Basketball's 4ft 10in Ally

Every summer I work basketball camps with roughly 2k teenage boys. One afternoon it began raining men, cats, and dogs. I was trapped in the IM gym for two hours with 250 rambunctious, hungry, and impatient youth.

I set up camp to guard the exit, but the twelve-year-old inmates were already running the asylum. Over time, kids bored of shooting hoops and circled their own wagons to mingle. The conversation was earth shattering. Topics covered the superiority of different 6^th grade AAU teams and the hotness of middle school English teachers. The convo volleyed back and forth, and eventually the inevitable that’s so gay, fairy, and fag comments were kicked around.

Usually I try to pull a Barry and come off as staying above the political fray, but the conversation was rapidly devolving and these closeted Elton fans needed my help. Just as I began to open my mouth, a shy kid in the corner spoke up.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Of course Dweedle Fairy and Dweedle Fag retorted with, “Ew, are you gay?”

“No, but I know people who are. Love involves passions, feelings, and emotions that all people can share. Who really cares if it’s a guy or a girl? Just because you may not like something doesn’t mean it’s stupid or wrong.”

Silence followed.

And then conversation picked back up about a kid’s new Kobe basketball shoes.

This young lad’s stoic defense of LGBT rights won’t change the world overnight. Numerous kids around that conversation were probably sitting on their hands, uncomfortable with what was being said. But I’m encouraged by the fact that no one challenged his assertion. It t’was genuinely nice to see a status quo of tolerance and acceptance laid out on the table and generally accepted. And this was within a group of teenagers where sticking out your neck is harder than endorsing climate change in a GOP primary.

Talk about feel good story of the summer.

Except for one thing.

Our twelve year old ally is a white kid from affluent Chapel Hill, the kid who repeatedly tossed around fag is from rural Mississippi, and the that’s so gay kid is African American and from inner city Philly.

Tackling homophobia in sport and society is an uphill but winnable fight. Personally, to become better equipped to wage this battle, I need to better understand the intersection of sexuality with age, race, gender, and socioeconomic status.

Summer Session: San Francisco

My two options this summer were DC and SF. Then I realized that urban planning, while a legitimate stepping stone to UN-HABITAT, is boring. Even the word “design” does not save “urban design” from being monotonous and bureaucratic activity. International issues are my jam (mom says I need to focus,) so WorldCorps in SF it was. (Curious cats: this is the program supporting me.)

I needed to take a mental break from Duke. Experience what my life could be like when “it gets better.” Yes, I have the girlfriend in Carborro and Women Loving Women each month, but this summer I wanted to spend some time in the real world, navigating a notoriously queerfabulous and unpretentious city.

In my post on study abroad I said I wanted to spend significant time in one of the world's most tolerant cities before I took the plunge to Nepal or rural India. I have high expectations for how my sexuality (and curiosity about deviant sexual practices) should be satisfied.

I also wanted to have an idea of where I fit in and could spend the rest of my life. Then I could map latrines and water sources in Nepalese refugee camps without feeling like my life was all self-sacrifice and repression. As I hoped, I’m feeling that lightness of being that comes from watching the perfect porn clip or dancing to your song at a club. In the San Francisco tech/social business/start-up/non-profit/sustainability circle, I am normal. My parents unknowingly raised me to be a part of this culture, not the culture of Southeastern preps. While watching people at Powell Station, I feel more square than freak. A gracious Ivy League intern carrying a thick electric blue backpack.

Before you think that I came to SF just to get lezzed-up, get this: San Francisco is one of the densest and most walkable cities in the country, it's a mecca for sustainable business practices and foodies, it's adjacent to Silicon Valley and features a multicultural population and a Hispanic district. Also, the summers are cool. Most importantly, it's the first world-class city that didn't make me feel like a country bumpkin. I fit right in.

But living is San Francisco hasn't yet become the most glamorous thing ever. I'm a Dukie in a Duke-less city. I must meet people or face certain loneliness.

In my past incarnation I was aloof (and selfish, according to my dad.) I couldn’t look strangers in the eye without the assistance of my girlfriend. I now go to the same taqueria every day after work to order a horchata or try the honeydew aguafresca. I strike up a conversation with the cashier at the de Young about the necessity of a heavy duty lint roller when you own H&M trousers. Staying within the same couple blocks requires less energy and gives familiarity to my new life. I’m the girl up the street who comes in at 5. I’m the girl who loves New Orleans iced coffee. I’m a regular.

But when it comes to getting lezzed up, the corner co-op and Buena Vista Park won’t suffice. I’m three girls deep on OkCupid. (For those who can’t understand my lingo as I make it up: I’m carrying on conversations with three girls who indicated they want to meet me in person soon.) At the suggestion of a friend conveniently located in New York, I joined several Meetup Groups. I’ll pass on the next meet up at the bowling alley, because bowling with strangers sounds almost as fun as historic preservation. My best shot is with my OKC ladies.

My parents, ignorant of my internet-fueled dalliances, suggested I meet friends at work. My place of work, The Hub, is filled with young people. I don’t yet know what they do on their laptops in the Hub common area, but behind my glass office I see them and think potential friends. I have conferences on the future of capitalism and Monday Meditations to attend. An intern meetup is forthcoming. The mistress of the Hub, a tall African woman with a mini-fro, makes me swoon when she smiles. She wants to sit down sometime and talk about how I got involved with Worldcorps. (If a certain friend in the same situation asked for advice: I'd say, She knows everyone. It's her job. Chill out.)

