A Gay Greek's Plea

Okay, here we go. I am gay, out, and in a fraternity. Best part about it: it’s not a problem at all. The brothers knew about my sexuality long before I rushed and pledged. I was worried that once knowledge of my sexuality spread, I would be blacklisted and never invited to come around again. Much to my surprise, not long after my sexuality was revealed, I was invited to go to dinner with some of the brothers. I agreed, hesitantly, wondering what in the world this could mean. Were we going to have “the talk”?! (DUH Duh duh!) We have dinner. The subject was not mentioned, not referenced, not even hinted at. I released a sigh of relief as mighty as the gust from Zephyr that killed the beautiful Hyacinth (Can you tell I love Greek mythology?). My times of hanging out with the brothers continued. Fast forward to rush. Once again, my suspicions rose that maybe I could hang out with the brothers but only as a friend, never a brother. On a last minute whim, I rushed. My heart beat at the speed of light at each event, waiting for one of the brothers to tell me what I knew I would eventually hear. I remember anxiously staring at my computer on Sunday nights, refreshing my email every 10 seconds, hoping that I would get an email inviting me to the next round of rush, but knowing that I would never get it. Again, the brotherhood proved me wrong. I received a round 2 invite, followed by round 3. Then came the moment of truth… bids. I successfully made it through all 3 rounds of rush, but would that matter? After all, it could have all been for naught if I did not get a bid to pledge and eventually join. For that entire day, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t eat. I was sick to my stomach. I couldn’t walk because my knees were weak. I couldn’t write because my hands were shaking. The same thought ran through my head all day: No fraternity wants a gay guy as a brother.

I broke into tears that night. I received a bid to join the Beta Lambda chapter of Sigma Chi. They didn’t care. THEY DIDN’T CARE!!! They wanted me to be one of their brothers! Tears of joy streamed down my face as I quickly ran downstairs to my best friend’s room to tell her the good news. I, Ashante’ Jamar Biggers, was going to pledge a fraternity.

That was a year ago now. I’ve enjoyed every single minute with my brothers. They’ve been my friends, my support group, my vacation buddies. They’ve been there through my happy times, my sad times, my confusing times, my stressful times, my blissful times. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

So why tell you my story? Because I want everyone out there to know that yes, there is homophobia in the Greek community, but it’s not everywhere. You can find a pocket of sunshine breaking through the clouds just like I did. You just have to find it. I feel very secure about my sexuality thanks to the help of my fraternity. I feel very comfortable inviting a guy to our events. The thing that gives me the most grief is getting up the courage to ask someone. I know that if I bring a guy to a date function, we won’t have to face the stares and whispers. We won’t have to be the awkward couple that no one talks to. We could be just another couple in the crowd.

So please, for me, don’t think of all Greek organizations as homophobic because they are not. I beg of you to not generalize all Greeks as the same because we are not. I am an individual just as much as the next person. Think of the negative stereotypes that you face everyday and how you feel about them. I feel the same way.

Anonymous Posts(4.26.10-5.2.10)

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

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

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

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

Anyhow! Anonymous posts!

#1

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

#2

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

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

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

Let's talk about Womyn.

You are an 18 year-old female, and you’ve just been accepted by Duke University. It’s the morning of Blue Devil Days, and you’ve somehow managed to escape your parents for a few moments. (Success!) And hey, just for fun, let’s throw in something else to make this story a little more interesting-you also happen to identify as a bisexual woman.

So, you’re on the Main Quad, and you look around you. This place is awesome. Wow, it’s Duke! You’re still shocked that you even got accepted (or at least, I certainly was). You decide to go inside Perkins library and check out the Duke Chronicle to see what’s going on at campus this weekend. After flipping through a few of the pages, you determine that you really need to look up LDOC on urbandictionary.com when you get home. You set the Chronicle back in the newsstand and start to walk away.

And that’s when it catches your eye.

“WOMYN: An undergraduate publication for queer women at Duke.”

Your heart stops. Could it even be possible?

Yes, it is absolutely possible! And it is happening this Fall! The idea to do a publication was Janie’s, the namesake was Michelle’s, but the publication is ours. There are two rules to the publication. The first, is that every piece submitted needs to have a queer women’s focus. (And also, that it’s nonfiction. So no unicorns.) We’ll accept anonymous submissions, but hopefully most students will recognize the importance of using their full name. The second “rule” is that anybody can submit a piece! Faculty, university staff, graduate students, undergraduate students, women and men alike-submit your voices! Whether that is your personal testimony, photograph, poem, essay, or straight-allied support, we want to hear about it from you.

We would love to see this publication become embraced by the University. Let’s put ourselves back into the Keds of that prospective freshman. She would see the Womyn publication as she passed the newsstands on her tour of Duke, but this is not the only thing that she sees. She would also see a larger, confident, and powerful queer women’s presence at Duke. She would feel empowered, because she would know that all of her belongs at Duke, not just part of her. It would be revolutionary.

And this doesn’t affect just queer women either; what if I’m a gay man who sees this publication? Or maybe a straight woman? A straight man? How do I change? Maybe I realize I’m free to be me as well? Or maybe I just find that kind of honesty and confident openness a breath of fresh air at Duke.

