Tonight, Spectrum, my college's gay-straight alliance, hosted a panel to talk about the experience of gay students at Wofford. Five students, myself included, gave talks about their experiences to a packed room. Discussion about gay life at Wofford followed.
Wofford is extremely conservative, and gay life, if it can be called that, is minimal. Having the chance to speak on this issue was one of the more gratifying experiences of my time here, and I cannot express how proud I am to be a member of Spectrum and how proud I am of our members.
Here is the talk I gave:
I spent the summer of 2011 being verbally berated by the news. Each morning when I read the paper, I would read about another teen pushed to suicide for being gay. I read stories like this so much that I began to feel like nobody was doing anything to help. Anything people did do only hurt more; legislators in Tennessee banned the discussion of homosexuality in classes, while every other day it seemed like a Bachmann was calling homosexuals “barbarians” who needed to be “educated”.
Despite being gay myself, stories like those I read never seemed to hit home, at least not until I met Michael. When I met Michael, my stomach did flips. Falling in love with him seemed easy and natural. I loved him for his sweet smile, the green color of his eyes, the way that I could see small silver hairs when the sunlight hit his head just so, the way he sounded just like Morrissey when he sang to me, and his kind words. Most of all, I loved how he made me feel so comfortable to be myself. I loved this boy so much and for so many reasons that I could not imagine why anyone wouldn’t feel the same. It hurt to think that Michael was simply another “barbarian” to people like Marcus Bachmann. It hurt to know that his family would never accept him for being gay, especially when I accepted him so easily. And it hurt most of all to know that if society had its way, then being gay meant that Michael, this person I loved so much, would never be safe from threats of depression and violence.
I became determined to make things better for Michael and other gay youth like him. I was convinced that I could help by being more vocal in my support of LGBT people and coming out. But when I told my mother I was gay and all of the hope I had for making the world a safer place for gay people like Michael and myself, she sat in stunned silence. When she finally did speak, she assured me that she loved me, but she told me she couldn’t accept that part of me. That hurt. But what she said next hurt most of all: “You know,” she told me, “the world will never be safe for you. There will never be an end to homophobia. Why fight against that?”
I was so shocked to hear her tell me that, to believe that the world will continue to be a danger for LGBT people. I cannot let my mother’s words be true, if only because so many small acts of kindness already show signs that the fight against homophobia is one that will be won.
Dan Savage’s It Gets Better Campaign is a great example. Through the small act of posting reassuring videos on YouTube, people throughout America have offered support to each other. The gay teenager in Minnesota, instead of feeling isolated and ostracized, now has the opportunity to find a community that accepts and supports him. He is able to leave a world where he is the only gay man and enter a community where there are many people like him. These videos serve as proof to this teenager that his life won’t always be dreary and lonely but that, literally, his life can and will get better. Nobody will be able to tell this teenager, who now sees how life can get better, that homophobia isn’t declining, that the fight isn’t working, or that it is a fight that doesn’t matter.
Even smaller actions make a difference. I remember one day in my tenth grade English class when a student made a homophobic slur. My teacher, Mr. Barnet, stopped class and corrected the student. He told him that his words hurt and that they were a threat to his peers, who may have been gay. Mr. Barnet’s words, while small, mattered, and they continue to matter to me. It was the first moment I saw an adult support gay rights. It was the first time I saw a straight, professional person support gay rights. This small act continues to be a sign that not everyone in the world is content to let homophobia continue. It inspires me to stand up for myself and others. Nobody can tell me that his words don’t make a difference.
I cannot be comfortable in a world that continues to issue frequent reports on homophobic violence and gay teen suicides. I am convinced that something must be done about this issue, and I remain resolute in my belief that even the smallest act, like lending your voice to the cause, can and does make a difference. At Wofford – a place where the words “fag” or “gay” are not only considered insults but are used as such frequently, a place where students snigger when homosexuality is discussed, a place where gay students feel uncomfortable holding hands or even just being out – there are so many opportunities for to practice the small kindnesses that can make big differences to LGBT students and help to foster a more open, loving community.
When describing their mutual experience being gay, F.O. Matthiessen wrote to his partner Russell Cheney, “We stand in the middle of an uncharted, uninhabited country. That there have been other unions like ours is obvious, but we are unable to draw on their experience. We must create everything for ourselves. And creation is never easy.” Matthiessen is correct when he notes that creating a world accepting of homosexuality is “never easy,” but it is my hope that at Wofford, we can create such a place.
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