DN
DAILY NEWS
LGBTQ+ History
Special Section
DNNews
Muncie OUTreach
The local organization offers support to LGBTQ+ youth through events like Muncie Pride. 06
DNOpinion
Not enough
It’s hard feeling like my queerness is something to be measured. 08
Coming out on your timeline
Nobody in the LGBTQ+ community should feel obligated to come out. 10
Ball State student organization “Spectrum” has a rich history. 12
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VOL. 104 ISSUE: 29
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Supreme Court halts federal worker rehires
April 8: The Supreme Court blocked a judge’s order April 8 requiring President Donald Trump’s administration to rehire 16,000 recently fired federal employees, according to the Associated Press (AP). The justices sided with the administration’s emergency appeal, citing legal standing issues. The ruling affects six agencies but is limited, as many workers remain on paid leave under a separate lawsuit. Justices Sonia Sotomayor and Ketanji Brown Jackson dissented. AP reports that over 24,000 probationary workers have been fired since Trump took office, according to lawsuits challenging the legality of the terminations.
Colleges alarmed as visa revocations increase
April 7: Colleges across the nation are reporting that many international students are having their visas revoked with little warning, according to the Associated Press (AP). Harvard, Stanford, Michigan, UCLA and Ohio State University are among the affected schools, which puts students at risk for detention and deportation. While some revocations reference minor issues or involvement in past protests, many reasons remain unknown. According to AP, college officials say this sudden move is causing widespread fear and uncertainty on campuses, and they are seeking clarification from the federal government.
Cardinals pick up international recruit
April 9: Ball State University’s head women’s basketball coach
Brady Sallee has been working the recruiting trail since his team’s MidAmerican Conference regular season and tournament championships. The Cardinals are fresh off a record-breaking season and an NCAA Tournament appearance. Giorgia Gorini of Genova, Italy, committed April 9 and joins fellow European Aniss Tagayi of Montpellier, Hérault, France. The Cardinals picked up two Hoosier State products in Butler transfer Karsyn Norman of Bedford, Indiana (Bedford North Lawrence), along with early signee Brooke Winchester of Warsaw, Indiana (Warsaw Community). The transfer portal closes April 22, and high school athletes have until May 21 to commit.
DANIEL SLIM/AFP/GETTY IMAGES/TNS
RANDY VAZQUEZ/BAY AREA NEWS GROUP/TNS
ANDREW BERGER, DN
‘Friends helping friends’
Ross Community Center market serves up food and fellowship.
Jessica Velez Reporter
During the COVID-19 pandemic, drivers avoided 8th Street Friday mornings. They knew it would be lined with cars inching toward the Ross Community Center parking lot to receive free bags of fresh produce and pantry staples during an unstable and confusing time.
The center’s executive director, Jacqueline Hanoman, said she started the weekly community market in 2019 after the nearby Marsh Supermarket closed two years prior. The weekly market is still serving communities post-COVID. Hanoman said
it has kept community members from resorting to processed, expensive options at nearby gas stations, which many resort to due to a lack of transportation.
While some may see the market as charity work, Hanoman sees it as “friends helping friends through a difficult situation.” To her, it serves as a reminder that supporting everyone, no matter their hardships, is a way to assist them in getting back on their feet.
Along with other volunteers and neighbors, she also checks in with residents during the weekly events, which are now held every other Friday from 3 to 4 p.m.
As volunteers pass out produce, frozen meat, canned goods and personal hygiene products, they
talk with residents about health, faith, and area events and resources.
“We are able to sit with people and get to know them and their needs and hopes,” Hanoman said.
Those conversations with “the same people who come in week after week” help build connections that are rooted in trust. She hears about the daughter fighting leukemia, the grandparents taking care of their grandchildren and the husband struggling through cancer.
Hanoman knows she cannot fix all the problems confided in her, but she strives to lend a helping hand, listen with open ears and provide a few recipes along the way.
See HELPING, 04
Ball State University’s registration for online summer 2025 courses will remain open through May 11, before the first day of the summer semester. The university is offering more than 300 online courses over the summer, giving students the chance to “catch up or stay on track to graduate on time,” according to its academic programs webpage.
