It's Like Mad Libs, Sorta

We’ve all been told to do it since we were small: watch your mouth. Of course, everyone thinks first of insults and slander when this phrase comes to mind, and admittedly, we’d be better off if those weren’t our problems. I think we should be careful because I believe that people become what we tell them they are, for better or for worse. Sometimes, even well-intended compliments can become a person’s measurement tape for him or herself. Let me share a scenario with you all that I’ve encountered a few too many times with that in mind. I will speak in first person in this next paragraph, combining a multitude of the tales I’ve heard (though I'll make a distinction and say I love it here when I'm not taking exams):

You tell me I’m smart, and I’ll smile and accept the compliment. After all, intelligence is what society values, and you really do mean well when you say it. But, on the inside, I know it’s not as much a compliment as an ideal that I can’t live up to. Even though I’m at Duke, and therefore had to be bright to get in, I forget that I really am intelligent because I’m surrounded by other people more intelligent than I am, people who are cheating, and people who have dropped back a course level to get an easy A. In the grand scheme of things, my average grades might still be impressive to a graduate school because they know how rigorous Duke University is. This makes me feel like I’m being wronged, because if you’re average at Duke, you could be smarter than students from many, many other schools, and you’re likely still well-qualified, so it seems unfair to be given such low grades. I’m especially mad because I have taken college courses before and know that I could be a straight-A student at those colleges. Because I’m only average here, I don’t feel as smart as I used to, so your compliments are completely meaningless to me. In fact, all they do is remind me that something I once had is now gone. Maybe that’s why I party-I’m trying to forget how much I’ve lost and my constant questioning of just what, exactly, I’m even doing at Duke University, if I’m just “okay.” Maybe I should transfer out and go somewhere else. Maybe I won’t try to get into medical school anymore, if I’m not too qualified to do it. Maybe I’ll just stop trying, if even my best effort isn’t good enough. Someone else will do it, but not me. But I can’t tell you any of this, because being smart was something valuable to you and me, and I am too scared to let you know I’ve lost it. Part of me is too proud to admit that I’m just average, after I’ve been told I’m a genius my whole life. And part of me is terrified of what will happen if you find out that I’m not what you want or expect me to be. So I’ll just smile and take your “compliment”, but on the inside, I wish I could reject it.

So, what does this rant that sounds like it came straight out of an emo 15 year old’s diary have to do with LGBTQ issues, you might ask? Replace a few words and see if there’s an issue that resonates with you.

Imply that I’m straight, and I’ll smile and accept the compliment. After all, being straight is what society values, and you really do mean well when you say it. But on the inside, I know it’s not as much a compliment as an ideal that I don’t live up to. Even though I’m at Duke, and therefore had to be a good person to get in, I tend to forget it because I’m surrounded by other people who tell me that gay people are worthless, that they are going to hell and should be second class citizens. In the grand scheme of things, my homosexuality probably won’t impress anyone since someday, it won’t be the primary basis on which people judge me. This makes me feel like I’m being wronged in the present, because if people knew, they might not treat me the same way as I am treated now. I’m especially mad because I have seen someone else that is homosexual treated poorly by my friends and people I hold dear, and that I’m fully aware of the rights and privileges I have because people think I’m straight. Because I’m actually gay, your implying that I am a better person because I am straight actually hurts, and I don’t see it as much of a compliment at all. Maybe that’s why I’m becoming a bit colder to you-I have internalized all of this, and I’m starting to question my value as a person, if being straight is the ruler I am judged by. Maybe I should leave the life I currently lead behind and move somewhere else that will accept me. Maybe I won’t try to go for a big job anymore, if I think I’m going to get shot down because I’m gay. Maybe I’ll even give up on life, if I don’t feel that things will change in my lifetime for me. Homosexuals in the future might be able to thrive, but I don’t know if I can. But I can’t tell you any of this, because my being straight was something valuable to you and maybe even to me, and I don’t want you to know that I’m not. Part of me is too proud to admit that I’m part of a historically oppressed group, after I’ve been privileged and maybe even homophobic my whole life. And part of me is terrified of what will happen if you find out that I’m gay-you could ruin my job prospects, my family life, and perhaps even my own self worth. So I’ll just smile and take your “compliment,” but on the inside, I wish I could openly reject it.

