What gay acceptance truly means

By Thom Cantey

JESSICA KUNG/YH

"DOMA." In mid-September 1996, I watched those four letters glide past me as I walked to class. A campus political action group had instructed people to wear all black that Friday if they were opposed to the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), a bill that "defended" the sanctity of marriage as an exclusively heterosexual institution. I wore only a white shirt with blue jeans, as well as a look of embarrassment across my face.

I was probably embarrassed that the people who had a sense of my gayness—even through my thick closet door—might regard me as a traitor of sorts, as someone who wouldn't stand up for his beliefs. But no one brought it up with me that day, as if I didn't need to care about the subject anyway.

Now, over three years later, I expect people to prod me into being supportive of queer life at Yale, because it's obvious that I believe in improving it. But unfortunately, most other people on this campus seem unwilling to be prodded in this way. Last spring, certain students were criticized for removing posters that likened gay pride to the seven deadly sins—posters which offended me and many other lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered (LGBT) students. Since most people on this campus don't feel that homosexuality is a sin, it was thought harmful to remove the flyers lest we stifle the "marketplace of ideas." As the campus refused to affirm its stance on homophobia and instead debated peripheral free-speech issues, queer students wondered if anyone was at all concerned with the task of making the Yale campus aware of homophobia.

Each gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered person can assure himself or herself of the LGBT community's support by coming out. It represents truthfulness to oneself. It is a cry of empowerment. It allows each person to take hold of the queer community, to shape it, to carve a new identity which is based on the individual. The LGBT community is the lesbian in the leather jacket and the dramatic gay dude in the Prada, but each person coming out—and staying out—ensures that the LGBT community isn't limited to those conceptual typologies. Each person has the power to change the face of LGBT. National Coming Out Day on Mon., Oct. 11, is an extraordinary opportunity for each queer person to claim his or her life, friends, and the overall group as his or her own.

But decisions of such personal importance should not be reserved for queer people. Next Monday, straight people will also have to decide whether they want to "come out"—for acceptance over apathy. For this reason, National Coming Out Day is also a time when the straight community can change the face of Yale. Certainly, every LGBT person will wear blue jeans and a white T-shirt as a sign of coming out. But every straight person who has resolved to stand behind people who are coming out should wear the same. After all, not showing visible support has an effect too: it leaves queer people with no means to differentiate between indifference and intolerance. On Coming Out Day, inactive students look just like hateful students—and the result is an apparent, even if illusory, wall of opposition. Yale must stop being open-minded in theory and do some coming out of its own as a truly supportive place.

Three years ago, though, I wasn't quite ready to come out. I was still embarrassed that people would think I supported DOMA because I lacked the courage to wear black. This year, you should be embarrassed if you think Yale is an accepting place, yet do nothing to show that you too are "accepting." Be ashamed if you can't show your closeted friends that you care enough to support them at a time when they may need it. And to those who ignore my admonition and do nothing this Monday to show their acceptance: this year, my blue jeans and white shirt will allow me to look at you and know that you are an obvious traitor to the beliefs you supposedly hold.

Thom Cantey, a senior in Saybrook, is a student coordinator for the LGBT Co-operative.

Back to Opinion...