While at the Brown Bookstore last week, I looked at the covers of two very different publications that both deal with issues surrounding the gay community.
First, I begrudgingly picked up Out Magazine, arguably the most popular gay and lesbian publication in the country. Its cover featured a series of headline teasers that, as they do monthly, almost make me want to jump right back in the closet for their lack of ingenuity. Frankly, I'm not interested in how Madonna's new album is a "thank you" to us gays for resuscitating her musical career, nor do I care about where I can get that new line of Dolce & Gabbana flip-flops that are the must-have for any queer tourist at Disneyland's Gay Days. Because Out only tells us what the newest gay fads are, what new gay films to see and what gay new fashions we all need to run out and buy, it fails to give any real perspective on how your average gay and lesbian can assimilate into the surrounding world and be a person, not just a gay person.
The second publication was The Herald, which featured a front-page article reporting that the Queer Alliance had cancelled this spring's StarF*ck dance, the second semester counterpart to Sex Power God that Bill O'Reilly loves to hate.
Since this year's Starf*ck has been cancelled, many at Brown are already mourning the sexual freedom that the dance offers. Most of the gay students with whom I've spoken say they're disappointed Starf*ck has been axed because now they won't get the chance to "be themselves." Queer Alliance Co-President Josh Teitelbaum '08 echoed this when discussing StarF*ck's cancellation with The Herald ("Queer Alliance cancels StarF*ck, citing alcohol concerns," March 3); he argued that the dances were meant to "create a safe space for people to explore their sexuality."
Despite Queer Alliance's good intentions, Sex Power God and StarF*ck only promote the idea that alternative sexual lifestyles must remain separate from the world in which our heterosexual friends live. According to QA, for some reason we need a special venue and special date in which homosexuality can be showcased. Just like Out, which only promotes the idea of a niche gay culture separate from the heterosexual mainstream, Starf*ck and Sex Power God reinforce the idea that homosexuality should only be accepted in certain "safe" contexts.
With StarF*ck out of the way, my hope is that we can now look toward a future in which Brown mustn't hold biannual parties in order to satisfy our alternative sexual desires. We can begin to look at ways to make our sex lives something that is not just kitschy and worthy of celebration twice a year, but something to bring with us to every other party at Brown - whether that be at Buxton, fraternity houses or even your dorm room or off-campus apartment - where people get drunk, strip a couple of layers off and have a "good time."
Like many of us, I came out of the closet years ago and vowed never to return. The idea that I should somehow be ashamed of myself for feelings I cannot control seems both medieval and cruel, and I'm sure many will agree. Sure, I don't go around with rainbow patches on my sleeve, but I'm still gay, like many of you reading this now. And, like you, I don't think I need to be handed a permission slip to make out with someone at a party, or even hold hands for that matter. Now that StarF*ck and Sex Power God might be gone forever, I see nothing but a grand opportunity for all of you Brunonians who once thought that you could only be yourselves on the dance floor two nights a year to realize that there are 363 other days in which it should be okay to express your identity. If Sex Power God returns in the fall, you may not see me there, but those of you who do attend should remember that your freedom doesn't rely on a dance. We should all be free to be ourselves whenever we choose.
The dances may be gone, but we're not. Remember that.
Contrary to popular belief, Adrian Muniz '07 really likes being gay, despite his perpetual singledom.
