Beyond Mike Rice: Homophobia on Campus

The other day, I got into a bit of a disagreement with someone on Facebook.

The individual was dishing the videotape of former Rutgers basketball coach Mike Rice berating and physically abusing players.

This individual accused the media and GLBT advocacy groups of blowing the matter out of proportion. He went onto say that the Rutgers community was being portrayed as close-minded when the opposite is true.

As I tried to explain to this young man, I’ve been affiliated with Rutgers for nearly three decades, as a student, as a staff member, and as an alumnus.

I love my alma mater. I always will. I am grateful for the education I received there and for the innumerable opportunities Rutgers has given me over these many years.

But I refuse to sugarcoat things and downplay the facts.

The truth is, just like on any other college campus in America, just like in offices all across the nation, there is homophobia at Rutgers. There is no denying it. I’ve seen it. I’ve cried tears over it. I’ve railed against it. I’ve been a victim of it.

As I shared with this individual and others on Facebook, all one needs to do is go into certain bathrooms on campus and you’ll see vile homophobic diatribes scrawled on the walls, along with equally vile racist comments; words that would make the members of the Westboro Baptist Church most proud.

I saw a staff member angrily tear down flyers on campus that promoted another department’s GLBT event, all because she deemed homosexuality to be immoral. She ripped flyers from trees, crumpled them into balls, and tossed them into the garbage can, all the while spewing that “fags will burn in hell.”

I saw another staff member joke about someone’s sexuality, perpetuating hurtful gay stereotypes in the process. I watched as leaders stood silent as the comments were made and as GLBT staff were humiliated in front of their colleagues.

I have been called a “faggot” by students as I sat in my car waiting for class to begin. I have been threatened with physical violence because of my sexuality.

I have heard students warn each other to avoid certain dorms because “fags hang out there.”

Back in 2010, I attended the candlelight vigil remembering Tyler Clementi. There, amid tears and solidarity, amid young and old, I heard the jeers, the taunts, and the heckles of Rutgers students as they walked by the gathering.

Those are just a few of my own experiences. Trust me. Others have similar, perhaps, worse stories.

I know that, by and large, the Rutgers community is one that embraces tolerance. But let’s not delude ourselves that homophobia doesn’t exist within the university’s hallowed walls.

History has shown us time and time again that it’s dangerous to look the other way and ignore intolerance, to minimize the words and actions that hurt people.

Frankly, I’ve spent far too many years in silence, accepting the abuse, unable and unwilling to speak up because of fear and cowardice. Well, that part of me is gone forever. I speak up now, no matter the consequences.

I appreciate the fact that people from all walks of life are expressing their disgust at what went down at Rutgers, just as I appreciate the fact that others disagree with the firings and resignations. Why?

Because a dialogue is happening. People are talking. They’re confronting issues that may be controversial, subjects that may be difficult to discuss. With dialogue comes change—and rest assured, in this particular matter, change is desperately needed.