Out and Proud at Columbia

Back in 1995 (yes, 1995), I was a sophomore at the University of South Carolina. At the time, I didn't know if I was gay. I recall being scared to reveal anything remotely alluding to it. Yes, I lived some stereotypes-I liked theater, I studied during reruns of The Golden Girls, I was a rabid Madonna fan, and I fussed over my hair. Along with these interests, I also rushed a fraternity, was a sports columnist, and forced myself to date women.

Soon, rumors started to brew, and sure enough, I started to be outed-not as queer or gay, but as a "fag." Many people think of that word as a cigarette hanging on lips in a British pub, but this derogatory term dates back to Puritan New England when, during the witch hunts of Salem, they would burn homosexuals at the stake-hence the burning stick known as a "faggot."

Even though I wasn't sure if I was gay, I didn't sleep with anyone, didn't have anyone to speak to, and had no clubs to join. I was alone and terrified. I left that summer scared of who or what I might be. I feared I wouldn't be welcomed back if I were gay. Unable to face my friends, I left school for good.

The ramifications of intolerance go beyond the flip joke-it stings. It can sting so greatly that one's future can be changed forever. I fled to San Francisco without knowing anyone, hoping that someone off the street would point at me and tell me I was gay. I didn't know the answer and I had thought that they all lived there. I was homeless for weeks and struggling with lost dreams and thoughts of suicide. Fortunately, it was a time when San Francisco was re-emerging with political activism and safe-sex education. The country was opening its eyes to Ellen DeGeneres coming out on her top-rated sitcom, sparking household conversations around the country. I soon came out of the closet, and with that heavy weight lifted from my shoulders, I was able to channel my energy into work, friendships, and growing up.

It is clear that Columbia exists in a paradox. It is in one of gayest cities on earth, yet the queer life on campus struggles for structure. Queer Awareness Month is a wonderful way for LGBT visibility-it is the much-needed oxygen in a place suffocating in passive bigotry or blatant verbal and physical bashing. It offers visibility in an institution that is dangerously ambivalent to the needs of its LGBT community.

By being out of the closet and celebrating it, we're able to set the example that gays and lesbians don't fit into one mold-and it's something to be proud of here. We're short and tall, stocky and skinny; we're jocks, geeks, and artists; we're white, black, yellow, pink, and even redheaded. If Columbia aspires to be as diverse and competitive as its peer institutions, then it needs to prepare all students for the real world. For every one of us who becomes a fashion designer, actor, or artist, there's one of us becoming a doctor, lawyer, teacher, investment banker, or engineer. We live in big cities and small farm towns. We go to synagogues and churches. We hug our loved ones, we yell at Yankees games, and we take our children to school.

While they do kill homosexuals in some parts of the world and the conservative agenda has reduced us to second-class citizenry here in the United States, Columbia University has given lackluster support to its LGBT awareness groups.

Queer Awareness Month has succeeded in being visible to the community as much as it can be, but Columbia is one of the few Ivy League schools without a LGBT center or adviser. There is professional support on campus through Counseling and Psychological Services and through Gay Men's Health Crisis, but it remains to be seen how effective Queer Alliance and other groups can be without a place for peer students to reach out to in a safe environment. Even more perplexing is the fact that Queer Alliance does not get an adviser when there are so many openly gay and lesbian faculty members at Columbia.

Unfortunately, people who are struggling with sexual identity issues go on to have substance abuse problems, perform poorly academically, leave school, or worse, take fatal measures.

Joining Columbia through General Studies, I've been surprised at how far gay life has come on college campuses since 1995. However, it would be a shame that Queer Alliance, the longest running gay and lesbian college organization in America, could not be what Columbia encourages its students to become: a leader in a diverse world with diverse ideas, willing and able to make it a better place.

I am proud to be gay and I am proud to be a Columbia student. I would like to be proud of both at the same time.