Soon-to-be Camp Counselor; Always an Ally

After being home for the past few weeks, I’m getting ready to leave to work at a Jewish, outdoor adventure, overnight camp (Ramah Outdoor Adventure). I like to think of it as Boy Scout camp meets Judaism (and girls). The camp opens this summer and is the latest initiative by Ramah—the official summer camp organization of the Conservative Movement of Judaism (not to be confused with conservatism in American politics).

I had the great fortune of being a camper at Ramah Darom (in Georgia) for several summers. Experiences from camp, along with relationships with my peers and my counselors/other staff members, played a very pivotal role in my life. Over the years I had counselors who were always there to listen, counselors who challenged me, counselors who believed in me, counselors who reminded me to not take life too seriously, counselors who showed me the ins-and-outs of Judaism, counselors who shared my passions, counselors who were my friends, and counselors who modeled for me what it meant to embrace my full self (eccentricities included). I know firsthand the power that a counselor can have on a camper looking for a role model or a mentor.

The campers I’ll have this summer are mostly rising 8th-10th graders (though I'll also work with rising 6th/7th graders and families). They’re old enough that they’re “real people,” but that also means that they’re tenuously trying to navigate their lives: their sense of self, their peer group, and their values, just to name a few. [Any readers extra-eager to re-live those years? ‘Cause, uhhh, you won’t find me volunteering for the chance.] I am excited, however, to be their friend and I hope to have a lasting impression. In this way, it’s important to me that I’m visible.

I want every camper to feel safe, valued and respected. I want every camper to know that I am her or his ally. I want any camper who is out in other areas of her or his life to be comfortable being out at camp. I want any camper who is still in the closet to know that I’m on her or his side and that she or he can talk to me in confidence (for that matter, I hope a camper who is out feels comfortable talking to me about any issues that arise). I want any camper who is in the closet to feel that camp is a supportive environment where she or he can safely begin her or his coming out process (I recognize that the three immediately preceding points are easier said than done).

Even if there is not a single LGBT-identified camper (either in or out of the closet), there are still messages I hope to impart. I want every camper to understand that Conservative Judaism does not condemn LGBT-identified members of our community. On the contrary, The Seminary will admit and ordain openly gay and lesbian-identified individuals [the current Jewish law does not address trans nor bisexual rabbis]. Last but not least, I want every camper to leave camp thinking that being an ally and standing up against homophobia are “cool” and feeling empowered to act accordingly.

[These are, maybe obviously, not my only goals as a counselor; rather, goals I’ve given very deliberate thought to for months. I also, perhaps predictably, want to be a beacon of feminism (a loaded goal which I won't unpack here); I want to be there for my campers to listen about any issue they may be facing—not just LGBT themed struggles; I want to imbue my campers with self confidence; I want to help them to reach their personal goals; I want to help them to strengthen their Jewish identity; I want to facilitate them making relationships among themselves; I want them to learn to be comfortable with themselves.]

That all sounds real swell, but creating a safe space, making myself approachable and empowering campers to speak up will not just happen by mere virtue of me being a counselor. It takes deliberate actions. So, how will I do this? And, how can I do this without overstepping a boundary of being overly “political” in my role as a counselor?

The second question first: There are plenty of ways to stand up for LGBT issues without invoking the politics of today. I can’t say whether the issue of marriage or Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell will come up—though if it does, it will be because a camper initiated the conversation. However, I don’t believe (and I think that the readers of the blog will agree with me) that affirming the worth of any of my campers is “political.”

To create this type of environment, though, I must be visible. Some actions, by their very virtue, will be reactive, while I can do others at anytime. Hopefully, nothing occurs which would force me to intervene. However, I will do my best to be aware of situations which may arise. For instance, when used, I will speak up against homophobic slang and facilitate conversations about the role of language. If it happens, I will question why someone’s sexuality was a qualifying adjective to a story. If a camper is out of the closet, I will be sure to pay close attention as to how this is perceived by his or her cabinmates. If an issue arises, I will be quick to act in his or her defense [this is, I believe, a situation especially unique unto overnight camp, since living space isn't typically intimately shared until college]. Similarly, I will pay close attention to if a camper's gender expression or perceived sexual orientation becomes the target of his or her peers and will act accordingly if necessary. This may sound like I'm expecting the worst, but really I'm optimistic that the most reactive I'll have to be is to everyday slang [no homo(phobia)].

Other things I can do start on the very first day. I will do my best to use affirming and inclusive language. I will proudly don my Love=Love and no homo(phobia) shirts. I will wear my BDU silicone bracelet and I will display a rainbow sticker on my nalgene and a rainbow ribbon on my backpack. Perhaps most importantly given the nature of the camp as observantly Jewish, I will be prepared to the best of my ability to answer questions and present information about LGBT issues and Judaism.

I should note that I was excited to see "sexual preference" included in our anti-discrimination policy. I could be critical of the outdated language (sexual preference vs. sexual orientation), but I'm just glad to know that the directors of the camp are forward thinking, aware of these issues, and dedicated to seeing that homophobia not be part of our camp culture. I have every reason to believe that this was not just included in the policy as an empty formality, but a genuine concern. In fact, last summer (at a week for potential staff members) I recall having a conversation about homophobia with our director; he also "liked" a link to my Day of Silence post on facebook.

I'm excited for the challenges that await me--personally, Jewish-ly, and professionally--and I'm excited to expand the ways in which I speak out against homophobia. Like Veronica’s “informal research,” I look forward to reporting back to you about my experiences.

But first, Readers, I'd like to learn from you what your experiences have been as a camp counselor or a camper. How did you see homophobia manifest itself? What are ways that you addressed it? What positive stories can you share about being out at camp (as a camper or counselor)? Please help me to be the best that I can be this summer!

[Sports related blogs will be posted during the next few months while I’m away. Please note, however, that I’ll be mostly unable to engage with you in the comments section. The camp at which I will be a counselor has very limited internet service!]

When and Why I'm Silent

Maybe writing a blog post is an unconventional way to start my Day of Silence. But I had some thoughts about today I wanted to share.

Some of you may know that my favorite quote--a quote which truly changed my life--is by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He said "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." When it came time to apply to college, it likely comes as no surprise to those of you who know me that I chose the option to "create your own prompt" (I am, after all, the girl who applied for Program II).

Inspired by this quote, aware of the role it played in changing my perspective, and convinced it articulated my passion and forthright manner, I wrote that it was "the motto by which I aim to live my life." A line in my essay said something about how "For someone who is not afraid of death or dying, I'm awfully afraid of my life ending, at least as Martin Luther King defined it." I gave some examples of things I'm passionate about (Title IX; Girls for A Change) and things I speak up against (hate speech; an experience in Israel) before I concluded by writing that "When people don’t speak up about everyday inequities, regardless if it is they or others who are affected, it is dangerous and harmful to our society. That is what MLK meant. Our lives become polluted with injustices if nobody speaks out—if everybody is silent...That is why I can’t be silent. Not now. Not ever." [Thanks, Mom, for finding my essay on the computer at home!]