Indiana House moves ‘more focused’ version of anti-DEI bill
Indiana’s House committee faced mounting criticism April 7, despite the committee’s “sweeping amendment” which rolled back significant portions of a bill that seeks to limit diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives in schools and state government, according to Indiana Capital Chronicle.
Campus State State Registration for summer 2025 classes open through May 11
Indiana experiences first measles case of 2025
The Indiana Department of Health is reporting the first laboratoryconfirmed case of measles in Indiana this year, according to Indiana Capital Chronicle. The case is of an unvaccinated minor in Allen County, and state and local public health officials are reportedly working together to confirm any additional cases.
Volunteers help unload food April 4 to the Ross Community Center’s gym in Muncie, Ind. CRISTAL MARIANO-VARGAS, DN
HELPING
Continued from Page 04
“It’s not as much about giving as it is about knowing they’re OK,” Hanoman said. “Even if they’re not OK, the smile you gave them or [asking], ‘How are you doing?’ helped them … It’s nourishing work.”
According to a 2017 report from Muncie Food Hub, one in four Muncie and Delaware County residents struggles with food insecurity. Many residents must travel to access necessities, and a lack of reliable transportation makes the journey difficult.
“Not everyone has a car. Even if you have a car, gas is expensive, [and] you have to carpool sometimes,” Hanoman said. “When you go on the bus, you can only carry what you can carry in your arms.”
Longitudinal data from No Kids Hungry confirms food insecurity affects concentration, memory, mood and motor skills in children. According to the study, learning outcomes suffer when kids experience hunger, and empty bellies often lead to behavioral challenges.
To combat these outcomes, Hanoman gives out free books and snacks to younger marketgoers. This is how she met 12-year-old Savannah, who comes to the market with her grandmother.
Savannah, who “stole my heart,” Hanoman said, now has a shelf full of books and credits Hanoman for inspiring her love for reading.
But as much as she loves to see Savannah and others week after week, Hanoman said she is often glad when she doesn’t see regulars come to the market. “It usually means they’re doing much better on their own,” she explained. To Hanoman, “Nothing is better than hearing a neighbor say, ‘I got a job.’”
‘Here to help’
Not all neighbors stock up at the market. Some come to offer support. Henry Brown is among the volunteers who pass out up to 5,000 pounds of food to 400-450 people each market day. He came across the outreach in 2020 while on a walk and has stopped by ever since to pass out food and talk with neighbors.
“I’m not worried about the glory. I’m just here to help,” said the 63-year-old veteran. “I do the best I can with the community.”
Brown described the center’s volunteers as “the village needed to make the markets run.” At 1 p.m. every other Friday, the center’s food truck rolls up to the Ross Center with donations from Second Harvest Food Bank of East Central Indiana. Volunteers and the center’s small staff gather to
sort the delivery into boxes. Each box is given an assortment of fruits, vegetables and frozen meals.
Although Hannoman started the market, she has empowered staff and volunteers to coordinate and promote the event. David Robbins, the center’s sports coordinator, has managed market operations for the past year.
“There [are] probably a few people every time we do the pantry, [where] this is the best part of their day, coming to talk to us and engaging with us,” Robbins said. “It might not seem like a lot of food, but the little bit of food that’s in these boxes is just enough to stretch that Social Security check. It seems like a small impact, but for some of these families, it’s huge because they depend on it every other week.”
Robbins would know. He grew up one street over at his grandma’s house on 11th Street.
Understanding the circumstances of his neighbors pushes Robbins to serve them.
“We barely made it month to month. As I get older, I see the things my grandmother did to sacrifice to get there, and that’s exactly what [I do for] these people. I do it myself as a parent,” Robbins said.
Whether it’s downpouring or 90 degrees, Robbins said he can count on seeing Leonard, a resident on oxygen and battling cancer. His
wife’s heart only works at 32 percent, but despite difficulty getting out of the house, Leonard pulls up in his white truck and always greets Robbins and Hanoman with a bright, appreciative smile.
