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Campus Diary
Cliche time: I never thought it would happen to me, especially not here. But it did. And it’s time I admit to myself that it’s probably not the first time.
Last night I was chalking for BGLAD. I had been looking forward to it all day. I had chalked for the first time for National Coming Out Day this past October and found it to be the most affirming experience. I was with people I felt comfortable around: my boyfriend at the time, people I knew from Queer Alliance and BiLeGa. I felt unashamed, proud, powerful.
Last night, however, wasn’t the same experience. The day before, someone had written "We’re sick and tired of fags spreading AIDS" near the Campus Center. Though homophobic grafitti has beeen a regular occurence on this campus this semester, this one really hit me. I could easily dismiss the other incidents as the work of isolated morons. But the writer(s) of this one had levelled an accusation against me against me and every other queer person I know, an accusation based on a stereotype that to this day retains some legitimacy in certain parts of the scientific establishment (like the FDA).
I thought chalking would lift my spirits, help me relive National Coming Out Day. I wrote particularly racy things: "Fuck Your Gender," "Sodomy is a Civil Right," "Our Right to Love, Our Right to Fuck." While I was writing in front of the ‘92 Theatre, I saw two fratboys in the back reading the last of those chalkings. They went ballistic. I chuckled to myself until I saw and heard one of them yelling "Faggot!" — possibly to his friend, but possibly to another chalker. They then proceded down towards High Street. When they saw me and two of my friends chalking, they angrily yelled at us "Don’t write shit..." and something else I didn’t make out.
I froze. I wanted to say something, to tell them to fuck off. But I was intimidated, afraid of a physical confrontation. I was relieved when they kept walking.
I loathe the idea of being a victim. I hate confronting my fears. I like the fact that I am not particularly effeminate, that I can outlift the average guy I see at Freeman, that I can pass for straight. Who’s gonna dare fuck with me? Well, someone did.
Earlier this semester when I was petitioning for the university to recruit a queer studies professor at the Campus Center, I got pinned between a table and a glass door for a good five seconds by some jock who had just a second before ignored me when I asked him to sign. Today I’m admitting to myself that he knew what he was doing. Today I’m admitting to myself that homophobes at Wesleyan don’t have anymore respect for me than they do for the most stereotypically gay men I know.
Today I’m admitting to myself that I can’t take them on alone. Queer Alliance can’t take them on alone. We need the help of everyone on this campus. People — students, administrators, faculty — need to speak up when they hear about homophobia. They need to tell other people that they don’t think homophobia is cool, and that it’s totally unacceptable when it’s expressed in a manner that is intimidating to queer students.
There are students on this campus who merely want to engage in consensual romantic and sexual relationships with members of the same sex. And there are students who will go out of their way to intimidate them. At most, one of those groups can feel comfortable at Wesleyan.
Whose side are you on?
-Aongus Burke
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