Or, to take a different example, think about how Womyn might affect closeted queer women at Duke. Let’s say I’m in a sorority, and I happen to be straight. But I’ve recently picked up on the fact that my “Little” probably isn’t. What do I tell her? I want her to know that I love her just the way she is. We, as a sorority, love her just the way she is. But she’s afraid to come out. She isn’t ready yet-she needs something to affirm her. So, I pick up my pen and I write an article to Womyn: “I know one of my sorority sisters is gay, and I just wish she would know that it wouldn’t change a thing if she came out. We love her, and we’d always love her. I hope she knows she has our support.”

The excitement for this project is almost hard to contain-the examples from above are just a few of the things we’d like to accomplish. Come August, we’ll start soliciting for submissions, selecting pieces for the upcoming issue, and working on the publication of the very first edition of Womyn. =) On the listserv, we’re going to email with scheduled meetings and ways we can all help!

Feel free to contact our managing editor, Jack Grote (jack.grote@duke.edu), myself (megan.weinand@duke.edu) or Summer Puente, our Senior Layout Editor (summer.puente@duke.edu) for more information. Also, if you’re in the area this summer, Jack, Summer and I will be working here in Durham to hit the ground running in August with layout, ideas, etc! Stop by the Center or email if you’re interested in making Summer 2010 the summer of Womyn (to quote Ms. Puente).

Interested? Me too.

Let’s make queer women an integral part of Duke.

Eric Fürst

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

I tend to squirm uncomfortably in my seat when someone inquires point blank about my sexuality, and not because I’m bashful. It’s just that I have to make a quick decision, and it usually depends on: how drunk I am, how long I want the conversation to last, and the hotness of the person asking. In some cases I’d rather be seen than heard. So yes I can be a Big Fucking Hypocrite. But beyond it all I’m trying to avoid using a word I find most unsavory—bisexual. Primarily, it wrongly supposes two standards of sexual expression apart from this intermediary. And then there’s that annoying idiom, that bisexuality is merely a way station for gayness. I heard a friend (entirely oblivious to my recent sexplorations) parrot this belief, and made a mental note to postpone any divulgence of the kind. And in my flirtations with the periphery of Duke’s LGBT community, I’ve been surprised to observe the wariness with which the “B” is tolerated; I sometimes feel that it’s given obligatory lip service for the sake of community but not necessarily true solidarity. I guess it’s difficult to embrace a sexual category comprised of participants who embrace categorical uncertainty.

This perception of bisexuals can be expressed in mainstream terms: straight people think they’re hiding something and gay people view them skeptically for not fully fulfilling (or maybe half-rejecting?) their gayness. If a straight man has sex with a man he is commonly considered gay, closeted, or bisexual. If a gay man has sex with a woman, is his sexuality questioned so?

I’m going to take some stabs at deconstructing this rationale. Kinsey may be an easier starting point but I think it’s a misunderstanding of the more complex social construction theories that lost popularity in the last two decades, as the gay rights movement surged and activism was badly needed as the AIDS crisis emerged. The threat that these views posed was misinterpreting sexual orientation as mere “preference.” If this was the case, the conservative opposition could dub homosexuality a choice. Then, what’s wrong with asking someone to choose different, especially if this gay option is so strongly correlated with the frightening emergence of a new disease? This idea of preference can be especially pungent when applied to bisexuality. One might assume that most bisexual men would rather—if their sexuality really was so subjective—spend their lives in a monogamous heterosexual relationship—the kind that allows identity conformity, minimized discrimination, greater sexual health, and of course, the possibility of natural procreation.

With subversion a more enlightening (or at least more daring) end than conformity, I’d probably be interested in a sexual regimen more strictly homosexual than heterosexual. But as it is, I’m happy to traipse through the nebulous grays, confusing some and delighting my own ADD tendencies. Still, it’s easy to envision adopting some monogamous gay lifestyle characteristics. I can think of several male friends with whom I wouldn’t mind signing a lease, and—perhaps unsurprisingly—I don’t exactly subscribe to the notion of heterosexual couples as the gold standard of child rearing. Yet, the thought of homosexual monogamy, from my point of view, is more restrictive than heterosexual monogamy is boring.

Anyway, construction theory doesn’t really discredit the validity of these singularly-oriented referents insofar as individuals derive personal meaning and community from them; it merely challenges the notion that this language actually defines something intrinsic in the way that physical characteristics are thought to be an expression of alleles coded intrinsically in one’s DNA. To me, sexuality hardly makes sense as a phenotype. Sexuality in its essence must account not only for intrinsic desires and orientations but also choices made on the basis of free will, which ultimately has a large stake in the gender of partners whom we seek to bed.

I would further counter that by discrediting this theory, you are not only embracing the mainstream gay rights movement, but also the rote categorization by which people dismiss, abuse, and misunderstand the deeds of others. It may be contrary to the simplicity of mantras like, “We’re here, we’re queer!”, but I think there’s an importance to understanding unconventional sexualities and resisting the compulsion to categorize. Even if one’s experience isn’t specifically covered by the LGBTQAI (etc) umbrella, in the end, it’s going to be phobias regarding otherness that drive policy and retard progress more than any pragmatic concern for the individual, or disease, or equality. For me, it’s an important exercise in unlearning the illusory differences and embracing a more dynamic conception of “self”—an exhilarating and exhausting work-in-progress with no foreseeable end.

