Anonymous Posts (3.19.12-3.25.12)

Every week, we collect anonymous entries sent in using the link on our sidebar and post them all on Monday. We post anything as long as it doesn't contain personal attacks, hate speech, or express or insinuate that one is at risk for hurting themselves or someone else. Please read this for an explanation of this policy and seek help if your or a friend find yourself in that position. With those exceptions aside, please feel free to submit your thoughts and questions. :)

So I guess y'all know what this intro blurb is going to be about! That's right, that big festivus out on the plaza to get Duke voters involved in the upcoming election! As I'm sure you're aware, May 8th is going to be kind of a big deal for us. So if you haven't registered to vote yet, you may want to consider getting on that. We've got an amendment to kill!

But yes, Lav Ball was also this weekend. It was a hot mess, in the best possible way. It was great to see the Doris Duke Center packed with OC, props especially to the Allies who came without dates. All in all, it's great to see that kind of involvement.

Now without further ado, notes from OC:

#1
I am a white queer person, and one of the reasons that I have stopped going to the LGBT Center at Duke is because it frustrates me that the community is not doing enough to reach out to LGBTQ(A) people of color. There are a few people in the community aware of this problem (and I thank them for working against the white privilege in the Center), but the Center is not doing nearly enough. I am frustrated at the other white people in the community for not recognizing or trying to solve this. Some of them do try to actively work against it, but the Center is NOT doing enough. Please recognize this, and if you are a white person in this community, start thinking of ways to actively engage with topics and individuals of LGBTQ students of color at Duke. It is not a student of color's responsibility to attend Center events to try and change this. It is the responsibility of the Center and the white-dominated community to ACTIVELY self-educate and actively program and reach out to students of color. Acknowledging and being aware of this problem is the first step (and many do not even acknowledge it yet!). The second step is then to actively work again the white privilege in the Center and to program events and reach out to communities of color constantly and with all events as possible.

#2
I cannot even begin to explain how much the gay men talk down to me as a woman or how much they seem so self-absorbed. And we wonder why none of us women go to the Center.

#3
Today I came out to someone I was really nervous about coming out to. When I told her, she smiled and told me she already knew. She said "I'm happy for you! And I hope you have a great time at Lav Ball!" I don't think she even realizes how much she made my day! It gave me such a boost of confidence to know that my friends love me for who I am, not for who I thought I was coming into college

#4
I feel like gay women really get the short end of the stick and I'm fed up with it. My straight friends always try to change me (give me make-overs, have me wear dresses etc) and it's like I'm not your damn project, stop trying to change me. You don't see people making the gay male friends adhere to more masculine stereotypes. Even my gay male friend who you would think understands that gay people don't necessarily follow gender stereotypes insists on me dressing up "fancy" (aka in a skirt/dress looking miserable with my hair down). He says I look prettier that way, but it's his version of pretty not mine. Hell, I don't even want the word pretty to be used to describe me. At this point I'm left wondering if the friends I have that keep trying to change me really are my friends.

Please remember that there are a number of resources available on campus and in the local community. These resources are available over breaks and throughout the school year. If you or a friend are experiencing thoughts or urges to harm yourself or somebody else, please reach out to the following resources: In an emergency, please don't hesitate to call CAPS at any time, including "after hours" at (919) 966-3820. Ask to speak to the advice nurse and tell them you are a Duke student. You may also call the Trevor Project, a national hotline specifically for lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer and questioning youth (college students included). Their number is 866-4-U-TREVOR (866-488-7386).

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.

#i’mbitter

[Disclaimer: I’m not here to play Oppression Olympics, i.e., “when two or more groups compete to prove themselves more oppressed than each other…in which the most oppressed are worthier” (definition provided by Geek Feminism Wiki). I am merely assessing a personal issue I’ve been meaning to explore for quite some time but never had the courage to remotely start articulating my thoughts…until now. Also, I apologize in advance if some of the things presented here instigate some confusion (read: I’m sleep deprived/not completely alert/am a perpetrator of word vomit/this is too complicated to maintain coherency) and can be perceived as facetious due to copious amounts of sarcasm; you’re more than welcomed to approach me with your questions, I’ll try to answer them as efficiently as possible and with less humor (read: I’ll ramble on until someone intervenes).]