Moral of the story (or the tl;dr version of this post): even if other people you know aren’t members of the gay community or BDU, remember we are all human, and we all judge ourselves against a standard society has created for us. Life isn’t about arguing whose grievance is the most important and whose grievances are not important at all (or perhaps even deserved, in some people’s minds), but about realizing that at heart, we all face the same challenges. Let’s not consider the straight people around us that aren’t allies outsiders because they wouldn’t understand a gay person’s struggles. Because really, in many ways, and whether or not they realize it, they do. Maybe you’ll use this as a campaign idea, maybe it’ll make you think twice before you tell allies that they just don’t get it, maybe you won’t do anything at all. But I hope it at least made you think.

Hi. My Name is Brandy. PUKE!

I’m gay. I’m out. I go to the Center. I can walk through the doors without my face feeling hot…I can sit in the back room without my hands shaking…and I can say hello to the people who work there without staring at the floor.

This is a big improvement from a year and a half ago when I took Janie’s class Clinical Issues for LGBT. During breaks, I would go to the bathroom to see if my face was red because it felt extremely hot. I would hide my shaking hands under the table and I would try really hard to make eye contact while talking.

Sometimes I would cry out of happiness on the bus ride home from the class because I was so touched to sit in a room with queer people. It literally made my day when one of the people I knew wasn’t straight had a conversation with me. Sometimes I would cry myself to sleep because people said things that I found very hurtful. I was sad because the L, G, B, and T are not one happy family. Needless to say, it was a little bit of a roller coaster and I probably wasn’t comfortable enough with my sexuality to take the class in the first place.

I have grown a lot since taking the class. I am more accepting of myself. I even have “interested in women” listed on my Facebook page. Despite this progress, sometimes I worry that I just put on a façade of being a comfortably out queer person. I say this given part of me doesn’t feel like a “real” gay. I know that this is a little ridiculous because what the hell is a “real” gay is in the first place? The not-so-rational part of me says that, in order to be a “real” gay a person has to experience knowing that they are queer without anyone else being aware of the fact.

I never really had to face this challenge. I came out to my queer friends who I was especially close to very soon after I began questioning. I don’t think I would have got to the point of actively questioning for any length of time if they didn’t come out to me. These friends were there all along the way. I had special escorts to take me to the Center. I had special escorts to take me to BDU. I had special escorts to tell me about the queer people on campus. Before walking into the Center, I knew a lot of people’s names and how they identified.

I never endured the pain that occurs when a person knows that they are queer, but hasn’t told anyone else. I realize that this is probably a horrible experience…isolating and alienating to say the least. But, all the same, part of me wishes that I went through it. I would be able to share this experience with other people when they talk about coming out. I would be able to feel a sense of connection when they mention how they knew they were queer, but couldn’t manage to tell anyone for a long time.

Intellectually, I think the not-so-rational part of me is interesting. It says that in order to be a “real” gay a person has to experience knowing that they are queer without anyone else being aware of the fact. Even so, not every queer person has been in this situation. I know because I’m one of those people. This experience plays a fundamental role in coming out stories when they are circulated within the LGBT community. I want my story to fit within this all too prevalent model. I want to be a “real” gay. Yes. I’m attracted to women and not attracted to men…but sometimes I still don’t feel like a “real” gay.

My feelings of inauthenticity are partially derived from never being out to myself without being out to other people. I have explained this in detail above, but I’m still glossing over a large portion of the picture. Part of me wants to pretend that I’m putting it all out there…that this is the only reason why I don’t feel like a “real” gay. But, I’m not being completely honest. I also don’t feel like a “real” gay because I don’t call myself lesbian…because I initially came out as gay and bisexual…and because my interest in D/s means gender isn’t always the most important thing to me. Simply put, my sexuality is complicated…it doesn’t fit into a nice little box. But, I like labels. Of the multitude of identities potentially available to me I could choose gay, lesbian, bisexual, queer…any combination of the four or I could keep it simple with “no labels please.” I’m a fan of complex messes so I choose to call myself gay.

Sometimes I flat out say I’m gay. Sometimes I let people assume I’m lesbian. Sometimes I keep it short by saying queer. I usually use that word when I want to avoid the hour long conversation that starts with “I’m gay, but not lesbian…and no I don’t just refuse to call myself lesbian because I’m a patriarchal misogynist that is afraid of female sexuality. In reality, my interest in D/s complicates my experience.” I hate this conversation because, the very few times I have had it without burying my face in a hoodie, it has ended with me thinking “don’t tell me what YOU think I am or what YOU think I should call myself cause if YOU do so I will gladly ‘cut you’ (as Justin says).” The need for this conversation and my reluctance to start it, along with never having the experience of knowing I’m gay without anyone else being aware of the fact, makes me feel inauthentic. It makes me feel like I’m not a “real” gay.

