Erasure

I’d like to talk about erasure. Now I know that this is a very broad topic which covers a wide variety of different experiences, and I can’t talk about things which I haven’t experienced. I just want to note first that I know that women, racial minorities, transgender people, and genderqueer individuals all face erasure of their own. Yet I try to keep my blog posts based as purely on my own experience as I can, so I’m going to only talk about the sort of erasure that I have experienced as a bisexual.

Essentially what bisexual erasure boils down to is how we as a society tend to explain away and ignore evidence for sexual orientations which fall outside of the typical gay/straight binary. When a person exhibits behaviors that we determine by whatever metric to be queer, we automatically assume that this person is gay. I’ve yet to hear anyone examine a person’s behavior and mannerisms and come to the conclusion that they were bisexual, pansexual, or any other orientation that isn’t gay or straight. I really do understand why these orientations aren’t recognized, and it’s because they’re complicated. A gay person can come out to a group by dropping easily recognized contextual hints about a man or woman that they like, find attractive, or are dating. If a person who is somewhere else along the spectrum of sexualities, they (we) cannot simply talk about who we are dating and have people understand. I have had many experiences at the center where I’ve started to talk about my girlfriend and had people give me funny looks, as if what I was saying was terribly confusing. Indeed, I’ve even had people cautiously ask me if I was “just an ally” because I brought up my girlfriend. No, just because I’m in a “heterosexual relationship” doesn’t automatically make me heterosexual.

Now to be fair, I have also had great experiences at the center with people who want to learn more about my sexuality and show an understanding that I can’t be defined in typical straight/gay terms. Yet the overwhelming tendency people have to associate LGBT with “gay” has been a bit of a bother for me. (Yeah, I’m prone to understatement.) When I hang a rainbow flag out of my window, to most that means that I support gay rights. But I don’t. I support LGBTQQIA (the A in this case being Asexual) rights and equality. I feel that too often when I am in the LGBT Center, it is assumed that I will only talk about my “gay side” and that my “straight side” is a taboo which unsuitable for conversation in such close proximity to rainbows. Well, I don’t have a straight side and a gay side, I am a bisexual. And I, and any other member of this community who doesn’t identify as gay or straight, shouldn’t have to try to figure out how to define my sexuality in terms that are compatible with the typical binary notion. Just some food for thought. Maybe that boy/girl you’re totally sure is gay is actually bisexual. Or pansexual. Or demisexual. You just don’t know, so please try not to assume for your own convenience.

Looking Queer

After Common Ground, I realized just how visible and heavy my identities are.  I wear them on my chest, like buffers between me and other people.  When I take them off, I feel empty.


I can never step out of my skin as a woman of color.  I could pretend to have money, but I quit that phase after Sophomore year.  What has been bothering me lately is the idea that one of my identities is not clearly marked.

I can step in and out of being gay.  I can "pass".  And furthermore, most people assume that I'm straight.  I'm not really okay with that.

So I pierced my lip.  I told a friend that I wanted to look more "queer".  I don't know if this metal in my skin makes that much of a difference to the outside world, but to me, it's a stop sign.

It's a well-known and perpetually lived fact that as people, we evaluate one another based on physical characteristics.  We then place people into boxes according to what we see.  This is my small and personal way of checking my own box.  

Stronger

I used to struggle a lot with my identity. Not just as a gay man but also as a black man, as a man, and as Greek. It seemed that so many of my identities overlapped but didn't coincide with each other. One identity was always in conflict with one or more other identities.

I felt as though I was always in this tug-of-war with myself to find which identity I really belong with. I had always felt that I should choose a side. That it wasn't fair for me to move between identities and groups, choosing which one was more convenient for me given the time and situation. I wanted to resolve myself to one main identity and let the others fall where they may.

Needless to say, that didn't work too well for me. I just couldn't deny part of who I am at the drop of a hat. I can't toggle back and forth between my identity like I do with TV channels. So, I was always frustrated. Never feeling totally out of place anywhere but also never feeling totally *in* place either.

But then, I realized something that so many people have been trying to get me to understand for the longest time. I DON'T HAVE TO CHOOSE. I can be me as me. I don't have to be me as a black man or as a gay man or as a Greek man. Who I am is a convergence of all those identities. Even if some of them don't usually mix with each other, it doesn't mean that I should feel uncomfortable in those situations. I look at myself as some weird mix of all of those that somehow works. I'm your living, breathing Chimera. Different parts put together that create a whole. One part is no more important than the other. All must work together in order to create balance.

That is what I must do. I have to accept that I am different because of my identities and that it's ok. There will rarely ever be a time where my identity completely matches up with everyone else in the room. And that's what makes me stronger than before. I can use my different identities and experiences to paint a picture of the life that others may not understand. My different identities are not a source of weakness, are not a mosaic of my life, are not the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. My identities come together to form this great work of art that is not separated into background, middle ground, and foreground. I am one big picture.

I don't have to fit into one category. I should consider myself lucky for being able to "pass" as different identities. I can go back and forth between different worlds, learning from all of them, teaching all of them about my experiences. Instead of viewing my identities as a barrier from one world, I can draw strength from all of them.

Kind of a Senior Post; or Who Really Knows Anything, Anyway?

