Often times, writers receive requests to touch upon certain topics, as those who simply do not have the platform to speak about it will look for the privileged writer to do the job for them. As a writer, I'm always humbled when these opportunities come about. I feel honored and dignified to take up a task that someone else felt that I could take care of with just my own mind.
Other times, the writers do something for themselves. They don't have a request or a specific area that needs to be written on. They do something because they feel that it needs to be done. For myself, Johnny Tvedt, a member of this Greek community and an individual writer, this is one of those times.
I've had an internal battle with myself lately. A persisting struggle keeps coming to the front of my mind that has shook my faith and my desire to be a productive member within the University of Minnesota's Greek community. The problem is simple, and it has a simple resolution. It is the persisting insensitivity and use of the words "retard" and "fa***t" within our Greek system.
We've all heard those words. We've all probably used them, whether we like to admit it or not. I know for certain that I've made this slip-up before. In normal conversation with our friends we often use these terms to describe something that's stupid or unfair, or we use these words when policing our friend's actions. These are all commonplace within any community, not just Greek life communities. I realize how desensitized we are to this. Nobody would bat an eye if one of these words were used in normal conversation. In my mind, however, this is exactly the problem I would like to touch upon. If the platform to speak to the entire University were available, I would make use of it. But it was important to me, as a writer, to speak to the community closest to my heart. The rest of my message to you, the Greek community, is not a harsh criticism or a pessimistic analysis. My message is simply to ask a favor of you, from one Greek to another. Think of this as an open message.
Greek Community: I've been proud to call you my own for this past year. As a contributing member of my chapter, it's been a privilege for me to meet the people I've met, and to gain the experience I've gained. However, one thing has recently kept me from enjoying it to its full extent, and that is the insensitive vernacular we continuously use to speak to one another. Simple and natural uses of the words "fa***t" and "retard" have become all too common. I don't speak of one radical instance or one straw that broke the camel's back. It's more like a fluidity or integration of the words that has become systematically troubling. I've tried all that I can to understand why we use these words, and I think I get it. It's just so natural. We don't think about what we're saying often, yet in doing so, we don't think about who we are offending. For me, my story and where I draw a problem with these words started when I was young.
In sixth grade, I met my lifelong friend, Tom. Tom taught me the value of word choice. He taught me that we never truly know who we're offending when speaking out of line or use words that truly don't mean what we think they do. This was done with a simple method and a goal. He had an older sibling with autism who, for the record, is one of the most enjoyable human beings I've ever met. Tom didn't make it a part of his day to police the language of others. He didn't go out of his way to criticize those who were being insensitive. He simply asked those around him to watch what they said when he felt he had to, particularly when the word "retard" was used out of context around him.
As naïve sixth-graders, with developing young minds, we definitely don't think about what we say. It's a part of growing up. Tom made sure that I thought otherwise, and would respectfully ask me to cease my insensitivity whenever it reared its ugly head. He effectively got me to stop using the word “retard" to describe something unfavorable simply through repetition and not standing for it when it came about. My 12-year-old mind adapted, and the word quickly left my vocabulary.
What Tom did wasn't to make me see things his way; he never persuaded me on its uses, and why they may or may not be wrong. He just made me aware that words have a different effect on different people. Tom didn't know a day where autism didn't leave some sort of impact on his life. I did. I couldn't see eye to eye with him because his particular experience didn't resonate with me. But any reasonable person can become aware, especially when politely asked to do so.
As I hung out with Tom and as time went on, the issue transferred to me. His experience soon resonated with my own; I saw the issue in using the word. This happened as I got more involved with those who are affected by autism, as I joined our high school's Autism Awareness Program. It especially happened when my job -- what I got paid to do -- involved caring for a teen, not too different from myself, who was affected by autism. I soon joined in his efforts, not by making it my sole duty in life to prevent other's from accidentally misusing a word that could be perceived as offensive or harmful but by making sure I didn't stand for it when it did come about.
The same principle carries over when we speak of the word "fa***t," which is often used in the same, incorrect way. This word was closer to me. It's what “retard" was to Tom in sixth grade. It was something that I policed because it resonated with the experiences I've had in my own life -- which, of course, are not the same for you.
I stopped using this word early on because it made me think of my own family and my own experience. I grew up in a home where I had a sibling who identified as lesbian, and I have several extended family members who identify as well. To me, their sexual orientation was just a part of my everyday life, and I never saw it as out of the ordinary or negative.
However, high school was a different time. The misuse often became intentional, and as such, it left a deeper impact on me. As this developed, I would police peoples' vernacular, and I did even more so when my sister came out to my family while I was in tenth grade. I learned from this, and from my sister, that her sexual orientation wasn't seen as an everyday thing to everyone as it was for me. This is when people's words easily had an impact on me.
I did what I could to respectfully -- and when frustrated as a high schooler, not-so-respectfully -- get my peers to end their usage of the word “fa***t". What they meant was something else, and I knew that. I just wished they did too. "Fa***t" appeared to have different meaning between myself and many of the peers who would insensitively use it without seeing the error of their ways. To me, even as a younger teenager, I could see the flaws in this. It was clearly wrong and it was something that could easily change. If only people had listened.
I saw the impact it left on my sister, who went through high school with the weight of insensitivity and homophobia strapped to her back like a mountain climber carrying extra gear on an already perilous adventure up the mountain. I watched as she, despite all the homophobia in my privileged community, earned a scholarship to play Division I lacrosse at a major university (something she had dreamt of doing). I saw, as she became one of the most decorated female athletes my school had ever seen. And I saw her call out the misuse of the word “fa***t" whenever it was brought up in front of her. I admired each achievement equivalently. She didn't take the word lightly. And why should she have?
Why would I spew these anecdotes and small snippets of my life to you, the reader? Because I hope that it does resonate with you. I hope you do find something from my experience and bring it on to yourself. I want to see the use of “fa***t" and “retard" dissipate as we become a more sound, aware, and intelligently speaking community. I don't ask that we all go out and start a major campaign to end the use of these words, like many others have tried. Even if these stories are completely foreign and not relatable to you, as a fellow member of the community that we care about and seek to protect, I ask this favor to you just the same. From one Greek to another, my plea is simple…
When you hear it, stop it.