In the same vein found in previous posts, particularly equally read-worthy ones by Ryan and Kory, I admit: It sucks when you’re bitter with life. Well, that in of itself is a rather loaded statement to make, I know. I’m still riddled by the gravity of it, saddened even, and how heavily it applies to my multifaceted life. It’s worse when you’re so conscientiously aware of it, too.

You must be asking yourself, why so bitter, Sara?

Unlike those aforementioned posts, I’m bitter about other things, things you can’t necessarily escape from unless you choose to turn an ignorant eye, as most often do unbeknownst to them. I’ll break it down for you, simple really, I’ll attempt to avoid the gritty, visceral details because it’s already nuanced enough with the first couple layers, let’s avoid this post from turning into a dissertation of some sorts (another day, then, maybe).

At the core of it, once you unravel the convoluted tangles and piece together the split ends, my dissatisfaction predominately stems from this epiphany I’ve unknowingly juggled with all my life:

I am doubly marginalized, y’all—I’m a minority in a minority.

…Now what does that actually mean?

As a woman of color, it’s unfortunate to admit that “marginalized” is a way of life, even more so because as being biracial I’ve struggled to fit in either racial community without having to overcompensate for one or ridding my association of them both. I continually have to validate my existence in both communities, reiterating to them that I am half Korean, I am half Black, I am both, please accept that, accept me. Except…to say it’s messy is a gross understatement.

“Oh, wait, sorry, you’re too dark to be considered Korean.”

“You’re not black enough to be Black.”

“You’re also a woman? Tough luck, kiddo, this patriarch-friendly society deems you oversensitive, invalidates and belittles your so-called oppression, and would like you to take a seat, Miss Man-Hating, Femi-Nazi, LOL.”

You don’t meet these stifling, ridiculous, you-need-to-read-this-invisible-manual requirements that somebody had to have written, because we sure follow them with little to no amounts of questioning the rationale behind them. Navigating between two begrudgingly, dissimilar worlds is taxing, frustrating, a unapologetically tragic journey I’ve allowed others to allocate me to, and so deeply ingrained in how others perceive me, I sometimes forget that it hides the real me just lying underneath.

Now throw in some queer in the mixture, and you’re just digging yourself a deeper grave. What’s even harder is the isolation, self-imposed or not, I’ve experienced in queer culture as well. When I first began my questioning phase (quick disclaimer: I refer it as a phase, because it was a phase for me, and I’m not saying questioning for all those who experience it should be labeled as such), I temporarily avoided human interaction and turned to my safety blanket—media, be it literature, TV, the internet, whatever. Consequently, what I discovered was disheartening: There is a scarcity of open racial diversity in the LGBT culture.

Do you know the difficulty of finding a fictional character who’s a person of color and isn’t the token, isn’t weighed down by preconceived stereotypes, isn’t a caricature of some narrow-minded perception painted by ignorance and just so happens to be LGBT-identified on top of that?

Do you realize half of those characters have limited screen time, are only important for Aesopic Episodes, episodes that teach a moral, whose sexual orientation or gender identity is the sole marker that makes them holistically unique from all the other characters?

Do you know how much harder it is to find "out" celebrities who are people of color as well? My pool of potential role models is so much thinner than any dating pool I’ve personally encountered.

