I Missed It!

Last year, as a freshman, I nearly slept through Pride. I didn’t mean to do it, but I had honestly forgotten what was going on, and I was tired for some reason I can’t remember. I did wind up kicking myself for it later on in the day, and vowed I wasn’t going to miss it as a sophomore, no matter what.

Well, freshman me would be mortified by her future self.

Yep, that’s right. I didn’t go to Pride. Now, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like I didn’t want to be there. It’s just that organic chemistry exists, and, however unfortunately, one of our three exams (and consequently, four grades in the class) happened to take place two days later, and I wasn’t taking any chances, even if it meant making a few sacrifices.

But, honestly, I think my justification for missing Pride, other than my studies, was a rationalization a good friend nearly slapped me in the face with in the midst of one of my life-loathing rants about hell week. Why should you spend only one weekend being unashamed and proud of who you are, when you should be doing that every day? Who cares if you missed Pride? Now, granted, without a whole community joining you in the celebration of personal identity, doing just that can be difficult.  Learning to accept and love yourself is an uphill battle for sure, a Sisyphean task of epic proportions to learn to listen to some people and ignore others, and not to take prejudice too personally. But, hey, we have to do it.

I challenge you all, therefore, to make Pride last all year. Yeah, enjoy Pride when it happens. Revel in a weekend of no regrets about yourself, but carry that sentiment with you all the time, and see if you can keep going even when things get tough. Honestly, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tried to do for myself, and I bet it would be for everyone else, gay, straight, bi, or otherwise. 

Don't Feed the Animals

I’ve gotten a standing ovation only three times in my life for solely myself. One was for getting straight A’s from kindergarten through high school, and another was for my graduation speech as valedictorian. The one I think is the best story, though, was one I got over the summer.

Some background: I was a zookeeper over the summer, and gave shows with assorted reptiles to the masses who…well, were more interested in the work of the Swamp Brothers than Steve Irwin. Needless to say, I was used to getting a thousand and one questions every day related to how to kill something, how deadly something was, or how good it was with a side of gravy. I usually dealt with hecklers at my crowded shows by ignoring them, which usually worked. Not so much one day.

A man I’d predict was in about his 40s or 50s stood up and started shouting at me as I carried around my snake du jour.

“Hey, crossdresser!”

I ignored the outburst, not really getting what the guy was after. Yeah, everyone on staff wore somewhat androgynous clothing, but the girls wore pastel green shirts that were cut differently than the guys’. I continued my spiel, though the heckler decided he wasn’t through.

“You shouldn’t be wearing shorts! Those are MEN’S clothing!”

I probably rolled my eyes at that. What, and catch alligators in a full-length skirt in the summer heat? I don’t think so. Obviously, heckler dude was getting mad by now since I wasn’t reacting, so he switched tactics.

“You shouldn’t be a zookeeper! You’re doing a MAN’S job! You are an abomination to the Lord!”

The 200 person audience froze in silent shock as everyone turned to look at this guy. This man had interrupted me three times. Three strikes. Everyone knew that meant I had to do something.
I suppose that day I had a rare moment of insight, because I think I handled it well. I didn’t shout at the guy, just let the microphone carry my voice-which, strangely, didn’t even change tone from the show voice I was using:

“Well, I don’t know, but I think God would be more offended by me not using my talents than by wearing
shorts.”

I radioed the other staff, and as the man was escorted from the park by security, I got the third standing ovation of my life in what was probably one of my finest moments.

Anyway, that happening sent me thinking: we’ve come a long way in gender stereotypes in the last fifty years, if I feel at home (and am generally accepted while) doing what might have been once considered a man’s job. I’d be interested to know in what ways the Duke LGBTQA community breaks traditional gender roles every day, even if it wasn’t as consequential as what happened to me.

Because I'm Sure We've All Gone Through This

I have such awesome friends at this university. They come from all over the world and have such different life experiences from mine-I can’t say I’ve ever been to Panama or know anything about the Chinese language. I can’t do karate, and I could never hope to be as good a pianist as one of my friends. I like them all, and can’t imagine life without some of them. One in particular is a friend that always seems to wind up doing everything with me. I swear, it’s like we share a brain. We complete each other’s sentences (and know what the other is trying to say with her mouth full), have the same sense of humor, and like pretty much all the same things. We take similar classes, and detest similar stuff. And, it seems that we’re both braver on the internet than we are in real life.