Regardless of if she is or isn’t, I’m here to contribute to a community (contributions range from sexual favors to website consulting.) This Duke-less Dukie wants to be part of all these communities and more: the Hub, meetup groups, Haight-Ashbory. So if anyone still isn't sure: Yes, I’m happy here and I don’t want to leave.

The Ghost of Summer Past

I'm back at square one again. If you're a long-time follower of the Blog, then you'll remember me struggling with coming out at my job. (You can catch up here.) Well, I ended up not doing anything and kinda letting the situation disappear. I never really came out but I always avoided any kind of conversation about sex and/or girls. I tried to leave subtle hints like leaving my internet browser on my computer with the Blog open or shopping for a "Legalize Gay" shirt while at my desk but nothing that directly said "Oh hey, btw, I'm gay."

I left my job at the end of the summer not worrying about it, thinking that I would never see those people again except for maybe passing each other on the quad. Obviously, I was wrong.

I was invited to come back and work again this summer. I didn't have any other summer plans so I figured it would be a good way to make some money for the school year. Little did I know that two of my fellow coworkers from last summer also decided to come back and work again.

Ok. Cool. That's awesome. They already know the ropes so things will go a lot smoother this summer. The whole I-never-actually-came-out thing didn't cross my mind... until a few days ago.

As we were starting our day at work, we found one of the yearbooks from last year and began to flip through it. My other coworkers had not seen it yet. We browsed through, commenting on how we thought it was funny/awkward to have pictures of tailgate in the yearbook. Then, we got to this beautiful photo of a certain three rooms in Kilgo that were flying rainbow flags outside their windows. One of my coworkers stopped on that page. I stood there bracing myself for what he was about to say.

"I didn't know what those flags meant until last year. I just knew that a lot of people liked flying rainbow flags", he said. Ok, not bad. I can deal with that. If people aren't exposed to certain cultures, they wouldn't understand the different symbols of that culture. He just needed to be educated. So, now he knows. Good. Next page!

"I have a friend that loves to tear them down hahaha!"

I don't know how to explain how I felt after he said that. It was a mixture of rage/ disgust/ anger/ fury/ thirst for blood and sadness/ pity/ hurt/ pain/ disappointment. I wanted to tear him limb from limb like in Mortal Kombat and at the same time, just hang my head and walk away. This was the same coworker from the other post that invited me to his fraternity party by telling me there would be plenty of girls.

He confirmed my worst fears about him. As much as I tried to not impose the "douchey frat boy" stereotype on him, he just kept insisting that I treat him like one of those frat guys that make all of us look bad (Yes, even as a fraternity member, I recognize that some members of the Greek community are complete and total... bad, awful, not nice people).

I was able to compose myself to squeeze out a nonchalant "Why would your friend do that? Does he have something against gay people?" I was on the verge of saying more but I knew that if I did, I would end up probably with my hands around his neck. He said that he didn't think his friend was homophobic, he just thought it would be fun. "I think it's kinda funny actually." Now, that actually pissed me off even more. At least if he was homophobic, there would be some hope of educating him. But you can't cure stupidity and ignorance. Luckily, before I could unleash my fury upon him, my boss walked in and put us to work.

I fumed about that for days and I'm still fuming actually. That event showed me two things: 1) He didn't get the sexuality hints I was trying to drop and 2) As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes, stereotypes are spot on. He's the perfect example of the negative connotation of "frat star." (Sidenote: I think "frat star" can also have a positive meaning. I'll explain that later though. Stay tuned!).

I just don't know how to handle this situation. I know that I should say something to him about how I didn't appreciate what he said and that I find it really offensive for someone to do something like that. However, I now find him so repugnant that I don't want to talk to him anymore than absolutely necessary. And I know that's not a good way to feel about anyone, especially a coworker, but I just don't want to put up with people that I despise. I've got better things to do with my life. I know, I know. That's a horrible attitude but I just get so frustrated with intolerance of any kind that my temper would be more of a detriment than an asset to the cause.

So, my question is once again, what in the world do I do?

How Not to Come Out to Family

So I’m like really really horrible at coming out. My first verbal expression of “I have something to tell you” was over a year ago to my Dad. In order to muster the strength/energy to do so, I worked myself up into an emotional frenzy. You can read about it here but what’s pretty crazy is how rotten of a job I did to deal with the rest of my family.

Living a life of secrecy and hidden love is nothing new to me. In fact, nearly two and a half years of my time at Duke had been spent in this melodramatic heart-wrenching, heart-breaking relationship that caused so much pain to so many people that it is hard to think of myself as the same person. One thing that always stuck with me through all that was a complete loss of how to be transparent and truly honest. It is through these means that honor and pride manifest themselves.

So I vowed: No more secrets. No more bullshit. Let’s do this.

Except it’s really hard. I certainly don’t want to blame this on my recent history of secrecy since I was in a period of re-thinking my self image, my gender expression, and the true manifestations of love (I even shaved my head, damnit), but I didn’t have many clear examples of what to do.

To my own credit, I did come out to both of my grandmothers, but the talking stopped there. The thing about my extended family, is that they’re really a lot more like immediate family. We all live within a few minutes of each other, and my grandparents live next door. So it’s not a once-a-year kind of family, it’s a most-nights-during-the-week kind of family. I knew it was my responsibility to tell everyone myself, for my sake, and those who were holding and suffering from my news. But also for Hilary’s sake. The silence of a partnership—however it’s employed—is suffocating, infuriating, and never, ever okay.

