What Sustains You?

The grassy field spread out in front of us, as we stood underneath a large tree to the side of the field. At the center of the field, a soccer game took place. There we were, existing in the margins, gathered for the Take Back the Night rally, organized against gender-based violence. bell hooks, an author and human rights activist, argues “[marginality] is…the site of radical possibility, a space of resistance” in her book Out There: Marginalization and Contemporary Cultures (341). And that’s what we were and are, that small group of people underneath the tree, taking up a space of resistance, the site of radical possibility.

Within that space under the tree, we learned about local community organizations working against gender-based violence. Some individuals chose to recount their experience as a survivor of sexual violence, and others performed songs or skits as a way to relay their stance on the issue. Morgan Harrington’s mother Gill Harrington, founder of Help Save the Next Girl, spoke about her dedication to raise awareness of gender-based violence through prevention education. Missing teen Alexis Murphy’s aunt Trina Murphy also shared the same sentiments as Gill Harrington in providing information to combat gender-based violence and abductions. The Keynote Speaker at the rally was Gordon Braxton, a 2002 U.Va. alum who is the founder of the blog Allied Thought: A Blog on Manhood and Gendered Violence Prevention. Braxton stated that the focus of his speech was to get more individuals, especially those standing on the “fence” about sexual assault prevention advocacy, involved in advocating for the end of gender-based violence. While trying to get allies to participate in advocacy work, he observed, “If you listen to what is being said, what’s being asked of you aren’t necessarily big things to do.” And isn’t that true? As advocates and activists, we are asking for people to stand on the margins with us, whether it be for a night at the Take Back the Night vigil or belonging to a group on Grounds that promotes sexual assault prevention or telling someone why the rape joke they just made isn’t funny.  Braxton’s view of advocacy resembles a quote I learned while participating in Green Dot, a national bystander intervention program related to power-based violence prevention, “No one has to do everything, but everyone has to do something.”  The smallest action paired with all of the actions taken in an activist movement propels the initiative forward.

Here is one of my friends, Gordon Braxton, and me posing for a picture after the Take Back the Night rally.

Recently, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what sustains me as an advocate. My answer isn’t an easy one nor am I fully sure of it, but I do know that the work I participate in is work I believe in. The work is emotionally draining.  It is tough, not being able to ignore the systems of power in place, not being able to be ignorant. At times, this space of resistance can feel lonely, but then, I remember all of those individuals participating in advocacy work and realize the site of radical possibility in which I stand.  Advocacy work is transformational.

After this academic year at U.Va., I wanted to leave Charlottesville for the summer, I wanted to not focus so much on sexual assault prevention. I wanted space to breathe, time to take a step back. However, I received an opportunity to stay in Charlottesville and work on a project that will digitally archive the history of sexual assault at U.Va. I wanted this opportunity so badly, yet I hesitated when I received the e-mail from the internship director about her interest in hiring me. I thought about the offer I was given to return to Montreat for a third summer, to work with preschool-aged children. With the internship, I knew I would have to stay in Charlottesville, to focus on the history of sexual assault at the University.  And, ultimately, I declined Montreat because I know that the internship opportunity is working toward changing the culture of U.Va., toward setting a precedent for other colleges and universities to own their history and to make sure history does not repeat itself.  After spending my past two summers in Montreat, where I met great friends and incredible families, my decision to decline my contract was difficult, but I know that my choice to stay in Charlottesville is one based on what I want to see happen in the future at the University, on what I see myself working on in the future: gender-based issues.  So, thank you to everyone who has supported me along the way.

Courage and an Accolade

Recently, I was honored by the Serpentine Society at their 16th Annual Fall Gala as the award recipient of the V. Shamim Sisson Ally of the Year Award.  I am very thankful to receive this award.  This post highlights some of the things I have learned in the past few weeks, along with what receiving this award has taught me about myself.

