Student Sparks Discussion on Homophobia at Middlebury

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In the wake of the destruction of the Middlebury Open Queer Alliance closet, I have been encouraged by the vocal response and criticism of certain members of the faculty, the Student Government Association and the College administration. Their refusal to label the vandalism a simple act of drunken debauchery helps me believe that perhaps the administration wants the College to be a place that welcomes all of its students.
That said, I'm curious whether or not even an act as dramatic and obvious as the closet being torn down has brought about a serious dialogue on how homophobic prejudice shows itself on campus, an uncomfortable and foreign issue for many.
Even after finding out about the vandalism of the closet, how many of us genuinely talked about it? How many of us thought about how it would feel to be a gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or queer (GLBTQ) student at a college that strives for diversity but still houses squeamishness or apathy toward anything gay? How many of us thought about what it would feel like to be GLBTQ on this campus and walk past the broken closet, almost certainly torn down because it mentioned such issues and didn't suppose all Middlebury students are heterosexual? What needs to happen at Middlebury to unsettle these discussions and bring about other uncomfortable conversations about how race, class and sexuality affect the Middlebury community?
Perhaps because many people now know an openly gay or lesbian person it has become easier to assume that prejudice against queer people does not exist. Perhaps because most gay students at Middlebury can go through all four years and never face active discrimination, we can begin to convince ourselves that homophobia and discomfort around anything GLBTQ has begun to ebb, at least within our cushioned Middlebury bubble.
Even though Middlebury has improved significantly for GLBTQ students, there is still an underlying feeling that can make many queer students feel ignored or outright non-existent. This societal assumption and absolute expectation of heterosexuality, even if based on nothing more than ignorance, has the potential to isolate GLBTQ students.
I am not trying to exaggerate, and Middlebury is by no means the worst place to be if you identify as GLBTQ, but it is precisely this complacency that causes us to brush under the carpet and downplay the problems affecting minority students on this campus.
In closing, I would like to thank President McCardell for personally addressing the demolition of the closet, but I must also take issue with one of his statements, a statement I fear misrepresents the vandals' intent. McCardell rightly points out that the College "must be a place where the civil expression of one's belief, no matter how controversial, is not only permitted but encouraged" and justly condemns those who "employ tactics of intimidation." And yet, I believe McCardell missed the point in demanding "an exemplary degree of consideration for one another when we disagree." Though I am not one to challenge that statement in and of itself, I believe the vandalism of the closet cannot and should not be classified as an impertinent divergence of opinion. Certain individuals chose to pull apart, tear down and dismantle the closet, not because they merely disagreed, but because they were repulsed, revolted and sickened by the existence of GLBTQ people.
The closet's destruction, ultimately, was not simply a few people expressing their views in a disrespectful manner. The closet's destruction, ultimately, was an act of prejudice aimed at an entire swath of people — because they are different, because they are "unnatural," because they are queer. By not mentioning homophobia, McCardell overlooked the real reason the closet was destroyed: It was not heterosexual.
Disagreeing, ultimately, is not the same as unfounded revulsion and to equate the two is offensive, overly simplistic and dramatically skirts the issue.

Chris Atwood is a senior from Massachusetts