Radical
Statistics
Accounting for Sexuality: The scope and limitations of Census data on sexual identity and difference.
Paul Reynolds
Introduction
One of the foremost social struggles of the last thirty-five years has been the struggle for equality, rights and social justice for non-heterosexual people (Adam, Duyvendak and Krouwel (eds), 1999; Jeffery-Poulter, 1991; Richardson, 2000; Weeks, 1990, 2000). Principally, this has been represented by legal, legislative and political struggles around the 'rights claims' of gay men, but these struggles have extended to lesbians, bisexuals, transgendered and transsexual people and others whose sexual identity departs from the 'norm' of heterosexuality.
In response, official agencies that produce demographic data have continuously failed to ask questions about sexuality. This omission is not a simple oversight. It reflects the power of heteronormativity, or what Adrienne Rich termed 'compulsory heterosexuality' (Rich, 1981). Heteronormativity privileges heterosexuality as the 'normal' form of sexual pleasure, tying sexuality to biological reproduction rather than sensual desire. Social structures and processes such as family, socialisation and sex roles of masculinity and femininity in work, social and domestic domains are permeated by the normal condition of heterosexuality. It is preconceived as a private, natural and biologically predetermined feature of human life. Since heterosexuality is 'normal', other forms of sexual identification and desire - for example homosexuality, bisexuality, subordination/domination - are constructed as the 'other' - abnormal, unnatural, immoral, unhealthy and so socially pathologised and prohibited (Mort, 2000). The recent political struggles for sexual rights and justice have opened up some safe space and positive representations of non-heterosexual sexuality, but heteronormativity remains a determining feature in social life (Evans, 1993; Rahman, 2000; Richardson, 2000). The construction of heterosexuality as natural/normal and concomitant pathological representations of non-heterosexuality have been a significant feature of recent literature that has been critical of the way in which regimes of 'truth' and knowledge about sexuality have emerged.
Michel Foucault (1978,1984a, 1984b) has been particularly influential in his identification of moral and medical discourses that pathologise sexual difference. These discourses arise from the institutions and orthodoxies of church and science, which construct and develop discursive bodies of knowledge that explain the social world according to prevailing dominant values and influences. For Foucault, knowledge and power are inextricably linked and attempts to understand sexuality are inextricably bound with the development of 'regimes of truth' that represent that knowledge within institutional orthodoxies (Gordon (ed), 1980). Sexual knowledge is constructed by those who have power in the moral and scientific arenas that seek to explain sexual behaviour in their terms (Porter and Teich, 1994). Law, politics and social understandings are built upon these privileged bodies of knowledge and construct what divides the legitimate and the illegitimate in civil and social activity. Non heterosexual sexual difference becomes the 'other' - pathologised, prejudiced against and subject to legal, moral and social discrimination and hostility. The privileged knowledge of heterosexual institutions (or in the case of the church, unisexual institutions) silences the voices of those whom it categorises and condemns.
One of the catalysts for the development of criticisms of sexual pathologies and prejudice was the development of the bodies of knowledge that refuted moral and medical prejudices, such as post-war sexology in the work of Kinsey and Masters and Johnson (Masters et al, 1995; Nardi and Schneider (eds), 1998). More recently, sociological studies have supported the struggle for sexual rights (Michael et al, 1994; Wellings et al, 1994) Through this relationship between power and knowledge, it becomes critical to produce knowledge about sexual difference that is unencumbered by pathology if we are to understand the prevalence, forms, characteristics and experiences of non-heterosexuals in society. This knowledge is a central component to the development of sexual rights, equality and justice for all (diverse) sexual subjects.
By not accounting for sexual identity in demographic research, characterisations of minority, abnormality and pathology in non-heterosexual people are left unchallenged. The official statistical 'silence' on sexuality in the Census allows the perpetuation of the idea that sexual diversity, and prejudice and discrimination on the basis of sexuality, is a private trouble with no public issues or consequences (Wright Mills, 1972). It encourages the belief that when sexuality is portrayed in the public arena, it is as a moral, health or legal 'problem'. It intrinsically identifies non-heterosexuals as people we need not know about. This silence on sexuality is a silence enforced by heterosexual norms and marginalizes non-heterosexual voices. Heteronormativity represents that if 'they' do not appear in the statistics that describe the demographic contours of British society, 'we' do not have to acknowledge them or respond to their claims for equality, rights and justice.
