Monday, April 19, 2010

Special BDU Meeting Tonight

8:30 PM, Duke Center for LGBT Life

By now, most people have read this or this and are outraged. In order to channel this energy into constructive, informed discussion, BDU is holding a meeting tonight at 8:30pm in the Center for LGBT Life . Please come, ask questions, and discuss.

Anonymous Post #7

[Ed. Note: For the sake of formatting, I'm putting this superlong entry in a separate post.]

I’m frequently disgusted by my own arrogance, and little seems more egotistical than the self-masturbatory experience of a blog post. But I finally gave in in response to Summer Puente’s challenge that the boys “step up their game.” Here it goes.

In the last two weeks I’ve been coming to terms with the reality that I’m really, probably, most likely not gay. And that’s a tough fate for me to accept.

Then again, I never have been gay, or at least never commoditized myself as such—other people may have, and I don’t really mind. This has mostly been fine. It was only problematic once, when a guy I was hooking up with sort of vindictively told my girlfriend I was gay. I was shocked, only because I’d never used that referent, or attached it to him. In this context, it felt ugly to me. It was an accusation.

When I came to Duke, something peculiar happened; I started to garner aggressive interest from men. It happened first when I visited as a prospective student, then at a few parties during first semester, and during fraternity rush—by a T.A. for one of my classes, no less. At first, I spurned the would-be trysts, but they were never less than titillating. They inflated my ego in a maladapted way, as it wasn’t something I could actually talk about. Now, my original reason for abstaining straddled between misplaced homophobia and indifference toward the person proffering these potential interactions—a pretty standard model: drunk male in a fraternity with some kind of social cache and a reputation for misogynism and homophobia. If I was going to do this, it wasn’t going to be with a guy quaking in his Sperry Topsiders for fear of being caught, a guy who needed to blackout scapegoats in case he had to explain himself—I was hoping to find a “man.” I understand that this statement is predicated on exhaustively singular notions, but then so is my sexuality; I’m here, I’m “queer”, and I’m going to ask that you try to tolerate my postmodern flippancy for the rest of this post...

The summer before my sophomore year, I was suddenly enamored of an old friend. We discussed feelings of love and reciprocity over cheap vodka sodas. Days before my return to Duke, we kissed. It was good. It was just what I needed: a summer romance to initiate a whole new world of bisexual morphism and male lust that I could apply as I saw fit. I returned to Duke thrilled. I was officially not straight, and suddenly a categorically more fascinating individual. I managed to avoid the phenomenon (and ostensible rite of passage) of “the closet,” by basically exercising my sexuality (to the chagrin of my religious parents), but rarely even considering it in objective terms. So now I’m stoked—I have the capacity for romance, for finally saying “yes,” and for Gay—Fucking—Sex. Yes yes yes. And I’d heard that guys give better head.

So, I did something new recently. I had sex with a real gay. It was good. Sure, the sex act was purely carnal but (I thought) if I could apply my sexuality in dynamic ways, I could certainly cultivate or conjure romantic feelings more in line with the heterosexual archetypes I’d brought to bear in my formal relationships with women in the past. I went past third base. The rumors were true. I topped a few times, let myself be fingered, learned the correct order for oral and anal sex. And then I started going through the motions—willful social conditioning. I started hanging out with more gay men, visited Legends in Raleigh, Stir in Chapel Hill, Ty’s in New York, earning myself free drinks and attention. I would purposefully reference my interest in men among near-strangers just to provoke a reaction. It was fun and prurient. (I’m kind of a jerk sometimes.) I blasted “When My Boy Walks Down the Street” in my room at night, hoping that—oh boy!—one day I might just find ‘the one.’ And then...I got tired. The sex game lost its lusty allure.

