Go, Army!

Normally I'm not a huge fan of just unabashed swearing, but in this particular case, let me just say:

FUCK YOU, MIKE.

Gaylen, my former roommate, just started Med. School in Maine last month. She's gotten to know a lot of different people, and in keeping with the 10% rule, has also met some very lovely queers since she arrived. In particular, she has befriended a classmate whose partner also moved here while Hayden, Gaylen's friend, gets her degree. Hayden and her partner originated in North Carolina, and made a particular point to move someplace where the could be out and proud and whatever they wanted wherever they were. North Carolina was a 53,281 square mile closet, and they wanted to get the hell out of there, literally.

So, they trek northward, moving there entire lives 1,015 miles to Portland, hoping that with each longitudinal degree northward they would encounter less homophobia, more inclusion, and maybe, for once in their lives, feel safe enough to walk down the street holding each other's hands. They had a plan to be out, for the first time in their lives, to everyone.

During an exercise last week in one of their classes, the professor instructed people to get into pairs, take histories, and then practice reporting back to the larger group. One of the members of Gaylen's class, Mike, has been a jerk since the beginning. He's a former Army officer and just loves to hear himself talk, interjecting and interupting even the professor with Chem7-this and blood panel-that, even when it isn't relevant or correct. He's an arrogant bastard with little room to hear what anyone else has to say. Gaylen told me one day, when discussing the difference in cultural boundaries that might affect how you care for someone's health, he contributed, "Well, these people, aren't they in our country?! And shouldn't they be concerned with familiarizing themselves with our cultures, instead of us, theirs?!" Yeah, well, you get the picture.

So Hayden's partner reports back to the class what she's said word for word, using her phrases, etc., stating that she was nervous about coming to Maine and New England and that she was nervous about coming out too soon to the rest of the class for fear of being the Big Fat Lesbian on campus. He reported that she feels like being a lesbian is just one part of her life, and while it is an important part, it is not the sum of her being. In general, he did a fair and nice job, and it was well received by the others in the class.

After class, Hayden is going to her car. Enter Mike stage left, in his car, pulling up along side Hayden. The rest goes something like this:

Mike, in an accusatory tone: Hey! Big FAT LESBIAN!!

Hayden, cautiously: Um, yes, Mike?

Mike: Yeah, you know, you and your girlfriend should come over sometime, I might have some questions for you.

Hayden: Yeah, like what?

Mike: Well, I'm wondering if maybe I can show you something, you know, maybe show you a trick or two.

Hayden: I'm not sure what you mean.

Mike: I thought I could, you know, be of service, show you that there might not be something so wrong with a little d!ck.

Hayden, trying to maintain her composure: Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen.

Mike: Yeah, well you let me know. It might be a good idea.

Mike drives off. Hayden tries to keep from barfing.

So, not only was this a sexually harassing act, it was also obscene and grossly homophobic. Hayden is trying to figure out now what to do about, if to speak to anyone about it, and to whom, if she decides to move forward. The kicker of it all is that this jerk off is running for class president. CLASS PRESIDENT.

This incident has made me think and rethink the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy of Mr. Clinton Disappointment of 1996 I need to get re-elected pants. It reminded me of how dangerous it is to instruct people to be ashamed of themselves, to hide parts about themselves that are true and honest and rooted in love. It reminded me of the contradiction between instructing Hayden to keep her mouth shut about her life, and allowing Mike to open his freely. It reminded me of the immense pain of being in the closet, the desperation you feel while trying to claw out, and the anger and shame when someone slams you violently, unwillingly back in. It reminds me that even in the Blue State safe areas, there is no guard against some creep sneaking in. It reminds me that there is so much work left to do, and that remaining steadfast, and out, and proud and active are the only things that may keep that situation from ever happening to anyone again.