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!]

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.