In reply to Thursday's events

Let me start off by saying this: I am gay. Even just a few months ago, I would not have felt comfortable saying those words to anyone (including myself), but I’ve come a long way since then and now am more than happy to say that I’m here, I’m queer and y’all better get used to it. My coming-out process was a long time in the making. Throughout high school, I sat and watched the people around me explore relationships, wondering why I couldn’t do the same. When women expressed interest in me, I would get mad at myself for not feeling anything in return. Why couldn’t I feel what they felt?

I finally got to a point near the end of my first year of college where I felt like I couldn’t move forward in my life if I didn’t come to terms with my sexuality. I did a lot of soul-searching. Tears were shed. I eventually mustered up the courage to confide in a few close friends, and their support was overwhelming. I then spent the summer exploring how to be queer. I created a Tinder account in the hopes of meeting other queer men and seeing what it felt like to date. I somehow managed to score a date with a guy I had a huge crush on, which blossomed into a wonderful relationship that has changed my life immensely for the better. At the end of the summer, I decided it was time to come out to my parents, which was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. As soon as it was over, however, I felt free. I was done hiding, done pushing my feelings away, done thinking that there was something wrong with me. I came back to Duke for this semester a different person, one more confident, comfortable and happy.

I don’t say any of this stuff to make anyone feel bad for me, or to applaud myself for my struggles. I say this because I finally completely love myself, and no bigot with a marker is ever going to change that. But at the same time, I can’t say that this doesn’t sting. I hurt for all queer people on this campus. I worry they don’t feel safe or loved. I hurt for queer people of color and for trans folk (as a white, gay, cis-man, I realize that I have a lot of privileges that other members of the LGBTQ+ community don’t have). But I especially hurt for those who are closeted. There are so many people here, and all over the world, who either haven’t come to terms with their identities yet or for whom coming out simply isn’t an option. If there is already something holding them back from being open about themselves, how can they open up now? How can they feel comfortable in their own skin knowing that there are people on this campus who wish them dead? How is this acceptable?

This part is for whoever decided to write the message to Jack or to anyone who shares his or her sentiments. You can spew hate all you want under the guise of anonymity, but I will never take you seriously unless you own up. If you don’t approve of queer people, at least have the guts to show your face. Until then, you are nothing but a coward in my book. And to anyone who thinks that this isn’t a big deal: if we don’t address the blatant death threat made against an entire community, are we just waiting around for another incident to happen? Something even worse?

A lot of people seem to be asking how we can make marginalized communities feel safe at Duke, but that’s not enough for me. To me, the feeling of safety is a basic human right. Marginalized groups should not only feel safe from harm here, but they should feel included, respected, cared for, even celebrated. But most of all, they should feel normal. And after talking with some friends, I realize that this should start even before students get to Duke. The admissions office should put a bigger focus on building an inclusive community of students. The application process should make it clear that Duke is an inclusive space. That if you aren’t comfortable with LGBTQ+ people or people of color, you should either be willing to analyze and challenge those opinions or you need not apply. If Duke wants to advertise itself as a progressive institution, it needs to actually do something to protect its marginalized groups.

And what can we, the Duke community, do to fight bigotry and make one another feel at home? We can definitely comfort and love all of our peers who identify as LGBTQ+. We can ask our friends and classmates how they are doing and actually listen to the responses. But don’t just spread love to people you know are queer. Understand that there are closeted people at Duke and elsewhere and that you can never make assumptions about someone’s sexuality or gender identity because of how they look or act. This means not just looking out for your friends who are queer but for all people. You don’t need to know someone’s sexual identity to make them feel welcome. And people don’t have to come out to you for you to have helped them feel better about who they are. I know this because there were times at Duke last year when I felt accepted for my queerness before I was able to articulate my sexuality to anyone.

I have been blessed with a great support system, and all queer people deserve to have access to that. If we really think about how we act, about the types of jokes we make and about how we treat those around us, I truly believe that we can make Duke more inclusive for all students. Let’s work together to make all spaces at Duke LGBTQ+ friendly, not just a select few. Every single member of this community should feel comfortable in his or her own skin. This school is our home, which means it’s on all of us to treat one another with respect and love and not to tolerate hatred. Let’s do better, Duke.

Bryan Higgins is a Trinity sophomore.