wmanion
08-15-2007, 09:41 PM
Gay, lesbian, and transgender students participate in a leadership
retreat designed just for them
By PAULA WASLEY
Towson, Md.
Adrian Herrera is used to being the token gay guy. A fifth-year
aerospace-engineering student at California Polytechnic State
University at San Luis Obispo, Mr. Herrera is the only openly gay
member of his fraternity. He came out to his frat brothers as a
freshman pledge, a year before he told his own family. He refers to
the experience as one of the "crucibles" that have tested his sense
of self.
But here at the Campus Pride Summer Leadership Camp, Mr. Herrera is
in the mainstream. He and 41 other students have come to Towson
University to practice their people skills at what bills itself as
the first summer leadership workshop for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and
transgender students. At the weeklong event, piercings are prominent
and self-consciousness runs deep.
The camp is sponsored by Campus Pride, a nonprofit group that
promotes LGBT issues at colleges. The idea originated with a
question, says Shane L. Windmeyer, the organization's founder. Two
years ago, a lesbian student approached him with an observation. "Our
campus funds student athletes, religious groups, and ROTC to do
things in the summer," the student said. "Why can't we have a camp?"
Now, for the first time they do.
Most of the counselors here are staff members from campus LGBT
centers or student-affairs offices. They hope to train a new
generation of leaders who will help make their campuses more
hospitable for gay students, before going on to shape discussions in
corporate boardrooms, churches, PTA meetings, and political campaigns.
There are dozens of other leadership camps that offer a similar mix
of team-building exercises and organizational advice for college
students. But, says Mr. Windmeyer, "when a gay student goes to a
leadership conference, because they may be the only queer student,
sometimes they have to do a lot of education among their peers."
Oops and Ouch
Even here at the camp, in late July, there is still some educating to
do. For instance, many attendees have not previously met a
transgender student, says C.J. Rock, a junior from the University of
Maryland at College Park, who identifies herself as "gender queer,
bio-female, bisexual queer." Ms. Rock describes her sexual identity
as neither male nor female. "I don't feel one pronoun all the time,"
she says. "I like to switch it up."
During introductions on the first day of
camp, she explained to students that she often uses gender-neutral
pronouns - "ze" for "he/she" and "hir" for "him/her" - when referring
to herself in the third person. She has since fielded numerous
questions from campers. Even in this group, students don't always
know what to make of her.
Ms. Rock, who gels her short hair into a sharp point, counts herself
as fortunate compared with many students here. After all, College
Park has five distinct organizations that deal with sexuality issues
and identities. Some campuses have no such groups, or just one.
In the alphabet soup of the wider LGBT community, the groups those
letters represent do not always coalesce. Ms. Rock, who has held
leadership positions in several groups, says the camp is an
opportunity for members of the sometimes fractured queer community to
learn about one another and solidify their alliances.
Leadership training is especially important for the students here,
she says, because so many gay leaders perished from AIDS in the
1980s. "We have a gap that a lot of other communities don't face,"
she says. "We lost our parents and grandparents, metaphorically
speaking."
Here at "gay camp," leadership training is served up with a generous
portion of social justice. Among last month's activities was a field
trip to Washington, where students learned about the civil-rights
movement and about leaders like Bayard Rustin, a gay adviser to the
Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and David Mixner, a political strategist
who broke with the Clinton administration over the military's don't-
ask-don't-tell policy.
At the headquarters of the Human Rights Campaign, Candace Gingrich,
the senior youth outreach manager, offered campers tips on political
campaigning.
Whether brainstorming for ways to advertise campus events or swapping
tips on delegating responsibility, students here go out of their way
to promote sensitivity.
In one activity, campers practice communication and teamwork by
finding their way through a maze marked on the ground with masking
tape. Two students, who have been politely bickering over who will go
last, finally decide to link arms and hop through the maze, hip to
hip. "We didn't want anyone to get left behind," one says.
Like any camp, this one has rules, drawn up by the campers
themselves. The first: Arrive early to the myriad workshops,
activities, and guest-speaker sessions, like the one featuring
Sabrina Sojourner, the first openly lesbian congresswoman. Another:
Keep the applause down. Because they decided clapping was too loud
and disruptive, students snap their fingers to signal appreciation or
agreement.
