What Duke owes to its Queer students.

In a conversation I recently had with a top-level administrator about the relocation of the LGBT center I felt as if the historical struggle of Queer students on campus was being ignored. The conversation went a little something like this…

Me: “We feel as if the administration gives our issues less attention then they deserve, and less attention as compared to other minority groups on campus, most notably the Black Student Alliance.”

The response was something like this “ Well I can see why you may feel that way, but Duke has such a long history of racism that we have a long way to go with reconciliation with black students”

Me: Duke also has a long history of Homophobia, that the University needs to own up to”

The reply: “yes, but Duke never officially said you can’t come here if you are gay, but it did say you can’t come here if you are black”.

Now this explanation of LGBT second-class treatment, as you can imagine angered me a great deal. To be honest, it is an administrative copout! As you may have noticed I am BLACK and I am GAY, so this whole discussion does put me in a bit of an uncomfortable situation. That being said I think my double minority status also qualifies me to point out this discrepancy without fear of being call homophobic or racist. Duke University owes a great deal to its LGBT population for past and present sins committed, and NOW is the time to pay up!

After that conversation I decided to do some digging on the LGBT history of Duke, and the struggle our predecessors had to endure. This is some of what I found…

The fist queer student group was formed in 1972 and it was called Duke Gay Alliance. Students during this time reported harassment, ostracism, and a general sense of fear. One student from the 70s recounts that many gay students of the time were advised by the University to seek psychiatric help to correct their homosexuality.

In 1974 President Stanford denied the request to include sexual orientation into the Universities non-discrimination policy. This by default meant that the University condoned institutionalized discrimination against LGBT individuals.

In 1983 the student government dechartered the queer student organization, then known as Duke Gay and Lesbian alliance. The DSG dechartered the group because a University lawyer feared the group would “promote homosexuality”, which at the time was a crime.

In the 1990’s the University would form a LGBT task force and in 94 create the LGB center (note the lack of T) but things did not get much better for students on campus. In 1999 Duke was ranked as one of the most homophobic campuses in America by the Princeton review.

Even today the University still refuses to live up to its responsibility on LGBT issues. Even now in 2012 the university refuses to come out against amendment 1 as an institution.

Still today the university will not own up to its responsibility and provide us a LGBT center with sufficient staffing, space, and resources.

The university talks a big game, but now it is time for results. Duke University owes a lot to its LGBT population, and we deserve the same treatment and respect as everyone else. I resent the assertion, that another group should receive priority treatment because of the way some administrators measure discrimination.

This is why Queer alums don’t donate money to the University.

This is why many progressive p-proshes are skeptical out attending.

This is why so many of our peers are closeted, and fearful.

Duke University must embrace its responsibility to LGBT individuals, and if they can’t do it out of the goodness of their hearts, it is time we apply the pressure because…

We will not be second-class students on our own campus

We will not be relegated to the fringes of campus life.

We will not live in fear on our own campus and,

We will not be silenced or ignored.

Duke is my home, and all I am asking I to be treated fairly within my own home.

LGBTQ Female Role Models: Susan Stryker

I recently just finished reading a great book callled, "Transgender History" by Susan Stryker, after it was recommended to me by Jack and Jess McDonald this summer. I was really impressed by Stryker's work and wanted to highlight her accomplishments here on the blog.

Susan Stryker is an openly transgender woman who has worked diligently to advance the transgender equality movement in America as a transgender historian. She recieved her Ph.D. in United States History at the University of California, Berkeley.

Stryker is a community-based historian, and she makes media and works to develop her community's history as a form of activism for the trans movement. Between 1997 and 2003 she worked as the Executive Director of the GLBT Historical Society in San Francisco, which works to preserve and further ongoing research in LGBTQ studies in one of the largest collections of queer history in the nation. She also is a vocal feminist, noting that as someone who previously presented to society as a white male, she has a "good yardstick" for measuring misogyny and sexism.

