The Colby Echo

Issue date: 4/16/08 Section: Opinions

I'm gay. It's pretty straight forward, except not. All my friends know it, many of them all too well. They often joke about how I talk about it and make fun of it constantly; about how I flaunt my sexuality in way they can't, or simply won't.

They're right. I am a very out lesbian at hyper-hetero Colby. I make jokes about sleeping with people's mothers. The phrase "that's what she said" routinely pops out of my mouth. I talk about how I think Natalie Portman is extremely hot. When I think a guy is a nice human being I often mock what I hear so many women say about Angelina Jolie. "I would so go hetero for him," I say in my deepest sexy voice.

Those around me usually laugh when I do these things, and they frequently ask me very personal, and highly amusing questions about my sexuality. I always give responses just detailed enough to break down some stereotype someone has of gay women, yet vague enough leave my personal life intact with some shred of private dignity.

All of this is wonderfully fun. I love being gay! But ultimately, the real reason I do the things I do, say the things I say, and wear the bracelets I wear, is not because it is fun to be out (though it surely is).The real reason for my irreverence and lezboness is because I want to show others, those who are struggling with their sexual identities, that there is nothing wrong with being who you are, gay, straight, bisexual, or otherwise.

I remember the first time it hit me that I was gay. I was ten years old and terrified. I forced myself to hide those feelings away until I was eighteen, and even then my coming out was very limited. I remember hating myself and feeling so guilty for looking at other girls the way they looked at boys. I remember the tears, the confusion, the anger, and the isolation and feeling ashamed of whom I am. I remember wishing there were other queer people around to show me it was all right, to remind me that I am exactly who I need to be, and that gay is just another facet of that.

But when I think about the loneliness and fear I felt, I also remember how relatively peaceful my coming out has been. No one has physically harmed me in any way. None of my friends has disowned me. No one has denied me anything because of whom I love. I remember that as someone who is out and strong and confident and proud I owe it to those who are still working through everything to be a leader and a role model.

So I joke around, I wear a diversity (rainbow) band, I make jokes about eating bananas. I do little things in the hopes that someone who is struggling with who they are, who they were meant to be, can feel safe and at ease. I choose action over silence so anyone and everyone can see that it is possible to out and proud and Colby.

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