Gay at Duke

Walking into the room feels like stepping onto a cover of the Duke admissions brochure. The green carpet, the assortment of salvaged used furniture, the retro-style posters that look like old-school Hardy Boys book covers adorning the walls. And the people wearing Duke sweatshirts: the Asian woman, the blond frat boy, the kid with facial piercings, the blond girl with a WWJD key chain hanging out of her pocket, the pair of Latino students, the black man with intricate dreadlocks. The embodiment of Duke's much-lauded diversity.

This group of students sits in this room with its rainbow decorations on a Friday afternoon paging through pop culture magazines, commenting on The Chronicle, filling in answers to the crossword.

"Mmm. Ben Affleck. I'd hit that if I could," says one woman paging through US magazine.

"Patrick Stewart. I'd do Patrick Stewart," says another.

"Sam Waterston. He could make me straight."

"The Law and Order guy?" one of the men says, unable to conceal his disbelief.

"Yeah. He's just so... dignified."

Several of the women agree.

Students at Duke come from a multitude of backgrounds, and even though that creates much of the diversity on which Duke prides itself, it also pulls a lot of students out of their comfort zones. "Duke students have a horrible time dealing with things that make them uncomfortable. Period," Holley says.

Because of this, being queer and out here often becomes a person's entire identity. And thinking about homosexual acts still makes many people at Duke uncomfortable.

On a recent Friday night Kelly Chang and her roommate, Maddie Dewar, get on the Robertson bus after a day's escape to Chapel Hill. After the long week of midterms and the day's wandering, Maddie is tired and rests her head on Kelly's shoulder--nothing more. The two girls sit together for a while with Maddie playing a game on her cell phone and Kelly staring off into the space of the mostly empty bus. A woman with two young children, a boy and a girl, boards the bus at the same time and proceeds to the back. She spends the first few minutes of the ride reading a newspaper, attempting to hide the two girls from her view.

Then, she walks up to the bus driver, asks him a question and instead of returning to her seat, she stops in front of the exhausted girls. Even a week later, Kelly remains agitated as she tells the story. Twisting one of the three rings she wears, she continues, "She said she was incredibly sorry, but she would appreciate it if we didn't show any affection toward each other because she doesn't want her kids to see that." Kelly wanted to rail back at the woman: Is one seat far enough? Should I sit on the other side? What are you afraid they'll see? "I'm gay and my roomie is gay, but we were not making out or groping each other or doing any child-unfriendly things." Neither girl even looks stereotypically 'dyke'--though their hair doesn't flow down their backs, it's long enough to pull back; their ears are pierced, not their lips; they wear sweatshirts, not flannel.

Maddie finishes the story, "I think we just drooled and looked up at her. It was a really uncomfortable period of almost two minutes where she just stood there saying, 'I don't want them seeing that' And she never said what that was." She pauses. "I wanted to cry."

But Maddie didn't cry and Kelly didn't give the woman a piece of her mind. Instead, they started an online discussion through the AQUA Duke listserv about their experience, which has begun an ongoing dialogue about what constitutes homophobia and what the roles of AQUA Duke and the LGBT center should be on this campus.

The common criticism is that the events the gay groups on campus plan are "too gay." It's an observation the leaders of both AQUA Duke and the LGBT center cannot understand. Jessie Rosario, a senior, who describes herself as "fairly butch" and "fairly masculine," and is currently serving as president of AQUA Duke, admits that she herself fits the stereotype of "dyke" to some extent, but she says the nature of the activist group mandates that very prominent, out people run it. Often, this perpetuates other students' stereotypical image of a "gay student".

"Definitely when I first came out," says one student at a recent forum about factors that make being out at Duke difficult, "I got the idea that there was a certain way to be and if you weren't this way, then you weren't out."

That pressure from the public face of the LGBT community to "act gay" deters some students from coming out of the closet at Duke, but another group of closeted students fears that if they come out they will lose their identities to the larger Duke society and be reduced to the label "gay".