Lending a hand
Hanoman has diligently worked to build a solid support staff and group of volunteers. Her husband, John Ambrosio, has volunteered at the market for three years and is proud of his wife’s communityfocused efforts.
“She raises the money, and she sets up the whole thing. We just do the groundwork,” Ambrosio said. “It’s nice because people are very appreciative. It’s nice to be able to do something for our neighbors.”
The Ross Center is always looking for volunteers to support its range of wellness, educational and athletic activities. Hanoman said she encourages any Ball State students or Muncie residents to donate dry goods during regular business hours or spend a Friday volunteering at the market.
Those interested in volunteer opportunities can visit the Ross Community Center website to learn about the market. The site also features a donation list for the market and the center’s other efforts. Contact Jessica Velez via email at jessica. velez@bsu.edu.
Volunteers helping unload food to the Ross Community Center’s gym in Muncie, Ind. on April 4, 2025. CRISTAL MARIANO-VARGAS, DN
(Top right and bottom right) Volunteers at the Ross Community Center help package produce April 4 in Muncie, Ind. CRISTAL MARIANO-VARGAS, DN
Letter from
Throughout our 100-year existence, the Ball State Daily News has produced special sections and editions of our paper. These editions have served multiple purposes, highlighting collaboration and preserving history in ways that only newspapers can.
In recent years and due to the current political landscape, there are greater attempts to erase the history, legacy and impacts of marginalized groups in the world, including campus communities. Bills like Indiana Senate Bill (SB) 289 join state and national level executive orders to attempt to remove diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives at various levels of our state, from government to university levels. Colleges, including the local Ivy Tech, have closed their DEI offices.
At our own university, the Daily News was able to find out that a series of Trans Week of Visibility events were canceled under preemptive action for SB 289. In 2024, SB 202 was passed and created a difficult environment for faculty and professors to have conversations and lessons about the history of marginalized groups because they may not be considered “intellectually diverse.”
We recognize that, as a newspaper, we are to remain neutral on political topics. It is not our job as a news organization to tell you what to think, but rather to provide you with the facts and history to come to your own conclusions and make your own decisions. It is simply our job to report the truth.
As we have done and will continue to do, the Daily News reports on the stories, histories and issues of marginalized groups, including the LGBTQ+ community.
The Daily News has created the 2025 LGBTQ+ special section to report on and preserve LGBTQ+ history in our community. As we do with every issue, we strive to share these stories through the power of the press, providing readers with access to them.
Sincerely,
The Ball State Daily News Editorial Board
KATE FARR, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
TRINITY REA, PRINT MANAGING EDITOR
OLIVIA GROUND, DIGITAL MANAGING EDITOR
‘Walk the walk’
Muncie OUTreach’s pride event, Muncie Pride, strives to support LGBTQ+ youth.
Linnea Sundquist Reporter
Muncie OUTreach, an LGBTQ+ nonprofit center in Muncie, was founded 13 years ago by Laura Janney to “create safe spaces, resources and education for youth.”
Janney said she saw a need to create such “safe spaces” in the community after her son came out to her. She said she wanted her son to find friends and peers who also identified similarly to him and started taking him to Indiana Youth Group, a youth organization in Indianapolis. However, she began to want something closer to home for him.
“At the time, there was no place in Muncie that was gay-friendly,” Janney said.
After connecting with the Unitarian Universalist Church of Muncie, the church directed Janney to Youth OUTreach, an LGBTQ+ youth organization
in Ogden, Utah. The administrators gave Janney the same framework for their organization to use as reference while building her own LGBTQ+ center for the residents of Muncie.
Muncie Pride started in 2020 with the help of SteVen Knipp, a volunteer at Muncie OUTreach. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the first and second Muncie Pride were to be virtual events. It wasn’t until the third year that the event was in-person.
Janney said the planning process takes place the day after the last Pride event ends, describing it as “a lot of hard work.”
This upcoming year is no exception, as Janney said the planning committee intends to welcome ample food and entertainment vendors.
Some residents of Muncie get involved in Muncie Pride as vendors, such as transgender author Paige Hendricks.
