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When I decided to go back to school, I knew I would stand out from the student body. At 20 years older than most of the student body, I am old enough to be the father of many of these kids. But I am OK with that, because I am where I need to be, and besides, I'm used to standing out in the crowd -- with my sheer size, I stick out like a sore thumb almost anywhere I go.
But last night, I had a rather disturbing experience with the WWU LGBT organization that made me think that this isn't going to be as easy as I thought, being who I am.
Every year, the WWU LGBT organization holds a social event titled 'The Queer Dating Game,' based on the old TV show The Dating Game. The rules are pretty much the same, except men are set up with men and women with women, and the show is done in front of a live audience instead of on TV.
When this event was announced at the annual LGBTA Ice Cream social last month, they asked for volunteers to play the game, either as contestants, or as the "eligible bachelors." I figured, "What fun! I'd like to play. I probably won't actually be chosen for a date, but I'd enjoy doing it -- and besides, a mismatched pair is always a source of comedy for an audience."
So I let it be known to the event organizers that I'd be interested, and the next day, they sent an email out on the campus LGBTA email list asking for volunteers to play, and I responded back to the email, saying I was interested.
I didn't hear anything back for a couple of weeks, until they sent out another email a couple of days ago saying that not enough women had volunteered, and that they needed more women. I figured that meant that enough men had volunteered, and since I hadn't heard anything to the contrary, I was going to be on the show.
So last night, I showed up at the event, expecting to play, and was shocked to discover that I was not going to be included -- only certain select people had received emails inviting them to participate. WTF?
The auditorium was packed, and the MC - who is also one of the directors of the LGBTA - announced that the volunteers who had received the invitation emails to participate needed to come up to go talk to her. I was in the back row, and called out, "But what if you volunteered and DIDN'T receive an email?" "Then you aren't playing," she responded. Ouch.
I asked, "What criteria was used for choosing the participants?" to which she stammered, "I don't know..." as she turned to look at her assistant, also one of the officers of the LGBTA, and he stepped forward and said, "It just worked out that way."
How's THAT for a non-answer?
By this point, I was getting really annoyed. I sat in the back next to my friend Carl, who said, "If you want to leave, I'll leave with you." He was obviously disappointed that I had been uninvited. I said no, I wanted to sit there for a bit.
My mind was spinning. I could think of several possibilities.
The first, and possibly the most reasonable, is that they simply had too many men volunteer... though the fact that not enough women had volunteered makes me wonder. If there were too many men volunteering, I could understand some of us being placed on "alternate" status (which I wasn't). They were only planning on doing 4 rounds -- 2 male rounds, 2 female rounds -- and only 4 participants were needed for each round (1 contestant and 3 suitors). That means they needed 8 men, and if more than that volunteered, they would have to be in some way selective.
But they hadn't said there were too many men, and even if there were, the total lack of response to my volunteering seemed rather rude. Not even acknowledging volunteers, who then show up expecting to participate, only to be shot down, is just wrong. The right way to have handled it would have been to send back an email, saying, "Dear participant, we've just received too many applications for the show, so we are putting you in an 'alternate status' just in case a contestant isn't able to make it..." Something like that would have avoided hurt feelings.
But I got nothing.
Several more possibilities came to mind as well. One thing that occurred to me was that there might be a "clique" of at the center of the organization, organizing the events, and if you aren't in the clique, you're not going to get fair treatment. How fucking high school, if this is the case.
And an even more sinister possibility presents itself:
Ageism, lookism and sizeism were at play on the part of the organizing committee in selecting the participants.
For an organization that is founded on the principle of promoting diversity and tolerance among the student body, this possibility really disturbs me. Because I know that these are big issues within the queer communities -- gay men are notorious for glorifying young skinny hairless pretty boys at the expense of all others.
I don't look like the other volunteers. I'm big and fat and hairy. And I'm older than the rest.
Was I excluded because of this? I really have to wonder.