Since it seems I can speak freer through a text or post than I can in real life, I think I’ll get out a secret of mine that has been bugging me for a while now. I’ve had to work up to this point. Well, my mantra is “Do something every day that scares you,” and this is definitely scary for me. Ready? Cue deep breath on my behalf, even though I’m typing this…

I think (I’m not totally sure) that I might (but I don’t know, since I’ve never dated) prefer (well, most of the time I think so) women (though I still think some guys are hot!)

Notice all the contradictions in that sentence? You can see that I’m still figuring this out. It feels like I could swing either way, depending on the hour, but there are some things about relationships in general that I can’t reconcile myself with. It’s…confusing, to say the least.

Contrary to what it might seem like, some of my friends have known about this highly confused side of me for a while now. Three of them, to be precise…and all of them are friends I could trust with the contents of my wallet. But there are some friends I haven’t told…some I haven’t told since I don’t know how they’d react, though a gut feeling tells me it would be a negative reaction. Some I haven’t told for the sake of convenience-they might not get how I feel, and I’m not sure some would even pay attention long enough to get past that sentence sans parenthetical comments. And some others I haven’t told because it’s my personal policy not to trust them with anything since I know I can’t do that.

So, it might come as a surprise that I haven’t told that awesome friend I talked about earlier about any of this. To be honest, I didn’t know what to say to her. Before, we’ve made jokes about being a couple or going on dates, since it seems like that whenever we’re with a group of people going somewhere, we inevitably wind up sitting together or doing the same thing. I have, before, reciprocated with those jokes, since they were sort of funny and completely in the moment. Many of those were also made before I came to this conclusion. And I’m thinking that if she had ANY idea, she’d freak out.

But, I think in some ways, she deserves to know about this. I trust all my other friends-why not her? I know I can depend on her for anything at all, and I’m pretty sure that she wouldn’t think of me differently…well, about 99% sure, but I’ve decided that if she won’t be my friend anymore because of this, she was never my friend to begin with. So I’m going to take my chances by posting the above statements and say this: close friend who completes all of my sentences and has a thing for rage comics, you know who you are. If you’re reading this, consider this me telling you something that I should have told you a long time ago. I’m not entirely sure what it means, but I hope you can help me figure it out.

After all, you do have the other half of my brain.

East West Central

The more I think about it, the more it seems like East, West, and Central are three different universities. Central hardly feels like a part of Duke-the only real indicator is the proximity to the Duke gardens and the devil icons decorating a few signs. West contains almost all of the cultural vibe of campus, with looks to rival Hogwarts and enough squirrels to make a dog crazy. And East...well, East feels like a neighborhood in the creepiest way, almost like Children of the Corn, where the only real adults in residence (if you want to call them that) are upperclassmen and most residents are around 18 or 19 years old.

That isn’t to say that things here aren’t fun. If you take a bunch of kids who are all fresh out of high school, have likely worked hard their whole lives to get to Duke, and aren’t used to living without serious rules, some hilarious stuff is going to go down. Any furniture left unattended in hallways will be swiped and used to trick out a dorm room. People will attempt to cook and will fail spectacularly, which will often result in the triggering of a smoke detector at 12 am (true story). Dorm rooms will be rigged, people will be pranked, and all evidence will be posted on Facebook.

Something that I find amusing and have tested a few times is the idea that if you think of a type of person, you can probably find that type of person somewhere on East Campus. I’ve found the stereotypical nerd and jock, but I’ve also found a Christian who will kick your butt with karate skills, the gamer who sees every homosexual undertone in every movie imaginable (and is glad to share it), the divalicious engineer, and she-who-is-sarcastic-but-you-don’t-realize-it-until-you’ve-been-made-fun-of. I found people I knew from the very start were destined for Greek life, and I also found some people that I have a feeling are music majors.