So forgive me if, the next time I’m sitting with you in a bar, I try to avoid the word vomit above by just saying “I’m not straight”...it might mean that I think you’re cute.

—Eric Fürst

P.S. Please disagree with me. I’ve assumed an annoyingly didactic tone that I wouldn’t typically use in real life, in an effort to stoke some dissent.

Letter From The Editor: Anonymous Columnists

I think a major strength of our site, and something that differentiates it from its predecessor is complete absence of anonymity of our staff writers. When redesigning the blog in the Fall, we decided that the use of pseudonyms connoted that there was sense of fear among Us, and that couldn't be further from the truth. To reiterate our mission statement, we are not afraid, and we feel safe here. We've gotten so much positive feedback from people that have commended the openness of the writers, and this comment is pretty much Sentence Of The Year for me. The Out Community is blowing up on campus, and I feel as if all of these pictures and full names effectively convey that.

We were not so stupid, though, to think that everyone would be willing to be so visible. Our goal is to effectively and honestly capture what life at Duke and in America is like for LGBTQA students, and this cannot be done without also providing a podium for our closeted peers or those who just could not be as open were they writing under their full name. We set up the anonymous posting system to address this, and it's been hugely successful. 65 entries since November 9 is so many entries!

But! But. I think we may've overlooked a major possibility - that some of our out friends in BDU, more than willing to display their full name and picture, would not be able to out of fear of repercussions at home. A quick Google search of a columnist's name+"Duke" would lead here, and could very well mean a cutting off of tuition funds by parents for some or a revoking of scholarship by ROTC for others. As valued, awesome and all-the-more important as their visibility on the blog would be, it would not be worth being disowned or financially cut off. I know some that would argue otherwise and I understand their point of view, but I'm going to stick by this one.

At the last blog meeting, though, we all agreed that we should find a way to include the voices of those who were still willing to be regular columnists. Our current anonymous posting structure is not conducive to the frequency or length of columns, and I personally don't like the connotation of putting longer entries in a separate post like I did last week. So from now on (starting today) we will have some anonymous columnists.

Here's what I'm worried about. I don't want Readers to assume that anonymous columnists are not sharing their name out of fear of being out on campus. This is no doubt the case for many Duke students, and may even be the case for some anonymous staffers in the future, but I urge y'all to recognize that the choice to not identify one's self is not necessarily a reflection of campus culture (however discouraging campus culture can be). More often, I'm finding, this is a testament to what life's like back home.

Anyhow! While this seems like an obvious solution, it was a decision and precedent we had to discuss quite a bit. Like I said, pseudonyms didn't work too well on the old blog, but I'm confident that we will differ in our huge volume of identified writers that'll be right alongside :)

Okay! Let's do this!

Anonymous Posts(4.19.10-4.25.10)

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

It's LWOC, y'all. And from all of the anonymous posts we got this week, you would think that the L stood for Lanonymous posts (my fire alarm went off at 4:45 AM last night so my jokes are going to be like this).

Glee was incredible, etc. etc.

Let's just get to it.

#1
I love being involved with the Center. Let’s get that straight. But another thing I want to get straight is this: I am straight. For some time, I’ve enjoyed being low key in the Center and showing up to events, even helping to plan some, and I LOVE the people who make up this community. But something inside me still keeps me from being 100% committed or involved. Something inside me pulls me so hard to get more engaged with the issues, to be an advocate for LGBT issues, to prove that things are looking up and with hard work here, now, we’ll get more people to be aware of these issues, too! And yet, I can’t bring myself to be fully invested. I guess you could say I’m not completely “out” as an ally. Or, maybe I am (I surely am proud to be an ally), but every time I bring up that “I’m hanging out at the Center” or “Yes, I’m participating in Day of Silence” or “Hey, come with me to this event, you don’t have to be gay or anything,” I worry that people still … assume. I especially worry about this with my co-workers. But why does that bother me? There’s nothing wrong with being LGBT … right? Is that why I feel the need to specify “straight” on my Facebook page? To qualify ally with “straight?” Then again, socially, religiously, politically, there still is something “wrong” with being gay, generally speaking. Is me being a straight ally then make the cause more valuable? More valid? Does me being removed from the “problem” give the cause more power? To a certain extent, I think it probably does. If someone is not affected by immigration issues, or healthcare issues, or minority issues, then the voices most loudly heard are usually people more empowered to speak – oftentimes, those not affected by these issues. Unfortunately, sometimes those calling for oppression are louder than those calling for freedom. But that is changing. Hopefully. Slowly, but surely.

So I ask myself again, why am I an ally? What’s in it for me? And then I think that if I’m asking myself that, then others sure as hell are asking themselves that, too. When I first started going to the Center, I felt like I was approached with caution, curiosity, and suspicion. To this day I still sometimes feel that, whether that’s truly the case or not. Do I do it to prove how “open-minded” and liberal I am? Do I do it just to get a reaction? Or, do I do it to prove that there are others like me out there, too?