And yet, today, for the fourth consecutive year, dating back to my junior year in high school, I will participate in the National Day of Silence. [An aside: My first year, I was the only person I knew participating. As a senior in high school many more people took part (a trend for which I do not take credit). Coming here, though, from never having a community that participated, is really empowering and inspiring.] Surely, being silent today is not equal to being silent at other times in my life. After all, today is a day of not talking, not really a day of "silence." But there are still some weird opposing forces at play. Some LGBTQA advocates don't agree with the Day of Silence. Personally, it made me recall MLK's quote and my essay and about the seemingly contradictory messages, which are really not contradictory at all.

I hope the Duke admissions officer who read my application won't mind if I go back on those last three short sentences. For, today, I will be silent.

I’m silent because I respect you. I’m silent because you shouldn’t have to be. I’m silent because your silence goes unnoticed and I’m silent to make your silence heard.

I’m silent to speak up against the bullying I’ve witnessed. I’m silent because I care. I’m silent because you deserve respect. I’m silent for your right to be you. I’m silent because you’re silenced every day.

I’m silent because you are my friend, my family, my classmate, my peer, my teammate, my mentor, my role model, my co-worker, my neighbor—a member of my community. I’m silent because I cherish you. I’m silent because I love you.

I’m silent because your fight is my fight; because your pain is my pain. I’m silent for change. I’m silent for progress. I’m silent for equality and I’m silent so there will be justice.

Out Athletes: The 2010 Winter Olympics Edition

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.

---

Last week Duke hosted artist Jeff Sheng and his exhibit, Fearless. Fearless is a series of over 100 photographs of out LGBT high school and collegiate athletes. Sheng also spoke about his project called Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, so named because it’s a photo documentary book of American servicemen and service women who are LGBT. Anybody who spent any time with me last week bore the burden of putting up with my uncontained enthusiasm for Sheng’s visit. On Wednesday, I had the pleasure of attending lunch at The Center (thanks, Chris Purcell!) and also his talk that night. I can’t wait to write about that…or about Representative Kyrsten Sinema’s visit which was also last week [even though it’s not sports related I hope to write a post about it]…but both are going to have to wait because

1) the Olympics just ended and I can’t possibly only write one post about them (if you haven’t read it already, read my take on Johnny Weir here)
2) writing about Fearless will take me a while (I’m swamped with stuff right now, so I hope you’ll understand) and
3) I want to address the most recent comment on my last post about Weir.

February 26, 2010 6:17PM
Anonymous said…
There could be a lot of reasons he does what he does. It’s just a shame we don’t have more queers in the public eye. Can anyone name more than three currently active gay athletes? Or one?

Thank you, Anonymous, for inspiring what is going to be a new sub-column, if you will, of my regular posts. Welcome to the first volume of “Out Athletes.” Every so often I’ll dedicate one of my posts to highlighting out athletes. It is my intention to highlight individuals who are currently competing or who were out or came out during their career as an athlete. This is not to say that I won’t ever talk about other athletes who’ve come out of the closet since their playing days ended—just that in these specifically designated posts I won’t be. If you have a favorite athlete who fits this criteria, comment below or send me an email! I’d love to know why he/she/ze is your favorite (or one of your favorites) athlete(s) and to share their story with our fellow readers!

Oh, and I know I started this post by putting off writing about Fearless, but I’d be remiss not to comment on the fact that this is what Fearless is all about—recognizing out athletes and giving out athletes a face! See, it all does tie together!


Out Athletes: The 2010 Winter Olympics Edition
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
The San Diego Gay and Lesbian News identified six gay athletes who competed in the most recent Olympic games. All six are women. I’ve not read of any openly gay men, bisexual or transgender identified individuals who competed. Though, Women’s Figure Skating Gold Medalist Kim Yu-Na’s coach, Brian Orser, is (now) openly gay after being outed in a partner lawsuit in 1998, a decade after his second Olympic appearance. Out of roughly 5,000 athletes who competed, it would seem that there would be more than six in total, but these are the only ones who’ve made it known to the press. I think this is an important distinction to make. Someone may be out of the closet to their friends and family and even acquaintances and coworkers, but that does not mean that they’ve disclosed it to news sources.

A question for you readers: what do you think of these athletes (yes, I’m assuming there were athletes who competed and fit this description) who are out in their personal lives but not to the press? Is this being out of the closet?

The six confirmed women who love women are:

Renate Groenewold, speed skater from the Netherlands
An Olympic veteran, Groenewold competed and placed 10th in the 3000m. The Vancouver games marked Groenewold’s third Olympics (2006, 2002). In 2002 and 2006 she captured the silver medal in the 3000m. In 2009 she won gold at the world championships, also in the 3000m.

Sanne van Kerkhof*, speed skater from the Netherlands
In her first Olympics, van Kerkhof competed and placed 4th, with her teammates, in the 3000m Relay.

Ireen Wust*, speed skater from the Netherlands
Wust won the gold medal in the 1500m. She also competed in the 1000m (finished 8th), the 3000m (finished 7th) and the team pursuit (finished 6th with her teammates). The Vancouver games were her second Olympics (2006). She was the defending gold medalist in the 3000m after winning in Torino. In Torino she also won the bronze medal in the 1500m. Wust came out casually during an interview in 2009 when she commented on her current relationship (see the * below for details).

Vibeke Skofterud, cross-country skier from Norway
A member of the gold medal winning 4x5km Relay team, Skofterud also placed 22nd in the 10km individual.

Sarah Vaillancourt, hockey player from Canada
A Harvard graduate, Vaillancourt scored three goals and completed five assists en route to winning her second Olympic gold medal (2006).

Erika Holst, a hockey player from Sweden
An experienced Olympian, Holst and Sweden finished fourth in the women’s hockey competition. She previously represented Sweden at the 2002 Salt Lake City Games and 2006 Torino Olympics, garnering a bronze and silver medal, respectively. Interesting to note, Holst came out in the middle of her career in 2006.

*denotes that Wust and van Kerkhof are girlfriends. Wust is less than thrilled that her sexuality and not her skating has been the cover story. She is quoted as having said, “I want to talk about ice skating…You are not asking Sven Kramer [Dutch, European and World All-round Champion] about how his relationship is going. So why would you ask me? If I would’ve had a relationship with a guy, you wouldn’t have asked me either.” I have some thoughts on this, so maybe I’ll get around to writing about it over spring break. Oh, and I guess I owe Wust an apology for once again making her sexuality a plot line.

In all, it seems that while only six Winter Olympic athletes (and one coach) publically identified as gay (disclaimer: I don't actually know if these individuals prefer 'gay' or 'lesbian' or 'queer' or __________), the LGBT community has much to be proud of in all of their accomplishments! Random statistical fact: they amassed three gold medals (four, if you count Kim Yu-Na's gold as her coach's) which, had they been a country, would have been good for a tie for 9th place in the "gold medal count!" In total, 20 countries had athletes who won a gold. Eighty-two countries participated in the games.

[Author's note: it's been brought to my attention that the length of my posts may discourage readership, so I thank you for taking the time to read my columns. I hope that you find them interesting and informative. For better, or for worse, this was my attempt at a semi-short blog (nobody's perfect).]

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.

A Champion All Around: Super Bowl XLIV Champion is Gay Rights Advocate

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.


I know that the winter Olympics kicked off last night, but before we get too far removed from the Super Bowl, I wanted to highlight a few things. Ideally, I would have posted this last weekend or very early this week, but things got away from me. Sorry! I do, however, still think these issues are relevant and interesting and I hope that you will, too.