Y’all, I kind of don’t know what to write. I’ve entered that point in the semester where I don’t have enough time to sit down and go over all the things I have to do because I have so many things to do. I know I’m not alone in that – so many of my friends are writing theses, or applying for jobs or study abroad, or rehearsing for recitals, or preparing furiously for yet another round of midterms. (Seriously, though – what is up with multiple midterms? It’s my senior year here and I still don’t understand the point. But I digress.) In addition to all of that, those of us who are nearing graduation are starting to think about what we’ll be doing after college, when we’re not trying desperately to forget that there is life after college.

I actually have it pretty easy: I know that, barring something apocalyptic, I’m going to graduate school next year to eventually earn my PhD. But everything other than that hard fact is in a scary state of flux. I don’t know where I’m going to live – there are no Room Picks for apartments, and I’m not even 100% sure where I’ll be, geographically speaking. I don’t know anybody at any of the schools to which I have applied, and I’ll be leaving most of my friends – and my girlfriend - here in North Carolina (or wherever they’re going after graduation). I don’t even know what my place will be within the LGBTQA community at my future institution. A good deal of my sense of self and personal growth is due to my involvement, however much or little over the years, in Duke’s LGBTQA community. I know where I fit at Duke, and now, just as I’ve gotten comfortable, I must leave to make a new place for myself somewhere else. So, given all of that uncertainty, is it any wonder that I don’t know what to write for this blog?

Finding Myself

[Editor's note: Yesterday, Duke and Duke Med issued a statement of support for This Wonderful Community. Read more here, if you wish. But definitely read more below for an incredibly powerful blog post!]

If you asked me at the beginning of my Duke career to tell you who I was, I probably would have given you a really superficial answer. You see, what I would have said then would have referred to what I did rather than who I was. I say this, because looking back on it, I was very lost as a person and very unsure of what it meant to be confident in my identity. Coming out of high school, I allowed my identity to be defined by what my family, friends, and environment expected of me. Looking at my life now, it seems as though I have nothing left of what I used to deem important—sports, religion, school activities, etc. In writing this, I feel as though I should mourn the ‘identity’ that I seem to have lost—but I don’t. You see, it was never my identity to begin with. And in realizing that over the past three and a half years, I feel as though the value of what I have gained entirely outweighs whatever I may have given up.

I suppose to begin answering the question of who I am, I need to first explain how I came to realize that I needed to define my identity for myself. While I go back and forth between not wanting to be labeled first and foremost by this one aspect of my identity but then also realizing that it is very central to who I am, I think that I have come to accept that my identity as a queer woman has been the driving force of my identity development. I began to question my sexuality late in high school, but it wasn’t until my sophomore year at Duke that I was ready to fully admit it to myself. My biggest struggles adjusting to life as a college student ultimately stemmed from the major questions that I was dealing with internally—questions that absolutely made it extremely difficult to define who I was or who I wanted to be. The inner conflict that I experienced over those first two years affected everything from the friendships I formed to the activities I chose to get involved with on campus. Unfortunately, those decisions that I made out of fear or confusion were not fulfilling and led me to be relatively unhappy or discontent with my life.

My dissatisfaction with the way I was living my life continued to grow until I reached the point when I knew I had to make a change—there literally was no alternative. So I made a decision which I think will probably be one of the most crucial and life-altering decisions that I will ever make. Since I felt as though I could not get over my fear in order to come out at Duke, or more generally in an environment where there were people who knew me, I decided to study abroad. But, I made myself promise to take active steps towards coming out and affirming my identity. I sat on a beach a week after I arrived in my new temporary home and said to myself, “Okay. You’ve flown across an entire ocean to get away from everything you know. Start from scratch and figure out who the hell you are.”

So I did. I started taking very big, very scary, steps towards affirming my identity. I went to LGBT events held by the university I was studying at, I met new friends and didn’t let them assume that I was straight, I cut off all my hair (something I had been dying to do, but was too afraid that it would ‘out’ me), and I even pursued a relationship with a woman. Within a few weeks, or perhaps even days, of starting to take these steps I felt like a completely different person. I woke up happy. I lived every day to its fullest, and enjoyed it. And most importantly, I felt a huge sense of confidence in myself. I finally felt like Logan, a person who knows who she is and who shares that person with the rest of the world. I felt like a person of worth.

These are feelings that I really had never experienced before. I think it’s important to note that I don’t think coming out in itself was what made me happy. More, I believe that in denying my queer identity, I also had to hide other parts of me. Accepting and affirming my sexuality has allowed me to reveal and develop so many other really fantastic parts of my personality: I feel comfortable and confident in expressing all of me, not just bits and pieces.

So who am I? I am a queer woman. More importantly, I am funny and love nothing more than making people laugh. I am passionate: I want to be an advocate for transgender youth who often receive little to no support from their family or friends. I am social, and would now almost always choose spending time with friends over being alone (which would have been a crazy thought for me a few years ago). I am intelligent, and I finally feel confident enough to engage in conversations that challenge my thinking. I am strong—nothing like the weak person who didn’t have the strength or courage to take charge of her own life.

Who I am will surely continue to change. I’ve learned through my time at Duke that I should and must be an active participant in my own life. It’s up to me to create and live a life that I am proud of, and if I’m not satisfied, it’s up to me to make a change.

Diversity (of Opinion)

Gay. Lesbian. Bisexual. Pansexual. Asexual. Transgender. Queer. Dyke. Butch. Femme. Otter. Cub. Twink. Queer Women of Color. Queer Men of Color. Questioning. Straight-acting. Effeminate. Introvert. Extrovert. Activist. Catholic. Christian. Atheist.