After years of introspection, I think I’ve been able to start identifying the reasons I am an ally. I am an ally for the humanity and dignity and worth in you and in me. I am an ally because you deserve the same respect, consideration, happiness, protection, peace, and rights as anyone. I am an ally because I see the absolute beauty of perfect creation that you are, just as you are. No, this is not me up on a high horse. This is me exposed completely at my deepest core.
But, while these thoughts and feelings are in my mind and heart, I still struggle with openly expressing them. I still need help coming out as an ally and really not give a shit what people think – as long as it gets them to think about LGBT issues. And in that respect, I remain in solidarity with those who must question whether they can come out on a daily basis, for those who do struggle with LGBT issues and discrimination, and for those who question the power of their voice and presence.

#2
I like to think of myself as an ally. I come often to Fab Fridays, I hang out at the center in my free moments, and consider many of the individuals within the LGBTQ community my friends. Though, I often question how good of an ally I am. Yes, I am strong on the social part- but I feel like I lack in the activism part.

Recently, DUU put up the "me too" chalkboards on the plaza. One night. As I was looking at the posts for inspirations, I saw someone wrote "I hate transgendered people." I inwardly thought how horrible that was. But that was it, I thought about how bad it was then moved on to another part of the board and wrote superficially wrote "I hate going to the gym." As I waited for my companion to write something on the wall, another ally who's a familiar face at the center saw the post- vocally said "that's horrible" and proceeded to cross it out. She rewrote "I hate bigots." Echoing in the spirit of the board, my companion wrote "me too" next to it. Now that's an ally. I was so disappointed in myself in that moment- at how passive I was. I felt like a coward. I realized how recently I've become more lax in how approach the various forms of "soft" hate speech around me. I used to be so vigilantly in questioning my friends who casually used "fag" or "retard." Now, I let words coolly pass me with an unreceived eyebrow arch to mark my disapproval.

In the weeks since, I've made sure to vocally question whenever my male friends say "no homo" or "i'm not a queer." I try to openly entreat them as to what that means- why are we denigrating groups people for the sake of humor. I think I realized why I stopped doing this before, it's not a popular thing to question privilege. You get stares, stammers, and sighs of frustration. But, it's necessary. All forms of silent (and not so silent) repression are connected and need to be attacked.

Still, I constantly question how good of an ally I am for all disenfranchised groups- whether it based on gender, race, disability, sexual orientation, etc. I feel like that I am not doing enough. I feel like awareness is not worth anything if you don't do anything with it. At this point, I feel like most of my stock is based on awareness.

#3
Thank you to all the people in the Center, especially Janie and Chris. You make the lives of so many people on this campus just that little bit better, even if you've never met them.

#4
I hate being stereotyped. I am a very politically conservative individual who hates being stereotyped as a gay-hater just because I'm conservative. I have no problem with LGBT individuals, but I do when they automatically assume I dislike them (And this was even before the DCR issue!). This is not a blanket statement, and most LGBT's do not do this, but a few here at Duke have branded me a homophobe just because I am conservative, even though I've given them no reason to think that.

I really want to be able to support the LGBT cause, but every time I run into someone who judges me, I have a hard time. It seems almost like they *need* someone to be against them, as it justifies them somehow. I know most LGBTs aren't like that, but please know that the best way to advance your cause is not through trumped up victimization, but rather just being who you are and not actively seeking out people to be against you (once again, not saying most of you do that). I feel many people would rally behind the LGBT community if that happened :)

#5
I would like to apologize for my post last week in which I falsely claimed to have been diagnosed with HIV. I intended it partly as a joke, and partly as a means to encourage people to get tested. I hope that the latter did occur. I understand, however, that the post created a lot of distress and for that I am sorry.

How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love San Antonio...Not

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how much I’m going to miss my Duke/Durham LGBT community this summer. I think my homeland has some potential and it’s nice to have a mission but…

I’ll probably just spend my time doing research and making websites and hanging out with people I already know instead of taking on the gargantuan task of assembling a cohesive LGBT woman-identified community. Though I’ve already broken down my task into manageable parts and sent some e-mails, I still feel sorry that I live in San Antonio and not metropolitan, livable, liberal, "we’re not really part of Texas", Austin (gag me with a fucking spoon.) I could commute one hour plus in horrid traffic to go to the discussion groups at the LGBT youth community center and the hipster lesbian clubs. I probably will just because I’m going to Austin anyway to work with professors at UT. Late-nighting will be difficult since I don’t have any friends who live in Austin (I don't want to repeat the Homeless Challenge.) Making friends in Austin is high on my to-do list.

Even if I volunteer at the few LGBT organizations and art spaces and go to the (male/straight/American Eagle butch dominated) gay clubs in San Antonio I doubt I’ll become a part of a legitimate community or find an acceptable hook-up. This is partly because I have difficulty talking to total strangers and partly because I rarely find someone I want to talk to.

