jus« out T octobor 3. 1097 ▼ 21
Continued from page 19
“So 1 told them,” she says.
Well, here’s the deal: Rierson, then 26, was out
(as in absent) because she had taken a couple of
days to celebrate her commitment ceremony with
partner Ena Eakin (who is the assistant volleyball
coach at Franklin).
The students, says Rierson, were cool.
“They were more curious about the ceremony,”
she laughs. Nonetheless, she admits she was a tad
nervous about possible reactions.
“ But I knew I had to do it,” says Rierson, clear
ly a woman who cuts to the chase. “The kids know
have to say, ‘W ell...in looking at your son’s sched
ule, we’d have to remove him from three classes in
order to have him avoid being with a lesbian or gay
teacher.’ Until we begin to act in accordance with
this new activism, the traditional activism which
has brought us this far will bring us no further.”
P
erhaps Oregon’s own Julie Rierson fits into
this mold of “new activist.”
The 28-year-old, who teaches math and
from parents and students, not to mention her fam
ily and partner.
Since that spring day, Rierson says she’s had
many a positive experience stemming from her
willingness to be honest.
“That day I came out, a girl who was a fresh
man came up to me after school and told me how
much that affected her. 1 didn’t know this student
at the time, but a friend of hers was in one of my
classes and told her,” Rierson says, adding she felt
“really, really good” when she heard the younger
woman’s words.
Today that student, she says, is a member of
an ongoing queer youth group that meets at
Franklin during school hours.
Rierson, who herself attended Franklin as a
student years earlier, notes how times have
changed. There were no out teachers then;
there was no student queer youth group.
“I guess you could say it’s a little different
now,” she says.
ierson isn’t alone in her “outness” at
school.
PHOTO BY LINDA KUEWER
R
Jan Donald
coaches volleyball at Franklin High School in
Southeast Portland, came out to her students in the
spring of 1996— during her second year of teach
ing at the school.
Rierson had been absent from school a few
days and knew her students would wonder why.
anyway. If we refuse to be open about it, we’re just
signaling to them that this is something we’re
ashamed of and— if they’re gay or lesbian— that
they should be ashamed too.”
Rierson says her decision to be upfront was
made all the easier by the sense of support she felt
O ut at S c h o o l ?
Jan Donald is another member of
the Franklin High School staff who is openly
lesbian.
And Donald, the school’s media
specialist/librarian, is doing her own part to
dismantle the invisibility of sexual minorities.
She has created displays for Lesbian, Gay and
Bisexual History Month featuring lesbian and
gay-related books and posters.
Donald pulled together the first such exhib
it, situated in a bustling locale near the media
center, in 1995 after Kitzhaber issued his
proclamation.
“I didn’t hear one negative remark. In fact,
staff would come in and jot down a title and
say something like, ‘My sister’s a lesbian. This
is a book she may be interested in.’ It was so
gratifying to hear that,” says Donald, 43.
Not that Franklin is Queer Paradise, mind you.
Both Donald and Rierson recount an incident in
which school administration balked at an
announcement regarding the youth group.
“They switched ‘gay and lesbian’ to ‘alterna
,
Coming out can be an enriching experience
though for students it does warrant serious thought
▼
by Paul Hatton
hat happens if my school finds out?”
You must come out to yourself first. It sounds
Like most of us who came out at an
strange, but you really have to be able to accept
early age, that question was the most
who and what you are. If you don’t, the slightest
hint of hostility will scare you back in, making it
important one we could think to ask.
What terrified us, what made us cry
even harder for you to accept yourself, let alone
ourseives ro sleep at night, was the fear have
that others
we accept you. You must be completely
would be singled out and shunned by our confident
peers. that you are what you are.