An absence of official data on non-heterosexual sexuality has concrete negative impacts when official data forms the basis for decisions about levels of public policy provision and recognitions of legitimacy in areas such as qualifications for private and public benefits, pensions and partnership rights. Without such data, people work with folklore - pathological beliefs on the moral degradation, biological determination, minority status, potential health risks and corrupting social impacts of non-heterosexuals.
These extensive prefatory comments provide the context for understanding the problems that arise from an absence of concern for questions of sexuality in the British Census 2001 and in official statistical and demographic data collection exercises. This discussion will look at deep deficiencies of the 2001 British Census, look at how the 2000 US Census, whilst also deficient, highlights the importance of statistics on sexual difference, and then look at the 2001 UK Gay and Lesbian Census as an alternative It will seek to demonstrate from this context that it required little imagination to develop our knowledge of sexual difference in the UK. Finally, it will review some of the problems that arise from any attempts to produce quantitative data on sexuality - problems that make such attempts difficult but do not detract from their importance in recognising and administering for a sexually diverse society.
The 2001 Census
The 2001 Census form demonstrated an astounding ignorance of the issue of sexual diversity within the British population by those who constructed it. The absence of any address of issues of sexuality makes it extremely difficult for anyone to use the census to generate meaningful data about sexual diversity. This may well have been the intention, and at the least this was a negligent omission. Whilst there are questions on marital status, nationality, ethnicity, religion, disability/health, qualifications and work status (leaving aside their utility or appropriateness), the only question pertaining to gender or sexuality is 'What is your sex?'
This stark differentiation between male and female fails to acknowledge small but significant minorities who are 'intersex' (born with elements of both male and female sexual organs and biology), transgendered (engaged in identity, behavioural or physical changes to what was their gender assignment at birth), or transsexuals (who have undergone sex change surgery and accompanying pharmaceutical /theraputic treatments). It reduces sex to a crude binary biological form that fails to represent the gendered differences of those who may or may not have the biological features of maleness or femaleness but represent themselves socially or self-identify as men or women. Other than in a primitive observation of sexual organs, a scientific analysis of chromosomes and genes or a discussion of reproduction, biological sex does not easily approximate to personal and social identity. People 'play' gendered roles, of which being men or women are significant but not exclusive majorities. This raises the question of what the Census is counting - unless there is an urgent reason to count reproductive organs, counts of male or female tell us relatively little about how people identify or represent in society. Given that it is these characteristics that might influence most the construction of relationships, parenting choices and work, consumption and lifestyle choices, they might have been the subject of a more sophisticated questioning that asked for self-identifications and presented a more detailed range of categories for people to record their inclusion in or approximation to. The argument that there are two essential sexes - male and female - does not help us to understand the range of sexual identities, relations and behaviours of British people - it rather seems to reinforce Butler's (1999) critique that all gender categories are 'regimes of regulation'.
Sexuality itself is not referred to in the census. There is no discussion of sexual identity and no interest in sexual behaviour at all. Again this raises issues around what the Census seeks to understand about the British population - if ethnicity, age and working status are so important, why not sexuality. The only distinction that can be offered are that such issues are public issues and sexuality is a private issue. This is a weak argument, given recent campaigns around the age of consent, Section 28 and parenting and partnership rights campaigns. These issues elevate sexuality, and the moral, legal and political legitimacy of sexual diversity in contemporary societies, to public debate. The collection and collation of data on the proportions and expressions of sexual identities in Britain would seem to offer at least some useful knowledge about levels and forms of diversity.
The table listing members and relationships within the household (page 4) allows for some deduction of same sex partnerships by correlating names (which do not always lend themselves to easy gendered specification) and specifications of type of relationship. The range of recognised relationships, however, takes in 'husband or wife', the sexually anonymous 'partner', a range of kinship relations or 'unrelated'. This provides a reasonably unreliable basis for calculation, and it is no yet clear what calculations will be made from the data collected.
Thus the most important official demographic data gathering exercise by Government can tell us nothing except a percentage or numerical measurement of co-habitees describing themselves as 'partners' with same sex forenames, if such a calculation is made. This makes a rather bitter mockery of the Census slogan - 'Count me in'.