Question is, though, where is the LGBTQA community on East? Well, I know where the allies are, since I know a bunch of them. But where are the people we’re supposed to be allied with? There are a whole lot of people living over here, and odds are, someone has to be gay. In some ways, it’s too bad that East doesn’t have a community over here-I’m not sure whether people feel safer after first year or what, but maybe once Amendment One has passed away as an issue, we should consider strengthening the community in the not-Hogwarts parts of campus.

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.

Freshman Christmas Again (Also, How I Became an Ally)

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like winter break is starting today for me. Maybe it’s the fact that I just got out of my last final, a math exam, and am too exhausted to consider anything else, or the fact that instead of running out of class with all my friends and going home for a Christmas party, I get to go back to my room and clean the pig sty it has become. But whatever it is, whenever my family calls me to ask what I want for Christmas, I’m at an utter loss of what to say-Christmas? Already? It seems like a foreign concept, since I’ve spent too much time in Gothic Wonderland and not enough in Winter Wonderland. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’ve forgotten Christmas exists, but it doesn’t feel like the latter half of December used to-a buzz and carols in the air, everyone being nicer to each other than usual, freezing cold weather, wondering if for once, it would maybe be a white Christmas in the south, excitedly discussing with my sisters and friends the number of days left until break and what we would do with that precious two weeks off, and all those ridiculous themed school projects we had to do before winter break…in some ways, I’m not that shocked I’ve forgotten what time of year it is.

A bunch of people I know tend to lament the fact that, near Christmas, they’re the exact same way they were the year before. I don’t think that’s been the case for me ever since I was in middle school. Some things about me will probably never change-despite many years passing, I’m still a Legend of Zelda geek, I still love soccer and horseback riding, and South Park has yet to stop being hilarious. I still walk around barefoot whenever possible, and I don’t think I’ll ever be half as girly as most girls. But I know I’ve seen myself change a lot in the past four and a half years. I’ve gotten a little bit taller, a whole lot smarter, and a lot more outgoing (maybe a bit more outgoing than some of my friends would like!). And, admittedly, I think my heart has changed in many ways.

I’m not exactly proud to say that at the beginning of high school, I didn’t approve of people being gay. I didn’t think it was right, in any universe, to allow gay marriage, and being gay in itself was worthy of damnation. If you had told me I’d willingly attend BDU, base my Writing 20 final paper on relating gay marriage and the integration movement, and would gladly assist with passing out shirts at Coming Out Day (and wear one), I would have thought you were absolutely insane-partially because I never would have thought I could get into Duke, but also because I couldn’t see myself taking such a controversial stance on a topic that inevitably started flame wars no matter where you turned back home.

That all changed one day at school. Seeing one of the only openly bisexual (closest you get back home to being gay) people in my school being bullied by a pack of teenagers struck a chord with me. I spent seven years being the bullied one for not being like the other girls, but I had never been the bully. No, I had resolved never to stoop to that level, knowing what it had done to me. Those people tormenting that poor kid were definitely bullies. And I was no better than them, if I thought the way they did. Loving your neighbor didn’t mean that convoluted thing we had been taught at private school-love the people who are like you and show everyone else tough love by refusing to associate with them and not letting them do what you think is wrong-but something else entirely. It meant accepting other people, period. And that was for everything-race, religion, sex, age…and sexual orientation, I realized that day.

I wish I could say that was also the day I learned just how effective an uppercut to the jaw could be, but that day wouldn’t come until 10th grade in a soccer match. At the very least, though, it was the beginning of a process of undoing all the things I had been forced to believe for a part of my life. Over the course of a year, I learned not only to accept the LGBT community and its allies, but also people of other religions and backgrounds by extension of that knowledge. In a way, high school saved me from going absolutely insane because I learned to accept myself, too, even if I wasn’t like the other girls. And it also opened a number of doors to me-including the courage I needed to attend that first BDU meeting back at the beginning of the semester.

So, as a freshman once again, I know I’m a much different person than I was the last time I was a freshman at Christmas. As opposed to the cynicism and cold shoulder I presented to the world as a freshman in high school, now, I’m only like that once in a blue moon. If I’m not content, I’m positively overjoyed with being alive-just ask my friends. I like to think it’s because I’ve learned to judge less and love more, something that started all those years ago when that bisexual kid got bullied. If I hadn’t realized what I did on that day, I don’t know where I’d be today (but probably not anywhere near as amazing). Maybe that’s why I can’t think of what I want for Christmas-I’ve found something so much better than anything my family could ever possibly hope to buy for me. And, cheesy and overrated as it is, I guess that’s what Christmas is really about…love and joy.