When I was reading "Transgender History" by Stryker this past month, I realized that San Francisco actually has a really rich trans history. In addition to the Compton Cafeteria Riots (see below!) and housing one of the best LGBTQ historical collections, San Francisco is also home to the country's first transgender activist group, "Transgender Nation", founded in SanFran. in 1992. The

organization worked successfully to begin integrating transgender concerns into the larger movement for LGBTQ equality. One of the activist demonstrations that TN was best known for was it's 1993 protest of the annual meeting of the American Psychiatric Association, in which the group rallied against the APA's diagnosis of the transgender identity as disordered (GID).

In addition to publishing "Transgender History" and many other works on transgender history, Stryker also co-directed the documentary, "Screaming Queens: The Riot at Compton's Cafeteria". (You can also find an Amazon trailer to the documentary that is a pretty good summary of it, here.) Here's an excerpt from the documentary below (there are some other great vintage footage portions on Youtube, too!)

"What happened at Compton's Cafteria that night wasn't a 'catfight' between screaming queens-it was a riot, and it kicked off a new human rights movement."

The documentary "Screaming Queens" covers the 1966 Compton Cafeteria Riots, which until this book (Transgender History) and this documentary, I knew very little about. It turns out that Stryker hadn't heard of the riots either, until she uncovered a vintage publication about them in the San Francisco GLBT historical society warehouses. The story goes that Gene Compton's cafeteria (at the corner of Turk and Taylor street) was a safe-haven in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco for transgender individuals (as well as other LGBQ individuals), and it was open 24/7.

"It was beautiful. Everybody would just die for window seats [at Compton's], just to show off. Jehovah's Witnesses used to drag crosses in the street in front of Compton's, and tell us we were going to burn in hell, but we ignored them. Compton's was fabulous. It was like Oz. Something like The Wizard of Oz."

The Tenderloin district of San Francisco had a police department that was allegedly paid off in order to keep the area open to prostitution and drug hustling, . The transgender and drag communities were eventually forced to the Tenderloin simply because restaurants, beauty shops, bars, and the hotels, etc. in other areas of the city wouldn't serve transgender people. The Tenderloin (and specifically, Turk Street), became known as "the gay ghetto", home to drag Balls and a larger transgender community. Not withstanding, the police could take transgender individuals as any time to jail for "female impersonation", and oftentimes they would:

"The first night I was in San Francisco I was arrested for 'sidewalk obstruction' by the 'tax squad', which was a police squad that generally made life unpleasant for people who didn't fit in. Later, I was arressted for 'female impersonation'. I never felt that I was impersonating female, I thought, I am a female!"

And while the Tenderloin was safer than other areas of San Francisco for transgender and queer individuals, it wasn't completely free of violence; there was once a serial kiler in the district who specifically targeted transgender individuals. The "Camelot" haven of the Gene Compton cafeteria didn't last forever either. When a new political activist group (composed of

many transgender individuals) named "Vanguard" started meeting at the restaurant, Compton's eventually started kicking them out. Nevertheless, Vanguard members picketed Compton's due to the discrimination they felt, which upset the Compton cafeteria management even further.

One night (the date is uncertain, but it is believed to be August 9th, 1966) the San.Fran. police department raided the cafeteria (presumably after conversations with the Compton management). Fighting started when a policeman grabbed one of the drag queens, and she threw coffee in his face. All hell broke loose after that, "triggering years of resentment", and "all the sugar shakers went through the windows and the glass doors." Police called for more backup as the fighting continued, and eventually a police car and a local newsstand were set on fire. (Business at Compton's never recovered, and a porn shop took it's place a few years later.) After the riot, police officer (and director of Community Relations), Elliot Blackstone pioneered services and helped to overturn many anti-transgender laws, thus improving conditions for the transgender community in San Francisco. Many transgender individuals at the riots also noted the marked change in the community:

"Out of Compton's [riots] came some very beautiful, beautiful women. We felt good about ourselves. And that's the most interesting part of it, because once you feel good about yourself, nobody can hurt you. Nobody can come in and turn anything around that you don't want."