So why did I choose to start this blog post with a block of labels? Well these are all labels that at least one person that I know of in the LGBT community here at Duke identifies with. As you can see, this is a pretty hefty list of labels. We already knew, of course, that the LGBT community was a very diverse community, filled with all sorts of people with all sorts of identities. This diversity is one of our greatest strengths, as it gives a large variety of personalities and life experiences to draw upon. Yet I would also contend that this is one of our greatest weaknesses, if we allow it to be.

Think about it. What ties our community together? We have no common culture, no hereditary history to remember, we can’t even pick each other out of a crowd reliably. The one common thread that we share is our “queerness”, in whatever form that may take. Even this common thread is very slim, which is what I was trying to show by the above block of labels. This in itself is not a bad thing, but it only becomes an issue when we start infighting. I’ve noticed simply from looking at the blog that we as a community have a tendency to argue over a lot of different things. While argument is not an inherently bad thing, it is important for us to maintain an appropriate level of respect for each other.

An example from just yesterday on the blog is Shane’s post. Shane expressed what I believe to be a somewhat unpopular opinion within our Community, his love and commitment to the Catholic Church. In the comments on his post, he got some pretty malignant backlash attacking him personally. Frankly, that is just an unacceptable way of dealing with a difference of opinion. While I personally do not understand how one reconciles their commitment to the Roman Catholic Church and is open about their sexuality, that doesn’t invalidate Shane’s experiences. Personally, I don’t believe in God, and I don’t particularly care for the Catholic Church. Just because I haven’t ever experienced this pull and call of the Church does not in any way make Shane’s experience wrong or stupid. I’ve talked to Shane personally, and I can tell you that he is definitely not stupid.

When we attack each other like this instead of rationally engaging each other for a conversation, all we do is degrade ourselves and take nothing from the experience. What does one gain by being nasty about a rationally presented position? Nothing, except maybe some smug sense of satisfaction. I’m sure that anyone here at Duke knows that isn’t the way to have a real dialogue. We all know what this kind of thing can do. What if someone gets that kind of backlash and decides that the LGBT community is too hostile from them and withdraws? Many of us know how fragile our impressions of the LGBT community are when we first get involved with it. I was lucky to get a good experience with good people, who both accepted me and challenged my views in a respectful way. We can at least try to be that decent to everybody who comes to engage us, can’t we?

In summation, if someone states an opinion to you that prompts an instinctive and passionate response, please try to do your best and think. Most of the time that first response is far more aggressive than is useful. Think about what point you’re trying to really make, and if you are presenting emotionally and aggressively, or calmly and rationally. Especially on electronic forums, read your comment aloud before you post it. Let’s keep this a community that’s open to discussion about all ideas and experiences, shall we?

The Introvert Who Wanted To Be An Extrovert

Happy New Year everybody! I hope that you have had a wonderful break and whether you like it or not, I hope you’re ready for another semester! I’ve had a pretty boring break, but I’ve been hard at work on an important Quidditch project for the IQA, so it has kept me busy. Also, if there are any Class of 2016ers who are reading the blog, welcome to the Duke family! We’re awaiting your arrival here in a short eight months (or four if you visit for Blue Devil Days).

If you have read my posts in the past, you know that I have often made known that I am an introvert (Actually, I’ve been pretty vocal about it, which has some ironic undertones).  By saying that I am an introvert is in no way to undermine being an extrovert, but rather I want to make it well known that I identify as an introvert and I wouldn’t want to be mistaken otherwise. I’ve had to “come out” as an introvert a few times this past year since some people did not believe me.  Needless to say, it can be very exhausting and disheartening when people don’t believe me, but alas, it’s the truth. It’s a shame that I’m often just assumed to be an extrovert, and on at least one occasion, I was pretty much assumed to be an extrovert because I am gay. This is also a serious case of stereotyping, but I reserve this argument for a later time.

I have made the argument in the past that the LGBTQ community is meant for extroverts. Bars, clubs, pride parades and other socials events provide evidence for my claim, with very little evidence for introvert-guided activities, at least that I’ve noticed in college. As an introvert, I have a difficult time immersing myself into a crowd of extroverts with the intention of meeting somebody. Being an introvert is not a temporary state or mood; it is a trait of personality, and by no means does it imply that I’m enjoying being single. Yet when the majority of the LGBT individuals I meet are highly outgoing and extroverted, I lose hope every day of finding another introvert. I have tried very hard to lean into discomfort and go to some events to meet people that made me feel very uncomfortable, but every time I do so, I feel like I’m being judged. I feel like people are fully aware of my social awkwardness and I beat myself up every time because of my looks and because I’m socially awkward, when in reality it is my introversion that holds me back from talking to new people at such events.  The issues with my appearance deal with the lack of self-confidence I have in such situations because extroverts tend to exude confidence more, which is quite the downer for me.

I know that I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but I write this to make a point. And it’s a very simple point. A point that makes me very angry and upset at the very thought of it.

I wish I were an extrovert.

I have been struggling with this for a long time, since being extroverted is inherently not me. It’s a shame that I’m essentially trying to deny a very important part of my personality, but when I feel that I am repeatedly told by the gay community that introverts are “wrong,” I cannot help but feel this way.  If I were an extrovert, I would be able to talk to guys with some social acuity. I would actually be able to talk to somebody on Facebook as opposed to opening a guy’s chat window (who is typically an extrovert), typing out various greetings, and then erasing them for fear of being perceived as a stalker or a creep.  I would actually get to experience rejection from somebody else as opposed to experiencing self-rejection.  And who knows? Maybe I would have a little better self-esteem and self-confidence.