Sure, media is slowly picking up the slag, but we’re far from reaching a good, safe place that doesn’t automatically place cisgendered, white gay males, sometimes lesbian females if it’s generous, as the default representation of the LGBT community. People need to cease describing media as “progressive” simply because it portrays LGBT-identified characters in popular television programs. For example, I’m sorry, but Glee is just not a sufficient example of your so-called “progressiveness”, and if you want to disagree with me, be my guest. I for one am not content with your differing treatments between LGBTQ couples Kurt/Blaine* and Santana/Brittany, where you handle the white gay male couple with far more care and meticulous depth and leave the queer women—a bisexual and a Hispanic-Latino American lesbian, who (spoilers!!) after being outed, is rejected by a beloved family member—to the ravages of stereotypes (“oversexualized, high school cheerleader lesbians”, but it’s gotten better…marginally). Santana's story as a queer woman of color is a realistic reflection of 21st society. Non-white communities continue to shun individuals of their respective communities because of their sexual orientation and gender identity. Homogeny is the way to go; otherwise you’re ostracized right out of the group. If you’re an out person of color and you haven’t been a victim of backlash, you’re incredibly lucky. Unfortunately, I can assert that it’s a rarity to come across that sentiment.

There is an abundance of important conversations to be had, and wonderful people in Our Community here at Duke have already prompted these discussions on the blog, and I hope that my post further promotes more discussion. There’s something empowering when you see people that have shared shades of similar experiences you yourself have felt/endured/struggled with.

“A house divided against itself cannot stand.” If Our Community marginalizes amongst ourselves, what good can we do when it comes to Fight the Good Fight for Equality? Wouldn’t its significance diminish in the process? We can strive to look past our own deep-seated prejudices and embrace and accept each and every member of Our Community and ultimately every marginalized group of people.

But for now? I’m bitter, and I am remotely okay with that.

* This is what I mean when media thinks this is the default for Our Community - cisgendered, white, and male. "Changing Hollywood?" Not. By. Much. Ugh.

My Queer Secret

At first Queer Secrets seemed to be written in a foreign language. Demisexual. Cisgendered. Panromantic. Genderqueer. Intersex. Dysphoria. These words, which initially seemed pedantic and clinical, came alive as secret makers attached them to their stories. Some people didn’t yet have words to describe themselves. Some loved labels, some rejected them. Queer. Questioning. Asexual. Dapper queer. Dapper femme. Sub. Dom. Genderfluid. Transmasculine. Words of pride. Words of inclusivity and exclusivity. Words that defy the status quo, both heteronormativity and homonormativity.

I’m in my friend and cultural soulmate Hilly’s room (background: half white, half Hispanic, no one believes she's Hispanic, grew up in suburban southern California) , talking about a monologue I just wrote for next year’s Me Too Monologues.

What am I? is a theme of this monologue. I reflect on my gradual whitening since arriving at Duke. I wanted to finally express what word fit me, what experiences were similar to mine. Is my cultural and ethnic ambiguity a disappearing mirage or the symptom of an unchanging quality? I knew that “culturally Hispanic” was no longer cutting it. I’m culturally mixed not culturally Hispanic. And ethnically white? That’s a statement of fact, even if I’m not comfortable putting White on government forms or dating sites. So I’m culturally Hispanic/white, ethnically white. In that order. Like a heteroromantic asexual or a female-bodied genderqueer, right?

My body passes for Hispanic. My experiences pass for Hispanic. My pain and fear and anger and observations pass for Hispanic. The reason why no one ever “finds me out” is that at my core I’m not 100% white. There’s nothing for me to hide. Hispanic cultural and social events are not an opportunity for observation and cross-cultural education (nothing wrong with that, it’s what I do at other cultural and religious events) they are an opportunity for me for feel alive and connected to myself and others who share my values and cultural background.

If someone assumes I'm a recent immigrant or my first language is Spanish I'll correct them. The myriad other assumptions people make are so subtle I don't know if they're in my head, and if they involve culture (not ethnicity) a correction isn't actually needed. Blurting out that I'm white would just create distance and uphold the ridiculous idea of a monolithic whiteness that must be asserted at all times. It's like saying "That dude looks nice, no homo" or that I'm a straight ally.

Why do I feel torn about not correcting people? Eventually someone from Duke will meet my parents (who are quite culturally and ethnically white) and know what's going on. And an ethnically white person who identifies as anything other than white is just not cool.