Hendricks said she initially wanted to participate by helping with the planning process, but after the release of her book in 2024, “Out of The Closet” — an anthology of coming-out stories — she saw the local, annual pride event as an opportunity to meet new people and “get more education [on the LGBTQ+ experience] and word out” about her book.
“That sort of thing helped my starving artist status,” Hendricks said. “As I did that, I just got to meet a lot of people.”
Hendricks has expressed gratitude toward Muncie OUTreach, saying that the organization was one of the first places she turned to after she came out.
“They’re very helpful people,” Hendricks said.
Muncie resident and middle school teacher Michelle Buckmaster-Zvokel decided to get involved with Muncie OUTreach after the 2016
election, stating that she felt she needed to do more.
“I felt like I needed ‘to do’ instead of sort of ‘walk the walk,’ so to speak,” Buckmaster-Zvokel said. “So, I got involved with Muncie OUTreach.”
During the first virtual Muncie Pride event during COVID-19, the organization asked Zvokel if she could make presentations for the virtual audience. She created a presentation on GayStraight Alliances (GSA) in schools, focusing on the organization’s data on schools.
After a student asked Zvokel to sponsor GSA, she explained that she was “never going to stir the pot and start one of these” herself due to it primarily being “kid-driven,” and it was the students’ help that got it started.
“It’s been the kids asking me to do it and to help them do it,” Zvokel said.
During Zvokel’s second year participating in Pride, she won an award titled the “Flag Planter,”
An attendee of Muncie Pride fans themselves Aug. 31, 2024, at Canan Commons Park in Muncie, Ind. Muncie OUTreach runs the event each year. JESSICA VELEZ, DN
which is awarded to an individual who is “making a difference within the LGBTQ+ community.”
Zvokel said the award was given to her because of her involvement with GSA, explaining that she has always been “supportive” of all her students.
“I want statistics that say the difference a supportive school environment can make in the lives of these kids,” Zvokel said.
While the organization and planning process can take a long time, Janney’s biggest concern lies with security for the event. She explained the organization is “always” worried about security, and she also highlighted how important security is due to the “culture change.”
“People are being a little bit more threatening toward us about having [Muncie Pride],” Janney said.
Janney said the goal of Muncie Pride is to “have a great Pride festival,” and uses this mantra to move past tough challenges the organization might face, explaining that “we just go forward.”
“We don’t stop until it’s done,” Janney said.
Both Hendricks and Zvokel explained that neither of them has had a negative experience while at Pride.
“We know what can happen, and nothing like that has ever happened,” Hendricks said.
Even with the ongoing concern for security, the atmosphere of Muncie Pride has been “nothing but positive,” Zvokel said, describing it as a very “joyful and affirming” event and expressing how “supportive” the attendees are.
Janney said Muncie Pride has been “more widely
accepted than ever,” swith the number of attendees growing annually.
“It opens up a whole new world for the youth who are living secretly or are not accepted at home,” Janney said.
Zvokel reiterated that Muncie Pride has increased visibility toward the LGBTQ+ community by being a “family-friendly” event, explaining that some pride events can have a “scandalous” notion, whereas Muncie Pride shows their support within the youth.
With the help of sponsors and vendors, Muncie Pride is able to raise money to fund the event.
Janney said that Ball State is also a sponsor, along with a number of others around Muncie. Along with the community helping Pride, many small businesses around Muncie are supported.
Hendricks said Pride allows information about these businesses to be distributed among the community, allowing multiple entrepreneurs to get their products out to the community.
Hendricks said coming out and visiting Pride is the best way for individuals to support, as vendors have valuable information and many attendees do not know what they are going to find, she said.
“Just the chance to talk with [vendors], answer questions to be there for the community and help them gain [a] better understanding. For me, that’s just as valuable,” said Hendricks.
Contact Linnea Sundquist via email at linnea. sundquist@bsu.edu.
Naomi De Fierce lip sync battles against Lisa St. Laurent and Luna Magick during Muncie Pride Aug. 31, 2024, at Canan Commons Park in Muncie, Ind. During the battle, the performers gathered money to donate to Muncie OUTreach.
