Queer Friendships, Ways of Being, and Educational Spaces: Part 2 with Laura!

[Continued from Part 1, where Laura discusses her experience in the queer scenes of New York in the early 2000s, and the ways she’s celebrating Pride and parenthood in the midst of a pandemic.]

Miriam: I would love to hear about queerness at [our old high school]! We have talked about what it was like from our perspective, but I feel like there’s some awesome queer staff and faculty.

Laura: I got hired in 2011--I think that’s true. I think at the time I got hired there were only two other queer faculty or staff members besides me. One of those people got hired the same year as me, one person was already there. And so in queer fashion, it took us like .5 seconds to find each other and just establish that we are friendly with each other.

And there already was a queer student club. I knew [the faculty advisor] so when I got there, she had already told me “Oh, there’s this club and they might be really excited if you want to co-advise it with me [...] they’re going to be really excited that there’s gonna be a new teacher who’s out and would want to work with them.” and that was sort of true, they loved her though!

It wasn’t a hostile space but it wasn’t a very queer space. There weren’t a lot of people who were out in general. There were students who were out more so than the faculty. So the other people who I knew were queer, I knew in like a queer-gaydar way, not because they said anything. And then I realized that they were out in a very different way than I was, where they weren’t hiding it but they also weren’t saying it and it wasn’t my place to say it, so of course I never said anything.

And then over the years it did become more queer! There were additional people who were there and were visibly open about who they were and their identity. The first year we did a coming out event--I feel like the number of times I’ve told my coming out story at [our high school] is like...a million times. In the beginning, the students really wanted a faculty or staff member to be a part of it, but nobody else at the time felt really comfortable doing that. So I’m like, “I don’t ever mind doing it, but it’s the same story. So if you went in ninth grade and I tell it again in tenth grade [it’s the same]. So I started to try to find different ways to tell that story. I would start the timeline differently so it wasn’t literally the same thing every year; I used to think that was funny, I kept saying to people like, “I don’t mind doing it all the time. I’ll do it anytime you want, anybody who wants to talk to me about that coming out story,” but I felt bad because it’s the same one, it’s just me. And like I said, more and more faculty members and staff members would participate.

[At] the last [Coming Out Day event] that we did two years ago maybe, there were so many that there wasn’t enough time to hear everybody. That’s so the reverse of the first time we ever did it, where I was the only faculty or staff member, only two students were willing to do it, and then we had some readings. People read [anonymous] things that weren’t about themselves. And I love that that’s such a big shift.

I still think [queerness is] really absent in the curriculum. And we’ve been talking a lot about curriculum, mostly from like racial justice [and] racial equity ways recently. But I always like to remind people that it’s just not there in the same way that it could be. And I don’t push it all that much, I bring it up every now and then--but I think that it gets really tokenized in a really quick way.

So in literature, yeah, they read Walt Whitman--I’m not saying you shouldn’t read Walt Whitman. Or in history, we do talk about it in terms of social movements for sure. But on other campuses there’s just more faculty who teach within the discipline of gender studies and queer studies, and because we’re such a small place, I still think I’m the only person who has a degree in gender studies; that doesn’t mean I’m the only person who cares about the field, or looks at gender within their own field, but I actually really do vehemently believe that if that is what your field is in, then you look for it everywhere. It’s not a question of “I’m going to add something to my curriculum,” it’s the way that you think about any curriculum. That’s why I feel like every class I’ve ever taught--somebody was pointing out--the words “race” and “gender” are in the title. And it’s not just because it’s what I care about, it’s also that’s what my field is. So every academic thing I’ve ever done looks at those things. And I think that matters! I really do, I still think that because I was just having a conversation with the people who are working on some curriculum updates and I was pointing out--we were looking at a list, I’m like, “Not only is this a super male, white list, it’s a super straight list.” And you don’t even really, in my mind, get to count Whitman [because he’s] so not modern. Love him, not saying we shouldn’t love him, but it so doesn’t speak to what queerness is now. He wouldn’t have identified with the word queer; it didn’t exist. It’s not like in any way I’m upset about [our high school], it’s just something to notice. I always just want people to notice it, not that even it’s a crisis that needs to be addressed, but it’s the reason why, in all of these ways, if you don’t have it really enmeshed in people’s curriculum, it’s hard to talk about language.