I’m leaving Duke just as I realize that a great lesbian community exists in Durham. I have well-connected friends (ahem Summer.) And I might actually see the women I meet again. Though I’ve lived in San Antonio my whole life I have a paltry LGBT network. I semi-regularly communicate with two queer women. Maybe I fucked up in high school. I spent too much time doing math problems and not enough time getting to know the girls on the softball team. When I got pissed off that no LGBT youth community/resources existed I merely changed my Facebook status.

Now that I’m an anonymous college-age human rather than a wholesome youth I think I would have more options. I can go clubbing all I want but finding a hook-up isn’t as a mechanical, guaranteed process as it is for gay men. When it comes down to it, my desire to build community and serve the LGBT community has always stemmed from my desire for hot women. The more people I meet and the more involved I become, the higher my chances are of meeting a woman who fits my esoteric qualifications (non-white, butch-ish or femme-like, indie, artsy, conventional haircut, internationally-minded, certain piercings, intelligent, tall, fashionable, D&D free.) Though my interest has lusty origins, I can now say that being part of such a community has rewards beyond meeting people to hook-up with. The truth is that the women I’ve hooked up with don’t go to the Center. Some people don't feel the need to be part of the LGBT club. I admire their spontaneity. I can't leave my sex life up to chance. The cholos who used to hit on me on the bus are starting to look good. Maybe I should use this summer to squeeze the gray areas out of myself instead of trying to squeeze the LGBT out of San Antonio.

As I wonder what/who I’m going to do this summer, I can’t help but be bitter that I’m from San Antonio, whose motto is “Keep San Antonio Lame.” Sure, it’s better than being from middle-of-nowhere Iowa, but having to hunt for LGBT shit that’s open to women is getting old. I’ve promised myself that this is the last summer I’ll spend in San Antonio. I don’t care if Harvey Milk told me to “Stay in San Antonio and fight!” He probably never went there himself.

Special BDU Meeting Tonight

8:30 PM, Duke Center for LGBT Life

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

Anonymous Post #7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Eric Fürst.

Anonymous Posts(4.12.10-4.18.10)

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

So. Much. To. Discuss.

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

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

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

Ok. Let's do this.

#1

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

#2

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

#3

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

#4

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

#5

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

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

#6

Frustration.

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

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

The rest of the world. Is. Not.

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

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

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

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

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

#7

See separate post.

#8

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

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

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

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

#9

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

Love=Love

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

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

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

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

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

Day of Silence at Duke Today

Duke University participates annually in the Day of Silence, a nationwide annual day of action wherein students take a vow of silence in support of the LGBT persons and their allies who have felt silenced by intolerance or injustice. This year, the Day of Silence is on Friday, April 16th.

"Please understand my reasons for not speaking today. I am participating in the Day of Silence (DOS), a national youth movement bringing attention to the silence faced by lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people and their allies. My deliberate silence echoes that silence, which is caused by anti-LGBT bullying, name-calling, and harassment. I believe that ending the silence is the first step toward building awareness and making a commitment to address these injustices. Think about the voices you are not hearing today"

One again, Matt Lyons has organized a MASSIVE poster campaign, and has photographed 60 students and faculty, including Summer's shown above. The rest of the posters can be seen here! #35 is a personal favorite :)

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.

Good for You, Straight Guy

The recent Anti-Hate Speech campaign was awesome. We painted the bridge, spread word through Facebook and Matt took some great pictures to make into posters. These posters were put up all around campus with short phrases like “I’m gay. Your textbook isn’t” next to the faces of LGBT and ally students. I wasn’t sure how all of this would be received by certain groups in the student body. I thought maybe someone would try to deface a poster or just ignore the campaign altogether. What I didn’t expect was for it to be re-used and integrated into daily conversation.

I was recently talking to a friend on the Bryan Center Plaza about the campaign, and he had only very positive feedback. He’s a straight-identified member of a selective living group, an open-minded guy with his own ideas about spreading tolerance. He thought the posters were a fantastic idea. They were eye-catching and efficient. This savvy friend of mine has noticed that, at least at Duke, there are more good hearts than one might think. The problem is that we don’t know about all of them because they don’t want to make the time to share their good nature. “I’m not a bigot, so I’m not part of the problem” is a common defense. Well, not really. If you let the bigotry fly, you’re an accessory.

A huge fear that most people have with standing up for LGBT equality is becoming “that guy” who killed the mood. What this campaign did for his SLG, though, was allow people (straight or not) to intervene when necessary without disrupting the momentum of a casual dialogue. My friend has heard straight-identified men in his SLG throw out “I’m gay!” on several occasions where someone used hate speech. Whoever had said “That’s so gay,” “No homo” or whatever the phrase may have been recognized what his/her friend was trying to say. They understood that they had been insensitive, so they apologized and addressed their mistake before smoothly moving on with the topic at hand.

I thought this was a brilliant use of BDU’s attempt at affecting change on campus! These guys are my favorite now. The first person I hear saying this is getting a hug.