JESSICA VELEZ, DN
(GRID). By 1995 AIDS deaths in the U.S. reached an all time high according to the New York City AIDS Memorial.
Turner recalls coworkers joking in front of her about how transferring money to the organization would give them HIV. She remembers them comparing the deadly disease to a game, touching hands and saying, “Tag, you have AIDS.”
The evolution of Ball State’s Spectrum through setbacks and triumphs.
Ella Howell
Lifestyles and Copy Editor
Spectrum has been part of Ball State University through decades of both victories and devastation within the LGBTQ+ community.
Being established as an organization on campus in 1974, Spectrum was created just five years after the Stonewall riots and one year after APA removed “homosexuality” from its list of mental illness, according to PBS.
Members of Spectrum have witnessed many milestones from the creation of the pride flag through federal legalization of gay marriage and first-time representation by government officials.
Possibly more important, Spectrum has also remained a safe space for students through general societal pressures and limited rights, as well as tragedies like the AIDS epidemic and the Colorado Springs shooting.
Spectrum has cultivated a space for students to work through those hardships and tragedies comfortably and openly as well as celebrate the wins as a community for nearly 50 years.
When the intent to organize form was submitted to the university, the unofficial name was the Muncie Gay Pride Coalition, but before its establishment on campus, the name was changed to the Ball State Gay Alliance (BSGA) and later the Gay Activist Union (GAU).
Gray Clossman was the leading force behind implementing this safe space on campus as the original chairman. He wanted to “educate the mis or uninformed with facts pertaining to homosexuality.”
He doesn’t recall any difficulty with starting the organization, but said looking back, he’s sure they had some guardian angels among university administrators and faculty.
Now, nearly 70 and living in California, he doesn’t remember a lot of details, but he looks back on his contribution to Ball State’s student life fondly.
“Around 1973, there were a couple of tables in the Student Center cafeteria where gays gathered, played cards and talked,” Clossman said. “We thought that students should have more opportunities to meet and to be comfortable in their own skins.”
He said they were aware that other campuses had similar groups, and while they started as a small organization, they “didn’t want to be left behind.”
Every era has its own concerns. Ours was simply to be seen at all.”
- GRAY CLOSSMAN, First chairperson of Spectrum
Their main initiative in the ’70s was to talk to and educate other student groups, and some teachers invited them to speak to classes.
“Most of the students in those classes had never thought about queer people as peers. We didn’t encounter opposition or aggression, but instead interest or incredulity, sometimes silence or pity,” Clossman said.
Just four years after it was established, GAU was disbanded for just as long as it had been around before the GAU constitution was revived and the group was reestablished as BSGA in spring 1983.
Two name changes and a few years later, Stephanie Turner was a graduate student at Ball State and involved in the group.
After graduating and accepting a job teaching in the English department in the late ’80s, she was asked to be the faculty adviser for what was then the Lesbian and Gay Student Association (LGSA).
By the time Turner joined the organization, some of the issues they were dealing with weren’t at all like Clossman’s experience. They were still speaking to classes, but for a very different reason.
“We were trying to do a lot of HIV, AIDS education. It was a very scary time before AZT, and a lot of people were worried about getting AIDS,” Turner said. We’d go to these classes … and there’d be like four or five of us, and we would have condoms … And it was amazing that they didn’t want to touch those condoms. They were like some kind of a cursed thing.”
Earlier in the epidemic in 1981, they referred to the disease as gay-related immune deficiency
“People were afraid of gay people because of AIDS,” Turner said. “We would have an annual picnic … Oftentimes, somebody would sort of come harass us, so there was harassment, there were pranks, there wasn’t violence, but it wasn’t very nice.”
In 1990, David Speakman was co-chair at the time and filed a report with Ball State UPD about a sign LGSA had hung up in the Student Center. It was stolen and vandalized with offensive language before being hung back up on the fly swatter.
UPD wrote in the police report that the vandalized banner was returned, and they suspended any further investigation.
