Making Colleges LGBTQ Safe Zones

I've been published... elsewhere! Grand Central Magazine has posted an alternate version of a blog I wrote earlier this month. I rewrote it to make it more college/Central Michigan University oriented. Check out this link to see it online, and here is the post in it's entirety:

People who know me well know that conversations with me frequently turn to LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) rights issues. Last week, I was having one of my ubiquitous passionate outbursts about the way ignorance and hate leads to violence for LGBT people, when the person I was talking to shrugged it off.

“I really don’t think it’s a big deal anymore,” they said. “I don’t care if people are gay, and I’ve never seen any discrimination.”

While we have come a long way in recent years, discrimination, harassment and even violence against LGBT individuals is still a problem in this country.Studies suggest that the challenges LGBT people face because of their sexual orientation can prevent them from reaching their full social and academic potential in college.

A study from 2010 surveyed about 100 institutions and 5,000 college students. The study finds that about 25% of lesbian, gay and bisexual students and faculty experienced harassment while at college. 43 percent of gay, lesbian and bisexual people hid their sexual orientation to avoid intimidation. 39 percent of transgender and gender nonconforming people experienced harassment, and 63 percent said hid their sexual orientation.

These statistics become more personal when considering the story of Tyler Clementi (pictured on right), a 19-year-old college student from Rutgers University. His roommate, Dharun Ravi (left), filmed Clementi in a romantic encounter with another man, then posted it on the Internet. Clementi jumped off the George Washington Bridge on Sept. 22, 2010, just days after the video was posted online. Ravi is now facing a 15-count indictment, including a hate crime, and could face 5 to 10 years in prison.

Perhaps bullying of this intensity and scope isn’t widespread at CMU. But that shouldn’t stop students, faculty and administration from working to make CMU a LGBT safe zone, which could prevent future tragic stories of harassment, suicide or bullying occurrences at CMU. More importantly, LGBT students could feel accepted, which would allow them more successful and happier lives. A safe zone doesn’t only mean a lack of violence, but also active acceptance.

CMU has made strides in the recent months and years. As an attendee of many of the Pride Week activities, I loved being in an atmosphere of acceptance for all kinds of people (read more about my experiences during Pride Week here). Also, there has been movement on the issue of gender-neutral housing on campus.

But what can college students do to help on an every day basis? Many don’t have time to join a student organization or lobby student government or administration for changes, much less take action on what’s going on in the United States in terms of LGBT rights However, there are many simple things any college student, or any person, can do. Here’s a guide on how to help make a college campus a safe zone for LGBT people.

There are some very simple things you can do:
(adapted from a recent blogpost of mine about how violence can lead to hate)

• If your roommate or a classmate calls something ”gay” as an insult, tell them they’re being insensitive.
• If a student says they don’t care if LGBT people do their “thing,” as long as they don’t do it in front of him/her, say something like, ”Man, those straight people too. I really wish they wouldn’t do their thing in front of me.”
• If a friend says, “Hey, is that girl a lesbian?” Exclaim something like, ”I think that guy over there might be straight!” People make being LGBT abnormal, and they act like deviating from the heterosexual norm is something that should define a person’s entire identity. Really, it’s just one small part of a person, not their whole being.
• If you hear LGBT-bashing, be an ally and a friend. There’s not much you can do to change a hateful person’s mind, but you can be aware of those around this person. Don’t be afraid to say you disagree with the speaker. You never know who is listening and hurting as a result of this ignorance.
• If you are straight, recognize your heterosexual privilege. If you saw Tim Wise speak at CMU earlier this year, you know what I’m talking about.
• If you are a lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender individual, reach out to people who might need your guidance.
• If you need guidance yourself, there are roommates, friends, and allies all around you. Make sure you get what you need.
• Participate in activities like the Day of Silence (or other activities like CMU’s “Queer Monologues,” or the Drag Show) to help raise awareness about this issue.
• Be aware of LGBT groups in on campus (such as Spectrum). If you have time, attend meetings or events.

Most importantly, make yourself available to those who need it. You never know who might be listening. Advertise that you’re an ally in subtle ways (like those above), and you will be a safe place for LGBT people.  Together we can make the entire campus a safer place.

So speak up, speak out, don’t stand for intolerance and actively fight for the acceptance of all people.

Want more from The Equality Chronicle?

• Read about the price of ignorance here, here, and here.
• Read about where LGBT equality stands in the US and abroad here, here, and here.