Some of my the thrill of “late-nighting” in frat sections was gone, as I was offered more drugs, less sex. I became disgusted with myself, and not as a self-loathing for promiscuity—I can still count my male hookups on one hand—but because I began to objectify men in a way I never would have done with women. And so in response to this fear, I began to redirect my attention back to the “fairer sex.” I went to Shooters. I got kicked out (no, I wasn’t too drunk, that’s just how I dance). It was awful. As quickly as I’d entered, I wanted an escape. My R.A. recently solicited sex with me and—in ways completely unconnected to the person’s looks and personality—I freaked the fuck out. I’m on edge again, and realizing how precarious the mechanisms of sexuality really are, no matter how liberated my discourse might be. Sure, I can interpret or thematize the experiential phenomena in my life as I wish (ahem) but I remain nevertheless subjugated to my own sexual capriciousness, which is becoming frighteningly more material to me the more I think about it...and the more I write about it. Damnit BDU Blog. But no, really: thanks for deigning me this scintillating, pseudo-anonymous diary entry. I really need to visit Chris Purcell soon.

—Eric Fürst.

Anonymous Posts(4.12.10-4.18.10)

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 :)

So. Much. To. Discuss.

First off, we all know that GLEE returned last week. It was okay? Jonathan Groff is marginally attractive at best with his hair like that (fellow Spring Awakening alum Matt Doyle remains infinitely awesomer and my husband). Also, can we just delete Schuster and Emma's plot line in its entirety? Let's just get rid of it. It is tedious, repetitive and does not involve Kurt, Mercedes or Sue Sylvester. It would also mean we would hear much less of Schuster's singing, which is something that we can all agree is a very good thing. The Best Thing.

Songs that have hello in them is also an insanely lame theme. I propose that "Telephone" be the key word in a future episode. #amiright?

Also, we got a RANGE of anonymous posts this week. Please respond to as many as you can, and make sure that every entry gets a comment. It's superimportant, especially with this batch, y'all. I know that normally I comment on the posts within this post, but I've been told that's sort of pretentious. Maybe! Obviously, I never meant to make my commentary or advice any sort of official response because I am an idiot 21 year old that is an idiot and 21 years old. It should trump the opinion of no one. I really just wanted to thank everyone officially on behalf of the Staff for sending something in. But maybe! I do not want to risk anything! So Imma put everything in the comments section from now on. My name's Chris for all of y'all that don't know :)

Ok. Let's do this.

#1
I am disgusted by gay people and I don't want to be. I know a few gay people and think of them as my friends, but inside I just can't shake this revulsion. I have the most respect for those who stay in the closet even though I know it's not healthy for them to do that. Sometimes I think it's really insensitive of me to harbor these feelings of disgust, but at least I keep them inside and don't show my revulsion outwardly. How can I possibly be accepting of gays when in my experience here at Duke, it only seems like they're trying to get attention any way they can? I'd love to meet just one gay person who isn't flamboyant as hell and seems sincere to me. Otherwise I just think that homosexuality is a bid for attention. Like I said, I don't want to feel this way. I just don't know how to feel differently.

#2
I don't know how I feel about homosexuality but evolutionarily it doesn't make any sense. Can someone explain to me from an evolutionary perspective, how does homosexuality exist? Survival of the fittest generally means that those who don't reproduce get eliminated.

#3
Really liked the Day of Silence posters on campus. They meant less when I saw the people on the posters talking on Friday.

#4
I am always lonely, always hurting, even when I'm with my friends; when I hurt too much inside, I hurt myself. It would be better if I could show who I truly am, but I can't. I think that people only like me because I'm funny, but I'm only funny because I'm too scared to let them know how hard it is to get through every day. My humor is a mask. I started to come to the Center in hopes that I would somehow find the courage to really be myself, or to ask for help. And sometimes I manage to open up for a little while. But it's never enough, and as soon as I leave I put the mask back on.

#5
BDU, thank you for being silent. Thank you for saying everything by saying nothing at all. In my humble opinion, Friday's DOS was a huge success. The many posters that hung around campus for both DOS and the no homo(phobia) campaign sent an immensely powerful message to the Duke student body. I can imagine that many of you who were silent on Friday wondered if it was 'worth it'. Did this day of silence accomplish anything? Can our message be heard if we aren't saying anything? Will we see change on our campus because of our actions? You can rest assured, BDU, you were successful: I heard you.

I walked around campus on Friday completely humbled. You who are already brave and confident enough to live your lives out loud are willing to stand up for those who are not as strong as you. You fight against injustice, stigma, hateful words, and outright cruelty for people you don't even know. Through your silence, you stand in solidarity with someone in one of your classes, someone you've eaten dinner with occasionally, someone you pass on the plaza, someone you sit next to on the C1 every week. You give hope and strength to those who are silenced every day out of fear. Fear of rejection, fear of prejudice, fear of the truth. Your increasing presence on our campus is a daily reminder to the silent that there is a community ready and waiting to accept them with open arms when they are ready to speak. So thank you, BDU, for your participation in DOS. Thank you for being silent for me.

