Part of my experience of being openly queer at Wabash College is available online at The Gay & Lesbian Review and I was recognized for outstanding contributions to diversity, equity, and inclusion by the Writing Across the Curriculum Clearinghouse.

When I first came “out of the closet” to my best friend in high school, he responded with a sarcastic “no shit.” He explained that he would defend me against violence, which filled my heart. Then he admitted that he does not care for gay people in general, but he is okay with me—he fractured my heart and trust. This was early in my quest down the yellow brick road, but somehow I knew to ask, “how many gay people do you actually know?”

“Well . . . none, I guess.”

Exactly. If we only know stereotypes and the vague abstractions demonized by myopic ideologies, then of course it is easier to isolate and exclude individuals who challenge essentialist, reductive worldviews. And so, it is my duty to represent LGBTQ+ communities for those who have never encountered such.

Now, I teach English literature and writing at Wabash College, a midwestern school for men. Injustice and violence against LGBTQ+ communities are standard features of patriarchal institutions more broadly, and so Wabash College presents a unique opportunity for social justice. I use my position to inform and enhance my communities. For many students, including those I have never met, I am “that queer professor.” It’s hard to ignore my presence on such a small campus; my office door looks like a Pride parade float. As an openly queer professor, I represent those who cannot speak out safely. Moreover, my visibility encourages people to think about their own identities and civic responsibilities, while also preparing students to enter diverse workplaces and communities. Inclusion and allyship are no longer abstract concepts because they have a real queer person to whom they connect social justice and civic responsibilities.

First, my queerness is an asset to my teaching and research. As a medieval literature specialist, I make the curriculum more inclusive by exposing the diversity inherent to early English literary canons. A typical survey of medieval and early modern literatures includes queer personas such as the Pardoner in Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales and same-sex desires detailed in Shakespeare’s fair youth sonnets. Students recognize that the “traditional” English literary histories they had previously taken for granted obfuscate nonnormative influences and thus invalidate queer individuals by denying them a history. Queer individuals are identified as nonnormative because their cultural contributions have been suppressed. Some students can relate. This critical inquiry is about reclaiming their place within literary studies and culture. Inclusive approaches to medieval and early modern literatures empowers diverse students.

At Wabash College, I was surprised to encounter students eager for mentorship in my first year, including those who are not enrolled in my classes. My queer visibility projects a beacon for some of the most vulnerable students. College is often one’s first time away from home and the disciplinary trappings of heteronormativity. There is more freedom to explore the contradictions between outward-facing personas and authentic selves. Some recognize that something is different. They need a listener with whom they can begin to speak their true selves into being. Emerging from “the closet” is a radical and overwhelming process. Everyone does it on their own terms. My office has become a safe space where I make room for personal agency. I do not coerce or direct. I am the supportive witness who connects them to LGBTQ+ cultures, mental health professionals, gender affirming organizations, and resources for safe sex practices.

More broadly, I represent an essential alternative to toxic masculinity that could benefit many Wabash scholars beyond the queer community. More than one of my students shared some of the awful things their fathers have told them: “I wouldn't claim you as my son,” “you're not a real man,” “you'll never amount to anything.” Not one of these Wabash men identified as GBTQ+; this verbal abuse was catalogued by multiple straight men. Our experiences are not so different. My response to each of these students was roughly the same:

I am sorry you were treated so poorly. No child deserves to hear that from a parent. Thank you for sharing this with me. I think I can relate. Most of my family disowned me because I’m gay. I’m supposed to be a failure. Just like you, it was so easy to keep those harsh comments in my head, playing on a repetitive loop. It’s too easy to believe people who want to defeat you. Here's one thing I did: treat it like a game. They wanted me to fail. But every day I showed up for class, I was proving them wrong. Every time I turned in an assignment, I was defeating those negative voices. And look at me now! If those bad voices in your head get too loud and you have a hard time maintaining your own confidence, remember that I am invested in your success. I’ve been where you are and I believe that you will succeed.

I build important bridges such as this with straight, cisgender students. For example, during a discussion about queer theory, one student asked, “so what is the point? Is it just that we’re supposed to be nice to gay people?” The question was not combative; it was a genuine attempt to reconcile the theory with practical applications. I responded:

That’s part of it. Everyone in this room is connected to someone who is LGBTQ+; they are our friends and family. If you know it’s not you personally, and you can’t immediately identify one or two people, then ask yourself why. It’s not because they don’t exist. It’s more likely they don’t feel safe. And we tell them they are not safe around us through insensitive and uncritical behavior, such as using the word “gay” as a synonym for “undesirable.” But queer theory does so much more than affirm their right to exist. It’s a source of freedom for all of us. If queer theory, much like feminism, exposes apparatuses of oppression, as well as the social construction of identity categories, it stands to liberate more than just LGBTQ+ individuals. Consider this: here we are at this school for men, but what is a man? What are the character traits that define masculinity? Is it just a penis? Is it a lack of emotion? A stoic, invulnerable façade with limited social connections? Every idea about masculinity is undermined by real individuals. And so, I would argue that queer theory offers freedom from these overly restrictive identity categories, including cisgender straight men who moderate their behaviors in order to maintain a masculine persona. Authentic relationships are formed by sharing our vulnerabilities, not conforming to rigid categories. It’s about mental health. It’s about resisting social coercion. Be your authentic self.

The room fell silent. I paused for questions, then proceeded with the lesson, which was all about historicizing gender categories to identify the ways in which traditional binary categories have changed over time, and thus exposing gender as a social construct. Later that evening, I received four emails from students asking about alternative masculinities, bonds between men, and vulnerability. Each email expressed gratitude.

One of these emails offered support against backlash. He had never encountered LGBTQ+ cultures before. He knew about gay-bashing, but he did not know any gay people. Now he has an openly queer professor. His ideas were dissonant with the individual. His perspective was evolving. Despite the power disparity of the teacher-student relationship, this scholar was concerned for my safety. In his message I could hear the voice of my old high school friend. He wanted to protect someone he knew.

My teaching is my activism. I am openly queer in Crawfordsville to give strength to those who cannot be their authentic selves here. The rewards for this work have been immediate. Gay, bi, queer, and questioning scholars organized a Pride flag display at the heart of Wabash College, and a series of five articles about LGBTQ+ history and activism were featured in the student newspaper, The Bachelor. Moreover, our student government signed and circulated an anti-homophobia statement that clearly cites the ethical foundations of the College as inherent support for multiple sex-gender expressions. Because I am unapologetically “out” in my academic position, I am able to empower some of the most marginalized students, and to prepare others to go into the world as informed allies.