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Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights

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Revolutionary is not a word that I often or easily apply to the books that I read. Some books, while entertaining, do not adjust my world view or even how I view myself. Some books which set out to adjust my world view or self-preception, don't, because of a wealth of technical jargon or a "so out there" premise that I can't wrap my brain around it. However, some books are written so that they are simply stunning, beautiful, and true, revolutionary; that after you finish them, you see yourself, the world, and your thinking dramatically changed. This is one such book, written by law professor Kenji Yoshino, called "Covering".

"Covering" is essentially a book about Civil Rights, its past, present, and future, and what role the law has played in this epic American struggle. In a stroke of brilliance, Yoshino intertwines his own personal coming-out story in between the pages; in a beautiful and quite amazing blend of memoir and history and jurisprudence.

Yoshino traces the movements of the struggle of civil rights by suggesting there are three phases that groups transverse through to attain their place "at the table". The first, conversion, suggests that the member of the group needs to not be themselves but "convert" to the norm. The second phase, "passing", suggests that we accept ourselves, but do not acknowledge it to others. Finally, after becoming public, "covering" is the phase in which we purposefully steer away from things that are related to our group so as not to fall into stereotypes of our group. Yoshino not only suggests that individuals travel through these phases, which he so wonderfully illustrates with episodes from his own poignant life, but the larger groups as a whole travel through these phases as they seek for identity.

Laced through all of this is Yoshino's passion for law, in which he describes the legal systems ability and inability to grapple with such issues; in places where they have shined and in places where they have fallen down. As a complete legal novice, I found Yoshino quite accessible as he made his arguements. In fact, when I reread this book, I plan to do so with a notebook in hand, ready to take notes as I follow his line of thinking.

And as if the content of the book weren't enough, Yoshino, being a former English major and poet, writes with a painful beauty that is not often seen in the harsh literature of today. He constructs each sentence so eloquently and beautifully, you stop to slow down to inhale the crispness of his words. The moment he realizes he is in love with his friend Brian is one such part; it is complete lexigraphically pure. Of course, a legal professeur, he drops the prose and addresses us more scholarly, but I ached for more of his words, which he gave us so selflessly through the book.

Because of "Covering" I see myself, my country, and my struggle in a new, different, and exciting light. Do not pass up this opportunity. Buy this book today and get ready for your own transformation.

In this extraordinary and beautiful book, Kenji Yoshino contends that covering (the term is borrowed from Erving Goffman) is the civil rights issue of our age. Drawing on actual cases, he persuasively illustrates that the courts fail to protect men and women who refuse to "cover," mute, or conceal those aspects of their identities that are socially stigmatized (i.e. their gayness, their status as mothers, their racial identities). If this were all the book did, it would be significant enough. But Yoshino combines his legal and historical arguments with a memoir in which he "uncovers" his various selves--his lawyer self, his gay self, his Asian American self, and his poetic self. In doing so, he empowers his readers to do the same and to think about the connection between living one's own life honestly and the larger project of human emancipation.

In lucid terms that escape the legalese that burdens related books, Yale Law School professor Kenji Yoshino discusses a topic that I never really knew had a formal definition. He describes "covering" as the purposeful act of toning down a "disfavored identity" to fit into the mainstream. Since notions of disfavored identities can get subjective, anyone can cover, whether people are members of ethnic minority groups hiding specific cultural behaviors or even white males hiding less discernible problems such as depression, alcoholism or backgrounds that embarrass them. Consequently, given the pervasiveness of such behavior, covering would seem comparatively innocuous, but Yoshino provides ample evidence that covering is a hidden assault on our civil rights. Moreover, it is becoming more of a civil rights issue as the nation's courts struggle with an increasingly multi-ethnic America.

His penetrating book is a hybrid between a revelatory memoir and a level-headed treatise on the unacceptability of the current legal doctrine around our civil rights. Toward the latter point, Yoshino discusses covering within the broader context of often egregious civil rights injustices. As he explains it, the courts are mired in group-based identity politics and driven by calls for equality. For example, to sue successfully under the Equal Protection Clause of the Constitution's Fourteenth Amendment, a group claiming discrimination has one of two options. First, the group could argue that it has been denied a fundamental right, like the right to vote. Alternatively, it can contend that the law in question employs a suspect classification, i.e., that the law unjustly singles out a particular group. To argue successfully that it has been penalized by a suspect classification, a group must show that its members have historically been victimized and deserve greater protection from the courts. Given these options, Yoshino describes the increasing wariness about identity politics in a country continually spawning new identities. The current legal trend shows the courts to be veering increasingly toward protecting only the immutable aspects of identity.

The legal aspects are surprisingly fascinating in Yoshino's hands, but the more personal parts of his book are the most illuminating, in particular, Yoshino's journey out of the closet. Using his own history as a touch point, he explains the three distinct phases of gay history - conversion, passing, and covering - each defined by various pressures that enforce conformity. During the conversion phase (recreated in films like Todd Haynes's "Far From Heaven" and James Ivory's "Maurice"), gays were pressured to become heterosexual through electro-shock treatments or aversion therapy. During the passing stage, gays were relegated to the closet since mental health professionals were not providing a cure for mainstream acceptance, and having a hidden identity was the only viable way to be tolerated in society. Yoshino contends we are currently in the third phase, covering, where being gay is passively acceptable as long as people offended by it do not have to witness such an alternative lifestyle.