I failed her. I failed Hilary and myself. I was crushed by the pressure and withdrew from taking action. Quite possibly the best example of proving love: to announce it, to celebrate it, to be honest.

So the night before Hilary and I flew out to San Diego together, my dad sat my family down, and told them the news for me because I hadn’t done it yet. It might work for some people to come out this way, it gets a lot of conversations done quickly. But my family refused to meet her.

Now, my family is the kind of family that will like all go out to one of our favorite restaurants to welcome a new friend, or my sister’s boyfriends (& her girlfriends since they didn’t know they were girlfriends). So it was a sinking, sick feeling. Dinners are like the ultimate expression of welcome and acceptance. Also a great opportunity to tease, and to test, and to talk about poop.

But Hilary didn’t get that. Not yet anyway. Because I fucked it up. I hope we can someday. It certainly isn’t a rejection of her as it is a rejection of a shocking truth told second hand and with less than 24 hours to react. I can only blame myself.

I know my grandpa cried when he found out. The only other time that’s happened is when he found out that I got into Duke, and he said, “I can’t believe a Puente is gonna go to Duke.” He’s a quiet hard-working man who I love dearly. I wish he could celebrate my love with me.

But my dad, who has sat with this news for over a year, COMPLETELY kicked ass. He had an awesome family dinner with my siblings and Hilary. Then after she left to return to Durham, he took my little brother, my sister and I to a GAY THEATRE. To see a GAY PLAY. Isn’t that the craziest shit you ever heard? He even knew the reputation of the theatre, and all this gay culture stuff in the city. It was clear that he had been doing his research, and the fact that he would plan a family outing with gay themes (sex included) for my 15-year-old brother to see, is a huge step for him. So back home, I felt more simultaneously accepted and furious at myself than I have in awhile.

Now—on to the step that, for me, is infinitely harder and oppressive than coming out: the follow up conversation. How the hell am I gonna conquer that one?

The Best Teacher

So it's Tuesday night and I just got out of my first class of The Laramie Project, which in case you don’t know, is the Matthew Shepard story. We’ll be performing in April if you’d like to see the show. We’ve got an awesome cast and if you’d like to keep up with the show blog check it out here.

As you can imagine, it’s gonna be an extremely intense experience. I’m exhilarated and terrified at the same time. But I’m not here to talk to y’all about Laramie. I’d really like to reflect soon on my experience going back home (ya know, the whole Hilary + my Jehovah’s Witness family), but I think I need a little bit more time and perspective before I write about it. So my first blog post of the year is gonna dig a bit deeper into my past.

It’s important for you to know that I went to a charter middle and high school for low-income kids, all of who will be the first generation in their family to go to college. It’s super intensive and amazing. I went to school early and stayed late everyday, for an extra class and extracurriculars, which meant I was at school for at least ten and a half hours a day. But during robotics season (betcha didn’t know I was team president!), we were building at school late into the night. Through all of this, the teachers were right there with us, devoting their lives and time so that we could compete in regional and national competitions. It was so incredibly bad-ass.

My first interest in robotics came early, but my dedication began after I moved out of my parents’ houses after a rough patch. So it was a tough time in high school and I was trying to spend as much time away from home life. I like to think that we all have like that one AMAZING teacher that was our light and our guidance and our friend and tough in the best ways. That teacher for me came through robotics.

He actually came out to me last June, which I was totally shocked/thrilled about. But a couple of nights ago told me that he has AIDS.

Now, if you were around at Duke in 2007, you’ll know that Chris Purcell didn’t fuck around with World AIDS Day. But honoring those lost was as real as it got for me. In our generation, we are fortunate to have access to more education and information and safety and health.

But a couple of nights ago, shit got real. This was a teacher who would fuck with us by offering extra credit on tests for spelling his complicated last name correctly, then write it wrong on the board that day. This was a teacher that would stay with us at school building a robot past midnight, who would take so many of us on our first plane rides, who showed us how we could make high school so much more than classes, who made it possible for me to learn how to write grants and how to be proud to be the first in my family to go to college. He was my rock in such a dark period of my life.

I feel honored that he could open himself up to me and say to me, well, no, I’m not doing too well right now. I am so grateful to know his story, or parts of it at least, because there is something horrible that hurts the ones we love the most.

Working on The Laramie Project is going to be really difficult for me. First, because I have very little experience with theatre. Secondly because I have such a deep, emotional dedication to the gay world. But mostly because of this teacher, the hate crimes he shared with me, the honesty he bared, and the path he helped me get on.

I am going to dedicate all of my energies in honor of everything that he has done for me, and in hope that we will overcome.

As always, so so so so so much love.

You have nothing to worry about. I just want to be a part of your life.

Today, many, many great things happened. I was sitting in the Trinity Café at the Chocolate Fountain Social, thinking, reflecting, soaking in the great energy, and laughing at the chocolate that was all over everyone’s faces and noses.

I think in a few short hours, several things came full circle for me. The chocolate fountain social was my first LGBT event when I was a freshman, latched on to Chris Purcell. Now, there are so many new faces! It was wonderful to see. And of course, the oldies (but goodies) who I love to see: Janie Long, Jack Grote, Chris Perry, Justin Harris, Megan Weinand, Olly Wilson, AJ Biggers, Michelle, Aliza…and so many others (I’m not excluding your names for malicious intent, I am just unsure of your level of outness).

