LGBT Center OUTlines

A New History

Cynthia Wright — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 09:29:56 -0500

I've talked to many Penn alumni in my lifetime: I am one of twelve members in my family who has attended Penn. I've heard stories about Greek life, athletics, and academic departments from the turn of the 20th Century. When it comes to LGBT history at Penn, however, my family has no stories. To the best of my knowledge, I am the first gay person in my family to attend Penn. It's strange that the LGBT community has become such a large part of my life, but that I can't share generational stories with my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents when we talk about the red and the blue.

When I was asked to produce a video for the Center's 25th Anniversary, I was excited not only because I love producing, but also because it gave me the chance to talk to past and present Penn students about their experiences in Penn's LGBT community, rather than general Penn experiences. As an undergrad, I spend most of my time discussing the current LGBT community with students my own age; I rarely get to compare my experiences with both experiences of LGBT Penn alums, and of current faculty and staff. Everyone has a unique perspective of the past, present, and future of Penn's LGBT community.

I prepared a set of questions for my interviews that I presumed would be suitable for everyone, only to find the very opposite. I had prepared questions such as, "What is/was the LGBT community at Penn like for you personally? How has the community changed, and where do you see the community going?" I found, however, that these questions were better for current Penn students, and the questions had to be reframed for alumni, faculty, and staff. When I asked one alumnus what it was like for her to be out in college, she informed me that she had been engaged to a man while she was at Penn!

Some seemed to take my question about the future of the LGBT Center and community more seriously than others. A few undergrads, faculty, and staff members discussed the need to continue tackling discrimination both internal and external to the community and the need to increase LGBT awareness in admissions publications and applications; they saw the future of the LGBT community as only becoming larger and generating more acceptance in the Penn community. Some people wondered if there was much more that needed to be done because of how accepting they believe our university already is. One undergrad said he saw "LGBT robots and scooters" in the future of the community. This was quite an eclectic bunch.
The LGBT Center seems to be a different resource to almost everyone I've interviewed thus far. For many of the alumni, the Center was seen as an innovative and daring; advocating for a community that was at the forefront of creating equality during the 20th Century. Present students seem to view the Center more as a welcoming community of resources they are thankful to have for their organizations to promote awareness and acceptance. From many of my interviews I've realized that perhaps the type of use of the LGBT Center and resources by its community is changing for the better: students still love to come to a place where they feel they are welcomed as part of a family, but they don't feel like they can only express themselves at that one location. I think the credit for this change has to go to the Center and the staff, faculty, and students that have fought to make it what it is today.

The video is catering to all members of Penn's community, including current and past students, faculty, and staff. One of the things I continue to think about while I produce this video is what kind of image I am creating for the LGBT Center and community. As an advocate for the LGBT community I have often said the LGBT community transcends all other communities at Penn. Because of this, there is technically no image that can represent the entire community. Because of this, I've tried my hardest to get viewpoints from as eclectic a group of individuals as possible, and seem to be doing well in that respect.

If I can take anything away from my experience with producing a 25th anniversary video for the LGBT Center, it is that everyone has a unique view of past and present events, places, and people. When I ask what memories people have of the LGBT Center, I get a spectrum of answers ranging from social events to panel discussions to small talks shared in the library. As I said in the beginning of this blog, I've heard many stories from my family about life at Penn in the last century, and I've felt connected to these stories because I am family. I also feel connected to the stories being told by people I may have never met or only spoken to several times, because I also feel we are family. I believe like there are two Penn histories I can connect with, and the production of this video has brought me closer to one of the two.

To Avoid the Water

Clarence Moore — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 12:14:20 -0500

I have always been leery of those who cannot stand silence. Every time I encounter a person who fears the quiet as a small child does the dark, my mind begins to race. What is it about silence that makes this person so afraid? Is it the prospect of being left with their thoughts? I believe that those who fear silence fear it because they crave a distraction from the issues that swirl about within themselves, troubling the waters of their minds.

The LGBT community fears silence. We hold this parade, then that march, this protest and launch that campaign. We constantly are talking or calling or demanding or cheering, we are making noise incessantly. We consistently create commotion over issues that reach outside of the community such as civil rights which stretch to the government. I mean not to say that such noise is unnecessary; there are a number of issues of equality and discrimination deserving attention and a great deal of commotion.

Still, I feel the racket we make over these issues drowns out the sounds of dire problems within the community. We cheer the granting of civil unions in England and Mexico City, and are able to turn our heads away from the increase in HIV cases among gay men in the United Kingdom and Mexico. Parades generate enough noise to put a rock concert to shame, and no one can hear the delivering of a eulogy at the funeral of a boy who has died from his first bump of crystal meth. Riotous cheers are tossed about for unity as the sound of joints grinding as the legs of many gays walk away from transsexuals and bisexuals goes unheard. We holler and revel in the development of affluent Gayborhoods, and do not hear the street peddling of hundreds of LGBT youth reduced to homeless and survivalist vice by intolerant families and a lack of resources each year.

Although it pains me, I believe all this noise is made because as long as we are cheering for some victory or championing some cause impacting the relationship we have with the world outside of the LGBT community, we do not have to look at the serious troubles we have in it. Instead, we are able to create a bubble of sound protecting us. We can live inside the racket of the cheers and the parades. We can live within these distractions, and never pay attention to larger issues. We are able to believe that because there are civil unions, homophobic laws stricken down and growth in the political power of the community, we must be incredibly successful. The importance of such success is slighted when so many significant issues grow inside of the community.