Recently on the blog, there have been many posts on identity, insecurity, and questioning. I write my post to provide a different perspective on my own form of identity and insecurities attached to personality within the LGBTQ community. I am very proud of being an introvert, and in my daily activities, my introversion has been a blessing. But in the social realm, I’ve found it to be a curse. I am frequently misunderstood, and while I often place the social barriers on myself, I have to put on my “extroverted” mask in order to go out in public, especially to events with lots of gay guys so that I don’t come off as weird. Yet this act causes me to lose a large portion of my identity. It’s as if I’m living two lives to please everybody, except myself.

If anybody has any other perspective or advice to offer, I greatly appreciate it, not only for me, but others who can empathize with this post. Please know that you are not alone, and even though it may seem daunting, being yourself is truly the only way to be happy. 

Taking A Step Back

I’m going to stop identifying as gay for a while. No, this does not mean I am straight. It doesn’t mean I’m bisexual, and it certainly doesn’t mean that I am NOT gay. What it does mean is that I am unsure of a lot of things in my life right now, and am questioning my sexuality. This also does not mean that I am going to stop going to the LGBT center, or delight in having life changing conversations about sexuality and all the ramifications thereof with Megan in the hallway between our rooms. It does not mean that I will fight any less hard for the LGBT rights and it does not mean that I will not go to the ballot box and vote down amendment one. It DOES mean that, for me, right now, identifying as gay man gives me more pain than happiness in my life. I am 100% secure in my male gender identity, and everything else by which I identify. In fact, the only identity about which I am insecure is my sexual identity.

There is so much that gives me joy in life right now. I love my friends, my family, going to basketball games, the band, hanging out with Round Table, etc. I am so excited to start my classes for second semester, so thrilled to learn more about engineering and get back into the Perkins grind. The only real source of anguish in my life right now is in my sexuality. I have yet to have any type of meaningful, loving romantic relationship with a man or a woman, and this lack of experience only heightens my insecurity. I am aware of the pettiness of this statement, but the lack of romantic love in my life hinders my ability to embrace all the love that is around me. This may not make sense to every reader, but in identifying as gay, I feel an inherent pressure to find a partner, a boyfriend, a lover. Because I have so many issues with my own sexuality identity at the moment, engaging in one of the aforementioned relationships wouldn’t be fair for my future partner, and wouldn’t be healthy for me. I have a lot to figure out before I am ready to accept romantic love into my life. And while I figure all of that out, I am going to stop identifying as gay so that I do not feel the pressure to find a partner, and so that I can fully embrace the love of my friends and family.

Now, I know that not identifying as gay might hinder the movement towards LGBT equality. Having one less member of the community who is secure and actively fighting for Our rights might hinder progress. I may be the only LGBT identified individual that any number of my friends know, and by no longer identifying as gay, I am severing any ties that these friends have to the LGBT community. I am aware that not identifying as gay is inherently selfish, which is why I intend to get my identity sorted out with haste. By taking this (hopefully) shortened leave, I can come back a healthier and stronger member of the community. I give a lot of myself to a lot of different people and different groups and communities, and this is going to be the first holistically selfish thing I have done in a while. For that I hope you readers can forgive me.

I don't want this to sound like I am throwing myself a pity party. I am consciously thankful for all of the blessings and people I have in my life. I am simply trying to step back, get some perspective, and resolve an issue in my life that is causing me pain. My purpose in sharing this with you all is to convey that someone like me, who has been out for a while, still can have questions about his sexuality. I hope that knowing you are not alone in your process of questioning gives you some sort of comfort.

I'ma be me Gay vs. Black

Happy News Years Eve everyone!

I recently had a conversation with another black queer student at Duke, and it caused me to ponder a question that I had never thought about before, but yet was always there. He was explaining to me why he doesn't feel as comfortable in the gay community, as he does in the black community. He is very active in the Mary Luo center for black culture, but I don’t think he has ever set foot in the LGBT center. For me I’m almost the exact opposite. I feel much more comfortable within the queer community than I do the black community, and I frequent the LGBT center regularly, while I can count on one hand the times I’ve been to the Mary Lou.

So the question is why? Why do I associate with one part of my identify so much more than the other? I find it particularly interesting because 1. My Blackness is visible unlike my gayness, and 2. I was raised black, while I have only recently learned what it means to be gay.

I think one reason I’m more involved with the gay community is because I feel that it is harder to be gay than black. As the black lesbian comedian Wanda Sykes put it “ it’s harder to be gay than black, because you don’t have to come out as black”. When I was having this conversation with my black queer friend I told him that I feel the LGBT community needs my support more. The constant attack on the LGBT community by conservative politicians and religious leaders has help shape my self-identification. My Grandparents had to struggle for their rights as African Americans, and now I have to fight for many of my rights as a Gay American. In my home state of North Carolina I can’t get married, give blood, and I don’t have protection from work place discrimination. These things stem from the fact that I am gay, not because I’m black. The fact that more people have a problem with my gayness is one reason I identify more with it. This may seem Kinda odd but it’s one of the ways I’ve learned to empower myself…. or maybe it’s just me trying to be controversial and tick off homophobes (my friends often accuse me of being purposefully controversial) but either way it works for me.

Another reason I think I identify more as a gay man is because of the guilt I still harbor for not coming out sooner. Sometimes I wonder if I am trying to make up for lost time. Whether right or wrong I do feel that I owe something to the gay part of myself for the 19 years I spent living in shame of it.

