BY SIMONE WILLIAMS
Lions’ Pride Assisstant Editor

I am not a lesbian. I am not queer. I am not questioning. I have no desire to become a transvestite, nor do I want to become a transsexual. But, I am an advocate for GLBTQ rights.

GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and questioning. This is a rather stunted acronym in comparison to all the people covered by it. But, that’s not the point of this editorial. Initially, I was going to write an article about the Day of Silence. But, since absolutely no one I talked to knew what the day was, I decided to tell my own version of it. I’m going to talk about my experiences, both positive and negative, in relation to fighting for GLBTQ equality.

In high school, I was heavily involved in the GSA, gay and straight alliance. There weren’t many people in the club when I first joined; it was the “gay” club no one wanted to be associated with, even gay people themselves. Run by my lesbian Spanish teacher, Senora Irizarry, much was getting done. We frequently went to protests, attended student forums, and participated in nation-wide events like the Day of Silence.

The Day of Silence calls attention to anti-GLBTQ verbal and physical abuse in schools. It was started 12 years ago at the University of Virginia and is a student-led day of action when concerned students, from middle school to college, take some form of a vow of silence to bring attention to the name-calling, bullying, and harassment — in effect, the silencing — experienced by GLBTQ students and their allies. Participants can also wear GLBTQ paraphernalia. The first time I participated in the Day of Silence, I realized just how bias students, faculty, and staff were at my school.

Several times I was called a queer by people I considered friends. They didn’t seem to understand I was just supporting what I felt should be acknowledged. “Gay bashing,” as it is called, is just as hurtful as normal bullying and therefore shouldn’t be tolerated. Yet and still, it is. Faculty even liked to poke fun at the fact that I was silent for the entire day. The teachers I once respected came into a new light for me. I was hurt by their taunts and jeers. I figured they were above that type of behavior; obviously, I was wrong. Two kids I know were even attacked in the bathroom. The principal didn’t do anything and gave no reason as to why.

But my first Day of Silence wasn’t all negative. There were also good times, like certain teachers and students standing up for the silent people. My gym teacher made everyone who made jokes run 60 laps around the gym. The gay guidance counselors, who previously didn’t feel comfortable participating, joined in the first year I did.

After a full day of saying nothing, I left my eighth period early and met everyone else outside in the courtyard. My first year, there were only 12 people. We stood in a circle and read a short quote written by Senora Irizarry. And, after, we broke the silence by screaming as loud as we could.

What started out with only about 12 people became a group of at least a hundred by my senior year. There are different themes each year; my senior year was growth and development. It was easy to see the growth, both personal and social, at my school.

The Day of Silence was on April 25 this year and was in honor of Lawrence King, a 15 year-old middle school student who was murdered by a classmate because of his sexual orientation and gender expression. Though it’s a sad story, his will be used as an example of the brutality of the so called “normal” people. I feel that an increased awareness of the Day of Silence is necessary for the Saint Leo community. It’s just as important as Invisible Children in Africa and the war in Iraq because it’s happening at home right under our noses.