During a diversity, equity and inclusion training I did earlier this semester, I became devastatingly aware of how much knowledge our campus lacks regarding the LGBTQIA+ community. 

For one activity of the training, we were broken up into groups and had to decide how we would react to different scenarios that represented injustices. One group was given a scenario that went something like, “A mother asks you why you have a Pride lounge in the Center for Inclusion and Diversity even though this is a Catholic university. What do you do?” 

I was taken aback by how many people jumped to reassuring that St. Joe’s is still a Jesuit university despite there being an LGBTQ+ presence on campus. As I painfully listened to multiple straight, cisgender students talk about how they would react, I gathered the courage to stand up and speak myself. 

Generally, I am social and outgoing without a second thought. But at this moment, my body shook. My voice trembled. My breathing became shallow. I stood up as my peers waited for me to speak, knowing that I was going to say something different from everyone else. 

I said, “As a queer student on campus, I want everyone to understand how hard it is for me to find other students who are like me. Religion is never an excuse for homophobia, and you should reassure anyone who is not accepting of the LGBTQ+ community, that SJU is not the place for them.” 

After I spoke, I realized that I had accidentally just come out for the first time to a group of people. 

Once this realization set in, my nervousness was quickly replaced with an overwhelming sense of pride. My moment of bravery doubled as a moment of progress, and suddenly, I was grateful that I had the opportunity to display my pride as a bisexual woman. 

I am constantly told that I am often too aggressive when I defend social justice issues and that I cannot “burden” myself to fight everyone else’s battles of discrimination. But once I realized that I couldn’t think of a time when someone who was straight stood up for me, I wanted to stand up for everyone else. 

I decided to use my strength and courage to benefit those who are not able to safely speak for themselves because I often find myself wishing that someone would do that for me. If you are white, cisgender, straight, male, have a high socioeconomic status, or are able-bodied, you have some sort of privilege that others don’t. So check your privilege, think before you speak, and educate yourself on the LGBTQ+ community.