LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Student CAMP Going Back to Normal |
by Kristen Minor |
Homo for the Holidays
I'm preparing for finals. In a matter of days I need to turn in three papers for various classes and study for an exam. In preparation of writing 20 pages on noun incorporation in Mohawk, which is exactly as thrilling as it sounds (not at all), my room has become appropriately filthy with dirty laundry (my mother isn't surprised), empty bottles of frappacino (mocha), and Altoid tins (peppermint). I'm planning on staying up until these papers are finished regardless of my sanity staying intact (not a chance). I'm sure that many Dartmouth students will fondly remember this time as one of alcoholic daze. I prefer my all night benders wherein I consume enough caffeine and sugar to kill a small mammal. At any rate, this homo will be home in a matter of days. I've missed the smell of the ocean, the sheer queerness of Rehoboth, and everything else that home has to offer. My plan this summer is to find gainful employment, hopefully in a place where I don't have to be closeted, and spend as much time with my girlfriend as possible. I'm out, it's summertime, and life is good. As I write, though, I can't help but think of some of my friends. Many have been out all school year and have to go home to scary small-minded towns where nobody knows and the last person to come out ended up being an interestingly colored smear on the pavement. Playing straight over Christmas break seems hard enoughthree months of it would drive me insane. The thought of regularly switching pronouns, deleting files on gay web sites, lying, and being lost in a wash of straight and deeply closeted people inspires me to hold my rainbow flag and rock back and forth in the fetal position. Some things are just impossible to go back to after living openly for any space of time. The lengths that some people will go to in living double lives never ceases to amaze me. Some gay students I know deliberately misspell their names when doing Rainbow Alliance activities, avoid running for office, and back out of field trips at the last minute when they find out that there is a small chance that out of the thousands of people attending, they might be the one who gets on the front page. In a recent field trip to Boston Youth Pride, the latter situation happened. At first, I thought the girl was joking. The sheer odds of being identifiably photographed in a crowd of over 1000 kids and having family several hundred miles away see said picture are ridiculously small. It still kept her and countless others home, and the void between being gay and being gay in public was safely preserved. Over a heartfelt argument with my friend I finally realized that it didn't matter if photographers were banned from the greater Boston area for the dayone of the things that keeps uppity queers in line is perception and fear. More specifically, gay people tend to fear the way that they might be perceived, both within and outside of the community. I have found that this fear of perception is manifested in many ways. Some of them are innocuous enoughweb sites and personal ads dedicated to "straight acting men" are possibly the best example of expressing internalized homophobia to feel safe in a relationship, as if the neighbors won't realize that "just roommates" is a tangled web of lies. Some are more strainingmy best friend at school, Elizabeth, came out to her parents last fall. For the past school year, their treatment of the issue has essentially been one of avoidance. It's as if a small colony of flamingos has suddenly decided to occupy the kitchen and nobody will talk about it because that is not the sort of thing that happens, despite the fact that there are pink feathers in the tortellini. It's not that her parents are raging homophobesthey just don't seem to enjoy breathing the dreaded "L" word. This is common enough, and I doubt that many families have those touching movie moments wherein the whole family sits down, talks frankly about all things queer, and heads on over to the nearest PFLAG meeting. At best, there is uncomfortable indifference. And then there is the extension of internalized homophobia, wherein drag queens, flamers, and other queer people who haven't been whitewashed and straightened up are silenced, invisible, under-represented, or tokens within a larger minority. I'm not sure precisely when the idea of assimilation became popular, but the next time I hear someone assert that gay people are just like straight people except for the deviant homo loving, I'm going to wonder how much of the pride parade they have chosen to ignore. Wanting to be respectable and pander to the masses in the name of equal rights is well and good, but precisely how much of the queer community is going to be left behind should give everyone great pause. As awkward as it might be, I feel that every family should have a talk about their own flamingos. Sexuality issues. Whatever. I realize what the stakes are in some cases. Teenagers can be denied college tuition, be forced into therapy, or be disowned. Adults can lose their children, jobs, housing...the list goes on. At the same time, I don't think many gay people expect their grandmothers to set them up with the nice boy down the street. It's safe to say that coming out and making it an issue makes life suck for a time. However, how else can the movement progress? Openness is one of the only choices that we have in regards to sexual orientation. It is only when queers step outside their comfort zones and bring everyone else along for the ride that the flamingos will be discussed. Kristen Minor is a member of the class of 2004 at Dartmouth College. She would like to wish all of her friends a safe and non-traumatic summer and can be reached at kristen@youth-guard.org, |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 11, No. 6, June 1, 2001. |