I also got news today that I have the opportunity to be in next semester’s show of The Laramie Project. (So psyched!) So while sitting there, just chatting and taking a few photos, I just got the most incredible feeling of how fortunate I am to have all of you in my life. The LGBT Center and Blue Devils United have single handedly provided the best kind of community I could have hoped for. Perhaps this is the sentimental senior in me talking, but I know I am truly lucky to be a part of your lives. So amidst this reflection, I made the decision to start putting some really important conversations in motion.

I left the Chocolate Fountain Social and I called my Nana, to come out to her.

Now, if you know my family’s religious affiliation, you can imagine why I’ve put this off for so long. And to be honest, I have always been terrified of losing my birth family, and my access to their lives. Nana was definitely shocked, because she said, “Well, this is a HUGE shock.”

But you know what? I just told her I feel like I’ve had so much good news to share and I am so happy, that nothing should keep me from communicating with my family. I told her about my house and living with my partner, and how I just want to be sure and respect her boundaries and be open to her questions and opinions.

And she told me, “You have nothing to worry about. I just want to be a part of your life.”

This is so, so, so much better of a conversation than I anticipated. She made sure to remind me what her religious beliefs were, but she did so in the most respectful, beautiful, understanding way. It’ll still be a process, and I’m sure once she recovers from the shock, we can have more conversations.

“Life is too short, it’s not my job to judge anyone.” –My Nana

Thank you all so much for providing the best support and the best community I could have ever hoped for. It is through seeing your smiling faces, as well as hearing any turmoil/struggle/doubt that makes me feel so free to be me.

When I think back to this time freshman year, I would have never believed that things would have turned out this way, but I know I will always look back and think of all of you and be so proud to know you.


Much love, and hope for bright futures,

Summer Puente

Spreading the Love(=Love)

I recently returned from summer classes in Vermont, and I am so thrilled to be back in queer Durham, in my haus/zoo, and of course, the LGBT Center (there are new chairs!)

This summer was so transformative for me. I am so much more comfortable with my body, my sexuality, and my goals for the future. I know all of the gushy goodness gets sickening sometimes, but I spent way too long being sad. And with all the great things happening this year in Durham and at Duke, I can hardly contain my excitement. Folks, we have so much work to do!

I don’t know if you’ve heard about Womyn. But I hope you know that Megan, Jack and I will not stop harassing your Facebooks, this blog, your dorm rooms, your friends, your plaza, etc, until it is finished.

Also, some really, really super news. There is a new free bus called the Bull City Connector that goes from Duke all the way into Golden Belt! Don’t know what Golden Belt is? Well that’s proof that you don’t get off campus enough.

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW QUEER DURHAM IS?! It’s soooo queer. You’re missing out on so much! So I hope to keep all of you informed as best as I can about the goings-on in town, because it is absolutely worth it.

To continue my excitement, The Pinhook has now changed its regulations to be 18 and up! There are constant queer things and dance parties and all kinds of goodness that you should investigate.

Some events coming up:

Queerbaret on August 20th, for those of you in town.

This weekend is also the Queerrilla Film Festival! Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Come out and support the love.

Also, a shameless plug for my partner’s show this Sunday at the Pinhook.

I’m not sure if you can tell, but I’m very excited for my friendlies to come home and explore with me. If you’re apprehensive about this semester, I think my enthusiasm is contagious, so you can come play with my kitties and eat cookies.

Much love, anticipation to see the oldies and meet the newbies, hope for a better year and a growing community of support and affection,

Summ

Coming Out to Nana

In the entry I wrote on January 14th, 2010, I told a horrible story about a conversation I had with one of my grandmothers where she mentioned damnation to all gays. Two days ago, on Thursday (I am writing this on Saturday), I called her up. As context I want to say that we're not too close, mostly based on a rough relationship with my mother. So I was catching up with her on the phone, and I told her all about moving off campus and how great life is etc etc.

Then there was the perfect window to out myself.

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

AHHHHHHHH. BREATHE. BREATHE. It's okay. She won't hate you.

"Yes." (Ughhh cop out!)

"What's he do?"

"Actually, Nana, I'm dating a female."

I did it. The whole time, I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. Maybe it wasn't a radical type of honesty since I had to be led by questions, but I didn't avert and I didn't lie. Then I proceeded to tell her all about Hilary.

I could sense her pauses between sentences getting longer and longer, she was clearly choosing her words carefully. She sounded sad. But then she said, "All I want is for you to be happy." Even if that's not totally true, she's being a trooper and I appreciate her effort so much. She talked about how angry and depressed I was six months ago and how she can really feel the changes I've made and how well I'm doing.

So the people in my family who know: My dad, mom, one nana, Ashleigh (my sister) and Brock (my brother). After telling this nana, I wouldn't be surprised if word got around quick to that side of the family. But I'm so much closer to my dad's side. I've got another set of grandparents, aunts and uncles… What's keeping me from telling them about my great news and joy?

I've spent several occasions (probably amounting up to hours at this point) talking to Megan about this. She encouraged me to tell my family in person because it's so much more intimate. I get that, I definitely do. But if the next chance I get to go home is in December, then it will have been a year since I've seen them, and a year since I've been with Hilary. It's already been six months.

And I figure since telling the first nana was the most terrifying, it can't be all that bad. And on a side note, what's more important, telling them I'm gay? Or telling them I'm in a gay relationship? OR telling them I live with my partner?!

I feel like I'm moving too quickly along in my life to exclude them much longer, otherwise I will be like a stranger living a double life, and that sure as hell isn't happening again.

Thus, I find myself empathizing with so many of you, and whose stories I've collected or heard.

Change of Scenery

I moved in with my partner.

