#p1d2

Cecilia Dickson

Halbert Barton

SOC 3-001

18 March 2020

Queer Happenings: An Auto-Ethnography

I often find one’s background determines one’s behavior, values, etc. I am from a small, white, upper-middle class town in Indiana. I was raised Catholic, and as such, attended private Catholic schools from preschool to high school graduation. These schools, however, were much more diverse than my hometown, being half-white, and half-non white, with a large black and Hispanic population. I, myself, am white, but what my schools did not have were a lot of LGBT+ students. Or perhaps they did, but, being Catholic schools, most of them remained closeted, like myself. I’m queer, in gender and sexuality, am growing up queer in a Catholic, Midwestern environment caused me to be, in general, more reserved and quiet in behavior, despite having some crazy anxiety.

There was one safe haven for closeted queers like myself at my high school: the theatre program. I fell in love with theatre and acting in high school, as my middle and elementary schools did not have a theatre program. This brings me to one hub—The Rudy Hart Theatre, my high school’s theatre. It’s old and dusty, with probably a hundred safety violations, and the ugly, emerald-green seats need replacing, but it is one of my favorite places on Earth. The theatre director, Mrs. Crane, and her family have been running that theatre themselves, with little to no help from the school/administration, for over twenty years. Their love for their students and that space is practically tangible in the air, from the stage, to the many hidden hallways and storage rooms under it.

Acting is where I find I can express myself the most. I’ve always felt unusual, or unwanted, being queer, which is thankfully now changing since moving away from Indiana, but acting is where I don’t have to be quiet because it’s my job to fully express the characters I play. I love finding myself in every character, and seeing how that expression impacts others, inspiring audiences. 

Perhaps it’s that unashamed expression of other characters that inspired me to start expressing myself. I remember, when I was a freshman, meeting a senior in the theatre program who I would have never met otherwise: Johanna. She was an out and proud lesbian, with a pride pin on her backpack, so colorful against the dull, oppresive hallways. When we did The Music Man that spring, I heard rumors that she wanted to audition to be the music man, Harold Hill. It blew my mind: a girl gender-bending such a traditionally male role. She inspired me to put my own pride pins on my backpack, however hesitantly, sophomore year.

“I like your pins.” That sentence, said so shyly and quietly, hesitantly, clued me into the other closeted queer students in my school. It’s funny, looking back, how all of those kids ended up doing theatre. We were like a little, queer, tapping-dancing cult. Of course, there was queerphobia, even in the theatre program. Senior boys who would called each other “faggot” and use “gay” as a slur, causing me and other queer students to close in on ourselves, sometimes even laugh along, fearing the worst would happen if we showed discomfort. 

I was never fully out in high school. I’ve always preferred to have attention off of me, and I did not want to cause a fuss, but I’ll never forget finally being a senior and being able to welcome queer underclassman into the theatre program, open and unashamedly, just like Johanna did for me before I really knew myself. I got to watch these kids grow into their skin, many of them coming out to me and their friends in the theatre program by the end of the year as a beautiful rainbow of things: transgender, gay, bisexual, pansexual, and nonbinary. Luckily, by the time I graduated, these kids were able to express and explore themselves more openly than I ever could have dreamed of when I was a freshman-turning-sophomore. Times change quickly, and I hope that’s a trend that continues in the theatre program, a trend I hope spreads to the rest of that high school, so queer couples like Rylan and Aura can hold hands walking down the hallways of Marquette Catholic High School without fear of having slurs thrown in their young faces.

After all, going through high school scared to be yourself, to even really explore yourself, really sticks with you. I had a hard time making friends in high school, even within the theatre program, where it took time to be sure that it was safe to come out with each person. This is probably because I never felt comfortable being myself for anyone, so I opted instead to stay quiet, where it was safe. Something I continue today without even being aware of it.

However, in doing this, I get the opportunity to observe some queer happenings. These happening mainly take place in the social ritual of friendship and the weird and many factors that go into it. How do people go from being strangers to acquaintances to friends? I’ve noticed some people become friends because there are no other options, like in high school. People are friends because they happen to see the same people everyday for four years. It’s almost automatic. But, then they graduate and never see each other ever again, and many often view these former friends with an oddly negative attitude. What’s the deal with this? And when this doesn’t happen, what makes a friendship deep and lasting? Is it personal connection, shared experiences, perhaps similarities and differences that either attract or repel? Some people never lose touch, no matter what. I’ve always found this fascinating. Friendships forming, falling apart, for so many reasons. How people form relationships, what it is that can draw two strangers together, or what it is that keeps others on the outskirts, intrigues me.

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Glossary terms

Queerphobia: Irrational fear of queer/LGBTQ+ people

Pansexual: a sexual identity expressing sexual attraction to anyone, regardless of gender