At the end of the first round, (I decided to wait until between rounds, out of respect for the audience and the players on stage), I told Carl I was leaving, and proceeded to leave. As I passed the MC/Director (who wasn't "on" at the moment), I said quietly to her, "I'll be coming to your office to talk to you about this soon." She said "OK," and Carl and I left. We walked back to my place to hang out.
Today, I knew I wasn't going to let this slide. I can pick my battles, and this one is too important to shrug off. So between classes, I walked over to the Viking Union to the LGBTA office. Unfortunately, the office hours on Friday are short, and it was closed. I will have to wait until Monday to register my complaint.
After that, I went to my CSCI 141 class, and after that, as I was getting ready to walk home, a cute young woman in the smoking area smiled and waved at me. I didn't recognize her, but I am trying to work on improve my social skills (Believe it or not I am taking a class on this, but more on that later), so I went over to talk to her.
She introduced herself as Rochelle, and she had heard me speak at the Coming Out Day discussion I went to back on October 11. She said she really appreciated what I had to say about coming out. We chatted, and I asked if she had been at the Queer Dating Game event the night before, and she said no, she didn't go because she never got the news that it had been happening last night.
I told her about what had transpired, and she said she really wasn't surprised... first of all, the LGBTA staff is all new this year -- last year's more organized staff all graduated, she said -- and she hasn't been impressed so far with the organizational skills of the new group. But beyond that, she agreed that ageism, lookism and sizeism are problems in the campus queer communities, and that she's witnessed problems herself. As we talked, I realized that there may be some consciousness-raising that needs to be done with these kids on these issues, something that she agreed with. After talking with her, I actually felt better about things, because she helped me see that there were some positive, constructive things that could come from the situation.
So I have been mulling this over. I am uniquely placed to address these issues -- I have a long enough experience with campus queer groups, activism and organizing to understand the issues pretty well, I'm different-looking, so I can address the lookism and sizeism issues with some authority, and I am also of an age now where I can credibly address the ageism issues. Whereas my previous incarnation in queer activism was about addressing the external problems of oppression facing queers, it seems that now, there is a need to address the "isms" within the queer communities -- how we oppress each other.
So, that will be one of the topics I will bring up when I go into the office Monday -- how I can help LGBTA address these issues this year, and do some consciousness-raising around them.
And I still am going to find out WHY I was excluded.
But last night, I had a rather disturbing experience with the WWU LGBT organization that made me think that this isn't going to be as easy as I thought, being who I am.
Every year, the WWU LGBT organization holds a social event titled 'The Queer Dating Game,' based on the old TV show The Dating Game. The rules are pretty much the same, except men are set up with men and women with women, and the show is done in front of a live audience instead of on TV.
When this event was announced at the annual LGBTA Ice Cream social last month, they asked for volunteers to play the game, either as contestants, or as the "eligible bachelors." I figured, "What fun! I'd like to play. I probably won't actually be chosen for a date, but I'd enjoy doing it -- and besides, a mismatched pair is always a source of comedy for an audience."
So I let it be known to the event organizers that I'd be interested, and the next day, they sent an email out on the campus LGBTA email list asking for volunteers to play, and I responded back to the email, saying I was interested.
I didn't hear anything back for a couple of weeks, until they sent out another email a couple of days ago saying that not enough women had volunteered, and that they needed more women. I figured that meant that enough men had volunteered, and since I hadn't heard anything to the contrary, I was going to be on the show.
So last night, I showed up at the event, expecting to play, and was shocked to discover that I was not going to be included -- only certain select people had received emails inviting them to participate. WTF?
The auditorium was packed, and the MC - who is also one of the directors of the LGBTA - announced that the volunteers who had received the invitation emails to participate needed to come up to go talk to her. I was in the back row, and called out, "But what if you volunteered and DIDN'T receive an email?" "Then you aren't playing," she responded. Ouch.
I asked, "What criteria was used for choosing the participants?" to which she stammered, "I don't know..." as she turned to look at her assistant, also one of the officers of the LGBTA, and he stepped forward and said, "It just worked out that way."
How's THAT for a non-answer?
By this point, I was getting really annoyed. I sat in the back next to my friend Carl, who said, "If you want to leave, I'll leave with you." He was obviously disappointed that I had been uninvited. I said no, I wanted to sit there for a bit.