Now, imagine that you’re sitting in Sun Life Stadium in Miami, Florida last Sunday. The “big game” is about to kick off. The PA announcer’s voice booms and echoes through the speakers: Starting [ing, ing, ing] Linebacker [acker,acker,acker] for the New Orleans Saints, Number Fifty-Five and gay rights advocate…Scott Fujitaaaaaa.

Gay rights advocate? Nobody would blame you if you did a double take. I mean, with the exception of the inherent homoeroticism (you know, men wearing spandex, passing a ball through their legs and slapping each other’s behinds) competitive football hasn’t exactly been the greatest ally of the gay rights movement. Those locker rooms and practice fields are filled with all sorts of anti-gay slurs by players and coaches, a like. And during a game, you can be sure that the fans hold their own in homophobic heckling.

So what’s this all about?

No, Scott Fujita’s introduction didn’t go quite like that. But it might as well have. Saints star Fujita first made a big splash when he publically endorsed the National Equality March this past October (if you know of a public statement or action Fujita took prior to this in support of gay rights, please correct me!). In an interview with The Nation’s sports editor and host of Sirius XM Radio’s “The Edge of Sports,” Dave Zirin, Fujita spoke publically about his position on gay rights.

An Arkansas initiative which would have restricted single parents from adopting resonated with Fujita—himself, adopted. In his interview with Zirin, he said that “the way I read that [the Arkansas initiative] and the way that I translated that language was that only heterosexual, married couples could adopt children. As an adopted child that really bothered me. I asked myself, what that is really saying is that the concern with one’s sexual orientation or sexual preference outweighs what’s really important, and that’s finding safe homes for children, for our children.” [1]

He hopes that his status as a professional football player helps to advance the movement saying, “I think for me it was a cause that I truly believe in…For me, in my small platform as a professional football player, I understand that my time in the spotlight is probably limited. The more times you can lend your name to a cause you believe in, you should do that.” [2] It seems that Fujita has made a habit of using sport for “bigger” things. He reportedly signed with the New Orleans Saints in 2006 because he believed that “this could be bigger than football [referencing the post-Katrina rebuilding efforts].” [3]

Fujita rejects the notion that he’s acting courageously by speaking up about these issues. He says he’s simply “standing up for equal rights…It’s not that courageous to have an opinion if you think it’s the right thing and you believe it wholeheartedly.” [4] His humility is admirable, but I do think that taking the measures he has constitutes as courageous—that is, he’s overcoming a lot of social pressures to engage in a way that does not really benefit him personally and that actually threatens his popularity.

Since he doesn’t identify as gay, bi or queer (more on this below), with the exception of my and your respect and a “more just” society, he doesn’t have anything to personally gain by speaking up. To my knowledge he isn’t getting paid for making these statements. On the other hand, he has a lot to lose. His profession is partially based on popularity and speaking up about these issues isn’t always popular (though, I suppose he’s more popular in my book for doing so). In short, I believe there is a reason that so few athletes have publically taken a stand on the issue of gay marriage—it’s divisive. Most athletes don’t want to alienate a portion of their fan base. Professional athletes also have their images to worry about in a way that you and I don’t. While you and I both know that speaking up about gay rights isn’t indicative of someone’s sexual orientation, others often conflate the two. I’m not suggesting that being gay or being thought of being gay is bad in any way, just that many people (especially straight) go out of their way to avoid this ‘reputation’ because it’s socially difficult. I admit that I think it helps that he’s already an established veteran.

During his interview with Dave Zirin, Fujita mentions in passing that “just because I’m in favor of gay rights doesn’t mean that I’m gay or doesn’t mean that I’m some kind of ‘sissy.’” He hopes that others will step up and realize that it’s okay to talk about these issues without feeling threatened. Indeed, Brendon Ayanbadejo of the Baltimore Ravens wrote an op-ed in April of 2009 for the Huffington Post entitled “Same Sex Marriage: What’s the Big Deal?” Fujita’s activism came six months after Ayanbadejo spoke up, so it’s safe to say that Fujita’s public comments didn’t influence Ayanbadejo, but together they’re paving the way for other athletes—especially for those who play “macho” sports.

Though he volunteers that he is not gay, I don’t get the impression that he’s parading around reassuring everyone that he is straight. As I mentioned above, it is common for individuals (outspoken allies or not) to feel the need to proclaim their heterosexuality (“no homo,” anyone?). Zirin asks him about this issue, explicitly, saying “Do you have any concerns that teammates, fans, people will say Scott Fujita may be married and have kids, but maybe down low he might really be gay?” To which Fujita responds that is not concerned about that “whatsoever.” He explains that “I know who I am. My wife knows who I am. I don’t care one way or the other Dave. I imagine that when some of this gets out guys in the locker room might give me a hard time…[but,] I’m used to it. I can take it all.” [5] ‘All,’ in this case, includes being called the “Pinko Communist Fag from Berkeley.” [6]

Even with that locker room talk, Fuijita challenges our stereotype of the NFL being homophobic. “By and large,” he says, “the players are more tolerant than they get credit for. It’s not a big issue. Some guys will think you are crazy for believing one way, but they’ll still accept you.” [7]But would they embrace an out athlete? Jim Buzinksi, co-founder of outsports.com, is confident that there are gays in the NFL but since no active player in the NFL is publically out, it’s hard to know the answer. [8]

In the end, Zirin sums it up pretty well: “You have to get your head around the idea that Scott [Fujita] is a bad-ass linebacker for the New Orleans Saints and that he speaks his mind in support of gay rights.” [9]

---

1. Fujita, Scott. "'Why I Support the National Equality March': NFL's Scott Fujita Speaks Out for Gay Rights." Interview by Dave Zirin. Edge of Sports. Dave Zirin, 6 Oct. 2009. Web. 12 Feb. 2010.
2. Zirin Interview.
3. Kilgore, Adam. "Solid backing by Saint: Fujita unafraid to support gay rights." The Boston Globe 3 Feb. 2010: n. pag. Web. 12 Feb. 2010.
4. Lapointe, Joe. "The Saints Linebacker Who Speaks His Mind." The New York Times 3 Feb. 2010: n. pag. Web. 12 Feb. 2010.
5. Zirin Interview.
6. Zirin Interview.
7. New York Times by Joe Lapointe.
8. Buzinski, Jim. "Openly Gay NFL Player Will Come but It’ll Take a While." Editorial. The Washington Post 17 June 2009: n. pag. Web. 12 Feb. 2010.
9. The Boston Globe by Adam Kilgore.

LGBT Issues in Sport: An Introduction

Welcome to my column! For lack of a better, more creative title I’m simply going to be calling this feature “LGBT Issues in Sport.” I don’t proclaim to be an expert in these issues, but I like to think I’m a little more knowledgeable and aware of them than “Joe the Plumber.”

So if I’m not an expert on this stuff, then who am I and why am I writing about it? To answer these questions I’m going to dedicate this first post to an introduction. I’ll be writing every other Wednesday. Some may be more news-like, other posts may provide resources, and still others may be something completely different. I glean a lot of blogs and sites, but I will certainly miss some things. So if there is something you’d like me to address, please email me at rfi@duke.edu. Just indicate in the subject line that it’s related to this blog and I’ll do my best to include it here.