For those of you who aren't my Facebook friends and can't follow my insane joy and random photos of my Durham summer adventures…let me backtrack.

I tested the waters on a few friends first…"I think I might move in with Hilary…" and tried to gauge people's reactions. Overall, the responses were uncertain, or trying to be polite, some were nervous. I don't blame any of you--the pervasive hook-up culture at Duke and unknown world of Durham and its queers can be a cloud of impenetrable-ness. Then came the next phase…"We've been looking for a place…," then finally, "WE SIGNED A LEASE TODAY!"

The reactions didn't change much. I got the occasional, "So now we REALLY won't see you." (coughChrisPerrycough)

The Duke campus isn't bliss for all of us. In my case, I'm not talking about hate speech or feeling unwelcome on campus because of the general student body versus my queerness. I'm talking about class and I'm talking about ethnicity. On the surface, I've got white skin and blue eyes. I blend in okay unless I'm intentionally trying not to (which has been more of the case lately). But I'm Mexican. I was raised Mexican. No, I don't have the best Spanish in the world, but I come from a working class neighborhood of Mexicans. That's what I know, and what I love.

I try not to make everything about money, or judge folks on their privilege. We're all born into different circumstances and I love everyone in the LGBT community for different reasons. But for me and my mental health, I need folks who can commiserate with me a bit more on financial issues.

Speeding up to the last month, I feel like I've finally accomplished that.

For those of you who have kept up with my summer adventures, I moved off campus into a house of four other Durhamite women, including my partner. We've got three cats, a dog, and a bird (ridiculous, I know). Everyone in the house is partnered…and we've become quite social. So the house is a bit of a zoo. But a lovely home we've christened 'Lockamy.' (To discover why this name was picked, you'd have to come over, so make plans to visit me in the fall!)

My friend Anthony and I have also been fond of calling the place 'Estrogenhaus.'

Recently, I've been laughing so much. Hysterics from tickling, giggles from baking in my massive kitchen, joy from the animals doing silly things. So much happiness. I feel like the most fortunate woman. But I wanted to write to you all today because I know what the struggle feels like. I want to honor and celebrate the good times, but the fight through mental health and reducing isolation can be a lonely one.

I hope to open my house to you all. I know what staying on campus too long does to me. The effects are probably different for some folks, and I know plenty of students that love the campus and never see any reason to leave. But there is so much greatness in Durham, there are so many good people, and I urge you to explore it with me next year.

The Pinhook has recently started having nights that are open to 18+ and they have some very fun events, we will most definitely have weekend brunches at my house, and hopefully some WLW events. I'm not trying to make you vom with my love, I'm just saying that it's been a three year struggle for me (so for any first years reading this, if it gets bad for you, don't wait for it to get worse! Come have cookies and play with my kitten), and I want to help any part of my community that I can.

Also, I'm currently in the airport on my way to a language immersion program, so I won't be in touch for the next 7 weeks since I'm not allowed to do anything in English. Maybe I'll move this blog into the bilingual realm and post a Spanish entry. ^_^

Please have a great summer, I can't wait to see all of your beautiful faces in the fall!

PS. A bunch of my friends who are in a Durham arts collective (DURTY) are planning a music festival in August. I believe the 28th is the tentative planned date. I know lots of you will be here by then and it should be a huge party with tons of local kids and bands. Please come! It will be a great opportunity to begin building bridges between Durham kids and Duke kids!

Ticks.

So first I should probably just note where I’ve been this whole semester. I had been so sure of myself: on this mission to present my community with interviews and photos. I loved doing it. But then, as some of you know, my last subject’s parents found the entries…the blog. What ensued was not the greatest of circumstances for this individual. I had the permission and everything but I couldn’t escape this feeling of guilt. I stopped writing. What right did I have to put someone in that position of pain and hurt?

I think I reflected on it too much. I was scared that I threw myself out there, and was trying to pull out everyone with me. To be supergay, or ultragay, or gay before anything else. To take the risk and out ourselves on campus, online. That’s a big step. Deep down, I still absolutely agree that being just us was the goal of my entries: to show the broader experience of queer folks at Duke.

But being more out has not been without its hate.

Reactions from family and friends and complete strangers have been interesting. Although I am perhaps more hesitant now to post online, I know these stories are important to tell. So I hope you can bear with me in this post. I hope to continue posting during the summer and make up for my absence and overcome the fears that have piled up on me this semester.

There were two events that occurred really close together. They were my most direct and blunt experience with hate speech. I tried to brush it off and not let it get to me, but I’ve kept replaying these events over and over in my mind over the past few weeks. The first—was on LDOC. For those of you who have seen Patrick’s Documentary, LDOC 2009 was a great memorable experience for me. LDOC 2010 was tons of fun too, don’t get me wrong. But while kissing a female in the crowd while the bands were playing, I suddenly became aware of the people talking around us. I tuned in to a pair of guys next to us, hearing: “They’re kissing each other, that’s fucking disgusting.”

I can delight in the attention and reaction and help show a broader spectrum of female sexuality, the girl I was kissing certainly was. But I don’t really like being told that I’m fucking disgusting. It tore through me like I didn’t know it would. I shocked myself with how much it hurt.

Then, awhile later, the second event. Walking down Markham, hand-in-hand with my partner, a gentleman took it upon himself to lean out of his car and yell, “God made Adam and Eve!”

Not so piercing, no. But what if it was? What if something happened?

The only thing you can really do is laugh it off. Crack jokes. Be stronger...somehow. How do I do that?