While we are not paying attention to these troubles, they grow and worsen. Alas, most of us do not care about, or even worse, are unaware entirely because we have the noise to distract us and drown out any unpleasant reminders of reality. We do not care because so long as we are making noise we can believe there must be some positive reason or goal behind it, making it necessary. We are distracted from that which ails us.

We have reached a point where silence can no longer be feared, lest such fear continue to inspire the noise providing fertile ground for our problems. We have to be open to some degree of silence so we can recognize, focus on and begin to fix the troubles hurting us. This does not mean noise and celebration should be forbidden, it simply means they should be handled in a manner that does not overshadow issues poisoning this community from within. It means that as we cheer, we must listen for the creaks and snaps of damages within this community. It means we must listen for calls for help through the cheers. We are wrong to fear silence; it is the river of racket we should fear.

The Skeleton in the Closet

Phil Shecter — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 13:49:46 -0400

Oh, the closet. That dreaded figurative wardrobe, strewn with sordid secrets and tantalizing torments. Where Ghosts of Canned Fruits, Cedar-chest Sissies and Dry Queens Past eternally linger. A twilight realm of (im)possibility – full of desires to be not who you are, but who you wish you were: a den of denial.

Those of us who have been in the closet, or know someone who has, understand the difficulties that being so imposes. Eve Sedgwick discusses precisely this topic in her book, Epistemology of the Closet – the intolerably contradictory situation formed around sexuality. Homosexuality has been known in the public sphere for quite some time, but has been prohibited from public discussion. It is “the love that dare not speak its name.” It is not “a” secret, but “the” secret of our time. She speaks of the historical legacy of the closet, structured by double-binds – one is pushed to come out, but must deal with the implications of doing so. The barrage of interrogation – “are you sure?” or “how do you know?” or even, “I get it, you’re gay, but you don’t have to talk about it all the time.” To come out is to embrace the volatility of the closet, to allow for knowledge to be out of your control.

Yes, it is difficult. But it is essential. The closet is about the secret, thus coming out is about the truth. Not so much truth to the world, but truth to yourself. While those of us in the closet have the responsibility to come out, those of us standing on the other side of the door have the responsibility to not interrogate, not question, and not judge, but instead to accept, reinforce, and acknowledge.

Harvey Milk, gay rights activist and the first openly gay elected official in the U.S., recorded an audiotape to be played in the event of his death by assassination. On November 27, 1978, Milk was gunned down, shot six times by a spiteful political opponent. At his candlelit vigil, Milk’s voice could be heard across the loudspeakers saying: “If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.”

I would like to think that, nearly thirty years later, closet doors are shattering left and right. Too romantic a notion, I suppose. Still, I stand, on the other side of the door, awaiting and acknowledging those who have made it through the rite of passage, who have abandoned the impossibility of being something they are not, who have embraced the possibility of their true self.

It may not be spring yet, but it’s time to clean out that closet, don’t you think?

What's New? Applause Welcome.

Robert Schoenberg — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 12:34:50 -0400

After twenty-five years directing the LGBT Center and working with college students, you'd think I might be able to predict what students want, what makes them happy. There seem to be some popular activities, which I probably do need to enumerate for you – and which, by the way, the LGBT Center does not provide. In truth, the fact that student preferences are ever-changing, while sometimes challenging, is also exciting.

So what's new at the Center, what has recently received applause (literally in some instances) from our student consumers, perhaps somewhat to our surprise?

First, our new lounge. Created out of previously unfinished space at the east end of the first floor, it is a direct result of feedback that students wanted a more intimate and comfortable place to hang out. While they appreciated the aesthetic and utilitarian qualities of the Goodhand Room, our main multi-purpose space, they requested overstuffed furniture and a bright atmosphere. With assistance from interior designer Michael Pollak, C'05, the lounge is outfitted with couches, chairs, and tables from Design Within Reach, a flat-screen TV, and aqua and orange walls. In short, it is definitely a departure from the look of the rest of the Center. Applause from students.

All of the fiction from the Center's reading room has been moved to the lounge, with encouragement to browse. And, the Center now has a Netflix account and will feature a “movie-of-the-week”, easily borrowed from the reception desk and slipped into the DVD player on a break between classes or when avoiding studying. More applause.

The Carriage House will soon have a flag – five by eight feet – hanging flat on its east wall, visible from the green in front of the high-rises, which it is hoped will direct students and other visitors to the Center. There will also be a banner suspended from the light-pole in front of the Carriage House doors, bearing an amazing logo designed by Curtis Rogers, C'10, assuring visitors they have arrived and proclaiming the Center's twenty-five years of service to the Penn community. Applause anticipated.

Finally, the Center will be offering a series of cooking classes – the fourth Wednesday of most months 5:00-7:00, in conjunction with other campus departments and centers. For example, next week, we will join with the Office of Health Education for a session regarding healthy cuisine and, in October, with La Casa Latina for, well, you know what dishes. Competition is expected for a limited number of spots in the kitchen, based on the whoops from students when the series was announced.

New initiatives (especially ones that are not very expensive) are good – and pleasing consumers is wonderful. We are always open to feedback and suggestions.