With all of that said, I still whole heartily embrace and celebrate my African American identity. I am proud to be black, and I m proud to be gay. Both shape who I am, and the way I live my life. Truth be told, I think that my identification as a gay man needs more attention at this part of my life. I’m still learning what it means to live my life openly and proudly as a gay man, and so to a certain extent one part of me is playing catch up with the other. It is my goal to one day find a balance between the to largest components of my identity, but for now I think it is ok if I pay a little more attention to a part of myself that I have neglected for way to long.

Gay Time

The past few months have been incredibly stressful for me. I was in a relationship, then out of a relationship, dealing with housing problems, adjusting to life off campus, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, trying to figure out *if* I can do something with my life, the usual identity crisis that I never seem to figure out, and more things that perpetually swim around in my head. I've had my good times, my bad times, my amazing times, and times where I wanted to crawl into a cave and fade from existence. On top of it all, it's my senior year. I've got one more chance to do things right here, to get involved, to reconnect with old friends. So, I sat down with myself and asked myself, "Self, what do you want to do with yourself this year? It's your last year. You only get one more shot. What are you going to do?"

After first answering myself by saying that I'm going to Disney World, I thought for a minute and my big revelation: "Self, I'm going to be gay."

"Good choice, my friend."

I didn't start coming to the Center or LGBT events until my sophomore year. It was a very different time back then and decided that I didn't want to get involved with the community. I had my fraternity. I had my a cappella group. I had the FAC program. Gay was never a major identity for me anyway. I didn't need the community. I thought I'd be fine without it. As time went on, I would randomly show up at a Fab Friday or pop in to use a computer for 5 minutes but it didn't become a regular thing until junior year. Even then, I'd come to Fab Friday and that was about it.

And so, I just went through the first 3 years of my college career being openly gay but not being gay. I'd go to a gay club here and there but that was about the extent of it. And for a while, I was fine. I was happy having a short emergence into the gay world and then going back to my normal life. But, recently, things have been different.

I've had this gnawing feeling in me that something just wasn't right. Something was missing in my life and I needed to find out what it is. I got tired of my same old routine. In the midst of just going through the emotions of life, I lost myself. I didn't really know who AJ was anymore. I can tell you what he's majoring in, what music he likes, and what he's involved with on campus. But I couldn't tell you anything about AJ.

So the soul searching began. What in the world is wrong with me? What aren't I having fun with my brothers like I always used to? What am I doing wrong? I'm not doing something right. Then, it hit me.

Me. I'm not doing me the right way. I've always associated the Center with being a very flamboyant, overly radical, just super-gay gay. That's not exactly my style (I do have my moments, honey). I ended up just staying away from it. Finding friends outside of the Center. It took me all of this time to realize what I should have known all along: The Center is what you make it. Going there doesn't mean that I'm being extra gay. It doesn't mean anything. There were people that I once resented because I thought that they labeled me as not being gay enough or thought they looked down on me for not making the Center my second home. And I was wrong. I was drop dead wrong. I was basing my view of myself off of what I thought others would view me as. Just revealing my insecurities about myself.

And so, I chose not to really acknowledge who I am because of that. I knew and accepted my gayness but thought that my gayness was not the gayness that was at the Center. This stupid ideology led me to not really have many gay friends, thinking I didn't need friends like them. I wasn't one of those gays. I don't need to be surrounded by gays all the time. I have a life outside of being gay.

All of that came back to bite me in the butt when I realized that I was neglecting myself of a world of all these awesome queers and allies. I was rejecting my community and that simply just cannot be.

It's with that in mind that I've deiced to be gay this year. You'll often see me planted at a computer doing work (Facebooking) at the Center. You'll see me be one of the first people to show up at Fab Friday and one of the last to leave. I've decided to have regular parties at my apartment for the gays and allies. It's time for me accept the community that's been here for me all along. It's time for me to be gay.

"Available."

[Author's Note: This was a year of tremendous personal growth for me. I started talking with those closest to me about my sexuality. After 10 months of talking in hushed-tones and strict confidentiality, I am finally writing for the blog about my personal experiences, past and present. Throughout this process, writing has been a really helpful outlet for me. Some things have changed since I wrote this, and other posts that I will publish soon but that I also wrote in the past. Other things have stayed the same. Regardless, the following post speaks directly to how I felt at the time that I wrote it (mid semester, Spring 2011). I will not be modifying my writings to reflect my current state of mind. Rather, I will denote when posts are backdated and will offer more current reflections in other columns. Finally, I wish to thank those who have been my confidantes along the way. There is no way that I could be posting on the BDU Blog about this without our many conversations and your unwavering support.]

I was talking with a good friend who is a little older than me. She was “out” to me, and frequently updated me with the latest in her relationships with other women, though I wasn’t really sure how she identified, specifically: bi, lesbian, queer, something else? So when she told me that she was considering dating some “dudes,” and we’d never discussed her dating men past high school and coming out, it seemed like a situation in which I could comfortably and appropriately ask her about the nuances of her sexual orientation. Her response? “Available.” She didn’t know it at the time, but that one word just made so much sense to me. In fact, if you pressed me today to “choose a label! You have to pick something!,” that’s probably what I’d tell you. I’m available.

What’s it mean to be “available?” I’d say that it’s…

• …sort of like what others conceive of as bisexual, but it expresses the fact that my “sexuality” is more about philosophy and less about sex (read: not really about sex, at all).