And it is a serious issue, one that unfortunately
Know your area. Remember, you’re probably
is not often dealt with at the appropriate levels.
going to be one of a small handful of openly gay
people in your school. In my situation, I was the
Recently a 12-year-old Pacifica, Calif., boy and his
only one out of 1,500 students, and everybody
mother sued the Laguna Salada Union Elementary
knew me. My school was surprisingly tolerant—
District for more than half a million dollars on
no threats were ever made, no obscene com
grounds the district failed to protect the boy from
ments. People admired my strength and courage
being sexually harassed at school. The harassment
and most likely, they’ll admire yours too. D on’t
continued for more than two years, eventually
overstep your bounds, though. You may think it
resulting in a transfer to a different school. The boy
would be really cool to fly the Rainbow Flag in
is heterosexual but was presumed to be gay by
place of the American Flag outside o f your
peers, teachers and staff.
school, but your coolness will subside as your
When young people struggling with their own
straight principal calls you into his or her office.
sexuality hear such stories, what incentive do they
Also, you have to weigh the benefits o f coming
have to come out? Why would anyone want to
out against any threat to your safety— you’re
express themselves in such a hostile environment?
going to want to survive to be an adult gay per
This case was an exception, involving false pre
son.
sumptions, and is being taken care of in court. But
How to avoid being harassed? There’s no sure
how can young teenagers prepare themselves for
way. You may hear the occasional sneer, chuckle or
the great change they want to happen?
W
Paul Hatton
offensive phrase. But always, always remember
that you are better than the homophobes. Hold your
head high and have faith in yourself. They’ll see
your confidence and realize you’re probably not a
very fun target. But if you feel threatened, don’t
hesitate to tell someone. Even in the absence of
regulations specifically protecting gay men and les-
tive lifestyles,’ ” says Rierson, “because [adminis
tration] couldn’t bear to say ‘gay and lesbian.’ ”
“Alternative lifestyles,” that unappealing and
ambiguous phrase, they add, not only makes one
cringe but can lead the imagination to run wild.
“We’re trying to do what we can, even in small
steps if need be,” says Donald, who sits on a
Portland Public Schools diversity subcommittee
which in part aims to introduce more accurate and
gay-friendly curricula into the schools.
“I’m Native American and I came up through
the public education system,” says Donald. “ I
remember the very one-sided view I was taught
with respect to how this country developed.”
Donald says she has spent many hours as an
adult teaching herself about her tribes— the Ponca
and Osage— as well as broader Native American
culture.
Queer youth, she says, shouldn’t have to suffer
the same neglect at the hands of the educational
establishment.
"That’s a lonely place to be, and it needn’t be
that way,” she says.
hile that's certainly true, the schools
remain hostile territory not only for
receiving accurate and inclusive infor
mation, but simply if you are queer (or queer-like).
Some things are painfully slow to change.
In mid-September, national GLSEN released
its first “report card” highlighting how schools in
general fail to protect students and teachers from
harassment and discrimination. The average grade
was a C. (Portland Public Schools received a B-
plus, but some are expressing concerns over gay-
supportive Superintendent Jack Bierwirth’s recent
announcement that he’s leaving by year’s end.)
Among the highlights of the national report’s
findings: Half the districts reporting received a
failing grade; Massachusetts, the first state in the
nation to enact legislation prohibiting discrimina
tion in public schools on the basis of sexual orien
tation, received the highest grade with an A-minus;
and the national average drops from a C to D when
the Bay State is removed from the scoring.
W
Continued on page 23
bians, your school has a responsibility to protect
every student from violence.
Be yourself. You’ve probably lived a straight
life until this point. I’m not saying you have to
dress in drag, or avoid members of the opposite sex
altogether. But you guys out there, I know you’ve
always wanted to be a bleached blond. And you
girls, who needs skirts! (No offense meant.) Unless
there is a threat to your safety, don’t be afraid to
make some changes.
Have a voice. If someone offends you, let them
know. Talk to your teachers about being gay— let
them know who they’ll be teaching. If you don’t
speak your mind, the less tolerant will continue to
speak theirs. Their ignorance is our pain.
All of the above will come naturally to you.
You will grow closer to your friends, probably
gaining many new ones. If things look bleak in the
beginning, don’t give up. Talk to teachers, staff,
counselors— if you find someone unwilling to help
you, there is always someone else who can.
The school is a place of learning, and your com
ing out will teach your peers. I hadn’t known any
gay people at my school, located in the heart of the
farmlands. After I came out, I was approached by
several students just wanting to talk with me— all
had questioned their sexuality. You will become a
role model: Always remember that no matter how
bad it gets, no matter how frustrated you are, being
able to say “ I’m gay” to a stranger is awesome.
Paul Hatton, 18, is a clarinet major at James
Madison University in Virginia His work is dis
tributed by The Rainbow Writers Group.
This piece represents the author’s personal expe
rience and is not intended as clinical advice.