LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Student CAMP: The Longest Fall |
by Kristen Foery |
The other day was undoubtedly one of the strangest that I have had since I arrived at Dartmouth. I had to go to high school. I should explain the back storythe Dartmouth Rainbow Alliance is invited every year to a health class at the local high school. We go to discuss our experiences about growing up gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or as allies. People came as their schedules permitted, and I was able to spend most of the day there. In short, it was weird. Not the actual act of speaking about growing up gay to a crowd of sophomores, but walking into a high school for the first time in months. I think all high schools feel alike. Walking into Hanover High felt like walking into Cape again. When I was trying to find the classroom, I kept waiting for the popular crowd to walk by and judge me. I also expected the Twilight Zone music to cue in at any minute. "Rod? Where are you?" My friend Doug expressed it best as he realized that he couldn't walk into the school with a cigarette"Damn, I forgot how repressive these places are." And then there was the look of pain on every DRA member's face when one of us accidentally sworewe were all waiting to get a detention slip. Turnout was excellent from the DRA kidsat points, we had 10 people talking to a class. The school kids were shysome of them looked like they were afraid to ask questions, others wouldn't meet our eyes. There were a few kids who looked at us with absolute unabashed longing. I'm hoping to hear from some of them soon. The questions were decidedly mixedin some classes, we only told our stories. In others, we discussed stereotypes, gender identity, and what we thought of the phrase "that's so gay." I think what most surprised some of the students was the sheer diversity of the group talkingat points, the group was comprised of jocks, flamers, allies, and queers from any other walk of life; we were diverse, we all had vastly different coming out experiences. There were kids whose parents had put them through conversion therapy or who had been disowned; there were kids whose parents were in charge of their local PFLAG chapter. If nothing else, we proved how gay people don't necessarily conform to any stereotype. I felt honored to be a part of the panel. The teacher has informed me that she's already been receiving a huge amount of positive feedback. In almost every class, we played a game entitled "Guess the Gay Person." (The DRA people immediately dubbed it Straightdar, but we kept that to ourselves.) For some reason, no one in any class thought I was straight. I can't imagine why. Not surprisingly, the bisexual girl who was wearing a dress and makeup as well as the gay varsity athlete were usually proclaimed to be heterosexual. It was quite humorous to see the looks of surprise on the kids' faces when they were told that they were wrong. Interestingly enough, anyone who was a straight ally was usually thought to be gay. This was the cause of much humor. (My ally friend Sarah spent the rest of the day muttering, "I look gay? I'm not even butch! Was it my outfit?") The whole experience was nothing but good, but I dearly wish that having a "gay people discussion" was part of every health class curriculum. If memory serves, my own health class only touched on homosexuality in passing, except when we discussed AIDS. I remember the snickers and quiet comments of the class at that point. If we'd had gay people come in to speak about their experiences, I wonder if anyone would have had their minds changed about homosexuality. That's not to say that I didn't make a few people think about homosexuality in my tenure at Cape. It's a little different to have a speaker come in and tell their life story than it is to sit next to a gay person in Biology, though. For starters, it's no fun to feel obligated to justify your existence over four years. Every time gay issues were discussed in class, half the class would turn to me, waiting for me to Make A Statement About Being Gay. I usually didn't do itone of the first things I learned in high school was to pick battles. Sharing a heart rending coming out story in the middle of History class never turned out well. I'm not sure why the same heart rending coming out story had such a profound affect in front of those health classes, but it did. When one of my friends explained how much hearing gay slurs offended him to one class, there were several murmurs of surprise in the crowd. I'd always thought that the reason people take offense to the word "faggot" should be obviousit was strange to be in the presence of people who'd never even thought about it. I've found that many homophobic people have never had a real conversation with a gay person. It's amazing to me how such a simple thing as listening to a story can make things change. Recently I've been receiving emails from a freshman at Cape. We commiserate about how being out in high school is a less than happy thing. Lauren, trust me, it gets better. Some of your classmates will come out, and there's bound to be a pretty girl out there who will make your heart go pitter patter. The friends you lose weren't really your friends. People come around. Keep that in mind. As I write, it's hard to imagine that I have completed my first full tenure as a Letters columnist. It's amazing how much things have changed since my first column. I'd like to thank Steve, Murray, and everyone else for all that you've done. (I'm sorry to skip over people, but my thank-you's would make for a very boring column.) I'll be home for Thanksgiving. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 10, No. 15, Nov. 22, 2000. |