• …sort of like being pansexual, which is philosophically and semantically different from people who identify as bisexual and therefore takes care of the part where “my ‘sexuality’ is more about philosophy,” but it doesn’t adequately express the part where my ‘sexuality’ is, paradoxically, not really about sex.

You might also understand it as being…

• …sort of like being hetero- or homo-flexible, without the hetero- or homo- prefixes (see below for an explanation…and see above about the part where my sexuality isn’t really about sex).

I know, now you’re really lost.

So, here’s the philosophy part: I’m not “gender blind,” but you could probably say that I am “gender apathetic.” I just don’t really give a fuck care if you’re a man or a woman or queer or trans or feminine or masculine or what. Basically, as I see it, gender is confining and I don’t want it to limit me when I choose with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. I want to like and fall in love with a person—not a gender.

Sometime ago, an anonymous post (to which I had a very visceral reaction) asked why more out people don’t show their “interested in” on facebook (see #4). I have a lot of thoughts about this and loved the debate that got going in the comment section, but for right now, I’ll say this: I’m not interested in women, interested in men, or interested in men and women, as my facebook options may be. Rather, I’m interested in people. If you’re an amazing person, I want you in my life.

That’s why it’s sort of like being “heteroflexible” or “homoflexible.” In fact, if I still identified as straight, I’d definitely qualify my being straight with also being heteroflexible. Except that I can’t, right now, tell you whether I would choose the word which emphasizes the “hetero” or “homo” part. Which is where the sex part comes in…

The sex part: To determine which prefix to add to the word “flexible,” I’d have to be able to (and willing to?) identify what gender I was primarily attracted to.

I know we were all basically raised under the following two tenets: one being that two plus two equals four and the other being that “we are all sexual beings” (that’s why we have sex ed in the fifth grade, right? “DON’T HAVE SEX NOW. But someday when you’re married, you will, because that’s what people do when they are married.”)

Well, while two plus two will ALWAYS equal four (this is Duke, which means that some smart math major will probably correct me in the comment section, but roll with it, folks) some of us are more sexual than others, and I’ve found that I’m not really attracted to people, almost ever. And there are 101 reasons why this might be my situation (some more personal than others), and it very well may change, but for now, that’s how it is.

Which comes back to the reason that the labels bisexual and pansexual make me uncomfortable. It isn’t out of some internalized bi-phobia, but rather because the emphasis of the words is on sex, and for better or for worse (I’m, unfortunately, often convinced that it’s for worse), that just isn’t my experience.

Perhaps asexual is the correct way to express where I’m at? But, I’m not really convinced that that sums it up, either. For one, I’ve had crushes before—just not recently (read: a long time). And, I (albeit very rarely) have fleeting moments of feelings for people. Finally, it’s not something I’m super comfortable with.

During the moment when my friend identified as available, she made it sound so simple. The fact that we talked for two hours more, though, confirmed for me what I already knew from my own personal experiences: getting to where we both are today is a long, uncomfortable, and really personal journey with approximately 12318023 barriers along the way.

Butterfly In A Hurricane

So, my last posts have been more along the let’s-talk-about-uncomfortable-issues line of topics. But, for this one, I wanted to bring it back to a more personal level. The only problem with that is that I don’t know where to begin. I’ve got so many thoughts and emotions swirling around, zipping back and forth between my head and my heart, dancing in my chest and on my sleeves that I can’t really describe any of it. I guess I’ll just start...

I feel alone. I feel like I’m lost in the world again, similar to the way I felt throughout high school and early college. I believe Katy Perry was talking to me when she asked if I ever felt like a plastic bag drifting in the wind. Back in high school, I wasn't like everybody else (even beyond being gay). Somehow, everyone just became absolute best friends and we’re hanging out with each other all the time. They always made plans for the summer and birthdays. I, who was right there at the table while they were making these plans, was never invited. For fear of not having anyone else to sit with, I stuck with that group of “friends” for the rest of school. But, as soon as graduation came, it was goodbye and good luck. I wasn't really living those 4 years. I was floating through life just waiting for life to settle me in some place I could grow.

Well, it landed me here at Duke. As much as I could, I rooted myself to the ground and began the photosynthesis process of taking in all Duke has to offer and turning it into energy to grow into the mighty oak my mother says I am inside. It worked for a while. I began to find my way around life and began to develop into my full potential, but somewhere along the way, a storm came through and uprooted my not-too-deep roots. Once again, I was caught up in the whirlwind of life being tossed to and fro, torn inside out, thrown into the haze of confusion and despair, and flung into the darkness of depression. I lost sense of who I was and who I wanted to be. I didn’t know me. I didn’t know anything except that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The friends I once felt so close to moved on and we followed different paths, never destined to cross again. Others that I once walked side-by-side with now had paths that took them just out of arm’s reach, leaving me ever grasping for that closeness once again.

Every once in a while, the storm will die down just long enough for me to catch my breath and gather what little identity, security, peace, joy, happiness I could find. But as soon as I had a shred of each in my hand, the storm would pick up once again, ripping me from my little bastion of safety. I’m in that hurricane once again. I don’t know where I belong. Do I belong with the gays, the greeks, or the blacks? I don’t know where I’m going. Do I go to Fab Friday, Shooters, or a probate? I’m just trying to survive this thing called life. I’m trying to navigate these highways that everybody else seems to be speeding by on while I’m driving in the right lane going 5 mph under the speed limit.

I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. And I think people know that. They can sense how uncomfortable I am in these spaces where I don’t feel completely comfortable/ accepted/ welcome. That’s what this whole thing boils down to. I’m not totally comfortable anywhere anymore. It’s like I missed the memo about what to wear or when there was an open invitation and I showed up wearing the wrong color or on the wrong day.