I went to the Eno a few days ago, on a hot humid Durham day. I jumped right in that damn river. The peace and serenity of it all was overdue. Listening to the river flow slowly by, sitting on a soggy log, watching the dragonflies dance. I even got a tick! I’ve been terrified of ticks my whole life, but somehow it felt like a milestone. I picked it off without an issue, and maybe I’m sinking too far into hippiedom for my own good but I was pretty excited.

This semester was huge for me. A coming of age with hate speech and ticks. My grades weren’t what I wanted them to be—but are they ever? And I talked to my dad yesterday and while on the subject of coming out to the family he said: Summer, I just want you to include in your life whoever you want to be in it.

I don’t think he knows what that means to me, to us. It made my big ol heart want to explode.

Transparency and honesty are hard. It’s what I’ve made out 2010 to be. So far so good I think.

"I do identify as a gay man, but I don't let it define me."

Well here we are, January 28, 2010 and back to the regularly scheduled programming for my Thursday blog entries. The next two weeks will focus on the illustrious (although freshman) Gordon Wilson. Our conversation was enlightening for me, partially due to his positive outlook on attending a southern university and being out and gay, and partially due to his very apparent adoration of public speaking and politics. This smiling peer of ours is social through lots of campus involvement and seems to know who everyone is, and quite frankly intimidating to me since I can be kind of a recluse. But you don’t want to know about that. You want to know about Gordon!

One of the biggest differences that Gordon noticed between his high school and Duke is the number of out lesbian couples. Although he mentions “there was never a gay couple at [his] high school,” the girls were more audacious. I was surprised at this admission and how this topic keeps cropping up over and over. Even within the past few days, my women friends and I have discussed the hidden pockets of queer/lesbian/bisexual women, and how we’re dying to know who you are. It’s definitely been a hot topic in the Center. (Shameless plug: There is a Women Loving Women meeting in the Center tonight!) Sorry, back to Gordon, but he was the one that brought up out women in the first place.

Due to his involvement with politics (in high school and here at Duke), which will be discussed further in depth next week, Gordon often faces the question of his identity with some caution. He identifies as a gay man, but as someone who plays the role of a public figure as well, the general population tends to let that be the only marker on the radar. In high school, slander was used against his sexual orientation to make him lose a position. Getting outed in high school made him deal early on with a lot of issues, but has also helped him come to terms with a lot of his internal struggle before coming to Duke (some processes that occur much later for other Duke students, myself included). He adds, “but I still get this tension and get this apprehension, but I think it’s the politician inside me that wants to appeal to a broad range of people, and wondering if [my orientation] would stop someone’s affiliation with me. My desire to be accepted and to appeal to a large group of people was perhaps derived from being gay, but initially, it was perhaps out of, ‘if they vote for me, that means they like me, and they accept me, and I’m okay’ you know?”

I’m sure many of us do know what that anxiety of acceptance feels like. The Duke students striving for perfection within an intense academic environment of course adds to this. I want to encourage you all to share your own stories of how you identify acceptance and what that looks like in your world.

But perhaps more importantly, I wanted to share Gordon’s very positive outlook on being out at a school like Duke. Maybe it is his inner politician speaking, but this is what he has to say:

Here they [Duke students] are more willing to get involved, because our community has more space to grow. We have room to change. In some other schools like NYU, everyone is out and having a gay old time because they don’t feel the need to get involved and grow. There is so much of the world that needs change, we have an interesting opportunity to take this to other parts of the world.

Clearly, Gordon wants to be part of the change he talks about. Like many students, his favorite LGBT event on campus is Coming Out Day on the Plaza. It gave him a chance to be more out and promote visibility on campus. He’s very modest about his active involvement in his organizations, but this does ultimately lead him to getting to know a lot of people. Fortunately for us, Gordon feels the responsibility of being an out role model for other students who are still coming out of the closet. So one of this major goals this semester is to try and push his own limits for speaking up more and being a better ally for the entire community, as well as an out gay male. There is a moment that haunts him from high school, when he didn’t speak up for a female classmate who was being hassled and called a dyke. Gordon too has been in moments where no one would stick up for him when he didn’t feel like he had a voice. “Helping someone else feel comfortable,” Gordon confessed, “makes me feel more gratified than getting an A or getting someone’s vote.”

But reaching that level of comfort isn’t easy. While doing this interview, Gordon and I were sitting in the Dillo—the first superpublic place that I’ve conducted one of my interviews. I debated moving to a quieter location out of earshot of other students, and at this point in our discussion, Gordon brought up his slight discomfort regarding others around us overhearing the interview. I like my interviewees to feel at ease and in a safe space with me, but it also sparked Gordon to say that he wish he felt more self assured and identified it as an area of growth for himself.

Please come back next week to read more about Gordon’s experience at PWild and his other interests outside the realm of the LGBTQA world.

Welcome home everybody.

I can’t tell you how great it feels to be back in Durham again. I know I haven’t posted in two weeks, mostly because I felt it would be repetitive and circuitous since I haven’t taken any big steps in this long process of figuring out who the hell I am and who I want to be. I’m trying to be patient with myself. But there have been some changes.
I mentioned in a comment in my last blog entry about the singular follow-up conversation I had with my dad. It was strictly political and started by him, weaving through certain subjects such as adoption, a transgender documentary he saw on television, gay elected officials and my encouragement for him to use the term intersex instead of hermaphrodite. I was so thrilled and our conversation was so quick paced that I think I’ve found the platform in which to begin talking about gay issues more. My expectation is to start edging that door open so that maybe someday I can bring a partner over for dinner regardless of gender. Just babysteps for now. He needs to know I’m still his little girl just looking for happiness and a safe, respectful relationship.