Dave sits down on the folded-out futon, careful to keep his shoes off the furniture. The picture-perfect Duke freshman, he's wearing flat-front khakis, a navy sweater and a shy, half smile that inspires memories of Kirk Cameron. He spends his weeknights hanging out in fraternity sections watching the first NBA games of the season and pounding a few beers. He talks the talk. "Surprisingly, I don't know how I pull it off," he says. "I don't talk with much feeling like they do and I'm just like, 'Yeah, man. She's hot.' 'Damn! Look at her chest.' It's what I've adopted from hearing guys talk and watching TV."

He sounds ridiculous as he performs the catcalls. The remarks are hardly natural for him, but he would rather pretend than come out and join the public face of the gay community here. Dave is a guy's guy. He isn't interested in the fashion and drag shows that AQUA Duke puts on annually. He doesn't "look gay" the way many people say the majority of students at the LGBT center do.

The part of the LGBT population that does not spend Friday afternoons in the rainbow-bordered room takes issue with the portrayal of "gay" that the LGBT center sets forth. And it's true that the organization attracts students who fit into a more mainstream conception of what it means to be gay.

"I'm talking about Will and Grace stuff," says Christopher Scoville, a politically active junior who says he does not frequently participate in LGBT center events. The official associations for gay issues at Duke--the LGBT center, AQUA Duke, Duke Allies--don't appeal to him, just as they don't to many other queer students who don't fit into the femme-male or butch-female images that typify the organizations. "That culture definitely exists at Duke," says Scoville, a columnist for The Chronicle. "But what doesn't exist is a place for other groups. It's not very pluralistic."

The LGBT center is not full of the "freaky gay dudes, preppy frat boy gay dudes, alternative whatever really artsy drama gay dudes" that Scoville refers to. It's a racially diverse group, but it is largely made up of people who devote much of their time to gay issues and use the LGBT center as one of their primary identifiers. That leaves a lot of Duke students, like Dave, out.

"Without a couple of close friends who know, the only people I'd have to go to are the psychological people down in Page," says Dave. He has now told 10 people he is gay since he arrived at Duke--the only 10 people he has ever told. Dave still feels very alone. He has found it hard to meet men he's attracted to at Duke because the active community he sees is too femme for his taste. "I think most people who don't fit the stereotypical gay image at Duke are still closeted," he says.

With fraternity rush still ahead of him, he plans to continue to keep his sexual preference confidential. "There's no real reason not to hide it especially in a society where it's very hard to live," he confesses.

Dave is one of what some members of the gay community have estimated to be more than 100 students who have not yet come out to the whole community. Some of them have told no one that they're attracted to members of the same sex. Others date but count on a "conspiracy of silence" to protect their identities from the people they live with and even some of their close friends. It's an unspoken pact among LGBT people: No one will reveal your sexuality for you.

"Somehow it's ingrained almost," says Scoville. "I don't know where we learn it from, but even really closeted frat boys know that if they're chatting online with other Duke boys and they know who they are, it's never going to be an issue."

Still, for many students participating in the dominant social world at Duke--the one that's predominantly white, wealthy and heterosexual--the risk of dating is too much. It's mostly men who feel this way; women do not generally experience the same ostracism on account of their homosexuality that men do. So men turn to Gay.com, an online clearinghouse about everything gay, including a substantial collection of chat rooms dedicated to everything from political discussion to meeting potential hook-ups.

This is how Barry had his first full sexual experience with a male. He met a guy who was seven years older in a chat room. They talked online for a few weeks, then exchanged phone calls. "In the beginning it wasn't a given that we were going to hook up," Barry says. But then they went on a date. "That night, he f---ed me, and I regretted that," he says, staring off into space a little. Barry is currently on anti-depressants for problems that he attributes largely to his own coming-out process. "At that point I was really eager to have sex with someone. I was 19 and all my straight friends had had sex." Before Barry came out at Duke last year, he went through a period of self-loathing. The tall, tanned sophomore used a lot of drugs and alcohol and took up smoking. He spent nights sitting in his room with only the light from a small desk lamp, and cut his arms with a razor blade. Last September, he wore long sleeve t-shirts in 80-degree weather to cover the two-inch-long cuts that covered both his arms.