Through her research, Stryker found that while the Stonewall Riots of June 28th, 1969 are typically cited as the birthplace of the modern LGBTQ rights movement, the Compton Cafeteria Riots were actually one of the first radical acts against police and institutional trans/homophobia in America. Stryker's work was instrumental in sheding light to this important and watershed event in our LGBTQ history (and if you notice on the Wiki page, Stryker is the primary reference of the entire account). She interviewed people in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco who she believed might have been present at the event, and collected first-hand knowledge of the riots through interviews and personal accounts.

Thus, we have Stryker to thank for uncovering an incredible part of our community's history; "the story was bigger than I could have ever imagined", she says of the night. Stryker also said that researching the riots made her feel the presence of a larger transgender and drag community; I think it's awesome that we can look to this group of empowered individuals in our community as a source of courage and strength.

Over the Rainbow

Welcome to the first (and hopefully not last!) installment of Over the Rainbow, a serial blog aimed at highlighting hallmarks of LGBT culture throughout history. Here you'll find celebrities, artists, writers, painters, musicians known for either their sexuality (or questioned for it), or their material as it speaks out towards a community of individuals seeking identity and union. These individuals will stretch throughout history, so no, this is not merely a cover of the most current and rising gay icons (though Gaga and Britney will get their dues, I promise!) Think of this as a history lesson that sheds light on LGBT issues at various points in time.

To begin this series let us look to the film that made the title of this blog famous: The Wizard of Oz. Released in the summer of 1939, the film is an adaptation of L. Frank Baum's work The Wonderful Wizard of Oz that covers the fantastical and often dangerous adventures of Dorothy Gale as she wanders through the Land of Oz to find her way back home to Kansas. The film is noted for its cinematography, which places a very distinct contrast between Dorothy's dreary home in Kansas (shot in Sepia tone), and the vibrant and brilliant Land of Oz (shot in Technicolor). Another directing choice that separates the film from the novel is the use of parallel characters, as Dorothy encounters individuals in Oz that mirror those back home, who are in fact played by the same actors.

This combination dualism and juxtaposition of color has itself been seen as a commentary of LGBT societal pressures to play two separate characters: that which satisfies and conforms the reserved and strained heteronormative culture of the time, and the freer, more vibrant Land of Oz that celebrates individuality and creativity. This vivacity and otherworldliness is itself the epitome of camp, that over-the-top theatricality and performance that sheds all inhibitions and worries over the eyes of judgmental observers. Judy Garland, herself, is considered an example of camp personified, lending to her labeling as one of the most famous gay icons in the 20th century, her personal struggles during her later career garnering identification and support from the gay community and culminating in a cult following of impersonators and adoring fans. In fact, Garland's portrayal of the young farm girl was so adored that a common covert conventionality (alliteration much?) of the time was to refer to a member of the LGBT community as a "friend of Dorothy." Like the companions that Dorothy meets along the yellow brick road, these individuals were also different, awkward, or socially unacceptable by society for going against the grain.

Looking closer at the title song, it is clear that the singer longs for somewhere where they can fully express themselves, where "the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true," free of repressing naysayers. How can individuals struggling to either identify or express their sexuality not relate to this desire to be treated with full merit to have all their troubles "melt like lemon drops" and make the bold claim that they too are a person with feelings and rights to exist and be heard among the masses. The rainbow, too, is both the manner in which to achieve this acceptance as well as the most prevalent example iconography in the LGBT, a banner and symbol of unification for all those that dare to stray from the status quo. Even the last line of the song, repeated for emphasis, is a call for change:

If happy little blue birds fly

beyond the rainbow,

why, oh why cant I?

The singer's pathos can either be of indignation at those who repress or irony, for who is anyone to deny a person their right to reach their full potential and seek out their own happiness? Unfortunately, for manner this lyric may also resonate as a futile attempt to break free of the ties that, for now at least, continue to weigh them down and leave them room only to dream. I now leave you all with a clip from another famous Judy Garland film, Meet Me in St. Louis, as my personal wish for you to find joy and happiness this Holiday Season, regardless of your religious affiliations. Maybe next year, our troubles, too, will be miles away: