|
||
|
Log In | |
|
|
 |
|
Our Lips Are SealedEveryone has a story. Actually, everyone has about a hundred stories. Some people keep their stories inside, never telling a soul, depositing them in the House of Secrets as they leave this world. I am not one of these people. If you know me (check the name at the bottom) you know I can NEVER SHUT UP. Words escape my mouth like a flock of pigeons rising from the city street, more often than not showering pedestrians with their refuse along the way. Jeanne Moreau, notable French actress, said that you should never tell a friend a secret unless you want people to know it. She should have said, “Never tell Rudy a secret.” To compensate for this propensity, I am very upfront about my inability to keep secrets when someone tries to tell me one. I tend to get the secret anyway, because I am usually as good a listener as I am a talker. But I recently discovered one exception, an exception that made me want to go back and point out to a younger me that it is only the banks with the unbreakable security codes that get to store the most opulent treasures. This summer, the last legitimate summer of my young life, my best friend, who I thought could never keep a secret from me, let slip one for the record books. Way back when, in my senior year (remember the 90s?), she received a phone call from some boys on one of my high school’s athletic team. Aware that she was knowledgeable about the effects of illegal substances in large doses, they asked her what to do about a certain member of the team who had consumed too much speed. She helped them through a long and panicked night, but it was only afterward, when these boys began to talk to her about the events of that evening, that she struck gold in the Powerball of gossip. Drugs were just the tip of the iceberg. Everyone in school knew drugs were prevalent — we all had too much money and too much time on our hands — so that wasn’t the headline material. Turns out a number of the boys on the team, as well as their girlfriends, were indulging themselves in one another on a very social level. And these couplings weren’t exclusively hetero (would I be writing in here if they had been?). As I sat on my sofa, more than three years after my friend received these revelations, I listened to stories. Stories about the guys who were the most talented in bed. Stories about the guys who were just experimenting and the guys who really wanted it. Stories about the guys who didn’t want their girlfriends to join in the fun. Stories about the guys who walked down the halls of my school with every appearance of all-American straight WASP privelege. In films, when mysteries are about to be solved, the protagonist is treated to a montage of clips from the rest of the film, pieces of the puzzle that will now fall into place for the hero and any audience members who had to leave for the bathroom. The Gods of Narrative decided that, at such a pivotal moment, I deserved one as well. The clips came from senior year, after I had been outed and lived to tell the tale. I remember the way some of these guys looked at me, the way they would stand up and walk away if I sat near them. Many of my friends told me it was prejudice and hatred coming into play, and I steeled myself against these reactions because of those assumptions, but then I realized what my best friend had known all along. They were afraid. They refused to look me in the eye because they were afraid I’d see the stories inside them, aching to be read but too dangerous to be published. They were afraid I’d notice glances, moments of connection, tiny intimacies that could have destroyed their lives. Their coach would kill them. Their teammates would ostracize them. The school would hang their heads in shame. They thought I could not keep these secrets that had to be kept, and I stewed myself in my own regret when I realized I probably couldn’t have kept them. Then my friend said something else. She said that she always wished she could tell me, not so I would feel less alone or so I would have a sense of power over these guys (or, for that matter, so I could invite one of them over after practice), but so I would know how much they admired me. They thought I’d been made of cast iron to be able to come back to school the day after I was outed. Some of them assumed they would have to leave school, or worse, if that happened to them. They said I, the nerdy fat kid who could barely confront a lizard, let alone the bigotry of the Texas Upper Class, had more courage than they had dreamed of having. I realized then I could have kept their secrets, because even if she had never told them I knew (and believe me, they asked her plenty of times), I would know that I was one of the best friends any of them had ever had. This is one of the reasons I wish I could do high school over again, with rewrites; many of you freshmen will come to similar realizations. I imagine how the new information would have changed things. I might have had friends, even lovers, that the me in this world missed out on. Or I might have just held my head a bit higher and come out myself instead of letting someone out me. But as tempting as redoing high school sounds, I don’t want it if it means becoming comfortable with secrets. As I was reminded by the Ani song “Shameless” in my car the morning after I heard these stories, “I never avert my eyes. I never compromise.” I’m just not a secrets person. Thank the Goddess. ~Rudy Ramirez is a Senior (aargh!) English Major who is coming up for air this semester before drowning in the maelstrom of Penn Performing Arts. New House, Same Old ClosetAt the risk of sounding like even more of a geek than I actually am, I have to say that I am trying to view my experiences as a new Penn from the point of view of a visiting anthropologist. Anthropology was my undergraduate major, and due to the close-knit nature of those of us in the department, anthropological philosophy pervaded my life. Anthropology can be amazingly practical when it comes to interpersonal problems. It has taught me to try to maintain perspective, that what is true for me may not be true for someone else, and to stand back and watch what people do as well as what they say. All of these things help a great deal when I am trying to navigate my way through a new and sometimes frightening environment, which is exactly where I am now. In May, I graduated from Bryn Mawr College, an all-women’s school of only 1000 students. While far from ideal, Bryn Mawr is, for the most part, a very queer-friendly environment. Once I actually started to come out there, the worst, for me, was over. I was out and that’s all there was to it. I could mention my boyfriend and my crush on Catherine Zeta Jones in the same breath, no matter where I was or whom I was talking to and never have to think twice. I was out to my professors. I wrote papers about queer theory in anthropology and teaching school as a queer individual and nobody batted an eye. The school was small enough that I knew where I stood with nearly everyone no matter what the circumstances. Even if someone did not approve of me being out, I had enough support between friends and community that, in the scheme of things, such disapproval really didn’t hurt me. Now that I am at Penn it is as if I am hovering in the proverbial closet doorway rather than miles away from it as I used to be. It is not that I have found Penn to be an unfriendly place, far from it. Rather it is just that I am in new territory, and I am trying to tap into the pulse of a vastly different community. I find myself playing anthropologist far more than I ever have before. My words are more calculated now. Rather than just blithely talking to someone I meet, I pause and listen to that person more. I watch for cues that might tip me off as to how they would react to me coming out to them. Instead of my orientation being a tacit fact, now I must decide if coming out to that person worth the effort, if it is a battle I need to fight, if it is a person that I care enough about that I feel the need to tell them, or if I really just don’t give a damn one way or the other. All this thinking and decision-making has made me a much quieter person than I am naturally, which in some ways is positive because I have been a better listener these past three weeks than, I confess, I am normally. However, I find that I resent this feeling that I need to be attentive to every new encounter where the possibility of my sexuality becoming relevant or salient crops up. I have found that biggest difficulty in this new place is how I am going to label myself for the new people I meet. During my senior year of college, I decided that I was tired of identifying as anything at all. I was just me and part of me was the fact that I am attracted to a variety of human beings of varying gender persuasions. But I have learned since then that, even if I don’t need a label for myself, sometimes the people I associate with do so that they can understand where I am coming from. Like I said, what is true for me is not necessarily true for someone else. Sometimes people need to name things to be able to wrap their brains around them. Then, however, I get mired in a whole new set of issues. If I have to pick a label, I identify as bisexual. But when I offer that word to another person as a handle for who and what I am, automatically the other person makes associations both with that handle and with me. This in and of itself is not necessarily a bad thing. I think it is perfectly natural; I know I do it myself. Taking in impressions and making judgements can be, in a very basic sense, how we humans make sense of the world. However, I have found that many of the associations people can have with the word “bisexual” are either negative or simply do not apply to me. And thus I invented what I call the “spiel.” The “spiel” is when I come out to a person and I don’t just say, “I’m bi”; I also say, “this doesn’t mean that I want everyone all the time. It doesn’t mean that I want to cheat and/or have cheated on my boyfriend. Bi doesn’t necessarily equal 50/50 – most of the time, I am attracted to men. It’s only maybe ten percent of the time that I find a woman that I am attracted to.” And so on and so forth. It’s my little bi-education crusade. And it’s starting to sound like a broken record. The problem with the “spiel” is it doesn’t give the person I am giving it to a chance to form their own impressions and/or ask me any questions. The problem with not giving the “spiel” is the person forms a picture of what I am based on what they think they know about bisexuality, and many times the assumptions they make eventually hurt me. This is why I dislike sexuality labels. They can carry a lot of baggage. Bryn Mawr spoiled me, that is for certain. But it also taught me to accept myself for whom I am, and to know that, even if it hurts, what other people assume about me does not automatically make me into any of those things. It also taught me that being honest about who I am is far more important to me than this temporary irritation I feel now with having to start all over again. Though I may have to renegotiate the particulars now that I am in a new place, and it may annoy me sometimes that I have to do so, my identity, take it or leave it, remains intact. *I am indebted to Rudy Ramirez for being a million times more creative than me and coming up with a title for my article. Gotta give credit where it’s due. ~Bethany is graduate student at the Graduate School of Education from Rhode Island. The Rainbow FlagI arrived on Penn’s campus on a rainy, windy, cold, mid-January morning to meet with a professor in the sociology department. My day did not begin well as I battled traffic on 76, and I could not find parking anywhere near Penn’s campus – imagine that! After finally finding a spot, I thought to myself- if the weather, traffic, and parking are indicative of the type of day I am about to have, a long and difficult one is ahead. Fortunately, it turned out to be serendipitous; it was marked by an enlightening and gratifying experience: when I saw the rainbow flag on the top floor of 3537 Locust Walk. Perhaps, I should share with you why the rainbow flag provided me with such feelings. My experience as an undergraduate - where I was not comfortable with being out - led me to harbor feelings of internalized homophobia, fear, sadness, and loneliness. The loneliness was not due to a lack of friends, but rather, a type of loneliness where I was the only one who knew about the real me. I longed to tell my friends, not knowing how they would react. I wanted to tell my professors and the deans who thought highly of me, although felt it might negatively affect my grade(s) and what they thought about me. And most importantly, I wanted to tell the fellow residents on my hall, where I was the Resident Advisor, however, I was afraid I’d be the recipient of harassment and disparaging remarks. The feelings I encountered were, perhaps, because of the lack of resources on campus for gay students. Although, it was more than that, I wasn’t ready to come out or even identify with the fact that I might be gay - even though I clearly knew I was. Those thoughts and feelings I concealed contributed to how I dealt with being me; I became an overachiever with everything I committed to as my way to garnish acceptance from peers, professors, and friends. These feelings also became enhanced by not personally knowing any visible gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender students on campus; as well as resources that would make identifying with other LGBT persons acceptable. So my undergraduate story was written as a closeted gay male: I became busy, extremely busy, and I joined as many groups as I could affiliate myself with on campus. I rose to the top of my class in the business school, due to the amount of hours I put into studying. In addition, I excelled as a RA becoming president of the society my senior year. I am grateful for these accomplishments; but I feel that they would have been more enjoyable if I could have expressed who I truly was along the way. Therefore, whenever I would see a rainbow flag, I would look the other way and have an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I did not allow that symbol to represent me, yet. As a graduate student, at the same University, things changed for me; partly because I switched from studying business and economics to sociology, and more significantly, because I finally came out to myself and to others. I accepted myself, for myself, regardless of what others thought. I did not feel threatened anymore, instead, I felt empowered. I believe a lot of these feelings came from studying sociology, where social change in and of itself is an empowering concept, and one that helped me to realize that I needed to do some introspection and change as well. This did not stop the overachiever in me, but rather made me more comfortable achieving things as a gay male. Of course, I was not running around campus with a rainbow flag and shouting off of rooftops that I was gay, but I was willing to tell people, if they asked, that I was gay. This marked a major transition in my life. My sights were already set on Ph.D. programs as I entered graduate school, and I was in the process of interviewing for them - which is what brought me to Penn on that cold and rainy day. One of my major concerns about spending the next 4-5 years of my life at a University was that it would have to be gay friendly and visibly accepting of LGBT students. This became evident at Penn the moment I saw the rainbow flag on Locust Walk; I was assured that Penn was the place I had been looking for. I remember the minute I got home that day. I dashed to the computer, brought up the home page of the LGBT Center and read all about it. As days went on, I wondered how I’d be able to become involved, even though I was a student at another University. I decided to become proactive and attend some events during the upcoming B-GLAD celebration, which only reaffirmed to me that there was an LGBT population at Penn and that I wanted to be part of it, too. With the onset of spring I finally decided to visit the Center to see if there was a way I could turn my interest into a reality. And, I did just that, by coordinating an internship within my master’s degree as a visiting graduate student intern at the LGBT Center. My thoughts and feelings have come a long way since I saw that rainbow flag last January. Most importantly, those thoughts and feelings have motivated me to move here, to be in an extremely supportive environment, both at Penn and in Philadelphia, full of resources for LGBT students/youth, and to enable me to be me, comfortably. I must say, the amount of resources that Penn has dedicated to the LGBT students, faculty, and staff impresses me. It surely is a wonderful accomplish-ment that any University should be proud of, especially when your Center is one of the best in the country. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this experience, and to all of you who have made me feel comfortable being here –-The loneliness was not due to a lack of friends, but rather, a type of loneliness where I was the only one who knew about the real me including that rainbow flag. ~John Leiner is a sociology intern from Lehigh University who will be working at the Center for the fall semester. OUT & In-Focus: Leslie Caplan '83Keyboards. Countries. Co-authorship. Comic relief. College. Coming out. Caplan. There is a lot I could write about Penn Graduate Leslie Caplan (C’83, W’83). The words above do not even scratch the surface. Nevertheless, Leslie likes it that way. She has challenged herself in numerous ways throughout her life, all of which have given her experiences that enable her to be so insightful and simply a joy to speak with. A self-proclaimed “fighter,” Leslie struggled much of her life no more or less than the average Joe... or Joanne. “I think lots of people have hard things in their lives and you don’t really know that about them,” Leslie commented. “It’s something that bothers me about our culture; everything’s fabulous; nobody ever had a bad day in their life.” Leslie, however, is not afraid to admit that life is not always as simple as pie. “I have really struggled just to find integrity in my life to be able to know what the right things are for me and to be able to treat people the way I believe they should be treated.” As we all know, coming out can make one’s life much more difficult than initially expected. Leslie found it difficult, surely, but resources at Penn during her senior year helped her become comfortable in Penn’s gay community. “I can’t say enough about Bob’s role in my life,” Leslie commented about the LGBT Center’s Director, Bob Schoenberg. “The gay and lesbian groups at Penn were really embracing. “To her surprise, many of the people Leslie already knew at Penn were gay, but she did not discover that until her first LGAP (Lesbian and Gays At Penn) social function. Leslie admits to having terrible “gay-dar,” but there wasn’t much Penn could do about that. Since leaving Penn, Leslie has worked in peace and environmental movements, visited Central America with human rights groups, practiced law privately, at the Federal Court and for non-profits, run an electoral campaign for a lesbian city counselor, co-wrote a novel with an ex-girlfriend and, most recently, invented and patented a new computer keyboard. Leslie has also, after what seemed like an eternal search, found someone to share a life and family with in San Francisco, CA. Her girlfriend, Heide, is a pilot for United Airlines. Granted, it took legal action, but United now affords same sex domestic partners of employees - all of the benefits that married partners receive from the “friendly skies,” (except those still prohibited by Federal law). “If someone had told me I’d fall in love and get free travel benefits, I wouldn’t have believed them. But we still have a ways to go,” she added, characteristically. “I just got back from a wedding in Amsterdam. My American friend married his Dutch boyfriend in a civil ceremony giving full marital benefits to both partners. No one, from the grandmother to the judge, seemed to notice that they were both men, let alone that they already have two kids! That’s something to look forward to in this country.” But Leslie wonders if she’s “hopelessly naïve” to think we could see gay marriage in this country. “Maybe it’s just the optimistic Canadian in me.” Leslie is active with a new Jewish Meditaton Center started at the conservative synagogue she attends. “We’re doing something very new,” she says. “Imagine twenty-five plus Jews sitting silently in a room before prayer, or study. It deepens your whole experience of what you do next.” Coincidentally, their Rabbi is also a Penn alum. Leslie’s work focus over the last few years has been Prosper Street Technologies™, the company she founded to license her revolutionary keyboard <www.prosperstreet.com>. “The inventing part came so naturally. My hands hurt and I started looking at ways to make my keyboard more comfortable. I noticed that my little fingers were doing a lot of the work and had to reach a lot, so I decided to move the keys closer to where my fingers sat naturally. It’s so obvious. Our fingers vary in length, so they can’t possibly sit comfortably in a straight line, on a single plane. By having the keys graduated, mirroring finger lengths, reaching is reduced and you have a much more comfortable keyboard.” “One of the things that’s so gratifying to me,” Leslie notes, “is that people look at the keyboard and recognize that it’s shaped like their hand. They get what I’ve done. I always get people asking, ‘how come nobody thought of this before?’ The exciting moment for me is when I know I’ve done something that makes sense to people; and will make typing more pleasant for them. It’s wild, because it’s a product and a business, but I actually feel a great connection to people when I see that they are excited about the idea behind the keyboard.” Leslie’s goal is to make Prosper Street’s keyboard the new standard keyboard. While she realizes the magnitude of that ambition, people and computer companies’ reactions seem to be indicating that Prosper Street has a good chance. “There’s really no reason why it shouldn’t. It’s basically the same standard keyboard, but it’s more comfortable and easier to use.” With the keyboard just about launched, Leslie’s brain has begun, once again, to look for a new challenge. She has some new projects in mind and she may even take a break from her complete independence and work for someone else for a while. “I like starting things and building a strong organization around them,” she says. “I think it would interesting to do this in the context of a larger organization.” Her self-awareness is magnificent, and she even paused a few times in the conversation to find out more about me. She lent herself to a “mentor” role, offering tips about how to handle some points in my life that may be upcoming. Her close perceptions and observations about people, I believe, have brought her business its current success and will continue to bring her success in the future. “I’m very concerned about people; I want them to be happy, more comfortable. It’s important to me that whatever I work on, whether it’s a consumer product, or a nonprofit, make people’s life better.” However, this all cannot be achieved without Leslie’s very own happiness and comfort. “I am amazed at the love and support I get from my friends,” many of whom she met at Penn. “They remind me daily how much goodness there is in people. I wouldn’t be the same person without them.” Her introspection allowed me to get a better feel for her as a person, and a charming one at that. It has also helped her along that road to integrity. ~Jen Moore is a senior English major, Women’s Studies minor originally from New Jersey. Editor’s Note: If you or someone you know should be featured in our alumni profile, please contact the LGBT Center with the person’s name, e-mail address, and/or telephone number by telephone at 215-898-5044 or e-mail at <center@dolphin.upenn.edu>. 2001-2002 Orientation Event Wrap-UpThe LGBT Center welcomed new students as well as welcoming back returning students with an array of orientation events designed to help students become familiar with the LGBT resources at PENN and in the greater Philadelphia area. The Gayborhood: A Walking Tour of Queer Philadelphia You Are Not the Only One “Orientation” Orientation LGBT Center Open House ~Preeti Advani is the Center’s Social Work intern and is originally from New Jersey. The Femme DynamicAre you a little boy or little girl?
Little girl, little boy…?
Femme or Butch?
Dyke or Grrl?
Lesbian or womyn?
Labels, labels, labels.
They box me in –
restrict me
hurt me
More than they could know.
No one knows
my insides
my guts
my inner struggles …
fears …. insecurities
associated with this
-Box-
Which has
Femme
in bold letters
above the door.
Pantyhose neatly folded in the drawer next to the corsets
both designed to thin, squeeze, emaciate –
transform…
All this under a wall to wall mirror
with enough light from every angle to illuminate Manhattan
I’m supposed to fit in THERE?
You’re mutilating me to become THAT?
A little
too
cramped
for my lifestyle.
Thanks anyway.
If that is your idea of “feminine”
I’d rather be the little boyish girl
The little girlish boy
hidden
hiding
From the vision of the restricting
narrow-minded people
Who place me in that hideous
(Where they think I will blossom
If only —
If only —-
The right
influence
got a hold of
Me….)
There might still be hope.
But this nunnery of feminine girls
With make up bags
And purses And nails painted with loud colors –
What was it that you called that?
Oh yes –
Femme –
If this only means a Girly, Prissy,
Made up Bitch
With high heels and a short skirt –
Then, sorry…
That box is too small.
I could never fit in there.
But if Femme could be expanded
Just a little
To include a
sexual, sexy, sensual, confident, tame, beautiful, shy, bold,
incredible, fabulous, outrageous,
funny, unexpectedly independent and wild
woman…
(which could very well include but not
be limited to
a girl with boyish tendencies
wearing
parachute pants and combat boots
and have a shaved head and piercings and tattoos
or
a boy with girlish tendencies
wearing
A short skirt and high heels
And have make up bags and purses
and nails painted with loud colors ….)
Then, yes, you’ve reached the right residence and at least
now I can invite you in…
It’s very spacious and comfortable,
has a spectacularly clear, panoramic view …
Now that the Femme box
has been removed
and the Femme Dynamic
has been
Redefined….
~Jennifer Armstrong is a sophomore Fine Arts Major originally from Long Island, NY. The Carriage House is Rolling AloneConstruction on the new interior of The Carriage House, the new home for the LGBT Center, began in early September. Following some additional demolition, the outside of the building had a complete power-washing. Some emphasis will be placed on work on the exterior, with the idea that a considerable segment of it can be completed before winter sets in. It is hoped that the entire project will be complete by some time in May 2002. Center staff will move during the summer – and a grand opening will be held in the fall, probably during Homecoming Weekend in early November. More than $2.1 million of the $2.5 million budget has been pledged. Since the lead donors are providing a dollar-for-dollar match, we need to raise an additional $200,000. If you would like to make a gift, if you know someone who would, or if you are interested in working on this important fundraising effort, please contact Center Director Bob Schoenberg <bobs@pobox.upenn.edu> or 215-898-5044. ~Bob Schoenberg is the LGBT Center Director. Homecoming 2001: November 3Join PennGALA (Gay And Lesbian Alumni) for Homecoming and celebrate 125 Years of Women at Penn. The morning program and brunch will get you ready for women’s soccer, men’s football, and the day’s other exciting activities!
The editorial staff of OUTlines seeks submissions from members of the Penn community. Poetry, stories, essays, and articles are all welcome. Inquiries and submissions should be sent to: 3907 Spruce Street Philadelphia, PA 19104-6031 (215) 898-5044 center@dolphin.upenn.edu http://www.vpul.upenn.edu/lgbtc OUTlines is published by the Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Center at the University of Pennsylvania. OUTlines is a forum for reporting news and expressing thoughts of interest to the lesbian, gay, transgender, and bisexual community as well as the general community at Penn. |
|
 |
 |