Like you think about why is it so hard for people to think about pronouns differently--it’s because they feel like they never have to think about it, and then someone says “Think about my pronouns” and it feels like a whole radical worldshift. Or the same thing when you think about queer students who want to be open about who they are, it feels like if it’s not a part of your culture, it feels like suddenly someone’s asking you to do something. When you’re like, I’m not asking you to do anything, it’s just that you’ve never thought about it, we’ve never challenged those heteronormative assumptions. Like still most people when they meet me, they know that I have a baby, and so then they ask, “Oh, did your husband go back to work?” It’s like those kinds of heteronormative things. And I don’t get mad at people because I realize we’re just still in a world where it’s an add-on, it really is the marginalized perspective if you’re not a queer person and no one’s asking you. People at [our high school] are often, I think, really willing to hear that, but it’s still sometimes the first time anyone’s said to them, “Well, that’s because it’s a heteronormative assumption. You look at me and you’re thinking of a very specific assumption based on what I look like, and what you believe is true when someone has a baby.”

Or it happens much more to my wife, who didn’t physically give birth to [my daughter]. Everybody at her job makes comments to her about her body as if she just had a baby. And I’m like, number one, don’t make comments about any woman’s body ever, period. Especially when [people] hear that a woman has a baby, they imagine that she biologically has had a baby. Obviously there are straight women who have babies that don’t physically deliver those babies, but even more so with queer women I think those things just make you realize that while we’ve come a super long way, there’s still those things that are a culture shift. I remind people [that] that’s why affinity groups still exist. For the first time, there’s a faculty [school] network queer listserve group, and they started meeting on zoom. I love that that’s happening because I think that being a queer faculty member is a very particular kind of experience.

And thankfully we’re in a place where it’s never occurred to me not to be out. There’s no question in my mind that people are gonna be thrilled to have me be a part of the faculty or staff or the admin team. But I do think that sometimes people are surprised when I remind them--like if something happens or somebody says something homophobic to students, and then somebody who is not queer will say to me “oh that’s so surprising,” I’ll be like, of course that’s not surprising. It’s not surprising to me, you know? I wish I was surprised. But the world does feel like such an easier place for me [now] personally as a queer person.

I forgot who it was, but one of the times that I stopped being the faculty advisor [for the Queer Straight Alliance] this student said to me that they wanted [our college counselor who’s nonbinary] to take over and I was like, that’s great! But I said something like, “Do you want me to still support you? I still want to be affiliated with the group… Do you want me to co-facilitate?” and they were like “no, we’re not kicking you out, it’s just that you only identify as a lesbian.” And I thought it was just the funniest thing anyone has ever said to me because [it’s] true, you’re pointing out that I’m a cisgendered, woman-identifying lesbian. It’s a funny thing that is also a sign of progress in this really wonderful way. And I texted everybody in my life and said that I think we’ve reached this really great time where someone [can say to me] “You’re not radical enough. Your identity is mainstream, you’re just a lesbian. And therefore we want somebody to work with us who can bring something in addition to that.” And I didn’t feel upset about that at all, it was just this delightful funny moment where I’m like, I’m glad we’re at that place where I seem super mainstream.

I definitely didn’t feel that way when I was growing up, but I think that [our high school] did shift and change. It’s also true that our students [are] way ahead of our faculty because you all grew up in a different moment than the people who work with me. Those people grew up closer to the moment that I grew up in where I thought about [being queer] all of the time--because I’m queer and I’ve thought about it since I was a really tiny person. And [the faculty] didn’t; they still remember those moments when Ellen came out on TV-- like we all have this timeline of when Will & Grace was on the air and that’s such an old timeline now in this really nice way. You know? It’s good that it’s hard to count how many TV shows there are with queer characters or how many young adult fiction books there are with queer characters and love stories.

I love that, [and] it just means that it’s gonna take for your generation to start working with me, right? That’s what’s going to happen--people retire, new people work in places, and [then] those places will start feeling different. But I definitely don’t feel alone anymore, there are way more queer faculty and staff [at our high school] than there were when I was hired 10 years ago. And that’s [true] all across the network. I’m on lots of calls with people who are on the admin teams of all those schools and there are a lot of us who are queer on those calls, so I definitely don’t feel alone.