Self-destructive behavior is not uncommon within sexual minority circles. Large segments of society tell homosexuals that they are immoral, wrong, depraved. Even individuals from the most supportive families and the most liberal areas of the country have to overcome some negative element of coming to terms with their own sexuality. For many people, this includes dealing with strong feelings of self-hatred.

It was Barry's depression and the difficulty of hiding his sexuality that finally pulled him out of the closet. "You have to constantly think about it," says Barry. His shirt is stretched over broad shoulders and he looks remarkably masculine, not the typical conception of "gay."

"You think about the way you sit, whether you're crossing your legs, if you have a lisp, everything," he says. As he talks now, he sits with his right leg crossed over his left. Since coming out, Barry says, he has started dressing better and he apologizes for the jeans and sneakers he is wearing.

Barry isn't really sure for whom on campus he's dressing. He met his current boyfriend on Gay.com. He's been with the Chapel Hill native he met in a chat room for three months now, spending several nights a week in his boyfriend's apartment. The cyber-introduction is not unusual in male homosexual circles at Duke. With so few students in the gay social scene--not more than 30 people regularly show up for mixers or even the AQUA Duke semi-formal--it is difficult to meet people on campus. Many students instead use online sites as their primary outlet for dating. Some people they meet are just friends and others turn into actual relationships, but there are also people who are just looking for a single night. One man in the LGBT center told of talking online to a Duke student who wanted to meet in a bathroom and have sex there so that he could retain his anonymity with even his sexual partner. Bathrooms in the Bryan Center and Perkins library have developed a reputation for facilitating this sort of anonymous interaction.

For many men who use the Internet this way, it feels like their only option. If they come out, it will affect their status as an "ideal member" of the Duke world. There is no reason for them to forego the advantages that go with being seen as part of the mainstream. "These men aren't super horny to the point that they'd risk their lives to have sex," Holley says. "It's that they can't tell people that they engage in sexual acts with other men without losing the privileges of heterosexuality and the privileges of the majority community."

Even after men come out, they continue to use the website. The pool of gay men at Duke is just too small for most people to find romantic prospects or sometimes even close gay friends.

For women, the story is different. On campus, it is more acceptable for women to engage in homosexual activity. A lot of men even consider it sexy.

"I cannot tell you how many times people have come up to my girlfriend and me and asked us if they could join us in bed," says Rosario. "It's repulsive."

A lot of women prefer to identify themselves as bisexual during the period when they come to terms with their own sexuality. This transition period is a luxury not afforded to men, who society demands be straight or gay. It means that the pool of women to hook up with is larger because it is not restricted to lesbians, but it also means it's difficult to find an extensive social community comprised of gay women.

People find "straight" women willing to experiment some and open themselves up to the possibility of a same-sex partner. For feminine lesbians who do not engage in public political activism for homosexuality, this is an appealing way to meet romantic interests.

Diana (not her real name) doesn't look like the typical lesbian. She is South Asian and petite. Many of her friends are men and she is understated in her political statements. "Guys say, 'I never would have thought you were queer,'" she says.

Women who loudly proclaim their homosexuality don't really appeal to her. Instead of frequenting lesbian bars or Duke-sponsored gay events, she finds people who are willing to experiment. Her current girlfriend is a long-time friend who recently decided to reevaluate her feelings toward Diana.

"I don't want to simply be a tool for experimentation," she says. But she is willing to occasionally take the risk with a woman who does not necessarily identify herself as a lesbian.

However, this kind of interaction tends to happen outside of AQUA Duke and the LGBT center and because out women are not greeted with the same disgust that gay men are, the experience of being gay is more personalized for women.

"It's definitely easier to be a lesbian on this campus than gay," says Rosario. "Women are non-threatening to men, so lesbianism is okay."

The same need to unite does not exist for women as it does for men, so lesbian communities exist in pockets rather than a contiguous body. There is a group of lesbians who spend time at the LGBT center, a cluster of athletes, a few individuals who socialize primarily without a primary identity group and a handful of students who interact mainly with Durham residents and other Triangle-area women.