The US Census 2000
The US Census does not have a history of being more attuned to issues of sexuality and diversity. It was not until 1990 that the category 'unmarried partner' was included in census questions. This allowed 150 000 reports of same sex unmarried partnerships, which represented an underestimation given the disqualification of same sex partners who described their relationship as 'spouse'.
The 2000 Census was administered through a short form and a long form, with the latter sampled to approximately one in six households (1). It likewise (Question 2, page 3) asked for a simple 'male or female' response in respect of sex, with all the attendant problems that creates.
The Census then asks a considerable volume of questions about personal characteristics (such as forms of disability and ethnicity, work, income and domestic circumstances. Where it allows any inference of sexuality is in the prefatory questions it asks 'Person 2' in the household on their relationship to person 1 (question 2, page 11). Here, as in the British Census, there is the opportunity to identify same sex partnership through categories of either 'unmarried partner' or 'Other non-relative' - a rather problematic basis for any extrapolation of figures. Nevertheless, the US Census Bureau were very much aware of how the data they collected would be used to calculate same-sex 'unmarried partners' - to the extent that they released a technical note on how the means of registering this category was improved and incomparable with the 1990 Census.
Despite this marginal source of data, lesbian and gay groups in the US were quick to recognise the importance of being counted in the Census. The Institute for Gay and Lesbian Strategic Studies (IGLSS) and the Policy Institute of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force (NGLTF) - the two largest gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered (GLBT) think tanks in the US - launched a national 'Make your Family Count' campaign in March 2000 to encourage same sex couples to register their partnerships in the Census.
Paula Ettelbrick of the NGLTF argued 'The US Census tracks changes in American family structures. Over the past ten years our community has had a major impact in changing family policies, from domestic partnership to second parent adoption. It's time that we include our family in the official count'. She emphasised the relationship between data and policy:
All public policy flows from the US Census....If we are not counted we lose out on federal funding for research, funding for community services and passage and implementation of laws that benefit our community (2).
Lee Badgett of the IGLSS stressed the need to know about sexual diversity in family life in the US:
The Census will provide us with a gold mine of information. We will have a statistical picture of same sex households by racial composition, where they live and how many children they have.......Our families deserve to be counted so that the full diversity of the American family can be reflected and presented to policy makers.
The census is thus seen as a political means of generating statistical data that supports legal, political and policy change, particularly in the context of variable responses to sexual diversity in different US States, contrasting for example Vermont's experimentation with civil partnerships and the blocking of equal partnership rights in California.
In the recording of same-sex partnerships, the 2000 Census recorded a significant increase from the 1990 Census. The Washington Post (20.06.01) surveyed ten states where figures had been released and found considerable increases in same-sex partnerships: Washington - 66%; Connecticut, Illinois and Massachusetts over 200%; Vermont, Indiana, Louisiana and Nebraska over 400% and Delaware and Nevada over 700%.
Smith and Gates (2001) did a preliminary analysis of the US census data and concluded that even though the Census 'undercounted' same-sex partnerships, the data produced 'will change the debate for many Americans - from an abstract controversy read about in newspapers or seen in noisy debates on television to a discussion about real families, real people and real lives' (p 1). Smith and Gates' concluded that the census data showed that lesbian and gay families lived in 99.3% of all counties in the US. Using data from the Voter News exit polls registering the gay and lesbian vote, they estimated 5% of the US population over 18 years old as lesbian or gay, almost 10.5 million people. At the same time, they used contrasting data from Harris Interactive (2001) and Black, Gates et al (2000) that counted (respectively) 30% of gays and lesbians living in 'committed relationships' in the same residence and 3.1 million gays and lesbians living in such circumstances to stress the undercount in the Census, which counted only 1.2 million. This represents an undercount of 62%. They caution that this count, by the very nature of the data collected, cannot account for gays and lesbians who live alone, in committed relationships or otherwise.
On this one issue - same-sex partnership - and with the most marginal and indirect means of calculating the data, the results represent a significant body of knowledge upon which rights claims and claims for equality and justice in legal recognition and service provision can be based. Against that, the limitations of a failure to identify the range of sexual difference and gender identity or relate it to specific data about sexual relations and behaviours shows the limitations to current census practice. Even if we accept that data on sexual behaviour, for example, need to go into extensive detail in the Census, the contrast between the extensive questions asked about property, income and work in the US census, for example, begs the question of what census information is for. In Britain as in the US, it seems to define the population by employment, income and property in some detail, with far less attention paid to identity. Given the development of identity politics and the focus on identity in contemporary markets - through consumption - and public service provision, this challenges what census should be for. The basic population 'head-count' appears to have evolved to a point where a rethink of its meaning and purpose is necessary.