But, I don’t know, it still feels like we’re a little far away from it being something that I don’t think about--I think about it a lot. Somebody asked me once if it was intentional that I found all of the queer people [at work], but I said that that I think that’s just how life works. I think that’s how it works for everybody--you get to your new school and you kind of...find each other. I think about one of my best friends in life who’s also queer; I met her when I was in summer camp when I was 10 years old. Did we know we were queer then? No, but we knew that we adored each other and we recognized something in each other that was not necessarily specifically queer, but those parts of [each other] that [make you think] ”oh, you get me.” And that’s what someone means when someone’s like, “you get me.”

It doesn’t boil down to sexuality, but it does boil down to the way you see the world and the way that you feel comfortable. And that kind of happens in the places you work too, it doesn’t matter how old you are. Still, when you’re 40 you walk into a place and you look around and you think “hmmm, who do I want to sit next to?” Like even if I don’t know them, I’m like “oh, yeah that’s who I’m gonna want to talk to and be friends with.” So, that’s how [our high school] feels. It’s a nice place, I like it.

Zoe: I feel like that’s the same for the three of us too. I didn’t know that [Sofia and Miriam were queer] when I met them, but fast-forward two years and we’re doing a queer tutorial with you! So, I think it’s kind of a wonderful thing that you find similar energies and then you [come out to each other] and you’re like “oh that’s like, part of the reason why probably.”

Sofia: Yeah, I remember telling Marion that Miriam and I came out to each other at the same time, and Zoe and I went to Pride together before we came out to each other.

Zoe: I remember the moment [Sofia and I came out to each other], it was a small comment--and at least for me, I don’t know how you felt--but I was like “Oh, yeah! Cool!”

Laura: Yeah, I love those things. I feel like those are some of the most heartwarming, best, stories: when you suddenly realize that that’s true about the person that you’re really drawn to, and then you’re like “of course!” Or, like I said when you’re adults and you find each other. When I think about those people that I just assumed were queer when we started working together, I realize that I didn’t really come out to them, I just assumed that they would get why I was up in their space talking to them--like, obviously we’re gonna get coffee or do something! Or those moments [when] you have to say it out loud and you giggle because it’s still one of those funny, happy, discoveries and moments when you’re together. I also have memories of going to early pride marches when I was really young and it feeling amazing finding that out about your friends. And then you got to be in queer theory class with me, which was delightful!

Miriam: Yeah, I think about that a lot because I have a lot of friends from elementary school, and [I’ve watched] us all come out to each other in different ways. We’ve all come out to each other repeatedly as different things--starting when my first friend was like “hey I’m a lesbian” when we were 12, and I was like “Oh my god, I didn’t know someone could know that about themselves right now!”We were so small, but we loved each other in this very special way. And to think that some of that is queer, platonic love for each other is so special to me.

Laura: Yeah, it really is, and that’s so great! I still remember--the friend who’s my best friend, I just remember so clearly where we were the first time [we came out to each other].

We’ve come out in different ways throughout the years, but the very first time we were sitting in a field under the stars having this conversation. And I remember in the most beautiful way--I think we didn’t know how to say it about ourselves--and so she was like “I have this theory about people: I think that everybody is gay, but society keeps us from being able to express it or think it.” And when I look back, [those moments were] like these incremental, beautiful steps of articulating to each other what we were trying to figure out about ourselves.

It just kept evolving-- [at college], there was another coming out that I had with her after the other three that I had to be like “no, no, for real, this is what I know about myself and these are the specific kinds of people that I’m attracted to.” And I remember that one was really funny because she was like “you have come out to me so many times, there’s nothing else to say.”

But I think those are such important moments, especially with people that you’ve known forever who can really be on that path with you. [my best friend’s] identity has shifted way more over time than mine has, and I feel like we still have those conversations where she’ll be like “I need to talk to you” and I’ll be like “let’s drop everything, what’s going on?” And then I’ll talk to her and hear the evolution of how she’s thinking about her life and what’s going on. I love that.

