I finally kissed a boy.
Just kidding, he was French.
We were being introduced to each other during orientation week, and I automatically initiated a handshake. But rather than accept the hand I offered, the French guy leaned forward and put his face next to mine, like he was about to whisper a secret or something.
So, we stood there for an awkward ten seconds with our faces practically touching and my hand stretched out for no reason, until he finally says, “I’m sorry. I’m French. This is what we do.”
We wrapped up the kiss greeting, forgot about the handshake, and went for coffee like planned. With 500 international students from maybe 30 different countries and cultures, slip-ups like this happen often. But it wasn’t until later that I realized that particular slip-up was a milestone in my life. That was the closest I’d ever been to kissing a guy.
When I started researching study abroad programs I had a special set of criteria for my future university. To put it plainly, I needed a place where I, as a lesbian, could feel safe. Ireland being an overwhelmingly Catholic country, I was a little hesitant about Maynooth. But after plenty of research on the university, its policies and amenities, as well as Ireland on the whole, I realized Maynooth checked all the boxes.
Yet, even with all that research there were a couple of simple things I never took the time to consider. The hike up the learning curve has been pretty steep, but I’ve gotten a couple of good life lessons out of the experience.
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Neither “passing” nor “gaydar” are universal.
You can forget any guideline you had for recognizing your fellow LGBTQs. Gender expectations and general fashion vary widely from one culture to the next. This can be a really beneficial lesson, because it shows that it’s never okay and totally baseless to assume someone’s gender or orientation based on how they present themselves. But, it can also present an issue for those of us who need to “pass” as straight or cis. If you don’t know what stereotypical straight or cis society in X country looks like, you might find yourself feeling insecure at the very least. At most, you could feel like you’re painting a huge red target on your face for homophobia and discrimination. Which brings me to the next point…
It takes time to find safe spaces.
Back in the States, I know where I feel safe to be out, and I know where and when I need to try to “pass” as straight. The same goes for people I talk to, organizations I work with, grocery stores I shop at, and the list goes on and on. Now, do I always succeed in my attempts to “pass” as straight? Nope. But I at least know where I need to keep my guard up, and look out for my friends.
But in Ireland, I’m lucky if I can find the right bus stop.
Typically, LGBTQ people develop an innate sense of what a relatively safe space feels like, and the places you should avoid. But like I said earlier, the laws of home don’t apply to the world beyond. Big cities usually have some kind of Gayborhood with a few bars and places to stay, and you can definitely find an LGBTQ local who can give you some advice. If you’re lucky, you might even find some LGBTQ resources online that have a list of places to stay, eat, shop, breathe. These resources are essential to traveling abroad safely, and usually a good to keep a few of these notes on hand.
You’re still not done coming out, and it’s gotten even more complicated.
National Coming Out Day was just a few days ago, and while I have a solid list of concerns regarding this celebration, one of the upstanding issues I have is that people often forget that coming out isn’t one monolithic experience to be presented as a monologue on stage or before a camera. Coming out isn’t always politically motivated, sometimes it’s just an accident that can have positive, negative, or no result at all. It’s a daily experience, especially when you’re in a new place, and these experiences can be pretty stressful situations.
During my first two weeks at Maynooth, I was constantly tripping over my tongue, wondering whether or not I should just come out or keep trying to “pass.” Sometimes, I caught myself. Others I didn’t. And for the times I didn’t catch myself there was sometimes a pause in the conversation, the classic averted gaze, the flat “Oh” and awkward topic change. These are reactions I’ve experienced in the U.S., and so far nothing truly awful has happened any time I’ve come out.
On the contrary, I’ve had unexpectedly positive conversations with people after coming out. Occasionally my coming out has even functioned as a springboard for a discussion about LGBTQ policies in Europe. That’s not to say that I haven’t run into any homophobic people or situations, but I have been able to manage these situations and mitigate tensions. And in the aftermath of any of those homophobic situations, I’ve been able to lean on people here at Maynooth and friends home.
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The one thing that my experiences have confirmed is that access to support systems for LGBTQ students is absolutely crucial. From close friends to organizations or offices on campus, safety hinges on your ability to speak up about your issues and concerns. It doesn’t hurt to do a little research, or look out for buildings or signs with rainbows, but having people on reserve to talk to about the queer things you’re dealing with is essential.