We would try to educate people about what we wanted, which was just to live our lives without harassment and to be recognized as diverse,” Turner said. “We weren’t just like one kind of person.
Now, from an outside perspective, Turner recognizes how, just like from Clossman’s time to her’s, the issues and discussion surrounding LGBTQ+ rights has shifted.
She said looking back they didn’t necessarily have trans issues on their radar in the late ’80s and early ’90s, but she thinks it’s vital the discussion surrounding trans issues and gender fluidity continues.
“I think that we need to educate people about how important it is to self identify rather than having an identity imposed upon you,” Turner said. “It’s OK to be nonbinary, trans people need support not persecution.”
The landscape for people who have been
I think that we need to educate people about how important it is to self identify rather than having an identity imposed upon you.”
-
STEPHANIE
TURNER,
Previous
member and faculty adviser of Spectrum
many advancements as well as setbacks in the LGBTQ+ community over the years.
In today’s current political landscape, both Clossman and Turner recognize students in organizations like Spectrum have new challenges, but they said they’re glad the community that brought them comfort during hard times is still around.
“Up through the Biden era at least, progress has been tremendous! LGBTQ people have been much more comfortable and secure in their jobs and relationships than formerly. The first LGBTQ student organizations made gays and lesbians visible as classmates, neighbors and colleagues, and as people with families, careers and fun,” Clossman said. “Every era has its own concerns. Ours was simply to be seen at all.”
Spectrum’s roots stem from a small group of students playing cards at a table in the Student Center, but their impact has grown through campus and into the Muncie community since 1974.
Contact Ella Howell via email at ella.howell@
People attend Spectrum Gay-Lesbian Fest in 1984 in Muncie, Ind. THE INDIANA STATE LIBRARY, JEFFREY L. HUNTINGTON COLLECTION, PHOTO PROVIDED
FREE! BSU STUDENTS RIDE
Brenden Rowan
Visual Editor, “In the Limelight”
Brenden Rowan is a third-year theater: technology and design major and writes “In the Limelight” for the Daily News. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the newspaper.
The term “coming out” was originally used in the 20th century, referring to a young woman’s entrance into society, according to a research article by D. Travers Scott. The term was appropriated by the gay community to represent a homosexual’s “escape from isolation.”
After months of trying to convince myself that I wasn’t, I came out as gay in eighth grade. I remember sitting on the bus before school one day and saying, “I’m gay” under my breath, just to feel how it sounded. I got off the bus and met with my group of friends. I decided that the first person I wanted to tell was my best friend, Annie. I was so scared even to say the words. Instead, I texted her the rainbow flag emoji and stared at her. She looked back at me, smiled and texted back a thumbs up.
Whether it be to your best friend, a teacher, your sister or your great aunt that you see once a year, coming out can be hard.
Coming out of the closet is probably one of the scariest things that a person can do in regards to their sexual orientation or gender identity. Giving yourself a label can be affirming and self-validating, especially if you don’t fit into the “societal norm.” It can help you find your community and safe spaces to thrive in. But what do you do when you don’t have a label? What if you don’t feel comfortable telling people who are close to you? Why do straight people not have to come out?
Nobody should feel obligated to come out. For me, coming out was something that I felt comfortable doing. I was lucky enough to have family members who have always accepted me for who I am.
The first person I came out to in my family was my grandma. I was raised by my grandparents since I was two, so I always saw my grandma as my mother. I remember having so many conversations with her about being gay, and every conversation would end with me denying any allegations.
A few days after I came out to Annie, I decided to come out to my grandma. She was the most important person in my life, and I needed her to know. I wrote her a letter, left it out for her to read before work one day and just waited by the door, ready for school. After she read the letter, she called me into her bedroom and gave me the biggest hug, telling me that she would love me no matter what.
I grew up in a small, midwestern town where being gay was so far from the norm. I remember only knowing one gay person in my high school when I came out. In my senior year of high school, I remember telling a teacher that I had never had any bad experiences caused by my sexuality.
Looking back, I was wrong. I didn’t know that the things that were happening to me weren’t acceptable.