I think queer people are some of my favorite people and I think it’s because there are a lot of those beautiful sharings--You’re creating these spaces with each other of understanding and flexibility and allowing people to change and be different because you’re already in that context. So, I think--and I’m not talking about [only] sexuality or how people identify, but who they are, that kind of queerness--I think that’s why you find each other in a room, because you’re attracted to those ways of thinking and being. And again, that’s why I say that not everybody who’s in that LGBT camp is queer, because I think something about queerness is potentially a little bit more fluid and open and creative in that way.

My wife and I had very different paths. By the time I got to college, all of my friends were queer, and it wasn’t necessarily by design. I never made a decision and was like “I’m not gonna be friends with straight people.” And when we met, which was post-college, it was funny because she felt really weird about that. She was like, “I don’t understand how you don’t have any straight friends” and I was like, “I don’t know it just kind of happened.” I didn’t make a decision. It wasn’t like I defined people, they were just all around me! Also, all of the clubs and political stuff that I did was connected to it, so I met all of those people. And she went to Smith, it’s not like she went to a place where there weren’t enough [queer] people around to become friends with! But somehow I think all of her best friends growing up, who are still in her life and who totally embrace her, all turned out to be straight. Which is funny because all of the people who are still in my life that were in my life [back] then turned out to be queer. So, I think that that’s funny too.

She’s always my parallel example; when we first met she would tease me and say “You have the queerest musical taste ever.” Like one time my music accidentally started playing and it was Tracy Chapman and she was like “You are such a cliche of everything,” and I was like “Yeah, that’s true, and I’m gonna embrace it.” One of my very best friends lives in Atlanta and in her little quarantine bubble is Amy Ray, who is part of Indigo Girls, which is funny because in my mind, all of those people, like Indigo Girls, are still my people. So the fact that she hangs out with her is a really incredible, awesome, super-star moment. So, I love those things. I embrace all of the super-cliched-ness. So, when that student said “You’re just a lesbian,” it’s really true, actually. At the floor of it, that is exactly who I am. But I’m not just a lesbian, I’m a lesbian who came out at a very particular time. I’m a time capsule of that time and place! You know, the turn of the century is when I graduated! But, I don’t know, I’m alright with it.

Miriam: Something Sofia said the other day--and Sofia wrote us a kick-ass mission statement for the website--and [the mission statement mentions] queer as a verb. And I think that’s what the power of queer relationships are, and like, you “queer” relationships and you “queer” family.

Laura: I think that’s so true! And I think that’s what I was saying, like, every class I teach is a queer class, even if it’s not about queerness because I don’t know how to separate them out.

Like, if you ask me who [are] all of the people that I love reading, it’s not an accident that a lot of them are queer. And, it’s not that I don’t read things from people who aren’t, I just feel like you bring the queerness with you to the thing that you’re doing by embodying and embracing all of those things--and that’s your life, your relationships, the classes you take or the classes you teach, or the places that you’re in.

I don’t know, there are sometimes where I feel like I’m really out and there are other times where I almost feel like I don’t say it enough because I’m like, “obviously, how is it possible that anyone doesn’t know this about me?” And that’s because it’s so obvious in my life and my family and everyone who knows me, it’s not like there’s any part of my life that I feel closeted in. But, then I realize, “oh there is something really powerful about [helping] in the “queering” of [this school].” I think that [the school] becomes a little more queer because I’m queer--that’s just true. Like, if I’m openly talking about my queer, little family, and when people ask me questions like “What are you doing this summer?” and I [tell them] I’m going to [Provincetown] Queer Family Week, it does do some of that work, which I really love. And I think you guys do that work too. Any place that you’re going and talking and any of the friendships you have kind of do that act of queering. And of our families too [because] they know about all of us and the things that we do. Like, when I think about my mom and [my wife’s] parents, who are all in their 70’s and 80’s, and the questions that they ask us and what cultural references they know, I’m like oh yeah they’re kind of living in these queer families too because they embrace us. So they ask us about, you know, what we’re watching on Netflix. So, I can’t wait to see [the blog] out there!

[Click for part three where Laura ponders conversations with her older and younger self, as well as what has brought her to a place of happiness now!]

Note: Interview has been lightly edited for clarity.