My mind was spinning. I could think of several possibilities.
The first, and possibly the most reasonable, is that they simply had too many men volunteer... though the fact that not enough women had volunteered makes me wonder. If there were too many men volunteering, I could understand some of us being placed on "alternate" status (which I wasn't). They were only planning on doing 4 rounds -- 2 male rounds, 2 female rounds -- and only 4 participants were needed for each round (1 contestant and 3 suitors). That means they needed 8 men, and if more than that volunteered, they would have to be in some way selective.
But they hadn't said there were too many men, and even if there were, the total lack of response to my volunteering seemed rather rude. Not even acknowledging volunteers, who then show up expecting to participate, only to be shot down, is just wrong. The right way to have handled it would have been to send back an email, saying, "Dear participant, we've just received too many applications for the show, so we are putting you in an 'alternate status' just in case a contestant isn't able to make it..." Something like that would have avoided hurt feelings.
But I got nothing.
Several more possibilities came to mind as well. One thing that occurred to me was that there might be a "clique" of at the center of the organization, organizing the events, and if you aren't in the clique, you're not going to get fair treatment. How fucking high school, if this is the case.
And an even more sinister possibility presents itself:
Ageism, lookism and sizeism were at play on the part of the organizing committee in selecting the participants.
For an organization that is founded on the principle of promoting diversity and tolerance among the student body, this possibility really disturbs me. Because I know that these are big issues within the queer communities -- gay men are notorious for glorifying young skinny hairless pretty boys at the expense of all others.
I don't look like the other volunteers. I'm big and fat and hairy. And I'm older than the rest.
Was I excluded because of this? I really have to wonder.
At the end of the first round, (I decided to wait until between rounds, out of respect for the audience and the players on stage), I told Carl I was leaving, and proceeded to leave. As I passed the MC/Director (who wasn't "on" at the moment), I said quietly to her, "I'll be coming to your office to talk to you about this soon." She said "OK," and Carl and I left. We walked back to my place to hang out.
Today, I knew I wasn't going to let this slide. I can pick my battles, and this one is too important to shrug off. So between classes, I walked over to the Viking Union to the LGBTA office. Unfortunately, the office hours on Friday are short, and it was closed. I will have to wait until Monday to register my complaint.
After that, I went to my CSCI 141 class, and after that, as I was getting ready to walk home, a cute young woman in the smoking area smiled and waved at me. I didn't recognize her, but I am trying to work on improve my social skills (Believe it or not I am taking a class on this, but more on that later), so I went over to talk to her.
She introduced herself as Rochelle, and she had heard me speak at the Coming Out Day discussion I went to back on October 11. She said she really appreciated what I had to say about coming out. We chatted, and I asked if she had been at the Queer Dating Game event the night before, and she said no, she didn't go because she never got the news that it had been happening last night.
I told her about what had transpired, and she said she really wasn't surprised... first of all, the LGBTA staff is all new this year -- last year's more organized staff all graduated, she said -- and she hasn't been impressed so far with the organizational skills of the new group. But beyond that, she agreed that ageism, lookism and sizeism are problems in the campus queer communities, and that she's witnessed problems herself. As we talked, I realized that there may be some consciousness-raising that needs to be done with these kids on these issues, something that she agreed with. After talking with her, I actually felt better about things, because she helped me see that there were some positive, constructive things that could come from the situation.
So I have been mulling this over. I am uniquely placed to address these issues -- I have a long enough experience with campus queer groups, activism and organizing to understand the issues pretty well, I'm different-looking, so I can address the lookism and sizeism issues with some authority, and I am also of an age now where I can credibly address the ageism issues. Whereas my previous incarnation in queer activism was about addressing the external problems of oppression facing queers, it seems that now, there is a need to address the "isms" within the queer communities -- how we oppress each other.
So, that will be one of the topics I will bring up when I go into the office Monday -- how I can help LGBTA address these issues this year, and do some consciousness-raising around them.
And I still am going to find out WHY I was excluded.
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