An experience, a lesson, a memoir

Dear Me,

When you look back at this letter, 20 years from now, 10 years from now, or 13 months from now, I want you to remember the silence covering the voices of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ+) people in 2016. Now, I want you to look at the world around you. How does life compare now?  

Guerrilla Art Group started out as an elective option in the beginning of the year. Turns out I was the only one who signed up. It did not qualify to run. This elective was re-launched in December in hopes of attracting more people. Since then, I have been a member of the Guerrilla Art Group. The beginning of our cooperation and discussion included topics pertaining current issues to the world. Gun violence and body image were some of our major focuses. We watched videos and created symbolic art, representing our feeling while subtly hinting at powerful messages.

During one meeting about a month past, the GLSEN Day of Silence was mentioned as a possible topic for our upcoming piece. The upper school campus recently observed their Day of Silence. Following their lead, our faculty advisor, Ms. Bergmann, was interested in spreading this awareness to the middle school audience. Walking into the meeting with close to no knowledge about the Day of Silence and its purpose, this art project served to be more than just a piece a paper. It was a learning experience. Here were a few basic questions our group had in the beginning:

• What was the Day of Silence?
• What was the purpose of this day?
• Why was there silence?

Our common questions were answered by the GLSEN website. Through videos and written works, we realized how many people around the world unintentionally put those who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, gay, and queer outside of the box. They draw the line that says, don’t cross.

Often we don’t realize it, but the stillness and quietness of the air in the library mimics life for the LGBTQ+ community everyday. Quieting our own voices is one way we can feel the pain, the

struggle, and the apprehension of those who have lost their own voices for long periods of time because of feeling unsafe, feeling abused, or embarrassed. We had multiple meetings and a plethora of research accompanied these conventions. Guerrilla Art Group considered the colors of each of each sex’s flag, and we attempted to incorporate this into our t-shirt idea. Turns out that having multiple colors increased the bill for our t-shirts. Excitedly, I attended a few of our meeting and this project unraveled into a big event within our middle school. Posters began to appear in the bathroom stalls and along the walls of the buildings. Our brand new idea involved artwork beyond the paper. Our brand new idea consisted of t-shirts, design, approval, advertisement, a budget and silence. The Middle School Day of Silence was coming to life.

Many people volunteered outside of the Guerrilla Art Group meetings every other Wednesday morning during electives block. I, for one, did not attend these valuable meeting where the Middle School director would occasionally peek in. However, I watched the strengths and weaknesses of each supporting member help this project grow tremendously. We created a light gray t-shirt with big, audacious red font. Later, once our organizing group was satisfied with the design and deemed it expressive, meaningful and symbolic, we communicated with a t-shirt printing company, and Ms. Bergmann brought around 200 t-shirts to the middle school within the following weeks.

Friday, April 15, was the Day of Silence. I missed it. I was sick at home with the flu and stomach bug so I couldn’t participate in the silence because I went to see my doctor. I spent my day

Chuck Wright saying he would "whip" a trans woman

researching about current day issues for people who are LGBTQ+. One very controversial issue is the use of bathroom. I read a news article from the lgbtnation.com about this situation. The view the full article, click here. In South Carolina, sheriff Chuck Wright, said that he would “whip” a trans woman in the bathroom. Although I understand his concern, I cannot neglect his austere word choice. I am still very saddened by some people's stubborn attitudes towards being different. I try imaging myself in a trans person's shoes, and it is always a difficult place to be in. Many states have already initiated laws concerning this matter, and South Carolina’s neighbor, North Carolina, has agreed on a law where transgender people must use the bathroom of the sex they were given at birth. South Carolina Senator Lee Bright has set up a similar law. However, some governors, like Nikki Haley, still find this law unnecessary.

Frankly, I am completely tossed up in this issue. I oppose Chuck Wright’s attitude, though his fight does have a significant point. I also oppose North and South Carolina’s law, because when someone grasps the courage to change their gender, then they probably really feel like they weren’t

Transgender bathroom

born with the “right body.” By enforcing a law which forces a trans person to use a particular bathroom, it is almost as if they are not fully their new gender. For me, it feels like they are still partially having to be a man and woman, which leaves little time for endorsement into one or the other. On the other hands, some states have created three restrooms: a women’s, men’s, and transgender bathroom. I feel this situation is more effective because it doesn’t divert a trans from their journey to becoming another sex. However, having a separate bathroom for them specifically may almost drawing another line. Readers, how do you feel about the bathroom situation? Do you agree or disagree with one person or another?

Dear future me, I hope that in the future, you, the world and those pioneers will be able to resolve this major issue in our society to  accommodate a fair, meaningful, and compromising way for people who are LGBTQ+, to live a safe and comfortable life. Together, sometime in the future, I hope that we will be able to erase the line that says don’t cross and place a welcome doormat.

Ava Long