I feel like it’s too late now. I mean, I’m a junior. At this point, I feel like everybody’s got everything figured out or, at least, some sense of something. They either know where they belong/ who they belong with/ or are totally happy being alone. I’m not either one of those and, with groups already stabilized, I don’t feel like I can/ want to use the energy trying to break into one. I’m stuck in this limbo where I just don’t know what to do. Nothing seems constant in my life. Everything and everyone is always changing and I don’t know how to manage it all. People come and go. The only thing constant is change.

Multiple Identities, One Person

I love the rain. There’s something about rain that makes me feel very reflective. I like playing in the rain when I’m not on my way to class or have something else to do. It’s very cleansing and therapeutic for me. So today’s sudden monsoon put me back in my pensive mood. I began to reflect on my classes this year and on the mistakes I’ve made. As I thoughtfully meandered my way through the past academic year, I halted my psychological car in front of this one awesome memory I like to call Clinical Issues for LGBTQ, a wonderful class taught by the amazing Dr. Janie Long (PLEASE take this class. I promise you will not regret it.). So one of the readings for the class was entitled “Black-Gay or Gay-Black” and it basically stated that when a person is gay and Black, that person must decide whether he or she finds identifying as gay or Black to be more important. For example, I would have to choose which of my identities matters most to me. This made me a very unhappy person.

According to this article, I cannot equally and fully acknowledge who I am as a person. What am I supposed to do? Should I neglect one part of me while I devote more attention to another part of me? I can’t do that. I am me and all of me. It’s not possible for me to choose what matters most to me. I am gay AND Black, neither more gay than Black nor more Black than gay. I do not choose to highlight one over the other or attempt to conceal one and promote the other. So where do I fit in in this dichotomy of identity? Is it possible that maybe, just maybe, I actually do unknowingly fall into one of these categories?

So I sat and I pondered. I pondered and I sat. Then, I went and played in the rain a little. Then, it was back to sitting and thinking until I finally realized something. As much as I hated to admit it to myself (and now y’all too), I’m a gay-black. It’s not purposefully done at all. I just see so many more issues that the LGBTQ community faces that the Black community doesn’t. I have not fully come to a conclusion as to why I participate in more LGBTQ groups and events than Black ones, but I’m beginning to understand why. As I was reflecting on another class I took this semester about racial passing in literature (Shout out to Prof. Maurice Wallace. You should so take one of his classes, too), we had discussions about what it means to be Black and some other very interesting discussions. Anyway, from that class, I’ve learned that my views and belief about race are not quite views that many others share. But it’s due to my own view on race that I’m not active in Black student organizations.

However, that does not at all mean that I am neglecting my heritage. I will never forget where I came from, but remembering the past will not hold me back from realizing the future. I have multiple identities. I draw strength, power, courage, and love from all of my identities and the communities associated with them. So, I still believe that the article was incorrect in stating that I view one identity as more important than the other. I fully embrace every facet of who I am.

Sometimes, classes teach you more than just knowledge about the subject of the course. Every once in a while, you get one of those amazing classes where you learn about yourself, too.

Now, I want to thank Dr. Janie Long and Prof. Maurice Wallace for helping me to learn and grow more as a student and as an individual. I could not have done it without their guidance. I owe both of you so much.

Johnny Queer? No, Johnny Weir

Every other Wednesday I will be writing about LGBT Issues in Sport. Between each regularly scheduled post I may chime in with more posts if something comes up and/or I have the time. I have a serious academic interest in sport and in this column I’ll be highlighting current events, sharing resources, reflecting on complex issues and sharing athlete’s stories among other things. For more about me, you can read my first post, here. Please feel free to email me with thoughts or if you come across something you’d like me to include on the blog.

US Olympic figure skating personality Johnny Weir is always in the spotlight. Currently under attack by animal rights advocates for his use of real fur, Weir has a history of dodging questions about his sexuality. In recent years his eccentricity on and off the ice has sparked conversation. Some are critical of his effeminate nature—saying he’s figure skating’s cliché and not good for the sport which is trying to grow its fan base (read: be more masculine in the traditional, gender binary way). Others love the passion and grace he brings to the ice. Either way, most everyone has an opinion about his sexuality and wants to know definitively if he’s gay or straight.

Most recently, ESPN’s Jim Caple went to write a story about Weir—who suggested that they chat while getting a mani-pedi at a Fifth Avenue spa. Following this experience, Caple wrote a lengthy article for ESPN’s Outside the Lines called “Johnny Weir is a Real Man.” In it, he chronicles Weir’s flamboyant mannerisms and attitudes while defending figure skating as a “real sport.” He also applauds Weir for being so open and voicing his strong opinions. Opinionated he may be, but Weir isn’t a completely open book. When Caple asks him about being gay or straight Weir responds by saying

With that kind of thing, I don't see the importance of revealing anything about yourself. I'm looking at you, and you are just you. I don't care if you're married or gay. All these things make you you. So whether it's gay, Asian, lesbian, whatever, Jehovah's Witness, these things make people up. It's not the most important thing whether someone is gay or not. I want to be judged by who I am, not what I am. I mean, I am Johnny Weir. Judge me the way you see me, love me the way you see me, hate me the way you see me. All these things make me up, and sexuality and having sex is the least that people should worry about.