Then there's the "ouch" rule. Camp protocol holds that, if a fellow
camper says something offensive or hurtful, you may say "ouch." There
is no need to discuss the issue further, students say; the "ouch"
clears the air and keeps campers mindful of others' feelings.
Conversely, the "oops" rule applies when campers find themselves in
the middle of saying something potentially offensive, like referring
to a student by the wrong pronoun. He or she is permitted to retract
the statement and acknowledge the harm with a simple "oops."
'A Professional Homo'
Amid the warm fuzziness of camp culture, there are reminders here
that college campuses are not always friendly places for gay
students. Throughout the week, campers develop strategies for dealing
with real-life scenarios that have been reported to Campus Pride by
student members. One group must write a position statement and draw
up a list of campus allies who might help them put pressure on a
college to approve gender-neutral bathrooms. Another develops a
diplomatic plan for protesting the Red Cross's ban on blood donations
from men who have sex with other men - without interfering with a
campus blood drive.
Ashleigh Ratchford, a junior from North Carolina A&T State
University, must devise a hypothetical complaint against a professor
who makes frequent anti-gay comments in the classroom and on a
personal Web site. Although she has never encountered anything like
that herself, she says "this has taught me, if it happened on my
campus, I would know how to go about taking care of it."
An inexperienced leader, Ms. Ratchford came to camp to gain skills
that would help her found a new campus club to promote sexual health
and LGBT issues.
At historically black colleges like North Carolina A&T, she says, gay
students have a tougher time than at other colleges because of
limited money for student groups and a cultural stigma against
homosexuality.
She explains that her experience here has tempered her fear of public
speaking and given her the confidence to lobby for more resources for
her organization.
The camp has also prompted her to re-evaluate her career plans. A
political-science and criminal-justice major, Ms. Ratchford had been
planning a future with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Now she thinks she might like to follow in the footsteps of the
camp's counselors and work full time as an LGBT advocate: "I didn't
realize you could get paid to be what they're calling a professional
homo or working queer."
----------------------------------------------------------
--------
http://chronicle.com
Section: Students
Volume 53, Issue 50, Page A29
__._,_.___
retreat designed just for them
By PAULA WASLEY
Towson, Md.
Adrian Herrera is used to being the token gay guy. A fifth-year
aerospace-engineering student at California Polytechnic State
University at San Luis Obispo, Mr. Herrera is the only openly gay
member of his fraternity. He came out to his frat brothers as a
freshman pledge, a year before he told his own family. He refers to
the experience as one of the "crucibles" that have tested his sense
of self.
But here at the Campus Pride Summer Leadership Camp, Mr. Herrera is
in the mainstream. He and 41 other students have come to Towson
University to practice their people skills at what bills itself as
the first summer leadership workshop for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and
transgender students. At the weeklong event, piercings are prominent
and self-consciousness runs deep.
The camp is sponsored by Campus Pride, a nonprofit group that
promotes LGBT issues at colleges. The idea originated with a
question, says Shane L. Windmeyer, the organization's founder. Two
years ago, a lesbian student approached him with an observation. "Our
campus funds student athletes, religious groups, and ROTC to do
things in the summer," the student said. "Why can't we have a camp?"
Now, for the first time they do.
Most of the counselors here are staff members from campus LGBT
centers or student-affairs offices. They hope to train a new
generation of leaders who will help make their campuses more
hospitable for gay students, before going on to shape discussions in
corporate boardrooms, churches, PTA meetings, and political campaigns.
There are dozens of other leadership camps that offer a similar mix
of team-building exercises and organizational advice for college
students. But, says Mr. Windmeyer, "when a gay student goes to a
leadership conference, because they may be the only queer student,
sometimes they have to do a lot of education among their peers."
Oops and Ouch
Even here at the camp, in late July, there is still some educating to
do. For instance, many attendees have not previously met a
transgender student, says C.J. Rock, a junior from the University of
Maryland at College Park, who identifies herself as "gender queer,
bio-female, bisexual queer." Ms. Rock describes her sexual identity
as neither male nor female. "I don't feel one pronoun all the time,"
she says. "I like to switch it up."
