Wednesday, November 2, 2016 // The Statement
7B
by Ana Lucena, Daily Arts Writer
Learning to Love Myself in Safe Spaces
A
t the beginning of the summer, I went to my mid-
dle school for a Girl Scouts reunion. The school
remained exactly as I remembered it (including the
stench of hormone-fueled hysteria clinging to the walls),
except there were new stickers on the door of many class-
rooms. Those rooms were designated as “safe spaces” for
LGBTQ individuals — meaning that, as a school, these
classrooms have a zero-tolerance policy for homophobic
and transphobic aggression toward students who identify
as LGBTQ. As a queer girl who was called a dyke too often
in that very building, I held back a scornful laugh.
In middle school, I learned everything was fair game
for merciless gossip, from who you ate lunch with to the
length of your pants. There was never a right answer. And
worse, I could not exempt myself from critique like I had
in the past by keeping things to myself. Criticism came to
me without so much as an invitation. You would be pretty
if you, like, straightened your hair and wore makeup!
And then I started getting called a dyke by lanky, acne-
ridden 13-year-olds wearing malicious smirks. Unbe-
known to them, I had already begun to question what
was “wrong” with me. To be sure, gossiping about cute
boys in my class was a favorite pastime of mine since first
grade, but there was more happening beneath the surface.
I remember finally bringing my mom’s attention to the
gorgeous models in shampoo commercials I fawned over
in third grade, and by fifth grade the hot, heavy sensation
that would stir within me when I saw bombshell musi-
cians like Christina Aguilera perform in provocative cos-
tumes. I thought everyone did.
My devoutly Catholic and Latina mom always shut
off the TV or shielded my eyes during the movies when
a straight couple would kiss on screen. She would also
remind me of how I was going to grow up to marry a good
man and have beautiful children like God intended. At 13,
I felt like I was going to have to choose between this con-
fusing future and turning into an angry, buzz-cut-sport-
ing lesbian like the ones I saw on TV. I didn’t know what
to make of myself, and these stereotypes didn’t help.
I was very hurt by God for giving me a sure-
ly damned, defective brain that couldn’t pray away
my lust for women on the one hand, while having
crushes on boys in class just like “other girls” on the
other. I was mortified that people thought I was a les-
bian in spite of sharing which boys I had crushes on. My
attempt to keep my feelings for girls to myself failed with-
out having said a word.
In middle school, I developed adjustment disorder, or
situational depression, which is a short-term disorder
that arises when you can’t handle major changes in your
life. I felt numb to my core and stayed in bed for entire
weekends due to emotional exhaustion, and I never con-
sidered letting my parents know about what was happen-
ing at school because I felt they would be angry at me
deep down, too.
On the last day of seventh grade my favorite teacher
pulled me aside into her empty classroom. She hugged me
and, out of the blue, said I was strong and courageous.
She didn’t say why, but I knew. She was acknowledging
the bullying I endured. I thanked her out of respect, but
I felt a cold apathy. Her words felt as cheap as the paper
these new “safe space” stickers were printed on. She had
revealed that she knew I was being bullied but did noth-
ing to stop it. She was expressing her sympathy after
being a bystander over something that tore me up inside.
If these new “safe space” stickers had been posted
throughout my school six years ago, would she have done
something then? Times have certainly changed.
Once I got to the University of Michigan, I immedi-
ately sought help. I am very thankful for the University’s
Spectrum Center — a designated safe space on campus
— where I was guided with nothing less than compas-
sion and self-affirmation. Professionals there moved me
to tears with supportive smiles and explained to me the
facts of bisexuality. In the Spectrum Center’s first-year
student initiative program, I met other queer freshmen
who showed me I was not alone on this journey to self-
discovery. I saw I could thrive on campus in the LGBTQ
community. Through the center’s mentorship program,
I was mentored by another bisexual girl who was in the
School of Social Work. She let me confide in her, like a
cousin who had already been in my shoes. As a fellow
Catholic, she convinced me I would meet someone who
would make me happy regardless of the inner conflict I
currently feel, helping me stop my self-loathing and live
my truth. I learned who I was in safe spaces.
Heated columns criticize “safe spaces” at universities,
claiming they baby college students by isolating minori-
ties and infringing on free speech. Critics argue that these
havens shelter marginalized communities from the hard-
ships of the real world. To be sure, too much of a good
thing can be a bad thing. But for many in the LGBTQ com-
munity, college provides the first time one can openly
explore and embrace their true identities. It gave me the
courage prove to myself that all of me is real and wor-
thy of love, no matter how much those close to me would
rather I pretend this part doesn’t exist. And there is noth-
ing coddling about that.
ILLUSTRATION BY EMILIE FARRUGIA