But first, let me introduce myself. I’m Risa and I love sports. Obviously, that’s not the only thing that defines me, but it really is a large part of who I am (just ask my friends). Over the years my passion for sports grew from being a participant to being a fan and an athlete to being a fan, an athlete and an academic. Let me explain.

The short version of it is that I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t playing sports. I’ve played on local YMCA teams, with my older brother and dad in the street, for a rec league, for my high school and now for Duke. I’ve been involved with a lot of different sports in varying capacities: soccer, track and field, cross country, basketball, ultimate frisbee, dance, gymnastics, and rowing (not to mention countless hours of catch and/or pickle). In first and second grade I remember playing basketball and soccer with the boys at recess. Throughout all of elementary school I lived for every third day when we got to have PE and always looked forward to field day. In middle school and high school I was that annoying girl who was super competitive in PE. Somewhere along the line I also started following some professional leagues. As time continued, my preferred pro league and team became the WNBA and my hometown Phoenix Mercury, respectively. As I became a more and more devoted fan I started becoming interested in the behind the scene components—like marketing and salary caps, etc. Around eighth grade I started thinking that I might like to go into sports business (lots of other eighth graders were deciding their future careers, too, right?). In the middle of high school I felt conflicted between wanting to pursue one of my other passions—social change—but also loving sports. At the time, I didn’t see how the two could work together (you know, how do you reconcile “changing the world” and the nonprofit sector with the multi-billion dollar sports entertainment industry?). Then I realized what a powerful platform sports were and began developing a personal philosophy that sport has the power to change the world. I figured I could use sport to create positive change by becoming a big powerful executive and then partnering with organizations and colleagues to develop varying initiatives. I started reading up on organizations that did this sort of work and ways in which sport has been a medium to push society forward. During this effort I stumbled across a network of academic blogs, journals and resources which I continue to follow and read in my free time. After spending a lot of time thinking about the issues the blogs raised and the work this academic community was doing, I realized how excited it all made me. Before all of this I never knew that “sport sociology” existed—but now it’s all I want to study.

In reading lots of these blogs and journals, I’ve found that I’m most interested in issues of diversity within sport (race, gender, religion, culture, etc). I am also really intrigued by the relationship between sport and culture—how sport is a reflection of society and/or how society is a reflection of sport. In this blog, I’ll be focusing on LGBT issues (if you want to talk about other things, though, hit me up!) like homophobia and gender expression and identity and athletes’ coming out stories, etc.

As it relates to Duke, I’m a regular at volleyball and women’s basketball games. I also get to a handful of men’s and women’s soccer games each season and the home track and field meets. I’ve, of course, been to football and men’s basketball games (including last year’s Carolina game) in addition to a few field hockey games and even a fencing match.

More than just a hobby, I spent a summer working for the Phoenix Mercury’s PR office, a sports marketing firm and last school year as a manager for the women’s basketball team. I’m currently a member of the crew team.

Lastly, the disclaimer: the views expressed in this blog are only mine (unless otherwise noted). They do not reflect Blue Devil’s United or Duke University or any other entity with which I am or have been affiliated.

Rainbows, Buttons, Flags, and Umbrellas

It's been a rainy semester here at Duke. As a result, I've become quite the connoisseur of umbrellas. I have one for light, daily use (black), one for heavy rain and heavy wind (blue and white), and a recent acquisition: one for everything in between (rainbow-colored). And while the heavy blue-and-white umbrella is by far the most durable choice, I've tended to choose to tout the rainbow umbrella. First, because it's pretty (there's a pic farther down!). Second, because, well, I want to be visible.

When I came out, it really took a while for me to decide how big a part of my identity it was--it's a daily process, really--okay, so I'm gay--what's next? Following the bridge incident this year, Blue Devils United ordered rainbow flags for students to put up outside their windows to show support for and solidarity with the LGBT community. I put mine in the window itself, so when I have my lights on it looks kind of like stained glass from the outside (photo: Oli Wilson). I think it's really important to show people that this is campus that's affirming of LGBT individuals (or even if that's not entirely the case, I think that if we give off that image, it will gradually become a self-fulfilling thing). It's the same with the Love=Love shirts.

Each year on National Coming Out Day, the LGBT Center, in cooperation with the various LGBT groups on campus, gives out free Love=Love shirts in various colors--1500 shirts a year. They're usually gone within an hour or two. LGBTQA students, faculty, grad students, and community members wear the shirts around campus. It's a pretty rare day when I don't see at least two people wearing them and it's really heartwarming to see them.


Visibility is something I think about and struggle with a lot. If I wear my Love=Love shirt to yoga, will I be labeled gay for the rest of the semester? Will doubles yoga forever be awkward? (well, okay, doubles yoga is pretty awkward anyway, but whatever.)

Earlier this semester, when it was pouring and I was stuck in the Bryan Center without an umbrella, I bought the new (rainbow) one so I could walk home without getting soaked. I had seen a friend carrying one the week prior and really liked it, plus I just thought it made sense to get one to be visible. Later in the week, I was walking back to my room after Vespers rehearsal and got out my umbrella for the walk. A friend of mine--a guy I consider to be pretty progressive--looked at my umbrella and said something to the effect of, "That's a little excessive, isn't it?" (photo: Sean Dillard)

Well, is it?

Is carrying a rainbow umbrella, as a guy, broadcasting your sexuality? I don't think so. I've gotten a few ambiguous looks while carrying it. But come on! It's a nice-looking umbrella, one of the few available at the Duke store. I don't have to be gay to carry it, right? I mean, granted, we're a pretty homophobic society, but come on. They're colors. Are we really that afraid of Mr. Roy G. Biv?

I also wear an LGBT Center button/pin on my backpack. This one makes me even more nervous. I tend to turn it around when I sit down on the bus so it's facing me. (though, the extreme awkwardness necessary to turn a button into a confrontation will probably always prevent people from talking about it. Just imagine, "Yo, this guy has an LGBT center pin on his bag. Heh, what a fag," is the most graceful way I can imagine it, and, well, clearly, that interaction fails).

Yeah, I wish we lived in a society (or a campus, even) where it'd be commonplace for straight guys to overcome their homophobia enough to do some of the same things I do. But even if they aren't homophobic or being afraid of associated with the LGBT center, being an LGBT activist is simply less likely to be as high on their priority list as it is on mine. And while plenty of my ally friends wear Love=Love shirts, no straight boy around here would carry that umbrella or wear that pin. And I'm okay with that. I think it's good for people to see a guy who's not afraid to carry a rainbow umbrella, regardless of whether or not he's gay. (and just recognizing that sure says something about masculinity...)

I had a long conversation with one of my priests last semester, and he essentially told me that he thought I should be as open and out as I was comfortable being, because it would be healthy for our Catholic community to have someone so open and comfortable both in his role as a gay man and as a Catholic in a leadership position (I'm the co-coordinator for music ministry, so I'm up front with the choir every weekend). And I think I agree. I'm reasonably comfortable with myself (and growing more so each day)--why not use that to help our community and our campus grow?

