Coming Home
I was warmly greeted and offered a chair as I walked into the middle of the first meeting of the Communications Committee of the Hudson Valley LGBTQ Community Center. Someone handed me a packet and as the discussion continued, I began to browse through it. On the front page of one of the smaller stapled packets there was a paragraph that was titled, “Why a Community Center?” And beneath that it said, “A community center is more than just a building. It’s about a safe space for the LGBTQ youth, a part of the community for whom so many of us want so much more than what we had. . .It’s about building tomorrow infinitely saner, safer, and healthier than our yesterdays and doing it in a place we can call our own.”
And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? I mean, why did I get involved? Simply, I want to help change the future for kids who love a little differently from everyone else. I mean, that’s basically it. You see, I’ve met a lot of people in my 21 years on this earth. I’m a compulsive networker. (It runs in the family. I can’t go anywhere with my grandfather without him stopping to talk to someone). And I’ve met so many people just in the five years I’ve been involved in the community. Young and old. Experienced and inexperienced. Tainted and untouched. And I’ve learned so much because of these people. Because of them, I took the step to sound my voice in my high school newspaper–to speak for those who couldn’t.
A few staff members and I put out a centerfold spread with articles talking about how high school hallways and classrooms are a battleground for LGBTQ teens.
With that issue of the paper, we brought the Day of Silence (www.dayofsilence.org) to our school. With that issue, we brought the topic into daily conversation and made it somehow a little easier to both walk through the hallways and be gay, all at the same time (quite a feat whether you’re out or not). When I went to college and heard that someone wanted to start a Gay/Straight Alliance in a place that had never had one before, I got involved. I even ended up becoming president. We dealt with animosity and stereotyping. We even dealt with people writing ‘Dyke and Faggot Club’ on our posters to the point that we were going to buy our own display case just to protect our posters. In spite of everything we went through, I’m happy to report that the club is still active today at SUNY Ulster.
And now–after my former theater teacher told me about the Center–I stood up and became a member. I became a part of it all because this is what I’ve been working for, a safe haven for LGBTQ youth in one way or another.
I’ve always wanted to be a part of a place where our youth can learn and grow and know where they come from. A place where they can be safe and feel safe with the knowledge that there are others like them and they have nothing to be ashamed of. A place where all the positive facets of their character will be welcomed, embraced, and nurtured.
Do I expect this will all happen tomorrow? No. I might just be a toddler in the community, but I know just as well as the next LGBTQ person (activist or not) that it’s a struggle and that if it’s worth it, we’ll work for it. So, years down the road, if one of my children or a cousin or a friend or anyone else was to come out to me, I know I’ll have a place to bring them and people to introduce them to. Then–in this place–I’ll be able to turn to them and say “Welcome home.”
- Alisha Bell