Ode to Diversity
Had you told me six years ago that I would find myself at a
University, succeeding and liking it, I might have laughed. I would have
definitely created some once thought witty retort concerning the myths
of the system and the impossibilities of finding happiness through such
traditional ways.
Fortunately, I think differently of the system these days. And it is not
because I have learned to embrace the benefits of upward mobility. Nor
is it out of some illusion that someday I will be paid large sums of
money for the work that I want to do, rather I have learned some secret
qualities within the system.
I suppose I should back up.
When I began my studies at USM, I thought I would major in Psychology.
Looking back on it I can only resolve one reason why. I had one family
member actively supporting my academic choices. For privacy purposes,
let us refer to him as "the gay uncle." The gay uncle had a PhD in
psychology and was certain that this would be the way for me to better
my life (make money), gain confidence in myself (because I have money),
and consequently learn to appreciate myself without the affirmation of
my family (because I would someday make more money than them).
So, I was well on my way to become the next Sigmund so and so. Honestly,
I was a bit ho-hum about this degree, but I continually reminded myself
of that wise fourth grade teacher who told me "only boring people get
bored." "So," I thought, "better to have money and be boring than to be
poor and boring," but then it was as if it had appeared from nowhere,
there it was, my own personal Jesus, you guessed it: the Women's Studies
department.
I'll admit it. I lived a sheltered life. I grew up in Chelsea, Maine.
Hopefully you don't know anything about it. But we were the reason they
started putting padlocks in Union 51. Of course, back then, I would
never have defined myself as sheltered. In fact, I thought I knew far
more about the important things in life than most people. But everything
I knew before failed to prepare me for what I would later find.
Now this is supposed to be serious. Most times my attempts at formal
"thank yous" are wrapped up in some trite narrative too personal to
truly sound sincere. So before I repeat this known error, I will now
state clearly my purpose.
Thank you to the feminist faculty and staff at the University of
Southern Maine. This can only begin to express my gratitude. For I am
completely conscious of the benefits that you have all brought to me,
conscious of what my future will look like as a result of unsuspectingly
finding you here, and conscious of the importance of the work that you
do.
It would be impossible for me to explain the ways in which my life has
changed having known all of you, and having your support. Finally I find
myself somewhat surrounded by feminist faculty who have created in me a
desire to learn.
Because of the family that I have found within the feminist community at
USM, I am unbelievably grateful for the newly established Gay, Lesbian,
Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning Resources Program at USM. The
courage that I have gained from being in the hands of our feminist
faculty and staff only reminds me of the importance of creating spaces
where any student can feel supported and affirmed. I am proud to be a
student at a university that not only honors diversity, but also
actively participates in it. Within this, there is a recognition of the
necessity of such programs, not simply because they offer the illusion
of inclusion, but for their actual transformative potentials. The GLBTQ
Resources program is something to be embraced, as well as acknowledged,
as a program that ensures education, support and advocacy for GLBTQA
students and staff at USM.
For privacy purposes, let us refer to the author of this article as "a Butch Women's Studies Student."
From the October 2000- USM LGBT Resource Program Newsletter