I've heard the argument that being so visible or being a "queen" (or a rather effeminate gay man) can be harmful to our cause, that it will cause discomfort and push people away. I somewhat disagree. I think that, yes, perhaps some extremely homophobic people will be pushed away--but they're already homophobic and probably still will be tomorrow. In their case, it won't make much of a difference either way. But as I've talked about before, I think the best way to advance our position in the community is to personally connect with people, to allow dialogue to happen and to be comfortable talking about myself. If I'm visible, I make such dialogue more likely--even if I'm not involved--and that's something I'm happy about. If people think about it, I'm confident they'll end up on "our" side, so let's keep people thinking about it.

So yeah. Lots of rain this semester. All my shoes are perpetually muddy. Thankfully, the weather's pretty nice today. If it goes foul tomorrow, though, you can trust I'll be getting out my rainbow umbrella again.

Velociraptors

Something’s been bugging me for months. No, it’s not Fratty McBrahs-a-lot in KA pulling the Craven fire alarm every Monday morning at 4am. It’s not the fact that Taylor Lautner won’t just admit that he’s a few straight arrows short of a quiver. It’s not even that the Alpine Fro-Yo keeps giving me brain freezes when I eat it too fast.

No, it’s a conversation that I had a few months ago with my high school principal that’s been the source of my discontent. I’ll explain – part of the deal of me not getting deported/water boarded at Guantanamo Bay is that I send back a report on what I’ve been doing at college to the powers that be each year. I thought my principal would be interested to see this report as well, so I sent him a copy at the start of the year. I detailed all the stuff I’d participated in, including my involvement with LGBTQ issues on and off campus. Without mentioning anything specific, he emailed me and asked if I’d mind if he included it in the next school newsletter? “Of course not” I replied, and thought little more of it.

Months later when I was back home for a few weeks, I was chatting with him in his office about life in the US, and college in general. (So basically I just talk about red solo cups, beer-pong and pop tarts.) Then out of the blue he comes out with this: “Oh I hope you don’t mind me removing the bit about you being involved with gay rights from the newsletter – I didn’t want your brother to get picked on for it.” I was so surprised that I spluttered “No, of course not.” Which I’ve regretted ever since - because I do mind. A lot. First, my 17 year old brother and all his friends all know I’m gay and have no issue with it at all – in fact he recently asked me to send him over a Love = Love T-shirt. I mind because what he said is reflective of how LGBT issues are viewed at my high school, and so many high schools around the world. It’s something that’s swept under the rug, ignored and not talked about.

Now, I don’t think my principal disapproves of me being involved with LGBT rights – I think what he did really was a misguided attempt at protecting my brother. But if that’s the view he and many other administrators holds, then the situation for LGBT students at my school and other schools is never going to improve. I went to a small single-sex (which is common in Britain/Australia/New Zealand) high school. It sucked being closeted there. I’m ashamed of myself that instead of mumbling “of course not”, I didn’t tell him what it was like to be gay and growing up in that school, the effect that being closeted has on one’s mental health, and the loneliness of not knowing a single other openly LGBTQ person.

I failed that test of courage – but I’ve vowed not to let it happen again. Instead of taking the easy way out, I’m going to try to educate, explain how it makes people feel. The further out of high school I get, the more I appreciate the community we have here at Duke, and the security within myself that I lacked only a few years ago. It’s also increased my desire to do something to help improve the environment back home. I hope that I can make even a small difference for those back home and never forget where I came from (cue clichéd groan). So I hope that the next time you all face a test of character, you don’t fail it like I did, but rather have the strength to do good from it.

Sex, Sex, Sex and More Sex

This semester I'm in a class on sex work. The class is divided into four sections: prostitution, sex trafficking, exotic dancing and pornography. Throughout the semester we have exclusively talked about sex work in the context of heterosexual individuals. However, when we got to the section on pornography, we did extensive work on gay pornography, including watching clips and documentaries that showed explicit scenes of anal and oral sex between two men. We had seen many of these sorts of clips between heterosexual couples, so it only seemed logical that if I have to be subjected to watching heterosexual sex, then the rest of the (presumably straight-identified) class should have to watch gay sex.

I was looking forward to analyzing a type of sex that I am used to, yet was also worried that the class reception would be overtly homophobic and only serve to invalidate my own sexual desires. As the clip was starting I held my breath. The two boys start kissing. I look around the room. Everyone is still watching and no one is squeaming in their seats yet. Clothes start coming off. People are still watching. The oral sex begins. Everyone is still watching. I am shocked. Even the straight-identified men in the room are still looking. However, there's still more to go. The anal sex starts. People are still watching with their academic eye. Not at all the reaction I was expecting. Then one of the boys sucks on another ones toes. The class erupts in an expression of disgust.

Gayle Rubin, in her transformative essay "Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality," describes a hierarchy of sexual acts with heterosexual, monogamous sex on one end and fetishistic sex on the other. She states that "as a result of the sex conflicts of the last decade, some behavior near the border is inching across it." Has our society advanced to the point where gay sex is seen as an appropriate form of sex?

While I do think the positive reception in my class is due to the progressive nature of my classmates and not an overall societal advancement in sexual thought, I do think that we have come a long way in destigmatizing sex between members of the same sex. In the six years since sodomy was deemed unconstitutional in Lawrence v. Texas our society has gradually become open to all types of sex between consenting adults. I hope that in the future, we will only an increase in the acceptance of all types of consensual sex acts.

Party Boy Chad, Psychosexual Revelations, G-Bombs, and Other Thoughts

As seems to happen in any class with sex on the syllabus, we ended up on the topic of the hook-up culture in my psych discussion section. It was the last one of the semester; I guess they figured they’d go out with a bang. We were assigned a few articles to read on the subject, some on research conducted by old white men in sterile laboratories, some on the findings of researchers who had actually been adventurous enough to go out into the field and take surveys. (Or so I gathered from reading the intro and conclusion, all I had time for before rushing to class.) All were dealing with straight couples, and the issues that they had as a result of anonymous sexual interaction.

It was one of the liveliest discussions our group has had. I hadn’t read the articles very thoroughly (i.e. not at all), so I sat back and took in what was going on around me. I’d heard it all before: the effects of alcohol, risk of disease, sexual assault, emotional issues. These are all serious subjects, but from the way the conversation was going, I was beginning to believe that only heteros had to deal with all that icky stuff. Whew, what a relief! Oh…wait…

So I resolved to bring up LGBT issues, to throw some color into the conversation.

My first chance to tie the conversation to the LGBT community came soon. As I thought about what I was going to say, my heart began to pound and my hands began to slightly shake. “This shouldn’t be happening to me” I thought, “I don’t give a fuck if these people know I’m gay. I don’t give a damn that Party Boy Chad and his Brohammer are sitting next to me, sharing stories about their experiences and perspectives, so that everyone in the class know how brotastic they are”. But I had already missed my chance, the discussion had moved on. I would have to wait to interject gaily at some other point in the conversation.

Its funny to me that after being out for so long, after marching in pride parades, having walked hand in hand with a boyfriend across campus- hell, after coming out to my African American Christian Republican parents- that coming out again in certain situations still gives me a little rush of adrenaline. And it is not always fear that makes my heart flutter. Sometimes, its genuine excitement, anticipation of a reaction, that makes coming out almost like a game. Other times it’s the insecurity of not knowing whether a teacher will be biased against an openly gay student, or if my project partner will want to switch groups. It had started out as the former this time, but I will admit, I was a little nervous. Whatever it is, coming out, something that even openly LGBT individuals have to do, is still always a noteworthy occasion in my day.