Know Your Status

It was a Monday. I went to the Bryan Center to participate in the Know Your Status program. I’ve done this before. Ever since I became sexually active, I have gotten tested for HIV and other STI’s; however, this time was different. I was not going for a regular check-up. I did not go into it assuming that the test was going to come out negative. I went because one of my past sexual partners had contacted me. He told me that he just tested positive for HIV and that it was advisable that I do the same. I was scared. So many thoughts were running through my mind.

HIV does not discriminate. I know that as an educated college student who practices safe sex and who is not a drug user, I have felt removed from the virus. It is something I have read much about and am fully aware of the statistics, but I never thought that it would hit so close to home. I took the obvious precautions to be safe, but always felt that they were at times unnecessary.

It is extremely important that as sexually active individuals, we know our status and the status of those we are engaging in sexual intercourse with.

While I was sitting waiting for the results, my mind was racing. We were safe. We thought we knew each other’s statuses. We did everything “right,” yet here I was in a situation that was only supposed to happen to people who did “wrong.” While my test did come out as negative, my life has been forever changed. This has been one of the scariest weeks of my life and no one should ever have to go through this fear. I urge everyone who reads this to go out and get tested and continue getting tested for the rest of your life. There is no excuse not to and there is never a reason to stop getting tested.

The Gay Confessional

My first confession: I’m really excited to be a part of this LGBT community here at Duke! For those of you who don’t know, I identify as a queer woman, but I only just started going to the Center at the end of last fall semester hoping to find something that affirmed that what I felt for women wasn’t unique. And I was pleasantly surprised! Not only did I find a group of Duke students that I found to be friendly, energetic, and genuine, I finally had a medium to admit (to myself) and to my peers who I am.

My second confession: I’m not really out. Because while I’ve been able to tell most of my closest friends that I’m gay, by no means have I had the time to tell all of them. What stops me? Couldn’t I just tell them all tomorrow and be done with it? Something stops me. Is it their repetitive usage of “no homo lol” after they hugged me on the Quad? Is it the sorority bag that they carry on their way into our mutual classes? Is it their Christianity, or in the case of many of my friends, their Catholicism?

Or maybe it’s just me. My experience would tell me that this last reason is most accurate. Just a few weeks ago I came out to one of my closest Catholic friends. This woman is my role model-she attends daily Mass like it’s class, she prays the rosary more times in a week than I take a shower (I shower daily for anyone who just doubted my cleanliness) and she just all-around embodies someone who has dedicated her life to Catholicism.

So it happened over lunch. Somehow the conversation quickly turned to, “Why don’t you date [insert boy’s name here]? You two are so perfect for each other!” As I sat there with my mouth ajar, she continued: “No Megan, seriously! I need to know the reason why! Because I can’t understand why you two wouldn’t be dating.”

The golden window of opportunity had just opened. I sit there, stunned. Did this just happen? These kinds of moments in your life don’t happen very often. I close my eyes and frantically try to race the pros and cons in my head: “Is this the right moment? She’s one of my closest friends.” I know I’ll kick myself later if I mess this up. I look around the Refectory tables and I get a gut instinct: “just do it," something inside of me says.

All of this time, I can’t help thinking-“but she’s Catholic, she’s really Catholic.” [Disclaimer: For those of you who don’t know the Catholic Church’s position on LGBT issues, the Church holds that gay people should be embraced and accepted in the church as fellow Catholics, but it condemns gay sexual acts.]

Anyway… So I just decide to go for it and tell her: “Well… I don’t want to date him because…I’m gay”. Before I have the opportunity to keep talking, she smiles and says, “that’s okay!!! That’s totally fine!” I feel like a baseball just hit me out of left field. Wait, I ask myself, does that mean she’s okay with it? And not just okay with it, but she’s smiling, and she’s glad I told her?!

That’s when I learned what I should have learned when I was a little girl. Those who care about you will always care about you. Those who matter don’t mind. She mattered. And so, she didn’t mind.

For all the “what-if-they-don’t-like-me-as-much-because-now-they-know-I’m-gay” worries that I had floating around in my head, I’m only recently starting to realize that I don’t need to anticipate that negativity. This Friday I came out to another one of my close friends over lunch, and she gave me wise advice. She said, “I find that there are perfect people in the world, and then there are people with problems. Honestly, I find that everyone always likes the people with problems better than the perfect people.” That made me smile. =) Now, being gay is by no means a problem-it’s a beautiful part of human sexuality. But her gist holds true universally-that people tend to like real, honest people better. And it has been my experience that with each new person I come out to, not only have I grown much closer to them, but I finally am able to anticipate positive reactions, because that’s all I’ve gotten. Coming out this past month has made me much more confident, stronger and oh-so-much wiser.

As I left lunch with that friend, she sent me a text that I think hits this point home: “I think it’s funny that I was sitting there worried you’d judge me for living with my boyfriend next year and you were worried I’d judge you for being gay. I anticipate we will face similar irony each time we tell someone new! I’m proud of you Megan!”

So, does that mean starting to come out has been easy? Absolutely not. There are going to be ignorant people wherever I go. But what I want you to know, (yes you reading this blog), is that despite the initial difficulties in coming out that I’ve experienced internally, all of them combined together do not even BEGIN to outweigh the amazing benefits that I’ve received since coming out. I know that my experience will not be like everyone’s, but the feeling of liberation, the thought of maybe finally being able to date someone who I’m crazy about (oh my gosh?!!! :), and the knowledge that I am finally being honest with people, has all just felt amazing.