My mother and I were seated at a round table with a royal purple cloth draped across it, shiny silverware surrounding the porcelain plates, wine and water glasses waiting to be filled.  A group of six men took the remaining seats around that table.  I leaned over to ask the man in the navy suit and Warby Parker glasses which fork I was supposed to use to eat my salad (I don’t get out much).  He patiently endured my ignorance and explained each utensils purpose.  I felt foolish.

As I sat in a room filled with accomplished individuals, many of whom are alumni of the University, former University employees, or current University employees, I felt very unaccomplished.  Yes, I am young, so several of the adults who surrounded me do have at least a couple more years of experience, but my accomplishments seemed so small compared to theirs.  Currently, I only belong to one club, have an internship that requires me to do the simple task of posting pictures to Instagram, and can v0lunteer at a health care center at my convenience.  My achievements seem minor and, at times, insignificant.  Yet, I was there to receive an award that marked an achievement of mine.

While at the gala, I compared myself to lawyers, CEOs, government workers, and professors (and these are just a few examples of professions of those present).  While I was feeding myself messages of self-deprecation, I remembered a reading from my Women’s Autobiographies course.  During the course’s last meeting, my professor instructed the class to read an excerpt from Mark Nepo’s work Finding Inner Courage.  Nepo writes, “[S]o great is our urge to compare.  But inspire means to inhale, not measure against.  In truth, each of us is remarkable…” (12-13).  Those accomplished individuals, who surrounded me, were not there to make me feel insignificant; they were there to inspire me.  I was to inhale the knowledge they could give me within the three hours I was with them, to enjoy their company.  And, I might have been there to inspire, too.  I may not have realized how much I had to offer, even though I was possibly in the process of offering it.

In that ballroom, I found myself around people who admire me and wanted to tell my mother so.  I had to endure compliments, hearing about my hard work and the potential others see in me.  People were celebrating my accomplishments, and I was worrying that in my twenty years, I have not accomplished enough.  In trying to be humble, I practiced self-doubt, but I have every reason to be proud of myself, knowing how hard I have worked to accomplish my aspirations.  I needed to have the courage to inhale myself.

So that brings me back to another excerpt from the passage “To My Reader” in Mark Nepo’s book where he lists five ways thinking about courage as a growing plant has “changed the world” through “the courage to feel, to see, to accept, to heal, to be” (11).  Being an ally has given me experiences that have caused courage within myself.

I have the courage to feel upset when I hear about and experience the unjustices done to those within the LGBTQ+ community.  I have the courage to feel happy when my state started recognizing same-sex marriages and my university started offering partner benefits to same-sex couples.  I have the courage to feel proud when I see what the students in my university are doing to make our university, and in turn a piece of our world, a better place.  I have the courage to feel frustrated when I see individuals within the community turn against one another, when groups of people once united completely turn their backs on one another.  I have the courage to feel overwhelmingly elated when I think about all of the friendships I have made and messages of encouragement I have received from individuals within the LGBTQ+ community.  I have the courage to feel.

I have the courage to see others’ differences as beauty, as what makes someone human.  I have the courage to see what is around me, to see the good.  I have the courage to see what needs to be improved and to work towards improvement and not destruction.  I have the courage to see and recognize when appreciation and thanks should be given for hard work.  I have the courage to see.

I have the courage to accept, but even more so, to nurture.  I have the courage to nurture and celebrate those who may not identify in the same way I do.  I have the courage to say that acceptance is one thing, while nurturing is in a different realm.  Acceptance implies there is something to be “accepted,” while nurturing allows for appreciation of the person as a whole for who they are, regardless of assigned sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, race, ability, etc.  I have the courage to do more than accept.

I have the courage to heal.  I have the courage to heal myself, to heal my misunderstandings.  Learning is what helps me heal.  It aids me in self-discovery, in self-acceptance.  I have the courage to heal myself from my own struggles, my own pains.  I have the courage to heal.