The UK Gay and Lesbian Census 2001
The exclusion of non-heterosexuals has been a recognised feature of official demographic statistics, and the gay and lesbian community have evolved responses to this absence. One recent response is the UK Gay and Lesbian Census administered by I.D.Research, a lesbian and gay market and social research company, supported by a range of prominent lesbian and gay media interests (3). The 2001 Census is ongoing and will not be reported upon until the end of 2001, but its extensive 14-page questionnaire offers a counterpoint to the National Census. Such a census differs from the National Census in two respects - it is voluntary in status (although there is an absence of sanction for not completing the national census) and pre-selects its constituency as lesbian, gay or bisexual. Thus it appeals to a self-selecting sample, and also to those who identify openly with 'different', non-heterosexual identities.
The census starts by asking for a self-identification of sexuality (question 3, page 1). Here the census offers gay (male and female), homosexual, lesbian, queer, dyke, bisexual or other as categories. These categories are not necessarily exclusive but respondents are asked to tick one. In this sense, whilst it is far superior to the National Census, but not without its problems. It omits completely intersex, transgender or transsexual. The following question asks 'what is your sex?', with male, female or other (specify) as categories, and perhaps this is a better place for addressing this omission. If so, the absence of these categories downgrades them from male or female. Whilst it might be argued that there is a range of identities within transgendered, from intersex to pre-operative/post-operative transsexuals to cross-dressers, some attempt, as in question three, to provide categories wider than male or female might have been appropriate. Whilst the category of 'other (specify)' gives the option to represent these different identities, it offers the prospect that the identification will be partial. Many transsexuals identify as their post-operative 'self' - man or woman - where as many others identify as transsexuals. There is no mechanism for distinguishing this difference, which might be important in terms of health care provision or understanding the different identifications within a broad category. Of course, it might be argued that this census does not include transgendered categories, just as it excludes heterosexuals. Further, it might be argued that sexual difference and gender difference are distinct categories, but such categorisations and distinctions between sex and gender are themselves complex. Many transsexuals transition into being 'straight' men or women with 'opposite' sex partners, but many also have relations with 'same-sex' partners. Does such a census adequately identify them as distinct from other identities? A more sexuality-sensitive census has to take account of gender permutations also.
The identities covered in question 3 give a range of possible identities and the opportunity to specify an alternative. They reflect not simply different identities, but different self-identifying languages - for example, homosexual is a term often used by older men or women not attached to contemporary sexual 'communities' or safe spaces (such as Manchester's 'Village' or London's Soho). Gay and lesbian are contemporary identifiers for man and women who love the same sex whilst queer and dyke are often more used by more political individuals.
Queer presents an anomaly in itself because queer theory and politics from which the self-identification arises denies identity categories of any form as 'regulatory regimes' and projects 'queer' as a 'noncategorical' identity (Blasius, 2001; Butler, 1999). Hence, you can have queer heterosexuals, queer gay men, queer lesbians and so forth. As such, queer may well be misleading as an identity category in the census, or alternatively it may highlight a tension in the categorising of sexual identities. This tension is between how sexual identities are categorised as social identities and how they are subjectively represented as self-identifications. This raises a whole set of questions about such questions. Is queer in this census a category chosen to refuse categorisation or is it to identify as a contemporary gay man or women, as it is often used? There are also questions about the relationship between identity and relations and behaviour. For example, there is substantial evidence that there are men who identify as heterosexual but have intermittent sexual contact with other men (Welling et al, 1994). This census does not account, nor seek to account for them. Different but equally absent are those who might identify themselves within the categories in question 3 but with some frustration because they view their identity and sexual behaviour as characterised by 'sub-dom' (sometimes called sado-masochistic sex) (Thompson, 1994). This raises again the issue of the relationship between identity and behaviour and about identity and self-identity. A person identifying as sub-dom for whom gay sexuality determines partners might identify as gay, but many sub-dom identifiers do not identify simply with sexual partners from a particular category of sexuality or gender. They identify by their practice, where sexual pleasure is mutual but not necessarily related to genital sexual practice. Do we then collapse this group into bisexuals? As an identifier that represents neither their self-representation nor the bisexual 'identity'.
