Beyond a little ribbing for a public display of affection, straight people have little to fear when planting a peck on the cheek or holding a boyfriend or a girlfriend's hand in public. What is usually a non-issue in the heterosexual community, however, is wholly different within the queer community. Two women publicly kissing or walking arm in arm can elicit a hostile response, even within the Tufts community, which some students feel is often overestimated as an accepting and safe environment for gays.
In the Tufts community
When walking around campus - and particularly on the streets surrounding Tufts - queer couples often feign being 'just friends' for fear of being harassed. "It's very scary to show any nuance of affection. Your girlfriend becomes your best friend on the T, and holding hands becomes a radical act of bravery," said senior TheaLavin, who describes herself as a queer or a "dyke."
Lavin reports that she often experiences harassment when she's with her girlfriend, particularly on Boston Ave. "People scream from their cars, especially in the middle of the night. Holding hands is half crazy," Lavin said. "My partner and I never go into Espresso's holding hands - ever."
A junior, who asked to be referred to as "Lori" to protect her identity, knows the extent of the harassment all too well. After shaving her head last year, she said she was subjected to a fair amount of gay bashing, again most frequently on Boston Ave. "The harassment is horrible. I am very openly horrified," she said.
Lori recounted several instances where she was harassed outside her own house on Boston Ave. "I just feel like such an easy target for the crazy people in the world," she said, recalling shouts of 'Oh, I thought you were a man,' in reference to her short hair, or 'F--king dyke.'
Both Lori and Lavin stated that the fear of harassment doesn't end once they step onto campus itself - though it is definitely minimized. Many gay students, they said, have a particular fear of fraternities. "I always wonder who's going to stare at me around frat row," Lori said, saying she knows of a number of confrontations that fraternity brothers have had with gay students this year alone.
Lavin agrees with Lori's sentiments about the relationship between some fraternities and the lesbian, gay, and bisexual community on campus. "The Greek scene is infamous for being hostile to the gay community," Lavin said.
Walking around campus in areas besides frat row can also be slightly nerve-wracking, according to both women, but on many occasions the two feel relatively safe. "There is a constant sense of otherness," Lavin said, explaining that this does not inhibit her from displaying affection for her partner, on occasion. She notes that there are many occasions when she and her girlfriend walk around campus holding hands.
Lavin, however, reports that her problems do not stop at malicious harassment. Men as a whole, she says, tend to have a skewed view of women who they find are lesbian. "I have felt very sexualized by men when they find out I'm gay. It is very hard to be taken seriously," she said, alluding to the sexual fantasy that many men have about lesbian women.
Lori, on the other hand, feels stigmatized because of her perceived masculinity - or butchness, as Lavin terms it - which often leaves her uncomfortable. "Unless I'm locked in my house in my warm bed, I don't feel safe," she said.
Lori and some other queers with short hair don hoods and oversized clothing to protect themselves. One senior, who asked to be referred to as "Jane" to protect her identity, said that many of her friends wear hooded sweatshirts and baggy clothes - especially at night - to hide their gender. She claimed that the harassment diminishes if people think she's male.
Lavin has never had to wear a hood or take these other measures because she can "pass" as a straight woman. "I feel more unsafe because I'm a woman, not because I'm a queer, because I can pass. Passing is huge," she said, listing a number of other precautions she takes, including learning self-defense techniques.
While Lori stated that she is sometimes wary, since being openly queer is not too common around campus, there are times when she forgets her sexuality might be an issue of contention. "Sometimes I forget about it when I don't think I'm gonna run into people I know," she said.
This sense of relative comfort, however, is not universal, according to Jane, who says she is still uncomfortable showing affection for her girlfriend. "I continue to think of it when I'm holding hands on campus [and] when she's kissing me [in public]. And I'm not going to tell you that butterflies don't fill my stomach," she said.
Sometimes the discomfort she feels becomes more intense than a case of butterflies in the stomach. Jane says she feels that many people hide pent-up hostility or a deeply embedded hatred towards non-heterosexuals behind political correctness - a phenomenon that scares her. "[It] makes me feel like I can't walk around campus without getting punched in the face," she said.