But a conversation I had with my maternal grandmother a few days ago hit close to my heart in how far the rest of my family would need to come. Quoting scripture to me for over hour, she damned all the gays straight to hell as easily as if she were watering her garden. She told me that I shaved my head because I don’t want men to look at me anymore. I think part of that may be true. I was too exhausted from the conversation to retort. I didn’t even know what to say after she expressed resentment towards Muslims and how they want to blow everybody up. Maybe I’ll write it off as a lost cause, maybe I’ll find another way to reach out to her in the future. Who knows.

All I can really say right now is that going to the LGBT Center is a breath of fresh air and happiness and delight and hopefulness and just general good feelings all around.

So without a real way to transition here, I’m just going to shift gears here and make another plea for your stories. I’m looking for out individuals who would like to share their story for this blog. The entries on Ari and Viviana are examples of my work, and as you can tell (if you’re read them) is they differ very much. I simply wish to show who you are, right now in the year 2010, with all of your identifiers and idiosyncrasies that you express to the world. You can email me at spp12@duke.edu or summer.puente@duke.edu or shoot me a Facebook message if you’re interested. I would love to tell your story and get to know my community better.

I’m not gonna lie: I need some support too right now. This is part of the reason I jumped into this position. I’ve got a lot of growing to do…we all do. We should try and tie this community tighter and I believe the best way that can be done is through honesty and transparency and shared experience. You’re the ones that make my blog possible. Let’s do this.

I love you all. I love your strength and your courage and I’m honored to be a part of your lives and your history.

When Winter Break Starts Feeling Too Long...

I didn’t want my blog entries to be about me—I wanted them to be about other people. Find, learn, and record the very important stories of my peers. That was my goal. That was why I wanted to participate as a writer, even though I’m very critical of my writing ability.

But it’s winter break, I just came out to my dad, and I’m freaking out, so please forgive the creative license I’m taking here. I hope you don’t mind if I’m using this blog as a tool for some of my own thought processes that I need to go through. I’m expecting that getting this out will help me from feeling so trapped. I’m going to try and speak in general terms, since this is going online and we seem to have many readers. But I want to be honest and as transparent as possible.

I’m hurting a lot. I don’t know if it’s because being home is hard, or if it’s because my dad and I haven’t had a follow up conversation yet, or if it’s because I feel stuck, or if it’s because I’m changing faster than the people around me. It’s probably a combination of all of these things. And I’m not known for my patience.

Do you want to know me? I'd like to know you too.

Everyone… I’m freaking out. I’m terrified, things are changing and I’m swept up in a huge transition. I wanted to make this blog strictly about putting a face to the LGBTQA community, to interview others and to get closer to those I didn’t know.

What I wasn’t exactly anticipating was the questions I’d get in return…or the challenges to identify…to come out. Since my time at Duke, I haven’t put a name to my orientation. I hide safe behind my Ally card while urging others to come out to their parents, their friends, and their professors. I’ve spent a lot of time in heterosexual relationships so I don’t have to deal with questions or confrontation, prejudice or hate.

But then I met Ashe. And everything changed.

If you don’t know Ashe, you NEED to. I’m not gonna tell her story because I haven’t asked her yet. Although I don’t think she’d mind, I’m big on asking permission. So I’ll save that for another time, and just tell my side. She helped me see a ton of the inconsistencies in what I believed in: to push others to tell their parents about their sexuality while I was able to happily avoid mine. I know some people shouldn’t be pushed, some people aren’t ready to be pushed, and some people don’t respond to aggressive pushing, so it’s definitely not something that I would recommend for everyone. But it worked for me.

So on Tuesday night, I came out to my dad.

“At Thanksgiving, it’s the turkey next to the kabob next to the hummus.”

I wish you could have been there as Ari shared his life with me. He comes from a Republican family in a town of 7000 people in Long Island. His high school was mostly white and Jewish, and by the time he graduated, was only out to four people. As we learned from last week’s blog entry, he didn’t like being closeted in high school since he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it.

Ari is a Jewish Israeli, with a mom from Tel Aviv and a father who served in Lebanon for six months. His family came to the United Stated based on persecution, so even though he does not consider himself very religious, he still feels very strongly about Jewish ethics and culture. “At Thanksgiving, it’s the turkey next to the kabob next to the hummus.” He remains very curious about his background and where he comes from, he says he knows it sounds cliché but “as an American I’ve become very detached, but I want to know more about my family.”

He spends his time reading and doing work (and watching films, as we know from his great film reviews on this blog). From how he talks about his shows, I can tell he watches a lot of TV too. Our interview was long and detailed and wonderful and he rattled off a list of his favorite things: The History Boys movie (Chris is going to make fun of him for this) [Ed. Note: Yeah, I am. This is The Weirdest Movie, Ari.], In Cold Blood, Into the Wild, The Smiths, his grandma’s food, New York pizza and bagels…

Ari is sensitive and hilarious but he showed a different side of himself when we sat down to talk. Granted, I don’t know Ari incredibly well in the first place, but it was great to listen to him wonder about the future. “I look forward to knowing how everything pans out. Where am I gonna be working? I don’t even know. It sounds so cheesy, but who am I gonna be marrying in Greenwich Connecticut and then going to where they accept me. I look forward to my parent’s acceptance as much as their growing process. I know my parents, I know what their reaction is gonna be. I want to see where my indecisiveness leads me.”