The ability to navigate different cultures, to be accepted in different countries, to pass for different races is a privilege. A white privilege. A white person who adopts the cultural practices of a non-white people for fun, entertainment or street credibility is engaging in cultural appropriation, and it’s not cool. The key difference is that my Hispanicness is not a front or a phase. When I went to London I didn’t talk in a British accent or dance “whiter.” When I go home to San Antonio I don’t put on a chola tear and a bandanna and eat rice and beans every day. My Hispanicness is not mired in stereotype, irony, fascination or choice. It's not mentioned in contrast to my whiteness, nor is it trumped by my whiteness. It’s just me. All day every day, expressed in subtle ways.

Some people appropriate LGBT culture for fun, entertainment or street credibility. But not everyone who isn’t strictly L, G, B or T is engaging in appropriation. What about the pansexual person who has only been in heterosexual relationships? Polyamorous people? Bigendered, genderqueer and gender-non conforming humans? An effeminate straight dude? Straight people who pass for queer? Heteroflexible folks? A heteroromantic asexual? People who reject labels? Though they aren’t always accepted by the LGBT community, they live in the rainbow tree house. They, along with the entire LGBTQQIA diaspora, keep our community humming and relevant.

I’m not a one-off. Think all the children who have been adopted transculturally/ethnically/racially. The Colombian grad student who was adopted into a white family. People so ethnically/culturally/racially mixed they don’t know who they are, where they came from or where they fit in. Hispanic Afro-Caribbean people. The white guy who was Valedictorian at Morehouse.

Hopefully when we start posting our own queer secrets the words will appear.

My queer secret would say:

I'm culturally Hispanic/white, ethnically white. It's not a phase or a front. I'm not comfortable with the White greek scene at Duke or at nearly all-white events. I don't fit conventional white beauty standards. (But who does?) I talk with a Spanish accent. I'm told I don't dance like a white girl...every time I go out. Sometimes I have to represent Hispanic culture because I can't deal with ignorance and racism. When I embrace my mixedness I feel alive, but also guilty. People like me are supposed to be bad people, or at least the butt of jokes. I'm culturally queer and sexually queer. If I think about this too much my head will explode.

Me and Maury

Ok. So it's confession time. I have a teddy bear that I sleep with every night. His name is Maury Povich. Let me explain briefly how Maury came into my life and why he's named Maury. I promise this has a point. Just "bear" with me (lol get it?).

So it was the day after Halloween last semester. Two of my brothers dressed up as robots. Their costumes were made out of cardboard boxes and aluminum foil. They decided to keep the costumes for a while and use them as decoration in our common room. While cleaning up the common room, we find this random teddy bear. It was white with a little bow around it's neck. It had a cute brown nose and a random string coming out of its back. We had no idea who it belonged to so we just left it in the common room thinking that if someone really wanted it, they would come looking for it.

Weeks went by and no one claimed it. Eventually, Thanksgiving rolled around and still no one claimed it. One day, someone thought it would be funny to put the teddy bear in one of the robot costumes and face it towards the tv as though it was watching it. I stared at it for the longest time. It seemed to be looking back at me with a smile on its face. So I took it up to my room and kept it for myself. And I've had it with me ever since, except over winter break when I left in too much of a rush to grab him off my bed. I originally just called him Teddy but it didn't seem to fit. So I changed it to Franklin. But that made me think of the cartoon turtle. So I asked my brothers what I should call him. During finals week, I would sit in the common room with my blanket and my teddy and just watch tv. Our favorite show? You probably guessed it: The Maury Show. So they said I should call him Maury and Maury he's been ever since.

So, now, the real reason for this story. Why in the world would a 20-year-old that has never slept with a stuffed animal before all of a sudden feel the urge to do so? Why is a child's toy so important to me?

Well, honestly, for a while I had no idea. I didn't understand how an inanimate object could mean so much to a little child. But then I sat back one day and thought about it.

I've been going through a lot these past few months starting back probably at the beginning of the semester. As I've stated before, I don't like to think of myself as having one main identity followed by others that rank in importance. Every group that identify with is just as important to me, no one more so than the other. I love that about myself. But it's also caused me so many problems. Sometimes, it seems like one of my identities doesn't necessarily mesh well with one or more of the others. And so I'm left in this sort of identity tug of war. For example, let's take my multiple identities and see how they react with each other: gay, black, greek.

