Sara BoydDuring my sophomore year of college my friend Michael told me he had sent me a letter and that he “hoped it didn’t freak me out.” I’ll be honest – I thought he was going to confess that he was in love with me. I spent the next two days thinking about how I’d let him know that it wasn’t weird and we could still be friends. When I opened the letter, I expected to read about his burning desire for me. Instead, there was a short statement, “Kayleen, we have been friends for so long that I think you should know I’m gay.” I was shocked. How did this happen? We had known each other for five years. How could I not have known?
I, and many of you reading this, have heterosexual privilege. It can be hard to identify because for most straight people it is entirely embedded into daily life. If you look at the person next to you in class or your waiter at a restaurant you probably just assume they are straight. When we turn on the television or go to the movies, almost all the characters are straight. If they are queer (note that in this article, the word ‘queer’ is used as a blanket term referring to anyone that is gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or fits elsewhere in the GLBT spectrum), often they play into stereotypes – can you say ‘Queer Eye?’ Queer people and couples often face discrimination and are denied basic rights that most straight people take for granted. Many of these rights stem from the ability to marry.
A current political hot topic is the question of allowing queer couples to marry or enter civil unions. In 2004, the Defense of Marriage Act identified 1,138 rights that couples attain once they are married. If I get married, my husband and I will be able to share insurance. If I ended up in the hospital, he could be immediately by my side and make medical decisions on my behalf. If I passed away, he would inherit my estate.
These are only a sample of the heterosexual privileges that I possess (for more examples, visit www.marriageequality.org). I have several queer friends in committed relationships. For them, these rights and benefits are not an option. They will have to go through their lives identified by the government as being “single,” even if they’ve been with their partner for dozens of years. Aside from the government rejecting their lifestyle, queer people also have to worry about rejection from their loved ones.
Last year I came out to my parents as a straight ally. If you are heterosexual, chances are you’re not going to lose much sleep thinking of ways to come out. For most queer people, coming out to friends and family is one of the scariest and more difficult challenges they will face in their lives. And it’s not as though they come out once. For every person they get close to, they must come out again and again, putting themselves at risk for rejection and lost relationships. And for every coming-out story that ends with support and love, there is another that ends with a child being kicked out of their home and losing their loved ones.
These are only a few short examples of the ways heterosexual privilege affects my life, and possibly, your life too. For anyone who wants to help stop the discrimination and raise awareness, I would encourage starting with small steps. Eliminate the phrase “That’s so gay!” from your vocabulary and encourage others to do the same. Come out as a straight ally. Come to a meeting put on by Spectrum (UW-Eau Claire’s GLBT group). These small actions can make all the difference to the known, and unknown, queer people in your life.
