Last night my friend asked me if I had seen the scribbles on my front door. I looked and found the word "faggot" scrawled on it. It was hastily drawn cursive writing with an arrow that traced a path to my name tag.
A couple of things ran through my mind at that moment, and I felt a sudden rush of confusion. I was amused at the irony of the situation because I had told someone earlier that I had never been discriminated against as a result of my sexual orientation. I was angry that someone had taken the time out of his or her day to write something offensive in an attempt to upset me. Lastly, I felt a spark of fear for the first time - I was targeted.
Anonymity can be such a comforting feeling - of security, of seclusion, of peace - however, this bubble had burst, releasing the harsh realization that reality was not as ideal as I so naively convinced myself. My friends consoled me and told me that "the person who did it must be a jerk," but I wonder about that, too. Was it his or her fault? Was he or she intoxicated when writing this on my door?
Regardless of the circumstances from which this incident sprang, I am a forgiving person. I frankly could not care any less about the word "faggot;" it means nothing to me. I refuse to be belittled by words that have been charged to incite vice and hatred. But what exactly possesses an intelligent individual at Tufts University to harbor ill intentions because of an all-encompassing label? I am not a homosexual, nor a fag, nor a gay. I am a human being.
I take classes like everyone else at Tufts as well as suffer through the same hurdles that everyone else experiences in college. I struggle over my identity like every other Tufts student. I did not ask for homosexuality to be a particular part of that struggle, nor did I volunteer to be a target of overt ostracism.
I implore students at Tufts to take a closer look around them; appearances are not as they seem. Assumptions and stereotypes are only fragments in describing a larger entity but are simultaneously ignored and practiced when we shelter ourselves from the real world. We maintain an illusion of utopian academia and look for the best in our fellow students if we have never been burned.
I am writing this article to help people realize that categorizations of groups on campus only create further divisions between ethnicities and orientations. Everyone knows that hate crimes suck; I don't have to tell you that. However, most of the grievances that are raised at Tufts are usually overlooked and rationalized as isolated incidents "because nothing like that could happen on a campus full of educated students." That person "probably didn't mean it" since "it was an accident." Well, I beg to differ. With every accident or slip comes a small truth, a subconscious belief whether or not it is overtly expressed. It took me some time before I decided to report the incident, but what struck me as surprising was my hesitance and my desire to avoid attention. I did not want to let go of the peace I thought I had; comfort is a dangerous trap to fall into, and it is time that I acknowledge that.
To the person who wrote the profanity on my wall - I am sorry that I have offended you to prompt you to do what you did. I do not ask that you welcome my existence with open arms, but rather that you begin to see that I am not a label. Leave me a note to get lunch at Dewick sometime, and I will try to convey my personality, my aspirations, and my quirks. I can discuss with you my fascination with pharmaceutical drugs, tell you the key of a pop song just from hearing it, or complain about how hard organic chemistry is. As you get to know me, I hope that this community becomes a more tolerant place, one person at a time.
Kevin Ng is a sophomore majoring in biopsychology.