The Queer Monologues at CMU and Straight Privilege

Tonight was my kick-off of Pride Week. And I have many reasons to be proud.


The Queer Monologues is "a production of works created by queer and queer positive writers." Individuals affiliated with CMU's Gay and Lesbian Programs performed in Plachta Auditorium tonight at Central Michigan University.


As a student at Central Michigan University, I'm sorry to admit that I haven't joined any of the LGBTQ organizations on campus. I've made it my number one goal next semester to join the Gay Straight Alliance here, called Spectrum. After The Queer Monologues, I'm more determined than ever to be involved in this active community on campus.


The Queer Monologues was a funny, at times tear-jerking, thought-provoking, and educational experience. Topics ranged from the difficulties of being gender nonconforming, bisexual, transgender, and also the difficulties of coming out in general.

The performers emphasized that LGBTQ individuals are all around us. For example, a gay man may live in San Fransisco, but a gay man could also live in a small town with his partner and children--even in my hometown of Holland, MI, no matter how much some residents would like to suppress this "lifestyle." These LGBTQ individuals do not necessarily follow stereotypes. There was a list of dozens and dozens of famous people that are or were LGBTQ (one in particular surprised me).


One performer discussed one specific difficulty of being transgender: her voice. That constant reminder of her past that hormones could not change.


Another talked about LGBTQ teen suicide. About society's inescapable intolerance of who she was. I don't know about other audience members, but tears were in my eyes.


I identified with one performer in particular. She was a straight ally. She talked about the difficulties of being a straight ally, difficulties I have experienced myself all through high school, and sometimes in college.


As I was walking back home after the Queer Monologues, I remembered a time my sister was walking with me in our hometown, Holland. She went to hug a friend goodbye on a street corner, and a car slowed down and the driver yelled crassly, "Get a room!" He assumed based on stereotypes that my sister was a lesbian. I remember having blood rush to my face and I had a mind to chase after the car and tell him what-for. I remember my sister shrugging with a little embarrassment, saying, "Forget about it." I know she has experienced many worse things than this, and has had the courage to share it with Holland's city counsel in this open letter (Here's the link again. And again. And again, bigger. Read it!)


That's the last thing I could do: forget it? I never have.


Doesn't everyone deserve to be able to walk down the street and hug a friend?


I don't have to worry about what people think when I talk about my significant other. I don't have to worry about what to call my significant other. Someday, I will have the right to visit my husband in the hospital, and the right to make important decisions. I can have children without anyone else having a say in it. I could adopt a child if I want to. I was never harassed in high school. I can hold my boyfriend's hand in public without a second glance from passersby. I know my family will accept me. I don't need announce my sexuality to anyone else; it is assumed. My friends, roommates, family members, and others are all comfortable with my sexual orientation. Nobody assumes I'm a pedophile. Nobody thinks children need to be protected from me. My children will see representations of their family in children's books and school curriculum. I am not told I "must be confused" or that my relationship is sinful. My church doesn't discuss whether my relationship will send me to Hell or not. There are TV shows or movies available with people of heterosexual orientation kissing or even having sex without it being a big deal. I am not defined or grouped or put in a box because of my sexual orientation. My sexual orientation won't be a problem at any workplace or classroom. I don't have to face hate because of one facet of my identity. I can get married. 

I don't need to be worried about being harassed on the street corner.


I have straight privilege. I am the heterosexual norm.


So, being a straight ally does have costs. Occasionally, people assume I'm a lesbian. Occasionally, I may be discriminated against because of my views. Twice, I received letters explaining why I'm going to Hell (because of this newspaper column).


But I don't experience 1% of the harassment, discrimination, oppression, or disadvantage that LGBTQ people do.


Sometimes, people wonder why I get so worked up about an issue that "doesn't even apply" to me.


Doesn't apply to me? I'm fighting for my future children and grandchildren and for my cousins and my sister and my friends. I'm fighting because I don't want another child to feel marginalized because of one small part of his or her identity. I'm fighting because I desperately want to prevent more of the ubiquitous teen LGBTQ suicides, and I wish I had been able to be an ally for those who needed one but didn't have one in the past. 

I'm an ally, and I'm proud of it. That's what Pride Week is all about. I'm proud of my sister, my friends, my acquaintances, and I'm proud to stand with them. You should be too. 

[My sister, me, and my mom in Oregon]

(Google Peggy McIntosh to read more about privilege)