Despite these feelings, I’m slowly I’m becoming more comfortable. My face doesn’t get hot any more, my hands don’t shake, and I can look people in the eye. But, I’m still making my way out from underneath the hoodie. I say these things knowing that most people probably perceive me as being very out. I suppose I am very out…my friends know, my family knows… Facebook knows. But, I don’t always feel out. I don’t always feel okay with my sexuality. Sometimes I catch myself being biphobic which saddens me because activism around bisexuality gave me the courage to come out…while I only call myself gay at the moment the B helped me be okay with my interest in D/s. Sometimes I’m afraid to be out around women who identify as lesbian…I don’t want them to think I’m any less of a “real” gay because I don’t use that label. I guess I still have wok to do. I’m trying to contain the not-so-rational part of me that says I’m not a “real” gay. With time, I suppose this issue will pass…I can feel it becoming more distant as time goes on.

After taking Janie’s class, it took me quite a while to go to a BDU meeting. I would tell my roommate, the president by chance, that I would go every week. At the last minute, I would back out. My excuse…I can’t go because I will get so nervous that I will puke all over the floor. That isn’t a very good introduction. “Hi. My name is Brandy. PUKE!” My roommate said I was being ridiculous. If I puked she would simply summon Aliza to clean it up, act like nothing happened, and continue on with the meeting. The thought of seeing this post on the blog makes me feel a little queasy. People will know my big fear of not being a “real” gay. They will know that I’m not comfortable with my sexuality all the time. They will remind me that I wrote this post by mentioning it when they see me. I’m tempted to not send this post to the editor. I’m tempted to put it up anonymously. My excuse…I can’t do it because I will get so nervous that I will puke all over the floor. But, my roommate was right, that excuse doesn’t really hold up. I didn’t puke at a BDU meeting and I probably won’t puke over a blog post. If I do, maybe Aliza will offer to clean it up, we can act like nothing happened, and we can continue on with everything else.

* * *

Considering I graduated in May, this will probably be my first and last post on the blog. As a result…shout outs to Viviana and Hassaan for escorting me to the Center and to BDU …thanks for telling me about the queer people on campus. Shout outs to Jack and Gina for listening to me talk about my sexuality while hiding under a hoodie. Thanks to Cody for putting up with my very awkward Common Ground coming out back in the day. Thanks to Janie for acting like nothing was out of the ordinary even though I stared at the floor when I was first introduced to you. Much love to Chris (Purcell and Perry) for helping me feel more comfortable by making endless jokes about D/s. Last but not least…thanks to Peggy Ann for being a welcoming face even when my face felt hot and my hands were shaking.

Anonymous Posts (5.10.10-5.16.10)

Every week, we collect anonymous entries sent in using the link on our sidebar and post them all on Monday. We post anything as long as it doesn't contain personal attacks or hate speech. Feel free to submit your thoughts and questions :)

OMG. I am currently on my lunch break at the Human Rights Campaign in DC where I started my internship today. Being here is pretty surreal and this is going to be The Best Summer without a doubt.

Of course, my work here pales in comparison to the hours I spent trying to get the Facebook Share widgets to work on our blog posts. Apparently, HTML stands for Hard TML because of how hard it is to code. But hey! The widgets are installed and ready for All of You to use. Please do! We can tell from analytics that the traffic on the site is directly proportional to the number of people that post our columns on their Facebook wall. So help Us out!

#1
I ran away to Duke because I wanted to escape. Escape the pain. Escape the judgment. Escape the tears of a place most call "home." I wanted to create a new me: too strong to be hurt, too courageous to be scared, too assured to question. But I couldn't escape. Even worse, the pain, judgment and tears stripped the "new me" naked. I no longer knew who I was; I was so lost. I have never felt more alone.

On a whim, I decided to apply for Common Ground. There I heard a story of a young man who had felt so alone and so lost that life wasn't worth living, but instead of giving up he came to embrace the best he could ever hope to be - himself.

Each day since then (some days are better than others), I have tried to love myself. Working to embrace the best that I can ever hope to be - myself. In this daily struggle, I have come across some of the most remarkable stories; many from those who have had similar experiences. I'm now blessed to call these people my friends. I no longer feel alone in this journey we call life.

Many of my friends have dedicated their time at Duke to sharing their stories, reaching out to people who may feel alone and even to those whose actions make them feel pain.

I hope that this documentary (link), a collage of experiences and reflections, can help them continue this incredible work.

#2
this might sound completely ridiculous, but I'm worried about entering a relationship with somebody I've grown close to because I don't know how to have lesbian sex. I wonder if straight people realize how easy they have it. i'm scared shitless that I will be physically incapable of giving a woman an orgasm in a way that makes both us satisfied.