In my hometown, we didn’t know any gay people. There was one openly gay student at my rural high school. The nickname students gave him was “Quinn the Queer,” and a lot of us think he transferred schools because of the teasing.
As returning Gators know — and freshmen are soon to discover — UF is probably a much more open and safe environment for the LGBT community than the environment they experienced in high school.
Living, working and studying alongside gay people will no doubt lead many to evolve their stance on social issues to be more in favor of equal rights.
I can certainly say that my experience as a Gator has broadened my understanding of sexual orientations and helped develop my political involvement.
When I was in my first semester at UF four years ago, I hopped in a van with an unusual assortment of LGBT students, leftists and an Alligator reporter to attend the National Equality March in Washington, D.C.
Cleve Jones, a gay rights activist and protégé of politician Harvey Milk, started the march. Milk, who was the first openly gay man elected to public office in California, was assassinated in 1978. The purpose of the march was to call for equal rights for the LGBT community — a message that I was receptive to.
The National Equality March came in the wake of California’s Proposition 8 passage, which eliminated the rite of gay marriage in the state.
For an adventurous and wide-eyed freshman who wanted to better understand the world around him, the trip was life-changing.
Marching to the Capitol alongside activists, politicians, celebrities like Lady Gaga and tons of regular folk was overwhelming. The aspect of the trip that left the biggest impact on me was the people I met.
From the Episcopalian church that gave us shelter for the night, to the members of our caravan, the collective atmosphere was one of the warmest and most accepting environments I have ever encountered.
I looked up to the gay men and women I met because they held their heads high and treated others fairly, despite the fact that society had often not dealt them the same courtesies. I met lovers who could not marry, youth who had run away or been kicked out of their homes, and people who had been severely bullied by individuals and ostracized by our institutions.
The most solemn moment was when a gay man from the Gainesville community whom I befriended admitted to me that he had once attempted suicide because there was a point in his life when the rejection and loneliness he faced became too great.
A lot has changed since then.
I went on to become the vice president of the UF College Democrats and later the president of the Students Party, a student government party dedicated to fiscal responsibility and equal opportunity for all students. I am finishing my term. Along the way, I met many more LGBT Gators with both inspiring and heart-wrenching stories of their own.
I didn’t want to introduce my views in the debut of this column with a lecture or the demonization of differing opinions. Sometimes, the best way to convince others is to tell a story.
Though we are individuals, at the end of the day we are also Gators who are united by our common story at UF. Being a part of this university will help students begin to see past our differences and embrace each other as people with similar concerns, hopes and dreams.
It is hard to say whether our world will ever triumph over prejudice, but I am confident that the open-mindedness fostered within this university will be a step in that direction.
Together this generation of Gators can help create a better world than the one we inherited.
Ford Dwyer is a history and political science major at UF. His column appears on Thursdays. You can contact him at opinions@alligator.org
