Homophobia on The Beamline

Trigger Warning: Homophobic slurs and a discussion about general homophobia

Somethings to know before we dive in...

I am gay.

At the time of writing this I have only had relations and relationships with other men. Some in which I only enjoyed there physical company, some whom I loved, and when they left turned me inside out. This world is vast and lord only knows what will happen in the future but this is it.

I am what the kids call, "straight passing".

Meaning alot of people (mostly straight people, but some queers as well) can't clock me as an gay until it comes up in conversation. I don't know why, I am just trying to live my most genuine life and I guess it comes off as a straight. There is alot of internal community dialogue about this and the struggles of it (especially for my bi brothers, sisters, and cousins), which you can read some interesting commentary about here and here.

I am out of the closet and have been since I was 18.

I shared it with everyone in the world I cared about and put it on my god damn Facebook profile. When I love other men I kiss them (when appropriate) in public and in front of whom and whatever I want without much care. While sometimes people try to put me back in the closet when they make assumptions about me, I AM NOT! I feel this distention is important for me to recognize my autonomy

Straight passing is often seen as a privilege...

And while it certainly does have its perks, this power of invisibility is a hell of a two way street. Most of the homophobia I witness in my day to day life isn't from people calling me a faggot, or making me feeling physically in danger, or directly bullying me for it, or really any other type of overt action (tho it does occasionally happen). From my experience as a straight-passing rural gay it's more the quite understanding that many people in these conservative (upper and lower case) places I was raised and worked in have: that to be gay is to be weird, odd, outside, and otherly. It is exterior to what it means to be a member-in-good-standing of whatever community I am a part of. And ultimately that who I am is at odds with their values of what it means to be good and well.

They never say it directly, it's done via imposition through "jokes" that aren't funny, comments about "liberals" that have very little to do with policy, and statements they pass off as "fact" that are anything but. Most of the time they keep a thin veil of plausible deniability and if called out, scream the supreme zeitgeist-ical boogieman from the top of their lungs...the spookiest of all spooks...cancel culture. And while that specific term is more recent, these tactics are tired and true.

The things homophobic folks say, aren't really dog whistles. Everyone knows, including the queers, what they actually mean when they say "men should act like men," or point to a clockable gay and put a wee too much emphasis on the word "him." Also unlike a dog whistle this exposition is highly two faced. To those they detect, they watch there mouths, tip toe, and cautiously mince up a sentence as to not be rude. But when talking to their fellow striates in their presumed safe spaces, they let it all out, every tonal backhand, emotional slight, and "you know what I mean."

So what happens when they presume me to be straight (and therefore safe to bash some homos behind their backs)? What happens when coworkers, professors, classmates, acquaintances, and even people I would've marked among my friends reveled what they really think about the genuine person I am? The two stories I am going to go into are things that I replay in my head over and over. Where I say under my breath coward, couldda, wouldda, and shouldda. They are from folks that had I never expected to make me feel like that. I expect my cousin from butt-fuck Idaho to say some pretty shitty things but these hurt far more in spite of the things being said being far worse.

In undergrad

I had a professor Robinson (not his real name) who was a pretty uptight guy. He was a scout master of a local troupe, didn't drink, and taught Sunday school. What to some might have been crimson flags where not even yellow to me in the environments I was living in. I went to a small school so when it came to my upper divisionals I ended up having this guy alot, seven times by graduation. He was an incredibly dry lecturer, but, contrary to the opinion held by many of my classmates, I had a lot of respect for him. He was incredibly organized, very on topic, and always seemed able to admit when he was out of his depth without seeming like he was giving up, an all too rare trait at times in the STEM world.

I also had this absolutely amazing classmate who was often in Prof Robinson's classes with me (we'll call him George). He was unapologetic about ever facet of his life. Battling his own daemons he faced them with pride and honesty to all those around him. A raging socialist and Berny-bro, there was not a single conversational topic he wouldn't earnestly engage in to try and find truth while being respectful. Holding firm to his beliefs and colorfully pleading his case in our pretty darn conservative environment. A Bi guy that did not mince his words when letting everyone around him know that. His slight frame and locks of curly flaxen hair coupled with this tiny peace sign and ridiculous smile was how he greeted folks and was...on most days... by far the prettiest thing I saw (yes I did have a teny-tiny itty-bitty crush).

Anywho George and professor Robinson did not like each other. Among his many duties he was the at one point the department chair and as George was such a change seeker, he became the unstoppable force that went logger heads with Robinson as the immovable object. The conflict between the two culminated in a petition that was circulated around the department calling for, among other things, Robinson to resign. Some things changed to diffuse the situation and the conflict seemed to fissile out.

In the next quarter I again had a class with both Robinson and George and while the fireworks where over the animosity was still palpable. A difficult one about machine design it required frequent questions of the instructor for clarification. So I would pop by his office often to ask questions. Always the chatter-box and teachers pet I would strike up a conversation with Robinson. Most of the time they where benign and dull about nothing more interesting than regional vacation spots and the weather.

One some cold winter day I was asking about how to effectively size a bearing, and when the question was answered we again repeated the normal pattern, this time the nonwork conversation slipped into one about myself in relation to my classmates. I had a friend Lisa (who Robinson at some other point had referred to as the female)

At Some Point in Undergrad

At some point latter in the year I was getting a tour of a particle accelerator. These tours while amazing opportunities to see how the world of beam physics actually works and to see amazing technology that most people wouldn't get to often go a little too long. You start in the morning wide eyed and bushy tailed ready to do some walking but by the time you've had your safety orientation, rad worker refresher, physics lecture and toured the admin offices I was always wiped out. Often this silly waste of time before the interesting stuff was made faster by goofing off with friends.

While most of the folks on this internship where physicists there was one other engineering that I got along really well with. We made so many stupid jokes about random crap and I ended up laughing really hard a number of times. This guy was from the south and had made illusions to some conservative ideas (if memory serves correct it was something about Oregon's death with dignity law which I am very in favor of) but nothing that was out of the ordinary. There where some other colorful characters in the group all consisting of undergrads in STEM (mostly physics).

We made it through the introduction and where finally getting to see portions of the beam line. This particular accelerator was housed in underground tunnels which where incredibly humid and not well lit (very liminal vibes).

In the end