Why Queers and Theory rather than Queer Theory?

My first essay for the "Queers and Theory" class. A short response to prompt questions from the professor. I have to post it at the class website by Thursday - any comments are welcome!

Why Queers and Theory rather than Queer Theory?

Perhaps because the ampersand is essential to any endeavor that is feminist. As essential, perhaps, as the hyphen. Where would we be without hyphenated identities? Without identities that are multiplicitous? Without identities that are intensive in thought, definitions, labels, and language? How could we speak as feminists, as queers, as subversives without the shifty characters of the keyboard? How could we speak without identities and ideas that require grammatical parsing and detailed explanation?
I don’t believe, though, that “Queers and Theory” as a title is an homage to how we construct our language—as much as I might like it to be from the perspective of my disciple. Rather, I think that the two words are unhinged, in part, for the epistemological reasons—so that we can understand and access the origin of each and then explore how they are and can be correlated. “Queer Theory” is unhinged into queers and theory not only to express and contain a multiplicity of both, but also to emphasize that there are different things with which each can be coupled, or tripled, or multiply partnered. “Queer Theory” suggests a point, a location of a particular way of thinking, or perhaps a line that connects two points, “queer” and “theory,” but the class, “Queers and Theory” is about more than points or lines; it is about planes or more accurately systems of thinking – a move from base ten to base six or base nine.
Let me begin with theory. I was struck by the definition of theory as “a place to sit” and consulted American Heritage. After the scientific definition, I learn that theory is “the branch of a science or art consisting of its explanatory statements, accepted principles, and methods of analysis, as opposed to practice.” It is that binary that trips me; perhaps because for the past fifteen years as I’ve been embroiled not in theory but in practice, I’ve thought of them not oppositionally but in a corollary relationship. Practice, or praxis, the “practical application or exercise of a branch of learning” (American Heritage.) Perhaps in daily use there is no difference between a corollary and an antonym, but it feels urgently important to me despite that the dictionary seems to indicate that theory and praxis are the antithesis of one another, that they are antonyms, but I don’t experience them that way. I think that there is theory and praxis is the necessary corollary, the natural consequence or result, although the equation would be punctuated by an equal sign and therefore could work exactly in reverse: praxis exists with its necessary corollary, theory. This explanation illuminates, in part, the significance of this decoupling of “Queer Theory” into “Queers and Theory.” There is something important in understanding the language with certain precision, which I think has a role in illuminating both elements of the course – queer and theory.
I was struck by Weston’s careful attention to using the words, space and time and her melding of the two into spacetime. Her construction in conjunction with the course title seems to be a window into the attention to language and constructs that we use to talk about knowledge and human experience in the creation and communication of theory. That for me is an essential element of why the words are decoupled for the course—to bring attention to the two words individually and then explore how and why and where they work together.
Let me think about queer or Queer. One of the areas that I am interested in exploring further is the relationship between Queers, as a group of people who have a set of behaviors, practices, and personal identity that are gay, lesbian, bisexual, and/or transgender, and queering, as a verb, to make different from the norm. I’m interested in both parts of speech and I think that the distinction is one of the areas that the title, “Queers and Theory” opens. “Queer Theory” seems to obscure the distinction – as though an act of queering can be done without relation or regard to the group of people who created and identify with the word, Queer. My investment in praxis, from either way the equation is read – theory informing practice or practice informed by theory – is probably what interests me intensely in that question.
The unhinging of the two words also opens the possibilities of understanding theory from a variety of disciplines with a queer lens. “Queer Theory” suggests that there is an independent discipline of, say Queer Studies, and that this is the theoretical basis for it, whereas “Queers and Theory,” implies that there are a variety of disciplines that have queer engagement. This cross-disciplinary engagement is evident not only in the description of the course, but also in the selection of the texts for the course. “Queers and Theory” even opens the possibilities for anti-disciplinary or post-disciplinary dialogue which “Queer Theory” seems to eschew.
What am I most likely to use? I am most likely to use the language formulation that I understand and makes sense to me; I am most likely to use the combination that describes what I believe and how I understand things at the time. I want to use language with accuracy and precision, and also language that is accessible to people outside of the academy; language that honors my commitment to use and create knowledge that has meaning and applications to people in the world concerned about queer liberation and justice.