Our time together was interrupted due to the BDU meeting that was starting but I was able to get a little bit more information out of him. We talked about regrets, and he acknowledges that he’s going at his own pace so he doesn’t regret coming out sooner. He mentions that he regrets not being closer with his brother, but as he was saying this he realized that it’s definitely something he can still change. (So change it!)

One thing I do every night is think about three things I’m thankful for, so I ask this same question of my interviewees. Ari says, “Today I am thankful for my close friends here and at home, I’m thankful for (this goes back to the Jack thing) the LGBT students that are so comfortable with themselves, and I’m thankful I’m done with my history class.” I’m certain that we’re all thankful Ari is in our lives and I hope that he can continue to be a strong individual and be that beacon of light for some new individuals who are learning how to come out with their heads held high.

"If it's one of my main identifiers, I shouldn’t feel bad about that. I don’t think it’s so bad." -Ari Bar-Mashiah on being gay

As I've done with several Duke students younger than I am, I have watched Ari transform into a strong individual, one who is much stronger than he realizes. Ari isn’t out to his family, but still provides an incredible force in our community at Duke. He rattled off a list of reasons to me about why he hasn’t come out yet to his family but he knows most of them are just excuses. We’ll all have our fingers crossed that Ari can have the strength this Winter Break to finally begin the conversations with his parents and siblings.

He’s a self-described social butterfly, but anyone who knows him would agree. In high school he was involved in many activities, but was only out to a select few. Although there was a GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance), Ari refers to it as SAG, the straight alliance for gay people. No one identified as gay. He didn’t like being closeted, but always had a hard time reconciling the way gays are portrayed in the media. He didn’t think people could be intelligent and gay at the same time.

Coming to Duke, and particularly his experiences with Project Build, paved the way for Ari’s integration to the LGBT Center and it’s social activities. For Ari, the LGBT community at Duke was much more than he had at home and for that he is “very, very thankful.” He says, “You wish there was always more, or at least, more out. If I would want to see something, I would want to see more gay couples holding hands, the peck on the cheek when they go to class on the Plaza. When it comes to the community, they’re not to blame. It’s the other students, and the stuff we have to deal with, like ripping down flags, it’s the bridge incident or the bench incident. I really love the LGBT community here.”

Ari takes a moment and gives tribute to another Center frequenter. It was so sweet and so true it needs to be shared here in this blog. I believe we should all take a moment and think about those we look up to and pay tribute wherever we can.

“There is no one here that I appreciate more in the LGBT community than Jack. By far. By far. By far. Jack has allowed me to feel more comfortable with myself, because I see how comfortable he is. He’s so unafraid. People can be inspiring in so many different ways, by being active and forward and political, and you see them being proactive. Jack is the silent fighter, he doesn’t have to say a word. It makes me so much more comfortable to come here.”

Ari is great at making people laugh and finds ways of relating to everyone. I asked Ari what his favorite LGBT event was at Duke. Here’s what he said: “You know what I fucking love? Fab Friday. I love Fab Friday. There’s so many good things at once. It’s Friday, I just got out of classes, and I see all these amazing people. You see people that you may only see once a week. And Jack makes great food.”

I know we’re all grateful for what Ari has added to our community, and it truly is a joy to see him grow and learn from the other wonderful people who support him.

Stay tuned to learn more about Ari next Thursday, and I promise there will be photos next time (y’all know how busy the last week of classes gets, cut me some slack!).

Viviana Santiago, Part Two

Now that I’ve kept you in suspense for a week about the story of the giant banana, it’s only fair that I finish it. Viviana, a few friends, and I recently went to the North Carolina State Fair in Raleigh, NC. It is truly an experience that each Duke student should have...even if getting there via public transportation is a bit tiring.



It was while walking in awe through the fairgrounds, amidst the cotton candy, rides that will kill you, and fried Oreos, that Viviana spotted it…one of those rip-off fair games with larger than life prizes.

Fortunately for her, it was a gigantic fruit that she instantly fell in love with and had to have. After lending her $20 in pursuit of the prize, she finally won it, then almost got into a fight because she hit a girl with it. It was a stuffed disaster waiting to happen. Luckily, we made it out okay, and even the banana was unharmed. Just a day in the life with Vivz.

“Summer, I need the giant banana. I need it.”

So who goes to the LGBT Center anyway? Have you ever been there? Do you want to go, but are scared? It’s ok, I was scared too. My first few times were terrifying. I clung to Chris Purcell, the Program Coordinator, because I didn’t know anyone else. Now I go there all the time.

Sure, sometimes it’s empty and eerily quiet in the morning hours, but as the day passes several people stop in to check their e-mail, try to do homework, eat, and hang out. In all honesty, it’s my haven and there’s no other place I prefer on campus. I keep to myself quite a bit, but the Center is a safe space where I don’t have to worry about anything but being a twenty-year-old Duke student who’s procrastinating just like everyone else.

My Thursday blog entries are developed from interviews I am in the process of conducting and friendships I continue to form through interactions in and out of the center. I want to put a face to our strongest allies. I want to put a story to those LGBTQ-identified students/faculty/staff who remain passionate in their dedication to whatever gets them up in the morning. I will present these tenacious individuals, who do their part in making Duke’s campus a more accepting place, not just a tolerant one, first through their devotion to LGBTQA issues. The following week, I will highlight the other components of their lives that make them who they are and the paths they’ve followed to get here, to show the multidimensionality of our community members.

Welcome to part one of my first victim profile.