I did eventually get my chance to speak again in class. I broached the subject apparently just before my TA did. I started by stating that I believe feelings about hooking up should be thought of on a more individual basis, and that the statements “guy/girls always do/feel___” didn’t really make sense to me. I told the class that I’d always had friends of both sexes who consistently did non-stereotypical things and held non-stereotypical beliefs. I also mentioned that while the conversation was obviously talking about heterosexual relationships, there was a significant group not being represented.

My TA smiled, nodded, looked down at her list of questions and said the next one that she had planned on asking was: What are people’s perceptions of the LGBT hook-up culture at Duke? Party Boy Chad said under his breath (in that tone) “I have no idea”, preemptively clarifying the fact that, if he hadn’t made it clear before, he was not a homosexual.

I sat quietly for a moment to gauge the class reaction, also curious what others had to say. Being in the class for a semester (actually after about a week), I had come to the conclusion that I was the only openly gay individual. After a time I spoke up, all eyes turning to me as I said jokingly, “I guess I’ll go”. The fact that I was gay hadn’t come up, and I wouldn’t say I’m (always) “obvious”, so I felt like it was a surprise for those who hadn’t suspected, or even noticed me in the class before. I went on to explain some of my perceptions about the LGBT community at Duke: that by the simple logistical fact of there being less LGBT individuals, the selection pool was obviously more limited, that it wasn’t as easy to find a place where you could find someone (Shooters isn’t exactly catering to LGBT clientele), that for those not out, dating was a lot more difficult, that the prospects of long term relationships when marriage wasn’t at the end of the rainbow were maybe a little more complicated. When I stopped talking, hands slowly began to rise. We went on to discuss the ways in which society seemed to be changing, with more people feeling comfortable identifying, and people coming out younger. Some sympathized with the difficulties that LGBT individuals face, bringing up friends, family, or just people they knew of who were out or still in the closet. Someone asked whether or not coming out was a maturity thing. In my opinion it's not (and has much more to do with circumstance), but that the straight person who asked couldn't see why one wouldn't come out in college as heartening in some strange way. The class also seemed pretty supportive in general, and the TA definitely was, wrapping the discussion up by endorsing LGBT rights.

What I find interesting about the episode are my reactions and that of the class. Not having come out to anyone in some time, I was reminded again of what dropping the g-bomb felt like, and surprised that even in the relatively harmless environment of that classroom, how many emotions the act could elicit. While I wasn’t expecting a storm of hate speech following my admission, I was pleasantly surprised by my peers’ mostly positive reactions. Even Chad (I hope his name really isn’t Chad, I have no idea) listened respectfully, and made a comment, of which I can only remember that the gist was an affirming one. I’ll admit it may have been my own pre-judgment that assumed things about his character and beliefs based on minimal interaction. I think it is good for me to be reminded of struggles I’ve been through, to better empathize with those going through them now. And I love it when I’m reminded that maybe Duke is changing, right before my eyes, and perhaps the real world along with it.

A Strange Encounter

After passing through an airport security operation completely run by one TSA officer, I sat down in the tiny waiting area of Manhattan Regional Airport and stared at my shoes as I tried to process all of the events of that weekend. As I mentioned in my last post, I attended the OUT & GREEK Conference at Kansas State two weekends ago. It was… fascinating, engaging, humbling, maybe even life-changing. I’m still not done staring at my shoes and processing it all though, so I’ll leave that for another post. Instead, I want to talk about an ephemeral and surreal encounter that made a perfect capstone for an already emotionally heavy weekend.

Quickly bored with my shoes and with little else to look at in the waiting area, I started to watch the x-ray images of people’s bags passing through the adjacent security area. I tried to guess what all the false-colored shapes might be, of course hoping that I would see something bizarre or humiliating. But my fun was spoiled when an old man sat down next to me and insisted on talking to me, no matter how obviously disinterested I made myself appear.

“Hi,” he said with a nod as he crossed through my line of sight to the x-ray machine. “Hi,” I responded with a polite but half-hearted smile. He sat down next to me, on the same side as the x-ray machine, and I could only think of how annoyed I was that I couldn’t look at the machine without looking in his general direction. My eyes quickly returned to my shoes, suddenly the most interesting thing in the room again.

“You go to State?”

I groaned to myself inside. I have to admit that without exception the people I’ve met on flights in the past have been interesting or pleasant, but sometimes I’m just too tired to go through the motions with these strangers. I was stereotyping this old man pretty hard. He looked to be in his sixties, and all my feelings of resentment for his generally naïve and homophobic generation began to bubble up. I was angriest that in my polite conversation with this old man, I would feel compelled to hide exactly why I was in Kansas that weekend. It’s tough to transition from a weekend of LGBT empowerment to a desire to hide in the closet. I suppose that I wasn’t afraid of admitting I was gay so much as too lazy and frazzled at the moment to stand up and be an educator for this old man.

“No, I go to Duke. I was just here for a conference at Kansas State.”

“Oh yeah. What sort of conference?”

“A fraternity conference,” I said flatly, hoping to end the conversation there.

“Oh so you’re a frat boy,” he quipped back pejoratively. I smiled at him in a “fuck you” sort of way and uttered a flat, “You could say that,” again hoping the conversation would end. Instead, he started talking about himself. He was visiting for business as some sort of consultant for the Presbyterian Church. Great, I thought to myself, he just put the P in WASP, and I bet next he’ll tell me about his wife and grandkids.

“So what’s your major?”

“Biology.”

“You know, I met my wife on my first day of biology class in college.” He went to a Methodist school.

“Oh yeah. Wow.” I said, feigning interest. I was ready to ask, “So is that the same class where they taught you that being gay is a crime against nature?” I wanted nothing more than for the plane to arrive so this old WASPy hetero would leave me alone.

Then there was a sudden change in his voice. “And 25 years later I had to tell my wife I was different, and we divorced.” Deep down, I knew where this was going, but I was momentarily blinded by the stereotypes I used to define this man.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” I asked, facing him directly.

“I’m gay,” he muttered, choking on the word. I could tell he was embarrassed, perhaps terrified. Ironically, this old man just went through exactly what I was dreading: the limbo that envelops you every time you drop the g-word on a new person, when time dilates and you await their reaction like the blade of a guillotine.

As the broken pieces of my preconceptions were falling to the ground, I felt an incredible sense of relief rush over me, and I jumped at the opportunity to end the awkwardness with a “Me too!” Then my mind lapsed to vanity for a second, and I realized that he must have already guessed that I was gay or he wouldn’t have told me at all. Is it that obvious to everyone? Do I really care?

Focusing back on our conversation, I learned that his name is Mark. He’s out to his family and they’re generally accepting of him, but his work with the church requires him to stay in the closet around everyone else (his name isn’t really Mark, by the way). Mark is 64, and when he retires he plans to publish a work of fiction that will essentially out him once and for all. (As he explained it to me, it’s basically The Da Vinci Code except Jesus hooks up with John, not Mary Magdalene).