Now, just looking at those, if these didn't apply to me, I would say that they never work together. Well, they do or they can at least most of the time. But, these three identities don't always make life so easy. As Xan beautifully pointed out in her post from yesterday, black and gay don't always get along. For me, this clash often forces me to choose who to hang out with and how to act when around certain groups due to certain repercussions that are bound to happen. And I hate that! I hate that with a burning passion. I hate being fake. But I also hate evil glares and cold shoulders, especially from members of groups that I identify with.

Now, let's take a look at gay and greek. We all know this can have its issues with worrying about being accepted by your greek brothers or sisters. I can honestly say that I have never faced this and I know that I am so fortunate for that. But I'd also like to point out that sometimes, some members of the LGBTQ community don't always make it easy to be greek. I remember being told by a few members of the community that I need to stop pretending to be "fratty" and "embrace my gayness." I don't know if I've ever been more offended in my life. The sarcastic or condescending tone of voice some people use when asking me if I'm hanging out with my fraternity just makes the wound bleed even more.

Lastly, black and greek can actually work very well... if you're in a Black fraternity. Well, I'm not. So when talking to other members of the Black and I mention that I'm not in a historically Black fraternity, well, let's just say you can cut the tension with an imaginary butter knife. I become shunned from conversation and almost treated as a traitor.

So, I've been feeling like a partial exile from each of these groups and it makes me feel splintered. I haven't felt like a whole person in a very long time. Couple this with the stress of school, dealing with family issues, trying to salvage what little of a relationship I was having with this guy (and ultimately failing), I've been having some crappy months. I put on a brave face when I'm out walking around but on the inside, I'm falling apart at the seems. I just wanted something to grasp on to that would never leave me. Something that would always be there for me.

And that's how Maury came into my life and became so important to me. Maury is always there with open arms and a smile, ready to give me a big bear hug whenever I feel my world slipping away from me again. Maury is always there to catch my tears as I'm trying to fall asleep at night. Maury is there to be my company when no one else is around. I love my Maury.

No Gay Black Males Allowed

[Please let this piece develop before judging.]

There is something to be said about how an individual identifies and as a result where that individual feels the most comfortable. I identify primarily with my race and everything else falls into some order that I don’t care to really enumerate. What is important, however, is that my sexuality just recently became an identity for me and is probably high up on that un-enumerated list. I didn’t venture into the LGBT center until the spring of my junior year. Before then I didn’t feel as though I belonged there. My issue now resides in the fact that even though I accept my sexuality as an important part of my identity, I’m still not sure how much I fit in at the LGBT Center.

Why? Oh, well because I’m black.

*Pause*

Now, no…it’s not just because I’m black and no I’m not saying the LGBT Center isn’t supportive of all ethnicities. Janie/Jess/Peg/and the rest of the crew love us all. What I am saying is that the LGBT Center is not always my go-to place for comfort or security because I don’t necessarily identify with that community first and being a minority of a minority (being both black and gay), understandably, can make it difficult to decide where you fit in.

*Pause*

However, the bigger issue I’m trying to address is the flip side of how black culture doesn’t necessarily accept LGBTQ-identified persons, especially black males/those who identify as black males. Black men in the LGBT community at Duke may not feel comfortable or identify closely with the black community due to this lack of acceptance. I’ve been sitting around complaining to my black, gay female friends about how the overlap of my identities isn’t met at the center while failing to consider how our counterparts feel about their needs being met.

I’ve come to realize that I have the luxury to walk into a predominantly black, straight party without receiving stares or snide remarks. Get this…I can even dance/make-out with another female with minimal backlash (not that I give a frog’s fat ass what someone says—sorry Chris Perry, I couldn’t resist). When I inquired as to why I don’t often see black males from the LGBT community at predominantly black parties, I was informed that it was too much of a hassle. I was told they don’t want to feel the pressure to monitor their actions or the worry of being judged. Some don’t want to deal with the threat of a physical fight or verbal altercation. Now this is not to say that all gay, black males feel this way but no one should have to share those sentiments.