I’ve learned two great things from coming out. If this starts sounding preachy, I profusely apologize. (I thought they were worth mentioning!)

First, I’m seeing that friends love you. They don’t just like you. Like implies that it could stop. I could like vanilla today, but I might like chocolate better tomorrow. My likes waver and change.

But my loves don’t. There’s something about a love that never dies inside of you-it is that trick birthday candle that you just can’t put out. I have been given this unique and blessed opportunity to see that my friends love me, for me. Not for the person that they thought I was, or for the person that they wanted me to become, but for me. Their love doesn’t change, and it doesn’t waver, no matter if that’s a “straight” Megan or a gay Megan. And that opportunity, to see that kind of loyalty, love and friendship has been really self-affirming.

The other equally greatest part of starting to come out has been coming to the Center (like I mentioned above!). It’s a whole community of people, gay and straight, who think just like you, and who affirm that you are okay just the way you are, right now. So that’s why I’d like to encourage you to come by the Center too! I was just talking to someone earlier today who told me, “oh, I know a lot of queer people, they just don’t come to the Center. Well, I really hope we can change that. If you don’t want to go to the Center by yourself, please find me on Facebook and 1) friend me (Megan Weinand), and 2) shoot me a message that says, “Hey, come to Fab Friday with me?” or even better, “Please come to BDU meetings with me." Trust me, I won’t think you’re weird. The only thing I’ll be is just so thrilled that you’re coming. =)

So these are the greatest things about coming out. But you know what? I’m only just starting. It’d be a lot cooler if you’d do it too. Come out with me.

Anonymous Posts(4.5.10-4.11.10)

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

You guys!

This week we had a blog meeting, and tons of people came! It was pretty much The Most Fun and We've got lots in store for the rest of the semester.

Also! I have to plug the production of RENT here at Duke because I am responsible for keeping you up to date with Duke LGBT news. And this is Duke LGBT news because duh. The production is nothing short of amazing, and we were all blown away. I'm going again next weekend, come with me!

Anyhow. We got one anonymous post this week!

#1
I have the most traditional values. I am a Black female who has been straight all her lives with straight friends and straight boyfriends. I have memories of experiences with 2 girls from my childhood. I am so attracted to other women that even talking about 2 girls kissing gets me so aroused.. it's not the same when I discuss heterosexual couples. Nobody I'm friends with would ever think I was anything but straight. But the truth is, I'm questioning. I don't know if I want a relationship with another woman, or how I'd handle it, but God knows that I really want to FUCK another woman. I put up an ad on Craigslist for someone like me... and I can't wait till I find her... so I can experience bliss: my dream of having sex with another woman using a strap-on.

[Ed. Note: Oh, hey, #1. I think all I can offer is to be careful on Craigslist. It can be kind of sketch. But so long as you stay safe, by all means you do you.]

My Coming Out Story

I came out so long ago that it feels like ancient history. Or Texas history. I came out in 7th grade, the one year I had to take Texas History. My coming out is kind of like the Battle of the Alamo: though I initially lost I ended the war a winner. I knew I was non-straight when I saw the Rocky Horror Picture show live the summer before the start of 7th grade. I had previously been attracted to women but had thought everyone else felt the way I did; they just didn’t talk about it. After going home I talked to my friend Blake on AIM who was in the same theatre program as me and openly gay. We talked about the show. I casually mentioned that the character Columbia was “hot.” He asked me if I was gay. I told him I had never considered it. After our night-long conversation I was convinced that I was different from the other girls and the word “bisexual” applied to me. My friend Catherine started talking to Blake. He accidentally told her of my sexual revelation.

I didn’t know this had happened until the first day of 7th grade when Catherine and her friends interrogated me about my “bisexuality.” Lacking any sense of self-preservation and with the knowledge that the damage had already been done, I told Catherine I didn’t care about whom she shared this knowledge with. One day I had a group of nerdy, conventional friends. Another day they all avoided me. The words fag, dyke, bitch, slut and whore followed me from advisory to the long bus ride home. I had been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder in elementary school. This wave of hostility brought out the worst depression of my life.

I came out to my parents around the same time. I had come home from school crying. My dad went to my room and asked me question after question. He asked me if I had a boyfriend and then asked if I had a girlfriend. When I answered yes, he told me I was too young to know and left the room. I tried in vain for months to convince my parents that I wasn’t too young to know. My dad, concerned about my safety, forbid me from telling anyone about my sexuality. Unfortunately, the damage was already done.

My new friends were potheads and punks, though I was too emotionally detached to be more than their mute accomplice during school. I had been a tomboy from a young age but slowly morphed into a feminine creature. At first I was grotesque. I wore too much make-up and thrift store clothes. Now I am completely comfortable with my identity as a femme. In 7th grade I managed to still make excellent grades. I was isolated but not without hope. By 8th grade I was barely passing my classes. The “girlfriends” I had in middle school only wanted sex from me or told the most vicious bullies about my sexuality. Everyday I faked sick or begged my mom not to take me to school. I was convinced that I couldn’t stay in school and had no future. The summer between 7th and 8th grade I only ate cheerios and nearly fainted in the shower.