During my freshman year of high school, my cheerleading coach told our athletic director that I wanted to wear a skirt on the field, and he wouldn’t order me a uniform. A faculty member told a close friend to watch out for me on our senior trip, claiming that I might touch him whenever we were alone in our hotel room.
I was once told that I played a character “too gay” in theater, and that I needed to “man up.” Though I was never blatantly called a slur, I received plenty of hate just because I publicly said two little words: “I’m gay.”
Being gay isn’t a choice that we get to make, but coming out is.
Not Being Ready
The thing about sexuality and gender identity is that it’s not black and white. It’s not a scale. I like to think of them like a paint palette. Some people might have a little pink, some yellow and green. Others might have purples, reds and blues.
The Trevor Project suggests thinking about the timing of coming out. Think about whether you are ready to come out or if you need to sit with it. Keep in mind upcoming holidays, and if you are ready for the conversation to come up.
When coming out, think about who you are ready to let know. A few months after I came out to my closest friends, I made the mistake of telling someone whom I couldn’t trust. Within hours, half of my school knew that I was gay. I was caught up in the moment, thinking that this person was an ally, when instead, they just wanted to be known as the person who had a gay friend. Not being ready to label yourself is a valid reason to wait to come out.
Unsafe Situations
The summer before my senior year of high school, my grandma died due to complications of COVID-19. At the time, she was the only person in my family whom I had come out to.
There were some family members I felt I wasn’t comfortable sharing that part of my life with, especially if they were going to respond with negativity. I also had to make the decision of either telling certain people that I was gay or choosing to have a place to live. To this day, there are still some people in my life I refuse to come out to.
According to Stony Brook Medicine, you should only come out when you feel safe. For me, I only came out to the people who I knew would be accepting. Coming out to the wrong people not only can ruin lives, but it can completely destroy one’s mental health. Being told that your sexuality, or how you identify, is wrong can be detrimental.
Double Standards
During my freshman year, I met a person who identifies as lesbian. She told me that she had never come out to her parents, simply because they had never asked. I stared at her for a solid 30 seconds, trying to wrap my head around what she had just said. She went on to say that straight people don’t have to come out to anyone, so why should she have to?
As I thought about it, I found myself agreeing with her. Why should I have to tell people that I am attracted to someone different than what they expected? To that effect, I realized that coming out inherently sets you apart from other people and marks you as “different.”
Being a part of the LGBTQ+ community should be normal. We shouldn’t have to make it a big deal.
Coming out can be scary. Some people see it as a milestone or a major plot point in their lives. Others see it as a death wish.
Coming to terms with your sexuality or identity doesn’t rely on you coming out. If you choose not to, it doesn’t make you any less gay, transgender or any less yourself.
Whether you come out or not, know that you are loved and that there will always be a community that will accept you for who you are, no questions asked. Being gay isn’t a choice that we get to make, but coming out is.
Contact Brenden Rowan via email brenden.rowan@ bsu.edu
My queerness isn’t something that can be measured, and it’s not anyone else’s to define.
Editor-in-chief,
Kate Farr is a third-year journalism major and writes “Face to Face” for the Daily News. Her views do not necessarily reflect those of the newspaper.
It was guilt — the kind that sits heavily on your soul like a lead weight, the kind that twists in your stomach like a knife — that settled deeply in my chest at only 13. I was only just becoming a teenager when my privacy was invaded, my trust in others was shattered and my identity was used as a weapon against me.
Being queer was the secret I held nearest to me, one I wouldn’t dare speak to my friends or family about, and it led to years of guilt, months of abuse and sleepless nights of questioning what I was even doing this for. It was something I barely even allowed myself to acknowledge.
TOO QUEER OR QUEERNOT ENOUGH? “
Years later, I know people forget. I know that others moved on. And now, with a piece of metal on my left hand and some blanket of security by being in a heterosexualpresenting relationship, it would be so easy to let everyone forget. I always wondered if it would be easier to rewrite the past, to brush it under the rug and play pretend.