While the club scenario is only one minor example of how the black community has excluded gay, black males it stands to reason that regardless of the specifics—be it a party, organization, or center for black culture—this needs to stop. How you choose to place value on your identities isn’t really important but feeling that you have a community to affirm you in each of your identities is.

It’s like this for me…At one point there were signs outside of establishments that read: No Colored Allowed. Now it seems the black community has placed it’s own sign up: No Black Gay Males Allowed. We could go into a whole discussion on the history of black culture and why this may be but who cares? It's wrong. Does anyone care about the rationale behind the Holocaust or the African slave trade? That question doesn’t even warrant a response.

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.

Anonymous Posts(4.26.10-5.2.10)

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

Finals week! It is officially finals week. For some, this means watching over three hours of Modern Family in my room last night instead of studying. You know who you are, All Those People That Were There.

But for serious. I'm more than a little nervous for my Concrete exam tomorrow. We're allowed to bring in 6 cheat sheets, which, uh, doesn't exactly comfort me. It's almost exactly like this scene from Kill Bill Vol. 2, where Pai Mei is like, "Pick a sword, but I do not need one" and Uma is like "Tihs is gunna B EZ!" and then it is not easy.

Captain Appropriate Cinematic Allusions, over here. This is exactly what being an engineer is like, with zero exaggeration.

Anyhow! Anonymous posts!

#1

So I’m a gay UNC student and I must say I’ve noticed lately that a lot of my conversations with friends have been driven by my sexuality. I like rating men as next as the other person and I welcome these discussions dealing with who I want to date and such, but I keep fighting to try to let my sexuality define my life. Also I have received some heat from my friends when it comes to dating because they were discussing what my preference is. I told them my tendency was not toward my own ethnicity but towards others. I don’t know why, I just have not found that many black men attractive. It is not that I’m racist or anything it is just that my tendencies aren’t toward them. Get me started on Italians...:) but see this is where the problem comes in...now I’m generalizing ethnicities to certain traits which in itself is a form of racism. But I would never consider myself racist against my own ethnicity. Talk about intersection of identities...I’m pretty sure I’m not the only person navigating this difficulty in their life right now. But it may just be that I hate falling into stereotypes. I understand that majority of stereotypes are based on generalizations. I believe it bothers me when I see ethnicities dating the same ethnicity. Something in me just goes, yay, we’re all falling into the stereotypes. Blacks don’t date anyone else besides blacks. Indians date Indians. Whites date whites. Ugh cultural stereotypes.

#2

As I was talking to my mom the other day on the phone, I decided to mention to her some of the things I was involved with recently at Duke that didn't really involve schoolwork or organized groups. I mentioned to her the Day of Silence pictures that went up over campus and on Facebook in which I was participating, as well as the "Do I Look Illegal" campaign that a lot of friends were doing. Instead of the expected response of pride in her child for taking a stand on something so important, I got asked, why do I always go looking for trouble? What if someone sees those pictures and tries to hurt me? I was taken aback. I responded instinctively that no one would try to hurt me, especially at Duke, the whole point was to take a stand for something that was right to me. She asked, yes, but aren't there crazy people at Duke? After this, I just shut down and pretty much ended the conversation by switching topics.

After thinking it through a few days later, though, I guess I can understand her point and fear. That's the kind of environment my parents grew up in. And that's the environment that they see on TV and on the radio. There are crazy people everywhere who harm others for being different or expressing their views. But not at Duke. Right? Nothing would happen to *me*.

I think that at Duke the situation, place, and experience for the LGBTQA community is getting exponentially better, but that doesn't mean that the world is moving right along with us. When we leave campus, we are not surrounded by a private institution that will support us no matter what. Or by bright, generally left-leaning twenty-something-year-olds. Or by an environment that caters to a population that actually cares about these issues and wants to "save the world" in whatever capacity that means. We are very lucky here at Duke to have this environment, but there's a lot more to be done in the greater Community. I just hope that fear will not be the cause or effect for not pushing for change in what is right.