"A lot of the sororities would actually be safe spaces for some of these issues," says Diana, who has visited every sorority to talk about places other than the LGBT center where women can go to discuss and explore their sexuality. "With sorority sisters it's possible to at least have that bond. They're still going to be sorority sisters regardless."

But many gay women don't feel welcome in the world of sorority date functions, and many who are in sororities don't feel comfortable identifying themselves as queer or engaging in the political crusades of the homosexual community.

The greek culture and the perfection it demands contributes to the closeted culture at the University. Furthermore, the mass mentality of a group of men frightens a lot of LGBT people. "I'm afraid to walk by fraternity benches at night, especially if I'm coming home from a date or something and I'm dressed nicely," says Scoville.

Other students tell of walking by fraternity benches in the evening and early morning and having insults hurled at them.

"I was walking with a friend one night past [a bench] and a guy sitting on the bench yelled at us, 'Who's the top and who's the bottom?'" says another gay student. Another tells of having a full beer can thrown at him as he walked by.

But even if a substantial number of queer students find the male greek culture hostile to homosexuality, it is not incompatible. One of AQUA Duke's board members is in a fraternity and all the greek organizations on campus claim not to discriminate based on sexual orientation.

"Being in a frat has not limited my expression of my homosexuality. It's enhanced it. I have 50 guys who accept this," says Jake, a gay student who is a leader in his fraternity.

The stereotype that fraternities are particularly gay-unfriendly may be based on a little bit of truth. There are plenty of instances nationally in which fraternities or groups of college-aged men have persecuted and even physically harmed gay people. But these widely-publicized events do not happen in every fraternity or on every campus. Jake says he never felt excluded from the greek culture nor did he ever sense the environment was hostile to his sexuality. "I'm gay and that's it," he says. "It's not my identity. It's not my whole life." The junior, who watches sports and spends time at the gym, says he has never had anyone respond negatively to the knowledge that he's gay.

In fact, he says the culture of his fraternity is changing. He says the men in his fraternity no longer describe anything as "gay," and the word "fag" is no longer a common synonym for "dork" or "girl." Of course, Jake can never know if these people are just being careful around him or if their attitudes are actually evolving. Individuals in Jake's fraternity express concern that the whole campus would find out one of their prominent members is gay and they "don't want to be known as the gay frat."

AQUA Duke leaders claim that only three of the on-campus fraternities have openly gay members. But talking to more gay students reveals there may be many more men, in many more fraternities, who are gay but still closeted.

AQUA Duke has historically not concentrated its efforts on reaching out to closeted students in fraternities or even to closeted students in general. It has so far focused its mission on being a social and support group for those who are out and a political organization for all people. The efforts seem to have some effect.

Most queer students say the climate toward homosexuality has gotten better over the past few years. Part of that may be attributed to the work of the LGBT center, which now has a substantial budget, several full-time staffers and administrative support from the division of student affairs. Seniors say that in the past four years the general situation for gay people has improved. "Discussions have opened up," says Holley. "The majority of work has been done by a lot of really dedicated student leaders over the past two or three years." He says other cultural groups have become more accepting as well.

Holley, a black student, says that when he arrived here, he tried to find community within the Black Student Alliance, but was disappointed by what he called its "hands-off policy with sexuality in general." Holley found his community with other gay people in Gothic Queers, the predecessor to AQUA Duke. He says since then, the BSA has become more open about discussing sexuality. Two years ago, the organization was willing to financially support LGBT programming directed at students of color, but was not willing to have its name listed as a sponsor. This December, BSA and AQUA Duke will jointly sponsor their first event, a discussion about life for closeted, gay men. Gay students say the pressure to conform has let up as fraternities have moved off campus and away from the main corridor of West Campus, adding the pressure to rush and pledge has subsided as well.

The LGBT center itself will receive an upgrade this year. Over Winter break, the center will move into a new space in the basement of the West Union building, more than doubling the square footage of the current facility and allowing greater anonymity for students coming and going to events.

Duke, however, still has a long way to go before becoming a place where public displays of queer affection are common and students feel like they can come out of the closet without substantial repercussions in their social lives. "Right now the attitude toward homosexuals," says Diana, "is based more upon tolerance rather than acceptance or understanding or embracing."