I told him all about the OUT & GREEK conference, and I almost felt a tinge of guilt. I mean, this poor guy grew up in an environment where coming out was out of the question, where he probably didn’t even learn the vocabulary necessary to process and understand his hidden feelings. And when he finally did come out, he had to experience first hand the devastation of AIDS on the gay community. And there I was trying to sell how important it is to improve the experience of LGBTs in Fraternities and Sororities. I told him about my boyfriend of two and a half years, about being out for two years, and about being accepted in my college community and in my fraternity. Talking to him was like looking at myself in another universe. Our conversation naturally turned to how much the LGBT movement has progressed in the last 40 years. I cited the recent New York Times feature called “Coming Out in Middle School,” and told him that I feel like my own struggle to come out is being made obsolete by the next wave of gays.

He said one last thing to me before we boarded the plane and sat separately: “You know, looking back, wishing that I had come out earlier, I really have to ask myself whether I’d be willing to give up the three kids that I had with my wife.” I certainly don’t know how to answer that question, but I'm happy that I don't have to.

As I looked out the airplane window and saw the tiny airport disappear into the vast nothingness of Kansas, I resolved to stop trying to make sense of what had just happened. Instead, I simply basked in the overwhelming realization of how fortunate I am, and fell asleep with an uncontrollable smile on my face.

Mixed Blood

Screenings, tests, questionnaires, we’ve all been subject to the selecting process in some way, shape, or form; at times we find ourselves included on the right side of the metaphoric fence, and at others we are left out in the cold with the rest of the garbage. Rejection is never a positive experience (one would think), but we assume that we were not chosen because of our lacking merit, and in a justly manner, no less. For it must be true, obviously, that the standards and reasoning behind these selections were valid and without bias, right?

The world has never been short of its bigoted, excluding parties, and today is no different.

For most individuals who pop into Duke’s American Red Cross Blood Drive Donation Reception Area (sounds so much more official than just saying Von Canon, doesn’t it?), question 34 of the screening questionnaire is just another negligent hurdle to jump before you can claim your cookie and juice box. For others, however, including yours truly, it is a moral crossroads. Answer “no” and you walk free, most likely to the end, nonetheless affected save for that bruise on your arm from the volunteer continuously missing your vein (c’mon, seriously). But answer “yes”, and you find yourself forever banned, your name on a list of individuals deemed too risky to give.

The question in question (hehe, puns) is as follows: “From 1977 to the present, have you had sexual contact with another male, even once?” Now for me, the most insulting aspect of this question is not that it dares to equate my sexual activity unfit for the donor room, but the “even once” additive. As if we’re cheating members of Weight Watchers packing the Oreo filling between two cookies and calling it one serving. Oh, hell, it was just once, it won’t count, right? Quite frankly, those two small words insult the integrity and intelligence of the person in question (hehe, more puns) in what is already a discriminate and unfair topic to discuss.

Recently, The Advocate posted an article in their October issue concerning the battle of the lifelong ban of gay men by the FDA, detailing the origin of the ban, its supporters, its critics, and the measures taken. Basically, the ban came about amidst the HIV/AIDS scare and was taken as an extreme preventative measure that has, clearly, outstayed its welcome. Nowhere does the questionnaire screen heterosexual couples for their promiscuity, nor does it offer as severe a punishment for other “questionable” behaviors. In fact, many of the organizations that hold these blood drives (the American Red Cross included) are advocating that the FDA rethink its policy. As of yet, the administration is unyielding, yet Obama’s newest appointments promise at least a potential screening, giving the questionnaire a taste of its own medicine.

Again I cop out, Dear Reader, and leave the discussion up to you, but here are some facts to consider as you fill the comments box *cough cough*:

· Unprotected anal intercourse presents the highest risk due to the propensity for the rectal tissue to tear, permitting an access for infected blood and semen

· Other behavioral risk factors result in a 12-month deferral from donating versus the lifelong ban of MSM contact, a revision many are considering for #34—though I don’t see HOW they expect anyone to wait a year

· 15% of HIV infection is through anal intercourse, while 60% is through vaginal, according to the World Health Organization

So there you have it: now have at it!

Identity Crisis: does the Movement require that we check a box?

I recently read an article written by Karla Jay, radical lesbian feminist and current professor of English and Gender Studies at Pace University, in which Jay tackles a subject countless of us have heard bandied about by former and current activists alike: Gen Y apathy.

Jay makes some good points regarding not only the effects of our technologically driven lives on current activist apathy, but also the struggle to empower young leaders to make strides where their predecessors began 40 years ago (to be fair, I think there is a point to be made for the rise of young leaders during last year's presidential elections as well as the work of young leaders in the surging fight for Equality). But, one of the things that stood out to me in Jay's letter was her take on the refusal of some members of the LGBTQ community to identify as LGBTQ. Of the students she has observed, Jay says, "(t)here’s a Stonewall Coalition at the university, but you don’t need that because New York City has so many queer bars and you have the fake I.D. to get in. You’re oh-so-out, though most of you can’t apply the LGBTQ words to yourself in my queer courses." Her take on this movement away from identifying appears to be an accusation of sorts. Slipped within a diatribe on activist apathy, the feeling behind the sentiment is certainly fueled by an amount of distrust of the "label-less."

Jay's reaction to observing a certain reticence among queer students to identify as LGBTQ calls forward an issue that is key to the current Equality movement. Is this movement away from labels destructive to the unity and cohesiveness of the LGBTQ fight for equality? And is accepting a label on your sexuality really necessary for gaining access to your rights?

Murdered LGBTQ activist Harvey Milk epitomized the sentiments of the 1970s LGBTQ equality movement in his speech "That's What America Is!" when he urged LGBTQ Americans to come out to their families, their friends, their neighbors, and their coworkers. His work with other LGBTQ activist leaders under the slogan "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" resulted in the defeat of anti-gay legislation in California and a shifting tide in the fight for LGBTQ equality. Coming out and identifying as LGBTQ was seen as a political tool to win allies and to put a face to the people being affected by anti-LGBTQ sentiments and legislation. They capitalized upon the feminist political thought that "the personal is political" and used it to humanize the LGBTQ community.

For me, I believe that coming out and identifying remains a powerful weapon for LGBTQ equality. It is easy to demonize a faceless enemy that you have been warned against your entire life. It is much harder to hate someone you know, someone you truly love as a person, for being who they are, be it Black, Muslim, gay, or part of a host of other stereotyped and persecuted groups. Coming out is not only beneficial for the LGBTQ persons in question, but it forces the people around them to confront and become aware of their own reactions towards the LGBTQ community, homophobic or otherwise. However, when we don't come out, we allow the people around us to NOT have to confront these issues. We allow them to live in a space wherein they can believe whatever they want about the LGBTQ community without facing any challenge from us, while we avoid being open and secure about our own lives.

How does this tie in, then, to those who are out, but do not identify as LGBTQ? Personally, I can completely understand the desire to not identify or label oneself. Labels carry the burden of carefully cultivated stigma and stereotypes that probably do not apply to the individual, and it is frustrating to know that assumptions are made about you based on what "box" your sexuality most fits into. Not only do labels inherently limit sexual expression and identity, but they can become a means of parceling out our community along faction lines. In a Utopia, no one would need labels, because one's sexuality would not define one's ideals or morals in the eyes of peers. Sexuality would just be, and that would be that.