Most people assume he is gay, which leads to some hostile feelings from members of the LGBT community. There seem to be two schools of thought on the matter. The first is a sort of resentment toward him not being a spokesperson or perhaps having the courage to be out as a public figure. One commenter wrote the following:

Thanks Johnny Weir, for not actually coming out of the closet and demonstrating that successful [sic], high-profile athletes can be openly gay, but instead remain "undeclared" and play up every negative stereotype of male homosexuality that the media will needlessly feed off of until you inevitably get caught "in the act." Thank you for not doing the hard work of being an openly gay athlete that may be able to transcend sterotypes [sic] and be a role model for young gays around the country, but instead looking like a 16 year-old truckstop twinkerbell [sic] that just hooked up at a Pride Alliance meeting while giving the media open cover for reinforcing every negative cliche about male homosexuality.

Seriously, on behalf of the gay community, we thank you for all you have done.

Fucker. [1]

The truth is that I get where this person is coming from. Having public icons who lead openly out lives is important for progress and providing role models. But at the same time, I LOVE the message that Weir is sending. Personally, I find it moving and empowering. I think it’d be a different story if he vehemently denied being gay or proclaimed his heterosexuality at every chance (let’s not forget that all of this is assuming that he’s actually gay…but more on that below). In short, the message he’s sending is equally as valuable as coming out.

As much as he isn’t willing to be the token gay athlete, he seems to be waging his own war on homophobia. Only, his message is “I’m not going to let you define me by my sexuality.” Today, this seems to be a popular push by many members in the LGBT community. In the past, and even still today, people come out and are accepted and embraced—but then they’re forever stuck in this role of “the gay _________ (fill in the blank).” Weir challenges that. There are so many complexities that make each of us who we are and sexuality isn’t necessarily the defining characteristic (this sentiment seems to be expressed fairly frequently on the blog and at The Center). I don’t think he’s taking this stand with the intent to benefit the gay rights movement, because his website makes it quite clear that everything he does he does for himself (peruse through his Q&A and you’ll get that impression, too) but I think he’d be glad to know he was making a difference.

But, just for fun, let’s play out some other scenarios.

Alternative 1: He comes out. If Johnny Weir came out, let’s be honest—nobody would be shocked. I don’t believe that his coming out would shake things up or advance the movement. At all. People would simply say “Oh, Johnny Weir is gay? Yeah, like, we already knew that.” I don’t mean to say that he shouldn’t come out, if he’s gay and if he wants to. I just mean to say that I don’t think it’d be the progressive move his critics are hoping it would be.

Alternative 2: He’s straight. I know. You think I’m kidding. But, I’m not. What if Johnny Weir is straight? Has anybody considered that? Instead of making a blanket statement about sexuality not defining him, if he’s straight, his only other real alternative is to proclaim his heterosexuality. Him proclaiming his heterosexuality in the face of everyone who calls him gay (which I promise you, would be a lot) would make it seem like being gay was a bad thing—something you don’t want to be, rather than just something he isn’t. He’d be forced to defend his straightness and flaunt it. Honestly, it’s one of the things I hate most about people: going out of your way to make sure everyone knows you’re straight lest someone think otherwise. Not to mention, others would be even more critical of him than they are now because they’d all insist that he was secretly gay and setting a bad example. And in the end, it wouldn’t make him the out-gay-athlete-role-model people want him to be, anyways.

So, maybe his message isn’t just revolutionary (in that, other celebrities haven’t taken this route before…at least that I’m aware of). Maybe it’s also the most impactful.

Readers, I’d be interested to hear what you all think about his message and the alternative scenarios that I’ve provided. Is it empowering? Can you identify with the desire to not just be “the gay ______ (fill in the blank)”? Am I totally off base? Is there another scenario I didn’t think of?

On another note: gay, straight, bi, or unlabeled…I think you’ll agree that Weir's performance to Lady GaGa’s Poker Face is maybe the sexiest figure skating you’ve ever seen. So evocative. So erotic. Seriously, a must watch.

Oh, him? He's gay.

I am a 21-year-old gay, Catholic, analytical, somewhat musical male. I'm also confused as hell about life right now, but I imagine that will pass someday (maybe not!).

While I'm not a big fan of such attempts to describe people, reductive analysis does tend to reveal certain underlying features (structural details, one might say). Which parts of your you-ness are most important to you?

The unofficial Duke motto is "Work hard, play hard." And it's a fitting one, I think. The fact is, there's simply not enough time in the week to devote yourself to all too many activities. Additionally, there are too many people to know everyone all too well. As a result, this sort of quick reduction is almost a necessary mode of functioning. Who's he? Oh, he's in band. She sings in Chorale. These two write for the Chronicle. She does Vespers. He's in the Pitchforks. (note: these are far from representative :P)

This being the case, it seems that many students fight tooth and nail for even a second identifier. She's in [sorority] and she's premed. Speaking from my perspective, it's definitely a somewhat frightening notion that people will see me as one thing and one thing only.

A lot of people complain about self-segregation at Duke. They're usually talking about racial self-segregation, but it goes way beyond that. People self-segregate by major, religion, sexual orientation, gender, socioeconomic status, social standing, and a whole host of other things. Why is this? I certainly think one reason for it is that we want to spend time with people who understand what it's like to be [adjective]. Simultaneously, I also imagine that if I'm hanging out with people who are also [adjective], I'm going to be seen as more than just that. It's like those little travel games or hidden message things where you put on the red glasses and it lets you see what's under all the red ink--when your primary descriptor is nullified, you're required to look beyond it.