During introductions on the first day of
camp, she explained to students that she often uses gender-neutral
pronouns - "ze" for "he/she" and "hir" for "him/her" - when referring
to herself in the third person. She has since fielded numerous
questions from campers. Even in this group, students don't always
know what to make of her.
Ms. Rock, who gels her short hair into a sharp point, counts herself
as fortunate compared with many students here. After all, College
Park has five distinct organizations that deal with sexuality issues
and identities. Some campuses have no such groups, or just one.
In the alphabet soup of the wider LGBT community, the groups those
letters represent do not always coalesce. Ms. Rock, who has held
leadership positions in several groups, says the camp is an
opportunity for members of the sometimes fractured queer community to
learn about one another and solidify their alliances.
Leadership training is especially important for the students here,
she says, because so many gay leaders perished from AIDS in the
1980s. "We have a gap that a lot of other communities don't face,"
she says. "We lost our parents and grandparents, metaphorically
speaking."
Here at "gay camp," leadership training is served up with a generous
portion of social justice. Among last month's activities was a field
trip to Washington, where students learned about the civil-rights
movement and about leaders like Bayard Rustin, a gay adviser to the
Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and David Mixner, a political strategist
who broke with the Clinton administration over the military's don't-
ask-don't-tell policy.
At the headquarters of the Human Rights Campaign, Candace Gingrich,
the senior youth outreach manager, offered campers tips on political
campaigning.
Whether brainstorming for ways to advertise campus events or swapping
tips on delegating responsibility, students here go out of their way
to promote sensitivity.
In one activity, campers practice communication and teamwork by
finding their way through a maze marked on the ground with masking
tape. Two students, who have been politely bickering over who will go
last, finally decide to link arms and hop through the maze, hip to
hip. "We didn't want anyone to get left behind," one says.
Like any camp, this one has rules, drawn up by the campers
themselves. The first: Arrive early to the myriad workshops,
activities, and guest-speaker sessions, like the one featuring
Sabrina Sojourner, the first openly lesbian congresswoman. Another:
Keep the applause down. Because they decided clapping was too loud
and disruptive, students snap their fingers to signal appreciation or
agreement.
Then there's the "ouch" rule. Camp protocol holds that, if a fellow
camper says something offensive or hurtful, you may say "ouch." There
is no need to discuss the issue further, students say; the "ouch"
clears the air and keeps campers mindful of others' feelings.
Conversely, the "oops" rule applies when campers find themselves in
the middle of saying something potentially offensive, like referring
to a student by the wrong pronoun. He or she is permitted to retract
the statement and acknowledge the harm with a simple "oops."
'A Professional Homo'
Amid the warm fuzziness of camp culture, there are reminders here
that college campuses are not always friendly places for gay
students. Throughout the week, campers develop strategies for dealing
with real-life scenarios that have been reported to Campus Pride by
student members. One group must write a position statement and draw
up a list of campus allies who might help them put pressure on a
college to approve gender-neutral bathrooms. Another develops a
diplomatic plan for protesting the Red Cross's ban on blood donations
from men who have sex with other men - without interfering with a
campus blood drive.
Ashleigh Ratchford, a junior from North Carolina A&T State
University, must devise a hypothetical complaint against a professor
who makes frequent anti-gay comments in the classroom and on a
personal Web site. Although she has never encountered anything like
that herself, she says "this has taught me, if it happened on my
campus, I would know how to go about taking care of it."
An inexperienced leader, Ms. Ratchford came to camp to gain skills
that would help her found a new campus club to promote sexual health
and LGBT issues.
At historically black colleges like North Carolina A&T, she says, gay
students have a tougher time than at other colleges because of
limited money for student groups and a cultural stigma against
homosexuality.
She explains that her experience here has tempered her fear of public
speaking and given her the confidence to lobby for more resources for
her organization.
The camp has also prompted her to re-evaluate her career plans. A
political-science and criminal-justice major, Ms. Ratchford had been
planning a future with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Now she thinks she might like to follow in the footsteps of the
camp's counselors and work full time as an LGBT advocate: "I didn't
realize you could get paid to be what they're calling a professional
homo or working queer."
----------------------------------------------------------
--------
http://chronicle.com
Section: Students
Volume 53, Issue 50, Page A29
__._,_.___