I have the courage to be who I want to be.  I have the courage to be who I am.  I have the courage to be vulnerable, to impart my vulnerability on others.  I have the courage to be who I am without apology, as long as no apology is needed.  I have the courage to be intelligent, to be a friend, to be a young person trying to  find herself.  I have the courage to be an ally when some people within the LGBTQ+ community do not want to acknowledge me.  I have the courage to be an advocate for several different causes.  I have the courage to be a daughter, a sister, a friend, a student, an intern, a volunteer, and a blogger.  I have the courage to be someone who can (hopefully) bring about a positive change to the world, even if it is in the teeniest, tiniest of ways.  I have the courage to be.

At the gala, I realized how much potential I have.  I realized that I am just, really, starting my life.  Next year, I might be teaching my own class at the University.  Or I might be running my own small organization of sorts.  Or I might have some sort of internship or job.  After I finish undergrad, I might go to graduate school to earn my Masters.  Or I might start working and eventually go to law school.  Or I might work at a non-profit.  Or I might work at a non-profit while attending graduate school to save up for law school.  Or maybe I will have other opportunities that arise with other paths to follow.  Right now, I do not need to know the exact answer to my future (thank goodness!), but I must remember to have goals and dreams and aspirations because my life is just beginning.

I would like to thank you (especially if you made it through this long post) if you have been a part of my life through my journey thus far.  My family, friends, educators, and bosses have all been mentors to me over the years, and I am so grateful for your presence in my life.  Thank you!

*Works Cited: Nepo, Mark. “To My Reader.” Finding Inner Courage. San Francisco, CA: Conari, 2010. 11-12. Print.

My Experience Within a Community

Last week, I, along with four others, completed my final panel of the year as an intern at my university’s LGBTQ Center.  Normally, I do not share my story on panel; I just serve as the moderator.  Actually, I have only shared my story twice on panel, and the final panel was one of these times.  The panels that I have been working on gather faculty, staff, and students at the university who are willing to tell their coming out stories as individuals in the LGBTQ community or as straight allies.  I identify as a straight ally, but the LGBTQ community at my university has become a big part of my life.

Anyway, I digress, back to the last panel of the year and as an intern.  The audience was engaged and participatory, which is always a big plus.  Before the panel started, I met with the four panelists, and after some reassurance, I decided to tell my story.  The following is a quick overview of how I became involved and what I am currently involved in:

I officially “came out” as a straight ally over a year ago, when I started college.  During my first semester, I took an introductory course about LGBTQ studies.  I was very timid and afraid to speak in class, but I did become very close to one of my fellow classmates, who played a big role in introducing me to the community.  After I attended a drag show in October of 2012, I became very supportive of the drag community at my school and eventually became close with several of the drag queens.  During my second semester, I started going to our LGBTQ Center and met more people in the community.  My current boss for my internship asked me to apply for said internship, so I did.  I was offered an internship position running panels for the LGBTQ Center regarding coming out stories and other issues that the LGBTQ community faces.  At the beginning of this academic year, I started my internship, and in November, I declared a major in Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies.  This semester, I started volunteering with a local HIV/AIDS group, and, recently, I took a position on the executive board of a student run organization involving activism regarding the LGBTQ and ally community.  During my spring break, I received the opportunity to go to Las Vegas to work with non-profits involving the LGBTQ community, or more specifically the GSRD (gender, sexual, and romantic diversities) community, as a result of my involvement in my current internship.

Honestly, I was not expecting to get any questions specifically directed towards me from the audience, but one audience member asked, “What is your experience as a straight ally?”

I was a bit taken aback; nobody had really ever asked me this question.  My experience as an ally…where do I even begin?  Well, as I said, during the first semester of my first year in college, I, rather quickly, became involved with the LGBTQ community.  I did not realize until an event last spring semester that, as a straight ally, I, too, have a coming out process.  While I may “fit in” with heteronormative society and am definitely privileged that I can do so, I still am questioned about why I am so passionate about this community, and by some, I’m seen as wrong.  I know I am constantly labeled by people because I hang out in the LGBTQ Center all the time and am really involved in the community.  Most people do not directly ask me how I identify, and I am assuming, though I may be wrong because assuming is not a good scale for accuracy, when I do not share my experiences on panels, most audience members probably assume different identities for me, inaccurately labeling me.  However, I do not find it necessary to constantly tell those around me my identity, which, in general, is true for most people, no matter how they identify.