From one perspective, one can consider it progress that covering even occurs even though the religious right still makes an emphatic effort to convert gays or keep them out of jobs that could pass such supposedly deviant behavior to susceptible children. This is where Yoshino's personal struggles to cover inform the book. His bracing honesty is refreshing in showing how coming out is despite the dramatic convention of TV-movies, not a declaration that liberates one in a single moment, but a far more gradual process where defining what it means to be gay becomes even more nebulous within the constant ambiguity around gay legal issues. Yoshino eloquently clarifies how the pervasiveness of societal pressures can waylay a person caught in the crossfire between acceptance and personal liberation.

The best way to make progress, Yoshino concludes, is to move beyond the legal issues. According to Yoshino, civil rights lawsuits should focus on individual rights, which unify all groups around common values. Instead of focusing on marginalized groups clamoring for special status, courts would ideally say that all people have a right to be who they want to be. As a precedent, Yoshino points out the 2003 case, Lawrence vs. Texas, in which the court decriminalized same-sex sodomy not based on equality rights of gays but because it violated the fundamental rights of all people to control what they do in the bedroom. It's a powerful idea which could lead to a new jurisprudence of liberty, but there is a challenging road toward realizing such legislation. One could argue that the unequal treatment of minority groups is what makes us realize what our liberties actually are.

Though he doubts the continuing usefulness of equal protection law, Yoshino might underestimate how much his contentions based on personal freedoms will continue to depend on equality arguments. However, what's exciting about the covering paradigm of civil rights is that it's universal. Yoshino hopes that the direction that courts are moving in is happening in a world where the notion of mainstream is fracturing. In the final analysis, Yoshino dares to put the law aside. He argues that we should leave behind equality doctrine for a new, radical focus on personal liberties that the Supreme Court may be unlikely to pursue beyond Lawrence. He argues that law generally should take a backseat to cultural change. Litigation should give way to conversation to confront covering. This is superb, groundbreaking thinking eloquently presented.

It's unfortunate that I only get to say that Professor Yoshino's book is the "best book I've read in a year." That, if anything underestimates how pathbreaking this memoir/proposal is, but unfortunately for the good professor I read Democracy and Distrust last year, and it's tough to top that.

In any event, Professor Yoshino's book is powerfully written and intellectual engaging. Perhaps its greatest contribution is its noble endeavor to show how Covering affects ALL of us, not just the marginalized or disenfranchised. Everybody covers, and everybody is harmed by it. Far from diluting his claim, this frank admission offers a way out from traditional civil rights discourse, which is increasingly viewed as provincial, dogmatic, and overly combative. Even people who are sympathetic to traditional (and more radical) civil rights efforts recognize this problem--the "race to the bottom" by which anybody who wants to comment on marginalization has to show how S/he personally has been suppressed by the system. But oppression is cross-cutting: the population of black third-world atheist lesbian disabled midgets is rather small, but the number of people who are forced in some ways to deny who they are is much larger. Yoshino, as one unsympathetic commentator pointed out, is in many ways a child of privilege--getting to attend elite private schools and teaching at a top university. But on the other hand, he clearly has faced his share of marginalization--Asian-American homosexuals are not exactly at the pinnacle of social acceptance. By offering a way to incorporate everybody into the fight for the authentic self, Yoshino can help bring back into the fold those oft-maligned "children of privilege" who are sympathetic to the goal of social equality, but have been left unsure of their status in the fight for that goal.

I salute his efforts, and admire his erudite contribution to this critical conversation.

I found the personal coming out to his parents story very moving; it brought tears to my eyes. I also loved the epilogue and the story of the blue star. But, in between, what a lot of navel-gazing and counting of angels on the head of a pin. I'm a lawyer, but I admit I got lost in all the differentiations and attempts to focus the covering/reverse-covering analysis on each type of discrimination. Then, halfway-through, I learn he was only in law school in the 1990s. I've been practicing longer than that and he's the Harvard professor! (I realize that's a comment on me.) This guy has really carved out a self-referential niche for himself.

A mix of professional experience, glimpses of personal experience, poetic imagination and some interesting ideas for America's future. I am glad I've read it. The only regret is that the book doesn't lead to a powerful, clear vision for the country. The very interesting ideas from the introduction are just briefly repeated at the end. Maybe someone else will build upon this material? The book certainly encourages a discussion. Maybe that was the whole point?