These questions should not be seen as detracting from the considerable merits of the gay and lesbian census. They perhaps reflect the broader problem of using a survey method for gathering research than particular problems with this individual survey. It asks critical questions about the experience of gay men, lesbians and bisexuals through coming out, family ties, lifestyle and social activities, domestic information, experiences and prejudice, partners and relationships, children, values and beliefs, social and economic activities, employment, health, education and other personal information (4). It also seeks to qualify its sample by asking them where they obtained the census and what other recent lesbian and gay surveys they have participated in. Many of the questions focus on the perceptions of lesbians, gay men and bisexuals and give space for alternatives to the categories of response offered. The questions in most sessions are detailed, thorough and will elicit data that can be used in political discussions about the extension of equal rights, equal treatment, enhanced and identity-sensitive services and a greater degree of social justice. Nevertheless, the sorts of issues that these questions raise are critical if we are to develop these values of equality rights and justice with a sensitivity to all sexualities and gender identifications that we deem, by public and democratic debate, to be legitimate.
Accounting for Sexuality?
The purpose of this brief discussion has been to make the point that the National Census does not account for sexuality. Whilst this might be defensible in heteronormative terms, recent struggles that have brought diverse sexual identities into the public arena from their pathologising and exclusion are challenging that assumption. Whilst heteronormativity is still the dominant valoration of sexual difference and diversity, the emergence of diverse sexual identities from the shadows and margins requires a revolution. This revolution will be neither bloody nor violent (though it has its moments) but based upon the demystification and deconstruction of heteronormative characterisations of the 'other'. The development of bodies of knowledge that challenge heteronormative assumptions will be a key element of this revolution. The US Census provides a case in point. Insofar as its data can be made to do so, as in the US Census, it barely scratches the surface of the diversity in sexuality and gender of the population. Yet the US Census and its subsequent use demonstrates how a calculation of same-sex partnership can form the basis for a political raising of consciousness about the degree of diversity in society, challenging heteronormative 'mythmaking'. Whether the same will occur in Britain is open to question.
Initiatives such as the gay and lesbian census are clearly important in developing bodies of knowledge about the proportion of different sexual identities in Britain and their experience and participation in social life. Perhaps, if we reflect on what the National Census is for, the time has come to accept that one National Census cannot capture the diversity of social life and that it should form the basis for the allocation of more identity-tailored census forms - a two-stage data collection exercise. Certainly, the current census privileges an understanding of identity - particularly sexuality and gendered identity - that seems narrow, unrepresentative and oppressive.
There is also the question of the limits to Census exercises to consider. Censuses invariably involve quantitative data collection through survey forms. This form of positivistic research method is invariably problematic in any form of sexuality research (Stanley, 1995). It establishes identity categories on the basis of its anticipated social sample, and as observed, there is a tension between social categories of identity and self-identification. Indeed, sexual identities can be seen to shift and change over time, thereby making any 'snapshot' of sexual identity strictly conditional. Interviews and biographical studies often provide the life-historical contextualising features behind particular self-identities. Equally, the complex divisions between sexuality and gender and sexual identity, relation and behaviour categories are difficult to represent in surveys. If we are to represent the rich diversity of sexual and gender identities in an inclusive way, it might require a different formatting of such questions - certainly more than one bald question - and a more complex but representative way of accounting for the responses. Even with this more complex use of method and analysis, a salutary point here is that these questions do not simply expose weaknesses in the census method. They provide a timely reminder that all bodies of knowledge are subject to question and critique on the basis of their methods and founding assumptions. It is not necessary, as the discussion of the gay and lesbian census suggests, to have a census that tries to cover every nuance of sexual identity. What is necessary is that every form of census or any other research exercise to be recognised as producing partial bodies of knowledge that should always allow for difference and diversity rather than negate and ignore it.
Conclusion
If the National Census is a picture of who we are as a national community, it is necessary and urgent to ensure that the 2001 Census is the last that so cravenly ignores the issue of sexual (and gendered) identity. The legitimacy of such an exercise depends upon its capacity to describe what our national community looks like, rather than how dominant social values describe it. For those interested or involved in questions of constructing bodies of knowledge about sexuality in society, the lesson of reviewing recent Censuses is perhaps twofold. First, that National Census have been deficient in its representing of the population, and those representing or supporting different and diverse sexualities have to continue to conduct their own data collection and analysis exercises to compensate and engage in what is a political - not an administrative - struggle. Second, that all such exercises can only partly catch the range and diversity of sexual identities, relations and behaviours, and the political struggle for rights, equality and justice has to ensure mechanisms of space and inclusiveness in society for all sexual identities that will continually critique and amend census exercises.