#6
Frustration.

Well, that's not really a good word to describe how I feel. Upset. Depressed. Angry. Overwhelmed, maybe? Terribly...sad. Eh, let's stick with frustrated.

The center is a great place. It's full of great people, great resources, and great events. But mostly great people.

The rest of the world. Is. Not.

It’s really hard sometimes, when you hang in the Center a lot, and all of your friends are friends of the Center, and your life really doesn't function very much outside of the Center. Then, it's really hard sometimes when you can't go to Center, when you have to present yourself to the rest of the world. I feel vulnerable, weak. Terribly exposed. Naked, even. But at the same time...cold. Sheltered, Isolated. Fortfied. By this wall that I build around myself when I'm not sure how you feel about me and my sexuality. When I hear your slurs and your comments, and when I let out my chuckle that's so fake it's awkward, mentally I'm cementing another brick onto my wall that I've built between me and you. And the world. Until, I've got so many bricks that I can't get out. What started out as a way to protect myself from you has now trapped me inside.

And let me tell you, it's real dark.

I can hear my own heart beating, louder than the muted sounds of life that are going on outside of this prison. Sometimes, I'd like to scream and see if anyone could hear me, but even if they heard would they know it? I grab a sledgehammer and try to break through these thick walls. I swing and smash and watch as the cement blocks turn to dust. Only now, the sledgehammer has become a razor, a pistol, alcohol, hydrocodone, and the dust is now my body, my spirit, my will, my MOTIVATION. Because I see infinitely more blocks behind that one.

All I can say is, thank God for the Center.

What do I do when I can't go there anymore? I think I am suffocating.

#7
See separate post.

#8
I know this is a recurring theme on the blog, but I feel like venting, so here goes. I guess I feel very lonely at Duke, not because I lack friends, because I don't, I have a fantastic group who are close to me. It stems more from the fact that after being here for a few years and I still haven't had a meaningful relationship. Every time I see the couples who are involved with the center, both male and female identified, I feel a pang of envy. Many of them seem so content and comfortable in each other's presence, which is fantastic and I'm really happy for them. My overriding, selfish thought however is "Why not me, what do they have that I don't?" The fact that Duke's LGBTQ community is so small just compounds it.

Perhaps I just haven't met the right person, perhaps my standards are too high, perhaps I'm just unlucky - it could be any number of reasons. Everyone tells me to be patient, to wait and that the right person will come along eventually. Rationally, I know that they're correct, but it's very difficult to be rational about something as emotive as a relationship.

I know I should be patient, not let it get to me and realize that many other people are in the exact same situation. But it's difficult. It's really worn down my self confidence and esteem over these past few years. I've started to wonder about what huge flaws I must have to make me so uninteresting to others and which cause me to fail whenever I pursue someone else.

So there's my spiel. For all those out there in the same situation, I truly empathize with you - I hope you meet that special person sometime soon. It'll be one less of us in this situation.

#9
I don't know what to do. I just got the call from Durham Public Health last week, and I'm still in a state of utter shock. I always knew that hooking up on the internet was sketchy and dangerous. I always felt badly about it…but what could I do? Most of the gays at the center won't even look at me, (Do they look at anyone without a nice camera and Common Ground apparel?) let alone pay me any romantic attention. I was desperate…I needed that close contact and intimacy that only being penetrated can provide. But the condom broke…and now my life is over. I'm HIV positive and I don't know what to do. I can't tell anyone…but there's someone who has to know. I had unprotected sex a few weeks ago with a guy at Duke and I don't know how to tell him that he may be infected. There are lives at stake...

Love=Love

For anyone who may not know, Duke’s major LGBT advocacy campaign is “Love=Love.” Every year on National Coming Out Day, the plaza is filled with people trying to get one of the beautiful T-shirts with the original print of equality. These shirts are worn throughout the entire year, all over campus by all sorts of people. Most people at Duke are familiar with Love=Love. I love the shirts, the concept, the phrasing, all of it. So naturally, I wanted to get in on it. I wanted to help promote this way of thinking.