Furthermore, I know that some people within the LGBTQ community do not want me to be in a leadership position and do not see allies as being important.  These people are few and far between, and I will admit, I can understand a little bit of where they are coming from because as a straight ally, I do not have to face the same issues as someone who is a part of the LGBTQ community.  My rights are not infringed upon due to my sexual orientation or gender identity because I am a cisgender, heterosexual female.  As my boss has pointed out if someone is nurturing toward those in the LGBTQ or GSRD community, then he or she is an ally, no matter of their identity.

That being said, I am constantly aware of my “difference.”  I know I do not have the experiences of being part of a gender, sexual, or romantic minority.  There are several times where I do not feel adequate enough as a straight ally, where I feel like the “other.”  At times, being one of the few visible straight allies, who has a leadership position within the community, is tough.  However, I take my uncomfortableness and learn from it.  I am constantly learning new terms, new information.  I have taken time to get to know several people within the community, and their experiences and friendships validate why I am so involved.  I am very thankful for the experiences I have had due to my involvement with the community.

Overall, I do think that the community, at least at my university, has been nurturing and supportive of me.  I have made some really great friends within the community, who I most likely would have never met.  I have received opportunities that I may have never sought out or taken if I was not as involved in the community.  Heck, I might not even be majoring in Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies if I was not so involved, which also means I would have probably not pursued an internship with the Women’s Center at my school (and I am happy to announce that I got the internship)!  I continue to aspire to help make good changes in society and at my university for the LGBTQ community.  I want to work with different groups around my university to make our campus, our nation, and our world a safer, better, more educated place for individuals who are a part of gender, sexual, and romantic minorities.

The Table

As I sat, looking around the table, I realized:

I’m the only girl

I find myself in this predicament often

Surrounded by young men

And I whispered,

“Oh gosh, this is my life.”

And they all looked up and exclaimed,

“Write a blog post about this”

So here it is, my attempt at poetry

To describe one facet of my life

As I sat around that table,

I saw five completely different men

One chatting on the phone about some government issue

Another proclaiming his love for Beyoncé

The third debating about “role models”

One who was in the Navy

And the last quietly sitting there, knowing he had 130 pages to read

We left the room together

Me in front, with four of the five men behind me

We chattered as we made our way up the stairs

And, to me, it was ironic spectacle

A telling image of my life

There’s something you should know about these men

And several other men that I hang around

These men are all handsome

These men make me laugh

These men are all my good friends

That’s really all you need to know

I hate being asked:

“Is he gay?”

Especially after someone meets him

for the first time

I’m usually at a loss for words

Because, quite frankly, why do you need to know

Why do you assume?

I know why you assume

You assume because most of my male friends

Are part of the LGBTQ community

But is this assumption really fair?

The unfairness is in not knowing the person

The unfairness is in not knowing whether or not

the person wants this information shared

The unfairness is in the assumption

The unfairness is in the use of the word “gay”

Not every male who’s asked about identifies as “gay”

And then I must explain the term “queer”

And then explain how some people in the LGBTQ community

are redefining and owning the term “queer”

How it isn’t just a derogatory term anymore

He may be queer or gay or straight

Why does that matter in the conversation we are having?

Why does it matter when you meet him for the first time?

You see, he is so much more to me than that

He is my best friend

My confidant

My pick-me-up-when-I-am-down

My intellectual

My laughs

My hugs

See, I may sit around a table

And be the only female present

And I may joke about it

But that’s not what matters

It’s getting to know the person for who they are

No matter what his or her sexual orientation