Queer Studies Class Actually Just Group Trauma Bonding With Homework

The queer studies class brings together a careful balance of students from different demographics; there are the ones expecting to earnestly nod their way to an easy A, the questionably intentioned cishet women who think the A in LGBTQIA+ means ally, and, most importantly, nose ring and hair-dye homosexuals desperately waiting to project (hard) all over the textbook, class discussions and any supplemental readings within reach. The ever-worsening state of the pandemic--yes, that’s still happening--holds us all in an arguably non-binary context: the ambiguous space between the last time we could safely open-mouth kiss our homies, and the next time we’ll have such opportunities. And so, in lieu of being physically held, collegiate tenderqueers are reveling in Holding Space, academically.

“I think it’s freeing. Subversive. Dare I say, revolutionary?” said senior and recreational over-sharer Ken Smith. “Never before have I felt so empowered to not only personalize every learning objective covered in a class, but also then share that egoic rumination in a public forum. Some might say that certain things--like the anecdote I offered last week about the queerphobic violence of the middle school industrial complex communicated exclusively via 60 seconds of sobbing--should be left for diary entries or super-sized finsta posts, but I disagree. We’re queering revealing tangents. We’re queering unrelated side notes that become the main-note. We’re queering overly personal interactions with strangers, and it’s beautiful.”

“Okay so, I don’t want to offend anyone, but I’m honestly a little confused,” said senior and openly heterosexual Y-requirement hopeful Genevieve Collins. “I’m new to all this stuff, but don’t get me wrong,I totally support the LGBT. There are just a lot more....feelings than I was anticipating. I have 300 words due Friday in response to one of my classmate’s crying sessions from last week with a minimum of four in-text citations. I have no clue where to even start with that. What I do know, however, is that my classmates see me (though I usually keep my camera off during class?), they hear me (my mic too?) and they think I’m valid. Whatever that means.”

So maybe the communal soul-baring often prompted by queer academia isn’t for everyone. Fair. But there are those who actually find it to be their cup of iced coffee, and the retroactive vindication via public validation for all those years spent being picked last for athletic activities or being assaulted at random by the rogue and heart-stopping “Are You Gay?” must be worth it. (Right?)