"I feel that there's a sh-tload of homophobia," Jane said, adding that despite this the queer community is strong enough to act as a buffer. "There is so much support in the gay community here," she added.
Coming out and acceptance
For many gay students at Tufts, the support available from the gay community is a far cry from what they are used to at home. "I have really found a home in the gay community," Lavin said, adding that the level of acceptance here is much greater than in her Midwestern suburban hometown.
"When I came to Tufts I felt a huge relief because, although it may be socially uncomfortable at times to be queer, I didn't have to fear getting the crap getting beaten out of me as much [as I did at home]," Lavin said.
Coming from a Jewish family in New Jersey, Lori had been brought up to think that there was only one lifestyle: A nice Jewish girl could only be heterosexual. "I never really fit in. Everyone was always different than me," she said.
Lori, who came out just over a year ago, always felt an intense self-hatred and denial. "I was always wishing that I wasn't gay," Lori said, noting that she dated guys for a time before deciding she liked women. She remembers being extremely confused while looking at magazines and lusting after the female models. "I always wrote it off as wanting to look like them," she said, remembering problems she had with her body image.
Though she has finally come to grips with her sexuality, Lori said that her mother is still upset. "[My mother] didn't think that it could be her child. She had to get rid of the image of a big Jewish wedding and me walking down the aisle," Lori said, adding that her mother is saddened that she will not have a family. Lori disagreed, saying that she will in fact have a family, since loving people will always surround her. Her father, she said, accepted her sexuality much more easily. He is even doing some activist work of his own.
Jane's parents were also accepting, but as in Lori's case, there are some issues that will always linger. She remembers a lengthy coming-out process. After denying her sexuality for a time, she eventually came out to herself. "I never thought of being queer or lesbian or bisexual. I just thought I was straight," Jane said.
Jane recalled that she couldn't share her first homosexual relationship in high school with her friends. "We were together for two years and no one knew we were together for [the first] seven months," she said. She attributed her secret relationship to the stigma she thinks society, herself included, places on homosexuals. "[My girlfriend and I] had homophobia, and the rest of society did too."
To this day, Jane does not call herself a lesbian. "Labeling forces people into a certain space. I don't think sexuality fits into boxes," she said. "I am much more likely to explain my sexuality in terms of myself."
Lori agreed, saying that though she likes women, she is still attracted to all people because they are all "beautiful."
Despite their personal acceptance of their sexuality, both Lori and Jane still find it difficult to face family and friends from home. Jane said that it is still difficult to tell her parents that they are having dinner with her and her girlfriend.
Lori still feels awkward in her community at home. In early October, she took her partner to her synagogue for services. "I felt like we were fighting against the world," Lori said of those few hours in temple, when holding hands was something that would elicit stares.
Lavin, addressing the issue of why some gay individuals are so vocal about their cause, said this fighting spirit is something these women have gained from their experiences. "Queers tend to become soldiers fighting as a response to extraordinarily difficult circumstances," Lavin said.
Lavin added that she often feels like she's defining herself in terms of her sexuality. "When you say something about the gay community or your partner, it feels that you're bringing up something 'gay' again, and you start to count the number of times you refer to the queer parts of your life in conversation," she said.
Despite their personal struggles, all of these women feel that this vocal sentiment about gay issues is one that can, among other things, potentially help students still unsure or uncomfortable with their sexuality.
Lavin mentioned the pain many gay individuals - closeted or out - feel. "I think that one of the most painful things about being queer at Tufts is if you're queer [you still feel] just a little bit different," Lavin said.
All three women note the obstacle that the Tufts Christian Fellowship (TCF) ruling, in their opinion, has created. Lori says she has been losing sleep over the issue. "The TCF [issue] showed me that it's always going to be the same fight wherever I go," she said, stressing that she is very frustrated at this point in the process.
Jane said that she feels a great deal of anger about the issue, and fears its greater significance and effects both at Tufts and beyond. "You just hope that people understand how discrimination works," she said.
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Editor's note: This article has been modified from its original version. The name of a source has been removed.
