Tim Redfern is rather taken by this LGBT history and its focus on commonsense guidance
At first glance, I was expecting John Vincent’s book to be a heavyweight academic tone reflecting the niche sector that I work in – queering museums.
But the publication is testament to not judging a book by its cover, and a terrific example of why the walls of academia need breaking down to benefit the mainstream.
The book is part personal testimony and part practical guide to best practice for diversity.
Vincent focuses on using real accounts of activism as commonsense practice; how personal reaction to workplace experience can lead to civil and rational activism as an attempt to instigate positive change and fairer terms of engagement, regardless of the diversity issue or strand. It just so happens that, in this case, Vincent reflects on LGBT society.
The writer gives a startling cultural history of LGBT people working in the civic and heritage sectors. It takes you through a vital part of social history that could so easily be overlooked.
The book shows that LGBT staff working in libraries and archives have been quietly campaigning for more than half a century for fairer representation and rights. It is this that makes the book such a riveting read.
Vincent, as a public sector worker since the 1960s, has a profound knowledge of the issues, and shows impeccable skill in organising the catalogue of facts.
This is a queer journey about how to navigate the mundane, radically heteronormative world of day-to-day administrative bureaucracy and institutionalised procedure, something that many of us attempt to avoid.
It becomes clear that Vincent and his colleagues are the unsung heros of queer liberation, since it is the public sector that keeps the cogs of society running. Were it not for the working groups set up in the sector across the diversity agenda, we would not be where we are now.
Vincent eloquently provides a social background and context to the process of organising working groups. The fact that he covers the period from the 1950s onwards
makes the narrative all the more compelling.
What is also striking about the book is that it feels like it won’t go out of date, which is refreshing when you are looking at policy and practice. This is because the author has provided a comprehensive how-to guide based on experience.
There is no over-academic (or especially queer) theorising and no us and them rhetoric. There are just practical, commonsense steps to approaching and addressing notions of difference.
The book gives a rich chronology of key events and movements, supplemented with hard facts; social context precedes key examples, followed by what was learned. It concludes with a list of useful appendices, including hot topics and issues around queer terminology as well as recent events.
The key part of the book for me is the emphasis on the importance of working groups as a means of providing support and resolution in the workplace for marginalised people.
Vincent highlights how institutionalised protocol can make you feel like you’re screaming at a brick wall to get things done or, worse, being actively stifled by institutionalised homophobia.
This book is also about strategy. Again, it is the historical context that provides useful evidence to support the implementation of commonsense strategies.
These include conveying best practice diversity awareness in the workplace, and working with safe groups to articulate and advocate to the powers that be.
Putting the experience in the context of LGBT cultural history serves both author and reader well, as this is a group that has always been overlooked, ignored and, at times, actively and legally discouraged from having a presence.
With the recent introduction of the Single Equality Bill bringing with it legal requirements but no written how-to framework, Vincent’s book is timely.
The price of the book will be prohibitive for many people. It needs a paperback edition or, better still, a PDF version that can be emailed to every staff member in the sector.
Tim Redfern is a freelance consultant in LGBTQ cultural engagement
At first glance, I was expecting John Vincent’s book to be a heavyweight academic tone reflecting the niche sector that I work in – queering museums.
But the publication is testament to not judging a book by its cover, and a terrific example of why the walls of academia need breaking down to benefit the mainstream.
The book is part personal testimony and part practical guide to best practice for diversity.
Vincent focuses on using real accounts of activism as commonsense practice; how personal reaction to workplace experience can lead to civil and rational activism as an attempt to instigate positive change and fairer terms of engagement, regardless of the diversity issue or strand. It just so happens that, in this case, Vincent reflects on LGBT society.
The writer gives a startling cultural history of LGBT people working in the civic and heritage sectors. It takes you through a vital part of social history that could so easily be overlooked.
The book shows that LGBT staff working in libraries and archives have been quietly campaigning for more than half a century for fairer representation and rights. It is this that makes the book such a riveting read.
Vincent, as a public sector worker since the 1960s, has a profound knowledge of the issues, and shows impeccable skill in organising the catalogue of facts.
This is a queer journey about how to navigate the mundane, radically heteronormative world of day-to-day administrative bureaucracy and institutionalised procedure, something that many of us attempt to avoid.
It becomes clear that Vincent and his colleagues are the unsung heros of queer liberation, since it is the public sector that keeps the cogs of society running. Were it not for the working groups set up in the sector across the diversity agenda, we would not be where we are now.
Vincent eloquently provides a social background and context to the process of organising working groups. The fact that he covers the period from the 1950s onwards
makes the narrative all the more compelling.
What is also striking about the book is that it feels like it won’t go out of date, which is refreshing when you are looking at policy and practice. This is because the author has provided a comprehensive how-to guide based on experience.
There is no over-academic (or especially queer) theorising and no us and them rhetoric. There are just practical, commonsense steps to approaching and addressing notions of difference.
The book gives a rich chronology of key events and movements, supplemented with hard facts; social context precedes key examples, followed by what was learned. It concludes with a list of useful appendices, including hot topics and issues around queer terminology as well as recent events.
The key part of the book for me is the emphasis on the importance of working groups as a means of providing support and resolution in the workplace for marginalised people.
Vincent highlights how institutionalised protocol can make you feel like you’re screaming at a brick wall to get things done or, worse, being actively stifled by institutionalised homophobia.
This book is also about strategy. Again, it is the historical context that provides useful evidence to support the implementation of commonsense strategies.
These include conveying best practice diversity awareness in the workplace, and working with safe groups to articulate and advocate to the powers that be.
Putting the experience in the context of LGBT cultural history serves both author and reader well, as this is a group that has always been overlooked, ignored and, at times, actively and legally discouraged from having a presence.
With the recent introduction of the Single Equality Bill bringing with it legal requirements but no written how-to framework, Vincent’s book is timely.
The price of the book will be prohibitive for many people. It needs a paperback edition or, better still, a PDF version that can be emailed to every staff member in the sector.
Tim Redfern is a freelance consultant in LGBTQ cultural engagement