However, it is important to remember that we do not live in a Utopia. I respect anyone's decision to not allow themselves to be labeled. At the same time though, I believe there is room within this to still work to disseminate an understanding of our community to our peers and to forward LGBTQ equality. The practice Karla Jay described, that of participating in LGBTQ social life without having to represent the LGBTQ community within a broader social context IS, I believe, a loss to our community. At the very least, identifying with the LGBTQ community, even if not under one of its specific labels, is important in that, like coming out, it forces those around us to recognize us as part of a disenfranchised and underrepresented community. It makes each and every one of us social activists in our smaller communities by giving us a broader identity with which we can associate. In this way, even those of us who do not consider ourselves activists, become ambassadors for our queer community.

We are living and existing in a time of change, and I for one think that it is more than alright that we be a little confrontational.

Movie Review #2: Get Real

[Ed. Note: Every other Tuesday, Ari will be reviewing gay-themed movies. No, not those kind (ask him in person for those reviews). I swear by his judgment in films, and you should too :) ]

During my coming out process in high school, I was guilty of popping in a movie from time to time in order to watch a film that showed how other gay teenagers worked through their angst, confusion, fear and all of those other crazy feelings that compounded themselves into a single thought. Get Real was definitely one of those films that were able to embody that dramatic confusion in a gay adolescent’s life that helped me understand that I wasn’t alone (I also happen to be a sucker for films that include a high school jock, can you say husband material?).

The film, directed and written by Patrick Wilde, was an official selection at the 1999 Sundance Film Festival and plays off of the high school roles that tend to characterize and divide us while we play that petty game called the “high school experience”. The story revolves around a boyish teenager, Steven Carter (Ben Silverstone), who has known he was gay since he was 11 years old and continues to be harassed by the high school athletes for his more flamboyant attributes. Although Steven is comfortable with his sexuality, he isn’t sure that his parents and peers would be, and so the only person he tells is his best friend Linda (Charlotte Britain). One day after school, Steven has a run in with John Dixon (Brad Gorton) the high school all-star (isn’t it funny how it always works out that way? It’s never the ordinary jock, it’s always THE star athlete) and pursues a sexual tryst that turns into a relationship hidden from the public.

Perhaps not all of us have herded sheep with our unexpected lover on the mountainside a la Brokeback Mountain (not to say that it isn’t a dream of mine), and Get Real understands the realistic and everyday hardships of being a closeted gay teenager in high school, whether that person is in the spotlight or cast aside as a mere outlier. The story, however, allows us to see how those who were once thought of as insignificant can rise above the social sphere to make a difference in the levels of acceptance we hope to gain from our parents, teachers, administration, etc. During a time when people are at the mercy of their parents’ will, it’s interesting to see how teenagers can become the voice of reason to the adults in their lives.

Get Real is a terrific movie that relies on its humor to avoid victimizing the main character for pity, and instead celebrates the courage of one boy and his impact on an entire community. The best character by far is Linda; her quick wit and frumpy demeanor elicits the most hilarity and her role as a fruit fly (synonymous for another commonly used phrase in the gay community) is truly unparalleled by anyone else in gay cinema. This movie should be watched by anyone coping with the coming out process, or just hoping to look back on those perplexing years with a laugh or five. A-

Don't Forget to Remember

In agreeing to post my news feed on the Blue Devils United blog, I have to admit I forgot how insanely depressing it can be. From the hideous murders of Jorge Steven López Mercado and Jason Mattison Jr. to the harassment of mayoral candidate Annise Parker, the messages that we have been receiving have been grim. And not only from within our own borders, as the attempt to make homosexuality punishable by death in Uganda reminded us. These attacks upon our community, nationally and globally, while shocking, aren't new. Until there the LGBT community is understood and accepted worldwide, there will always be more to report on, more information to disseminate. It can be overwhelming and frustrating and disheartening.

However, I would like to give a platform, for a moment, to those other messages, the ones of hope and strength that come to us even as we learn of the crimes being committed against our community. A boy refusing to pledge to a flag that does not live up to all it promises. The British Prime Minister speaking out against transphobia. A local vigil. A march. A win. While these messages may seem a pittance in the face of the losses that we have felt, they are the embodiment of the love and fortitude of our community, and of our ever-growing legion of allies. I continue to take heart in the knowledge that progress, although slow, is inevitable, IF we continue to give our hearts and our minds to the struggle for it.

So as we pause and remember all of those lost before true equality could be won around the world, let us not lose faith in the power and potential of our LGBTA community.

And, because I just have to (and because it gives me chills every time), some words that never fail to give me hope:

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.

I think perhaps the broader idea is that people are looking for meaningful friendships and they believe that they are likelier to find these in people who have certain things in common with them (the popular idea is, the more you have in common, the better).

I'm not going to refute this quite yet (I'll get to my rant on friendships toward the end of the post). For now, let's talk about being homophobic versus accepting. At our last discussion, some members of the Catholic Student Center asked, "How can we make the community more welcoming?" I answered something like, "Well, you are welcoming. Now you just have to figure out how to let people know that." But, honestly, I was really only talking about those people, right there. Are the Catholics okay with my sexuality? Are the frat guys? Does it really matter?

Sometimes it's pretty uncomfortable hanging out with certain Catholic friends of mine. I have this nagging thought that maybe they're just judging me the whole time. Maybe they're hanging out with me in hopes that they'll show me the light and that I can be saved from fiery death. Similarly, with other friends, well, maybe they're totally fine with it, and maybe the fact that we've never talked about it means that, but maybe it means the opposite. We're all insecure sometimes, and while I think I'm getting better at not feeling like I need to prove myself to people as a gay man in this heteronormative society, sometimes I need to have discussions with people and know that I'm, for what it's worth, approved of (which is ridiculous! I don't need to "prove" myself to people as Catholic, or as being from Montana, or as any of the other things I am). While I could, hypothetically, spend my life hanging out with people who don't approve of me and trying to convince them of my humanity and personhood, that just seems like a huge depressing waste of time. It's really a mental burden to have to spend time with people you know don't approve of things. And to worry about it--does this person know? S/he's Christian--does s/he think I'm going to hell? Great.

I wish I could just say, "Forget it! I don't need your approval." And I'm getting better at doing that (or at either ignoring or attempting to educate the people who don't approve). But it's hard for me and probably always will be.

What's the solution? There's no easy one. Don't reduce. View people as whole people. Don't turn certain adjectives about a person into what you see as his/her identity. Don't put me in a box and I won't put you in one. Okay? Sometimes I'll fail, and sometimes you'll fail, but we'll keep trying. This is oversimplified, I know, but it's one place from which to start thinking about it.

Lastly, my quick rant on Duke friendships: People. Being friends is more than having something in common or about being in the same place at the same time. Friendship is a mutual commitment to spend time with each other. If you want to form lasting friendships you can maintain when you get out of here, you need to be regularly doing things to maintain these relationships. Schedule a meal or a discussion or going to the fair. If you plan to just let it happen, then as soon as you're apart, that friendship's gone because you have effectively zero practice maintaining it. Yes, here at Duke, we can find friends who have enough in common with us that we'll just keep running into them. That's all well and good. But the very few true friends I've found here are people who I go out of my way to schedule time with and who will do the same for me. It doesn't matter how far I've looked, what uniting quality I've tried to find people with--mutual commitment is the most important thing for me to have in common with a friend.