Week 1

I’m loud.  It’s realistically one of the first personality traits any of my friends or family would use to describe me.  I have a loud laugh. I have loud and freely voiced opinions. I have no problem being the center of attention. In essence, I have no trouble being the loudest person in the room. 

My privilege is abundant and obvious.  I am white.  I am wealthy.  I am straight.  I am cis gendered.  These facts were never something that evaded me.  But it wasn’t until I arrived at the San Francisco LGBT Center that I realized exactly what these privileges, each of these traits that I was born into, had no control over, and yet so strongly dictate the way that world perceives me, have allowed me to do.  My privilege allows me to feel comfortable being the loudest person in the room. 

I sat in Sally Kornbluth’s office earlier this year discussing ways in which the administration could make Duke a safer, and more welcoming place to the LGBTQ community.  A student requested that Sally and the other administrators set a precedent by introducing themselves using their pronouns when addressing the school.  Sally Kornbluth looked at her with utter disbelief: “Oh! I think that would make me too uncomfortable.”

I truly don’t believe that this response was coming from a place of animosity or bigotry.  It is entirely possible that Sally Kornbluth would have felt uncomfortable introducing herself using her pronouns as that may have been a practice that was new to her.  That being said, that doesn’t make the response any less bigoted. 

A few brief seconds of feeling uncomfortable pale overwhelmingly in comparison to living as a trans individual in a society that is built for those who fall traditionally along the gender binary. 

And I said that to Sally.  Because I believed it to be true.  And, because as a straight, cis gendered woman, I felt comfortable being the loudest person in the room and expressing exactly what was on my mind. 

Flash forward to this summer.  I am participating in Duke Engage in San Francisco and interning at the San Francisco LGBT center. And for the first few days, I felt deeply deeply uncomfortable.

Never before had I entered a community in which I did not feel comfortable being loud.  Never had I felt that my sexual orientation or gender identity could be something that set me apart. As a straight woman I have never been fetishized for my sexual orientation, never faced discrimination and bigotry as a response to who I love.  As a cis gendered woman, I have never had someone question my gender, question my pronouns, or question any part of this fundamental aspect of who I am.  In these two areas, I am overwhelmingly privileged.

And here I was, one of the only, if not the only, straight women in the office.  Being cis gendered placed me in the minority at The Center.  I spent my entire life surrounded by the LGBT community and I truly didn’t expect this to phase me.  But it did. I called my mom and told her my office was stand offish, that they didn’t get me, that they seemed guarded and unfriendly. 

And in telling my sob story to my fellow duke engagers a few nights later it dawned on me.  This is what white, straight, cis gendered privilege is.  It is the fact that not being comfortable being the loudest person in the room was new  to me.  I had never been in the minority before. 

The Center is a truly special place.  They have cultivated an environment of diverse, lively and personable people.  Today I spent my lunch break at “Fun Friday” a weekly tradition in which the office eats lunch together and plays cards.  I sat across from my desk mate, Fresh! (yes exclamation point included - which is something I’ve taken a real liking to and am considering punctuating my own name to be Jessie?), and played cards against humanity.  I felt overwhelmed by how lucky I am to be a part of this community for the coming 2 months.

Earlier today I had a remarkable conversation with a trans co worker who just began her transition from male to female.  She asked me if I would feel comfortable discussing with her what it was like to grow up with two moms.  She told me that having children had always been a dream of hers but that being trans, she was worried she wasn’t fit to be a parent. She told me she was scared that her children would grow up confused and that having a transgender parent would do them a disservice. 

 

Once again, after the initial shock of the conversation wore off, I was forced to confront how remarkably privileged I am.  It has always been a dream of mine to have children, a dream that I have never questioned or thought too deeply about because I’ve always assumed it would come true.  And yet here is someone who is scared that they would be incapable of raising a child well because of their gender identity.  The thought makes my heart hurt, it shows the depth of self doubt that an unaccepting society can drill into someone.

I have never been forced to confront my privilege in such a manner before being here.  I think it was a much needed wake up call.  Because I am someone who prides myself in being thoughtful and progressive, hell I’m a Bernie supporter (RIP). But even so, I had never truly confronted the role that my sexual orientation and gender identity play in my day to day life.  There are few other jobs in the country where I would have walking in and felt that being straight and cis gendered was going make it harder to be accepted at the office. The opposite would have been true if I were gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, or any orientation or identity that doesn’t fit neatly into the boxes that society has deemed acceptable and in doing so handed all of the privilege to. 

I think if you asked any of my coworkers, loud would probably be one of the last words they would use to describe me.  I have been observing and listening rather than speaking out and it’s a change that I think will force me to grow.  I am listening to the experiences and stories of people who have faced oppression and bigotry in ways that I can only imagine.  I had never seen my loudness as a result of my privilege but the realization has shown me how truly all encompassing privilege can be. 

I keep thinking back to being in that room with Sally Kornbluth.  Because my advice to her, to stick out a few moments of being uncomfortable and to realize how lucky we are that these moments are rare, was exactly the advice that I needed to hear myself.

It’s been a week at the center and I am brimming with anticipation. I am excited to immerse myself in this eclectic, unique and accepting community of people.  And perhaps I will not spend this summer as the loudest one in the office, but I am starting to learn that there are other ways to engage.