Interracial Lesbian Relationships: A Swell Endeavor

Hey yall! I'm Veronica Ray, the newest addition to the roster of bloggers at Our Lives. I play rugby, do HIV counseling and aspire to be a power lesbian when I grow up. My future posts will probably deal with race, economics, business, international news, fashion and art.

“Wouldn’t it be cool to have interracial friendship cards? Like a little white girl kissing a little black girl on the cheek and inside it says something like “Thanks for being such a great friend!” ?

Race is a popular topic at Duke. I feel like any post about race can quickly fall into the trap of rehashing the same ideas and grievances without really getting anywhere. With that disclaimer I hope I can begin an article that offers a personal perspective on my experience with race in the gay community.

My preference for black women has become a running joke with my friends both in and outside of the center. If I innocently tell a friend that I met a cool girl named Chantel, chances are she’ll reply “Oh….you WOULD be friends with a girl named Chantel.” If I tell you I’ve met a girl “of the hue that I seek” it means I’ve met a special African-American and I won’t be surprised if you joke that I’m mess for getting so worked-up. Though I am currently flamboyant about my love of black women, I didn’t acknowledge my preference till after I graduated from high school. I never wanted my interest in black women to be simply “jungle fever”- objectifying women as exotic objects who I thought fulfilled certain sexual stereotypes.

The first time I told someone that I was interested in black girls she replied “Hmm…I can’t exactly agree…black girls are so ghetto.” I found this comment strange because I have always been interested in educated, accomplished women regardless of their ethnicity. Where I grew up many people, including me, were mired in ignorance of the black community. Some friends in high school would throw around the N word in an attempt taunt my best friend, who is part black. After she went off on me for asking what part black she was when we were 14 I considered race an off limits topic. I secretly looked down on her for not fighting back against racist comments. I felt like I could tell her anything about my sexuality and I hoped she wasn’t keeping any of her thoughts from me. I realized after telling my best friend about my preferences that race was never an off limits topic for us. When I described race relations at Duke to her, she revealed that she identified with white culture. It was then I realized that our whole life I had put her in a box she never felt comfortable in.

Though I had “come-out” to myself about my preferences, I was still intimidated by the prospect of approaching an actual black woman. Before I left for college a friend scared the shit out of me by saying that she didn’t think black lesbians dated white lesbians. It seems ridiculous now, but I spent a lot of time finding examples of interracial lesbian relationships to prove my friend wrong. I thought no black girl I met would want to date me. I now know that some people are equally worried that I wouldn’t be interested in them because of their race! The many revelations I’ve experienced are a testament to how naïve I was when I entered Duke. Even after growing up among Mexican Catholics and with a family full of different ethnicities black America was still a dark continent. After being at Duke for a few months my interest in black woman remained theoretical. It wasn’t until I started telling the queer black women I met that I was interested in black women that I started getting the attention I was looking for. It was not as difficult as my friends back home led me to believe! I don’t think indicating my preferences was necessary, but it took away the lack of confidence and tension I felt due to the myths I heard growing up.

I am still sometimes amazed at my own ignorance. I read the book Hair Story at my girlfriend’s recommendation and afterwards we watched the hilarious Chris Rock documentary Good Hair. When it comes to black hair, instead of a dark continent I now see a dimly lit path. I don’t need to be a black hair expert to know that doing my girlfriend’s hair is bonding time that I look forward to each week. It’s not like my girlfriend and I talk about race all the time (though we might talk more than usual due to my academic interest in ethnic conflict, international relations, and urban studies); she just can’t help noticing things that I don’t. We joke about how a PDA-loving interracial lesbian couple is a unique sight on Duke’s campus and a rare one in the media. In addition to making interracial friendship cards, I’ll expand my business to interracial relationship cards. A simple drawing of a short white girl kissing a tall black girl is all I need. So I can say “Look! That’s us!” and mean it. As I like to say: when it comes to people, ghosts, chocolate, clothing and tea, black makes everything better. The only thing that black doesn’t improve is tenting.