Though I constantly felt like I wanted to die, I didn’t have a plan for how to commit suicide. I faint at the sight of blood, had no idea how to get a gun (I hope no one’s surprised that my Texas house was sans gun) and didn’t have pills readily available. I spent most of my time listening to avant-jazz and making crude drawings. When my parents and I met with the school counselor I spent the whole time hysterically crying and yelling at her. I was convinced that all the other kids in school were stupid. Though I don’t like to draw now, I became quite good at anatomical drawings. This one picture particularly impressed me and I was fond of copying it:


My privilege saved me from suicide. My parents had enough money to send me to therapy and put me on anti-depressants and cared enough to let me leave therapists who I felt weren’t supportive. The transfer to private Catholic school saved me academically and wouldn’t have been possible without my parent’s economic status. Though I was marked as the “weird lesbian girl” at my Catholic high school and wasn’t socially active, I did well enough to get into Duke. I am privileged that my family now treats my sexuality as a non-issue. As a result I can completely commit to being out to everyone I meet at Duke and can act as a witness to all facets of Duke’s social climate. I am not afraid of how people will react to my sexuality because I’ve heard it all. I still don’t know what it’s like to live somewhere where race and sexuality are not hot-button topics. While I intend to have this experience soon I am also grateful for the perspective I gained from being out at a young age in San Antonio, Texas.

This is part of a poem I wrote from my “dark period.” I sometimes chant the stanza to myself when I’m feeling down:

If god hates fags
You think that I would burn and die
My outside rubbing with my inside
Like they teach you to rub two sticks together

This Weekend!Full Frame Film Festival and LGBT Related Movies

Hey all,
I just wanted to alert everyone about the Full Frame Film Festival happening this weekend in Durham (it actually opened tonight). This is The Festival's 13th year.

I was going through the list of featured films and saw some had LGBT themes. Here's a brief list I compiled with synopses (directly from the site) and their respective showtime information. Just to be clear, I've not seen any of these and I'm not "endorsing" any of them or their viewpoints. Though, hopefully some of you will be able to attend one or more over the weekend. Be sure to let us know what you thought of it! You could even write blog post review of the film! Tickets are $10 each...see this link for more information.

The Exectution of Wanda Jean [Friday, 7:50PM @ Carolina Theater] In 1988 Wanda Jean Allen shot her girlfriend, Gloria Leathers, to death outside the Village Police Department in Oklahoma City. The State charged Allen, who had a previous conviction of manslaughter, with premeditated first-degree murder and sought the death penalty. She was convicted. With direct access to Allen and her team of supporters, specifically her spiritual advisor, Reverend Robin Meyers, and her defense lawyer, Steve Presson, Garbus follows Allen’s final appeals for clemency and documents the last three months of her life on death row. The film further weaves in the experiences of Allen’s mother and siblings and also Leathers’s family and their reactions as the 2001 execution draws near. A staggeringly personal account of one woman’s battle to save her life, the film is also a searching examination of the morality of the death penalty, particularly when race, mental health, and sexuality come into play.

Regretters [Saturday, 7:40PM @ Durham Arts Council] Born men, once women, and now men again, Orlando and Mikael dig deep into the psychology behind the one regret they share: their sex change. Orlando was one of the first people in Sweden to undergo a sex change operation in 1967; Mikael went under the knife much more recently, in the 1990s. Before making this film, director Marcus Lindeen produced a well-received stage play based on their stories; now, he has Orlando and Mikael speak for themselves. The film is structured around a conversation between these two very different individuals as they describe their own experiences and ask insightful questions of each other. The ways in which their experiences overlap and diverge make this a complex, unflinching portrait of regret and a thoughtful exploration of identity and expectations.

[Just from reading the synopsis, I recognize that this film may be contraversial. I am affirming of any individual who identifies as transgender. I've not seen it and I am not endorsing it; I don't know what its agenda/viewpoint/message is. The film may be of interest to readers of this blog, which is why I've included it on this list. If you see it over the weekend, please give us a review!]

Stonewall Uprising [Saturday, 4:30PM @ Durham Convention Center] This essential history of gay rights in America centers on June 27, 1969, the night that patrons of a Greenwich Village bar, the Stonewall Inn, refused to be rounded up and humiliated just for being themselves. America was a homophobic nation, deluded by the belief—bolstered by hysterical documentaries like Mike Wallace’s CBS Reports episode “The Homosexuals”—that homosexuality was a mental illness. There was no such thing as being out of the closet—there was only in the closet. Greenwich Village was the exception, a place where gay people met openly. One hot summer night, with a police raid in progress, something snapped, and gays and lesbians fought back, hurling beer bottles and stones at the police. The loud and proud gay rights march that soon followed announced that gay people would now refuse to be treated as criminals. With a wealth of archival material and extensive interviews with participants, this film memorializes the rebellion that ushered in the gay liberation era.