The Publisher's Weekly review says it all, but I cannot let the opportunity pass to add my voice to those honoring this book. Yes, it's a simple concept, elaborated over 200 pages, but there is nothing monotonous about it. The academic monotony characteristic of similar monographs is thwarted through the simplest of means: the scholar-author is also a poet. He writes on the minutiae of civil rights law with the compression and unexpected image that make strong poetry memorable. I heard the author speak on the concept of Covering on the Maine Public Radio broadcast of the Chataqua Program. The discussion was interesting enough, but when he read the Epilogue, I immediately thought, "I have to have that in my Commonplace Book." As a politically active gay man and 15-year conductor of a gay men's chorus, I've often meditated on the meaning of cultural appropriation, assimilation, and accommodation and the resulting effect on actualization and abnegation of the individual. So, Kenji Yoshino's orderly discussion of coversion, passing, and covering is immediately attractive to me. But it is not my habit to read 'brainiac' books. I'm put off by the customary tone, talking down to me, especially when the subject of the discussion is, by inference, me and the people I know and love. This one is the exception. I feel like Yoshino and I have just spent a long evening, with a wide variety of friends, talking about something of immediate concern to all of us. And then there's that Epilogue. Talk is one thing, but how we live it out is usually quite another. And it's never simple. That's why it's best left to the hands of a poet, and this poet has done it well.

In Covering, Kenji Yoshino presents a new paradigm for civil rights. By weaving his own personal story of life as a gay, Japanese American man with the legal history of the civil rights struggle of gays and lesbians, Professor Yoshino creates a new, compelling genre of literature. In a bold move that bucked the traditional legal "neutral voice" treatise, Professor Yoshino makes himself and the law available to everyone, including legal scholars. Without a hint of jargon, this book shows how the status and treatment of gays and lesbians has moved from conversion to passing to now covering. His own identity development has passed through similar phases.
Covering is a mechanism through which an individual with some "disfavored" or non-dominant idenity traits downplays those traits in order to retain employment, avoid abuse, and generally navigate through the world. When we all recognize the way that covering affects us, whether it is the Black woman who is refused the right to wear cornrows (a real case involving American Airlines), or Professor Yoshino being told by colleague to be a gay professional, not a professional gay, we can move towards a new vision of civil rights. The author advocates not for the dismantling of all covering demands - some are legitimate - but that we force the discussion why a particular demand is being made.
Notably, Professor Yoshino's paradigm does not exclude anyone; in fact, its power lies in the fact that even the most privileged person (typically white heterosexual men from wealthy protestant families) can relate to the idea that they shouldn't be forced to downplay elements of his identity. We all have skin in the game when we move away from strict group-based identity politics to recognizing the inherent right we all have to express our idenity in non-conformist ways.
One criticism I have, though, is that there is no clear format for these discussions. Although Professor Yoshino states that we need to move away from legal solutions and start with the culutral context, I have a hard time imagining the format for an individual from an oppressed group "discussing" the demand to cover with their oppressor. For example, if someone with flashy rims on their car is stopped and fined under the pretext of some traffic safety regulation, if would be difficult to engage the officer in a discussion of why this law is being unfairly targeted to his attempt at expressing his cultural identity.
Perhaps the best solution is that we all need to read this book. Everyone. Spread the word. Give it as a holiday gift. Start these discussions in your homes, schools, and communities. Under this paradigm, we could all live freer, more fulfilled lives.

This book should have been a not-so-interesting op-ed piece rather than a full-length book. Its main ideas can be summarized easily in one or two paragraphs, and they're not particularly profound: Minorities, especially gays, though rarely asked these days to convert and not so often asked to pass, are often asked to "cover"--that is minimize their differences and avoid flaunting their nonmainstream behavior. This is bad. Women are in a particularly unfair situation where they're expected to follow men's rules in business, but then are criticized if they are not feminine enough. This too is bad. It takes Yoshino about 170 pages to get this across.

So, he suggests, wouldn't it be great if courts could accommodate all minorities in all cases? But wait, society is already becoming too divided into separate factions, so hey, let's let everyone just be his or her authentic self, as long as it doesn't cause problems.

You don't need a law degree to come up with this, and you don't need to read 200 pages to accept a pretty banal philosophy that I think most thinking (liberal) adults have probably already come up with on their own.

The book is well-written and Yoshino clearly has an amazing command of the English language. The story of Yoshino's coming out was for me the most interesting because it was the one part I hadn't predicted before opening the book. However, the language used for the personal narrative, especially at the beginning of the book, is so mannered and over-intellectualized that it robs the story of some of its potential emotional power.

Unless you know Yoshino and have some particular interest in his life or you have never spent a moment thinking about what equal rights means, I wouldn't recommend spending your money or time on this book.

This should be required reading for all everyone in civil rights work and all lawmakers. The only place this book falls short is in the areas it doesnt discuss that all women, and straight WASP males need to understand for THEMSELVES about the covering demands made on THEM. Since these are out of Yoshino's experience one can not fault him much on that score. He points those groups in the right direction however. This is a wonderful but painful book. It is meant to provoke thought. It is not a simple tirade against conformity but something deeper. It is a starting point for thinking and discussing our civil rights.

I would also highly recommend the first half of this book to anyone who counsels people on questions of their sexual identity.