Notes
- All references to the US Census refer to the long form, which includes the substantive content of the short form
- The following quotations on the US Census comes from the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Web-site, on their 'News and Views Section - http://www.ngltf.org
- See http://www.idresearch.org.uk
- It might be argued that many of these questions represent issues that are prevalent in contemporary concerns about lesbian, gay and bisexual lifestyle and issues of rights and political campaigns, raising the relevant point that all surveys invariably operate within a context and are always subject to review and amendment.
References
Adam B., Duyvendak, J. W. and Krouwel, A. (eds.) (1999) The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics, Philapdelphia: Temple University Press.
Black D., Gates, G. et al. (2000) 'Demographics of the Gay and Lesbian Population in the United States: Evidence from Available Systemic Data Sources' in Demography, Volume 37 No 2, p139-154
Blasius, M. (2001) 'Sexual Identities, Queer Politics and the Status of Knowledge' in Blasius, Mark (ed) Sexual Identities, Queer Politics, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, p 3-19.
Butler, J. (1999) Gender Trouble (10th Anniversary Edition), London: Routledge.
Evans, D. (1993) Sexual Citizenship: The Material Construction of Sexualities, London: Routledge.
Foucault, M. (1978) The History of Sexuality: An Introduction, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Foucault, M. (1984a) The History of Sexuality Volume 2: The Use of Pleasure, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Foucault, M. (1984b) The History of Sexuality Volume 3: The Care of the Self, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Gordon, C. (ed) (1980) Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, Michel Foucault 1972-1977, Brighton: Harvester Press.
Harris Interactive (2001) Out and into The Voting Booth: Lesbian, gay, Bisexual and Transgender Voters in 2000 (Gill Foundation - http://www.gillfoundation.com/gotv2000/index.htm
Jeffery-Poulter, S. (1991) Peers. Queers and Commons: The Struggle for Gay Law Reform from 1950 to the Present, London: Routledge.
Masters, W. et al (1995) (5th ed.) Human Sexuality, London: Harpercollins.
Michael R. et al. (1994) Sex in America: A Definitive Survey, New York: Little, Brown and Company.
Mort F. (2000) (2nd ed.) Dangerous Sexualities: Medical-Moral politics in England since 1850, London: Routledge.
Nardi P. and Schneider B. (eds) (1998) 'Kinsey: A 50th Anniversary Symposium' in Sexualities, Volume 1 No 1, p83-106
Porter, R. and Teich, M. (eds.) (1994) Sexual Knowledge, Sexual Science: The History of Attitudes to Sexuality, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Rahman, M. (2000) Sexuality and Democracy: Identities and Strategies in Lesbian and Gay Politics, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
Rich, A. (1980) 'Compulsory Hetrosexuality and Lesbian Existence' in Stimpson CR & Person ES Women, Sex and Sexuality, Chicago: Chicago University Press.
Richardson, D. (2000) Rethinking Sexuality, London: Sage.
Smith, D. and Gates, G. (2001) Gay and Lesbian Families in the United States: Same Sex Unmarried Partner Households: A Preliminary Analysis of 2000 United States Census Data, Washington: Human Rights Campaign [www.hrc.org]
Stanley, L. (1995) Sex Surveyed, London: Taylor Francis.
Thompson, B. (1994) Sadomasochism, London: Cassell.
Weeks, J. (1990) Coming Out: Homosexual Politics in Britain from the Nineteenth Century to the Present, London: Quartet Books. (Revised and Updated Edition).
Weeks, J. (2000) Making Sexual History, Cambridge: Polity Press.
Wright Mills, C. (1972) The Sociological Imagination, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Wellings K. et al. (1994) Sexual Behaviour in Britain, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Paul Reynolds
Senior Lecturer in Politics and Sociology
Centre for Studies in the Social Sciences
Edge Hill College
St Helens Road
Ormskirk
Lancs. L394QP
Tel: 01695-584370
E-Mail: reynoldp@edgehill.ac.uk
