assisted by the formation of a common civil rights past identity. Organizations that represented different minority identities were able to develop a common civil rights past identity that aided in the creation of coalitions and fostered lasting unity across communities in some circumstances. Furthermore, groups that represent more marginalized identities within LGBTQ and immigrant communities were able to raise awareness about their communities within mainstream organizations or had the opportunity to form new organizations that could better represent their community interests as a result of the highly mobilizing and activating nature of rights campaigns. And mainstream organizations did “win rights” in limited circumstances.
However, inter- and intra-movement coalition formation was also contained by large statewide rights campaign “wins” and “losses” subject to power dynamics that limit and undermine the formation of collective identity. Interestingly, interviewees discussed a range of similar dynamics in offensive and defensive rights campaigns and their capacity to expand and constrain the construction of a common civil rights past. None of the statewide rights campaigns discussed by interviewees fully incorporated issues that matter to marginalized organizations, like mass incarceration, racial profiling, and immigration detention. Instead, rights campaigns reinforced inequality by aiding in unequal group alignments within inter- and intra-movement coalitions—placing mainstream movement organizations and their interests at the core of coalitions and organizations that represent comparatively less privileged community members at the margins. For this reason, many organization leaders and advocates sharply criticized rights campaigns and movement coalitions themselves arguing that they significantly harm movement building in the long term. According to these individuals, rights campaigns are harmful because they do not result in the redistribution of resources from large mainstream organizations that are well funded to smaller, under-funded services based organizations. This is especially true when these smaller organizations are called to support mainstream issues in the name of a “win” that does not directly serve their membership.Footnote 13
Rights campaigns that do not directly serve community partners, in particular, can harm the formation of a collective common civil rights identity in the long-term when partners believe they are being exploited to achieve a “win” rather than fully incorporated into larger mainstream organizations’ visions of social justice. Yet, this also suggests that rights campaigns in the future can be more inclusive and have a greater power to sustain long-term inter- and intra-movement coalitions if they actively work to advance these partnerships beyond rights “wins.” Coalition formation might mitigate these containing effects by focusing more on the struggle for social justice, by working toward movement mobilization and organization, and by centering the needs of marginalized groups rather than centering the desire to “win rights”—all of which reinforce the idea that groups involved in movement coalitions are part of the same civil rights past. Future coalitions that engage in rights campaigns might do this by more fully including communities of color in campaign decisions, by more decisively re-distributing funding to smaller organizations involved campaigns, and by creating concrete coalition plans to endorse and devote significant resources to racial, economic, and gender justice issues beyond the lifespan of a rights campaign.
Many legal mobilization scholars have echoed Stuart Scheingold's argument that rights activism “tends to fragment problems” and group efforts (Reference ScheingoldScheingold 1974: 118; see also Reference McCannMcCann 1994). These scholars argue that rights-based claiming individualizes mobilization efforts, making collective action outside of judicial forums difficult. Other scholars have contested this point, and offered empirical studies showing that rights claiming and litigation can support collective political action by group coalitions. My study demonstrates that rights claiming can concurrently both unify and fragment movements, at once advancing solidarity around egalitarian goals and reinforcing marginalization of certain groups and interests in ways that sustain hierarchy. In short, we should think about rights in terms of their paradoxical implications for collective political action rather than in one-dimensional either/or terms.
