How we can be the very bullies we speak out against

Is Columbia a safe space for lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, intersex, and questioning people? Is Columbia a safe space for their straight allies? My involvement in the queer community requires that I ask these questions every day. Despite this frequent engagement, I offer no clear answer to the questions at hand. Given the strong LGBTIQ and straight ally presence at Columbia, it would seem as though “yes” is the clear answer. Recent acts of violence against the LGBTIQ community and my own experience at our university, however, make me doubt the assumption that we are doing everything we can to make a comfortable environment for all people here. Violence against queer people comes in many forms, and I have found that this aggression is not merely limited to attacks from outside. Some of the cruelty comes from within our own community as well.

This conversation first requires a framing of what I mean by “acts of violence.” Last month, seven young people between the ages of 13 and 19 took their own lives following attacks of bullying and shaming for their alleged LGBTIQ identities. Though the series of suicides caught the nation by surprise, these tragedies were avoidable. We already knew that LGBTIQ young people are four times more likely to attempt suicide than their straight peers, according to a study of students in Massachusetts in 2006. We already knew that nine in 10 LGBTIQ people have reported bullying and harassment in their childhood for their identities. We already knew that bullying is violence. Whether or not suicide directly results from bullying, it is an act of violence in that it negatively affects people’s self-images and makes them doubt their social value. Such violence against people who are already at a greater risk for suicide is something that we should not tolerate as a society.

This violence happens here at Columbia. I know this because I have both been affected by and partaken in this aggression. The latter phrase will likely surprise readers, and it is with great shame that I admit it. I have participated in the queer rumor mill—gossiping about suspected LGBTIQ people and sharing their private stories. I have rolled my eyes at others’ asserted identities, doubting their claims because of my own prejudices and notions of what it means to be queer or straight. I have inadvertently “outed” fellow students, violating their trust and ability to come out on their own terms. I have expressed deep frustration with those within the community who do not make it “their duty” to constantly talk about and take on queer causes. Those acts were acts of judgment. Those acts were counterproductive to creating a safe space. Those acts affected people’s ability to be comfortable in their identities and expressions. And these are the fundamental elements of bullying, verbal abuse, and thus violence. Only since I began to accept positions of leadership within the community did I accept that these actions were harmful. Effectively, I acted as an unchecked aggressor for at least two years at Columbia.

I have become more conscious of explicitly avoiding the violence outlined above. Though this was the right course of action to take, I still have a lot of work to do in rethinking my own prejudices and finding better ways to build an authentically accepting environment here. I have singled myself out in this article, but I know without a doubt that I am not the only one who has participated in this violence. Many of us who strive to be the best allies of the LGBTIQ community chafe against our goal of wider queer acceptance by not acknowledging that we, too, are part of the problem. Gossiping, outing, and judging LGBTIQ people are violent attacks, and if we, as Columbians, acknowledge this and refrain from it, we will be closer to attaining the safe space that we desire.

The author is a Columbia College senior majoring in urban studies and history. He is the Columbia Queer Alliance president and the CCSC senior class president.