Looking Back, Stepping Forward

[Editor's Note: Please welcome our newest blogger, Mary Claire!]

As a kid who grew up in the Bible Belt, my experiences with the LGBT community, until I arrived at Duke, were limited to rounds of “gay chicken” at the annual school camping trip, trolling the Westboro Baptist Church, and the clips of Queer As Folk my gender studies professor showed in a class I continue to wonder how I managed to enroll in at age 16. So, when the topic of National Coming Out Day surfaced during a BDU meeting, my first reaction was “What the hell is that?” To avoid looking like an idiot if anyone asked me about what it was (and definitely not to put off doing my wonderfully insightful and intellectually stimulating calculus homework), I turned to my good old friend Wikipedia for answers. After about four lines of text, it made immediate sense to me why I had never heard of Coming Out Day before-living in a state that bleeds red isn’t exactly conducive to organizing an event where members of the gay community reveal their sexuality to the community.

But why hadn’t someone ever even though of organizing a coming out day in South Carolina? Other than the Christian fundamentalism everywhere you turned, I couldn’t think of a good reason not to organize a Coming Out Day. Certainly, the LGBT population in South Carolina couldn’t just consist of my gay lab partner, and I was sure that everyone else was getting sick of hiding behind the guise of being straight. Maybe it was just circumstance, but it seemed like everyone at the high school I went to was straight-a strange occurrence I refuse to believe. Though, in retrospect, it was probably safer for anyone gay just to remain silent-after all, the school I went to had no support network, no Gay-Straight Alliance, and was rife with homophobic taunts from upperclassmen.

Things being as they were in my past life, I imagined the turnout for Coming Out Day at Duke would be pretty low. I didn’t have any doubts that at least a few people would take t-shirts, if nothing else, since I had spotted a few people wearing them all over campus before. That being so, I showed up to help out, expecting to spend an hour with nothing to do. Imagine my surprise when, as if someone had placed a bounty on any Duke student that wasn’t wearing one of the shirts, the tables were suddenly flooded. What also got me was that while I was volunteering, I could see no signs of an anti-gay protest. Back home, ignoring anti-gay protestors was just another part of life, but here, all of that was absent, much to my surprise, or at least hidden.

What happened, or, more precisely, what didn’t happen, set me to thinking. Why is South Carolina so different from its northern cousin? Is it because we’re at a university that we’re more open-minded, or is North Carolina just less judgmental in general? I always had my suspicions about South Carolinian intolerance, but had never really understood its full force until I left and could get a good look at it from an outsiders’ point of view. Once this horrible fact dawned upon me, I realized I had to do something…though after a lot of reflection, I was unable to come up with anything. Saying that you support gay rights, at least where I’m from, seems about as difficult to admit to as being gay yourself, so anyone who wants to make a difference is probably doing the same thing I did-hiding.

Maybe the key is for someone, anyone from South Carolina, to break free from the pack and really start something. And, for now, I suppose that would be small steps…you know, like starting out by getting your average Billy Bob to at least be comfortable with the idea of homosexuality’s existence, which would take no small miracle. Or maybe, what those tolerant South Carolinians hiding from the homophobic masses have to do is take a lesson from the evangelists crammed into my home state like fleas on a hunting dog-if you want other people to understand something intangible, such as God or acceptance, you have to be a living example of it for others. At least that, even if it won’t move mountains, could hopefully change just one other person’s mind about tolerance…a small victory, admittedly, but at least it would be a step in the right direction.

Don’t get me wrong-I don’t regret my southern upbringing. If nothing else, playing in the woods, four wheeling, and snake hunting have taught me to be adventurous and to respect the earth, and if not for the independent southern attitude instilled in me from birth, I wouldn’t even have had the nerve to apply to Duke. I just wish that someone else back home had the courage to say that it’s okay to be gay, though I guess if I can say it, that’s at least a start for South Carolinian tolerance.