As someone who deeply appreciates the arts and wants to make a life/living in them, the first idea I explored was an artistic one. Some time ago, the thought struck me that I would have the opportunity to make a proposal for the annual Defining Movement Showcase (DefMo Showcase). I was hopeful that this organization I loved so much would bring light to this issue in a whole new way. First of all, I knew DefMo would be willing to at least consider it because open-mindedness is a membership requisite. Second of all, this talented, passionate and diverse group is widely recognized as kickass; I knew if my proposal went through that plenty of people would get to see it at the show. In the end, it did go through and I had all Winter Break to get started with my choreography. My submission to DefMo described a lyrical hip-hop piece, and I had chosen the song “No One” by Alicia Keys. The lyrics, the music, Alicia’s voice – all perfect.

When it came down to rehearse, though, I was nervous. All the time. Sometimes the pressure made remembering my own choreography difficult. Presenting something with so much personal meaning, something so relevant to Duke right now, meant I had to design and place each movement with the utmost care. This deserved as much attention as I could give, and I was going to pay that attention. As far as developing the choreography and the dancers’ grasp, this wasn’t much of a problem. They’re talented and committed, so that went smoothly. Still, with four straight-identified dancers, I was unsure of whether or not the dramatic component would come across. On the first day I explained to them the plotline and the intent behind my idea in general terms, so as to let them express their own interpretation freely. When performers are told exactly what to do, it can compromise sincerity. After a while, it had come to a point where the freedom of expression needed more guidance. All four dancers asked me one day to clarify my personal investment, where I saw this at Duke and what I wanted this to do. What did I want them to do? They understood the dance – two interracial same-sex couples almost forced apart and destroyed by hateful bigots are able to finally be together – but it needed life breathed into it. I told them of the hardship I faced prior to coming to Duke, of the difficulty others have here at Duke and of specific examples of the issues we meant to address in this piece. We ended up having a long and thoughtful conversation about the Duke closet, haters on campus and how we could maximize this performance. I wanted to empower the people who supported this movement and change the minds of those who opposed it. It’s a big feat, but I needed to aim high.

As Showcase drew closer and closer, I became more and more nervous. What if my piece doesn’t measure up to past Showcases? What if we get too nervous to do this right? What if the audience isn’t ready for it? With enough reassurance, the moments just before performing silenced these worries. Everyone in DefMo liked the dance when they saw it at dress rehearsal. My dancers and I know how to perform. And most importantly, this piece is not for anyone’s entertainment or comfort, but to stimulate thought and conversation. We got on that stage and we danced from our hearts. That may not make sense to many people reading this, but when you dance not for “fun,” but for expression…it comes from a different place. We put our very selves into that performance. Each movement had energy and feeling behind it, sharing with everyone our passion for a social injustice they needed to recognize. When the song had come to an end and we were at the edge of the stage, looking out into the audience with defiant eyes, proudly bearing the vibrant colors of Love=Love t-shirts on our chests, something happened. As the lights began to fade and we tried to catch our breath, the stillness cracked. They erupted into applause. The screams and claps were more than I could have expected. I was overwhelmed. When we had finished the dance, I was sure I could hold back the tears that all the emotion brought with it. But that thunder. Those smiles and screams of appreciation brought down the dams and everything behind them spilled out. I went down the stairs backstage to the dressing rooms and turned around to wait for the other dancers. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, I cried. I could only thank them. I could say nothing else but “Thank you so much.” We held each other for a few moments and cried together. What we had just done was huge, for us. We all cared about this message, and we had never danced it like that before. My friends were wonderful. These are straight-identified people who held and danced with someone of the same gender onstage in front of 1,000 people, in order that it may send a message of understanding and acceptance. They did all I asked and more.

It was received so well. People told me how much they enjoyed Love=Love, how beautiful it was, how emotional it was and even how it had changed the minds of a few audience members. Yeah, I cried again. Duke is a fantastic school and the students here are, for the most part, open and progressive. Still, we need to move it along. All I had hoped for in this dance was that I could help the process, so the feeling that I had done just that was unbelievable. Duke is going places, and things are changing.