“That’s gay!” was probably the most common phrase heard in the halls of my elementary or middle school. After hearing it so often, I remember a point where I, too, would utter it whenever extra homework was assigned, the teacher cancelled our recess or one of the boys was acting “sensitive” or “emotional.” It was what all the cool kids did, and I — the nerdy girl with wire-framed glasses who wore pigtails until 6th grade — desperately needed to be cool.
The funniest part about it was, for the longest time I didn’t know what “gay” meant. In the context that my peers and I used it in, I understood that it meant something bad or negative. I knew it was something that you didn’t want to be, or that you weren’t supposed to be. It made you different, and not different like having your ears pierced or hair dyed. Different like having a disease or a sickness that could not be cured. However, I had absolutely no clue what “gay” meant outside of what my knucklehead elementary school friends told me it was.
In high school, my perception of things changed. It had become taboo and insensitive to say things like “that’s gay.” The stigma around homosexuality decreased as LGBT issues became more popular and visible in mainstream media. Popular TV shows like Glee, American Horror Story, Orange is the New Black and The Fosters began depicting same-sex relationships or “out” homosexual characters more explicitly. Around my sophomore year, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis released their heavy-hitting single “Same Love,” which advocated for the legalization of same-sex marriage.
Buzzwords like “gender inclusive,” “trans,” “queer,” “pangender,” “genderfluid” and “intersex” all came into the mainstream at once. I became overwhelmed by these new definitions, terms and identities, something that just a few years prior had been totally under the radar in heterosexual communities. I had no clue what these things meant, and honestly had no intention of learning what they meant because it did not impact my heterosexual lifestyle. I reverted back to the ignorance of my elementary school ways, throwing any part of the non-hetero identity under the umbrella of “gay.” Meaning that anything that was different, or outside of heteronormativity in my eyes was just … gay. “It’s just too much!” I would often say in defense of the lack of my awareness.
In college, I knew that I would have to make a change. I was forced into seminars and guest speaker lectures that explained these terms at length, and pried my narrow mind open to the perspectives and experiences of others outside of the heterosexual community. It was then that I accepted the fact that just because I wasn’t part of the LGBTQ community didn’t mean I had to ignore it, remain ignorant or stay stubborn.
Things are constantly changing, and it was time for me to keep up. My mother is the most important person in my life, and she raised me on the notion that everybody has their own bag. Even if their bag doesn’t match what’s in yours, you still respect it; if you don’t understand the slang metaphor here, essentially it means that everyone is different. No one person is going to be exactly alike, yet despite this we should respect one another and honor each other’s differences. I was embarrassed that I had strayed from this.
I am now embarrassed for others who have seemingly not been instilled with my mother’s wisdom. As of a week ago, a few more members of the LGBTQ community were elected as government officials across the nation. But here on campus, students are still attacked for disclosing such identities to their peers.
Last week a business junior revealed he was harassed by his roommates after he announced his sexuality on social media for “National Coming Out Day.” This story has now been picked up by other local media outlets and has become somewhat of a hot topic on campus, in the wake of statistics reporting that 1 in 6 students feel discriminated against on campus. It is important to remember that discrimination on campus is not only racial. Still, even I have occasionally succumbed to this sort of thinking as well. Discrimination, as I have learned all too well after being on this campus for several years, can come in all sorts of shades.
Now, you may think — who am I to comment on any of this, especially following the confession of my prior problematic outlooks regarding these topics? However, I think it is the story of my personal growth, learning experience and enlightenment that serves as a perfect connection to my argument. We each have the ability to educate ourselves and in turn promote more progressive, respectful and productive ways of thinking about ourselves and others. So why not do it?
Stephanie Mullings can be reached at srmulli@umich.edu.