My queerness dulled, palatable and easier to swallow — maybe reduced to off-hand remarks like one I heard a couple of years ago: “Thank God, you turned straight” — would fit more neatly into whatever narrative is presumed of me. That off-hand remark, someone else’s version of my journey, felt less like a mistake corrected and more like a sucker punch to the face.
I don’t forget; I can’t forget.
It was a suffocating shame. The air felt like it was sucked out of the room when two of my friends told me they’d gone into my phone while I was sleeping and found out it wasn’t a boy who I was dating.
My secret was no longer my own, and there was a cost to that violation.
Blackmail, abuse, humiliation — a price to pay for existing in private, for loving in private — just isn’t the easiest to forgive and forget. I paid the price for daring to exist, even in secret.
I still carry the echoes of the past with me. The slurs that cut through the air like daggers. The laughter that followed
my suffering. The blows that rained down on me, physical and verbal, are potent reminders of the pain.
I remember being spit on. I remember being pinned down. I remember wet towels leaving welts on my skin and pool balls thrown at my head. I remember being told I was disgusting, wrong and perverted.
I remember the first time I was called a f—g.
I can’t forget the way I held my breath in the classroom, praying my teacher didn’t hear the names I was called — praying, begging God I wouldn’t be outed in front of my peers. In my utter fear, I had accepted that I deserved it.
But the pain doesn’t stop just because abuse does. It takes root in new forms and finds ways to make itself known, finding ways to remind you it’s still there.
They forget, but I don’t. Sometimes, I wish I could. My erasure is convenient. I only wish I could erase the memories. I’d erase the self-loathing, the suicidal thoughts and the memories of my attempts because I had accepted I was an abomination.
I was only 13. Night after night, I hoped I’d go to sleep and not live to see the next morning, not because what I was doing was wrong, but because I had been made to believe it was. I was drowning in a guilt that I expected to bury me.
It took nearly eight years to claw out of the darkness. Eight years to rid myself of the belief that my mere existence was
an inconvenience. Eight years of unraveling myself from the web of self-hatred and shame.
But the pain doesn’t stop just because abuse does. It takes root in new forms and finds ways to make itself known, finding ways to remind you it’s still there.
When I entered a relationship with a man, it felt like the world around me sighed in relief. I was easier to understand, to consume, to relate to. My queerness was an afterthought unless I said something about it.
It wasn’t until college that I was faced with another challenge when it came to my identity. My existence in this entirely new space has manifested into a question I never expected to face: Am I too queer or not queer enough?
The LGBTQ+ community was one of the only systems of support that kept me alive after being outed. But there are times when I’ve felt stopped at the gates, and it’s a devastating realization when faced with similar prejudices and restrictions as the ones I see in the world that rejected me in the first place.
We have created our own hierarchies, measurements of authenticity and worth, and we have begun to box each other in such a way that we are erasing the aspects of ourselves that are important parts of the whole.
Am I not queer enough because my past and my trauma isn’t visible? Because it isn’t talked about often? Because my relationship does not fit a mold of what’s to be expected? Because my pain is something that’s been mostly forgotten?
My queerness isn’t supposed to be measured by my suffering. My identity isn’t valid just because I have struggled. It is not dictated by the relationships I have been in and may be in in the future.
It’s not the ring I wear, the darkness that still looms at the back of my mind or the assumptions made when people see me.
My queerness isn’t a performance. We’re not supposed to fit inside a box.
It may have taken me nearly eight years to fully tell my story. Even if I never had it, it doesn’t mean my identity meant any less.
But I refuse to let my story be written by those who aren’t meant to hold the pen. It may have taken eight years, but that doesn’t make it any less mine. That doesn’t make me any less.
Contact Kate Farr via email at kate.farr@bsu.edu.
“Face to Face”
Kate Farr
DNSports
BASEBALL FALLS SHORT BASEBALL FALLS SHORT
Ball State baseball falls to Indiana University.
Zach Carter Sports Editor
Ball State baseball head coach Rich Maloney is in his 30th season as a Division I head coach.
As the Cardinals faced Indiana University at Bart Kaufman Field April 8, he stood across the field from two former assistant coaches.
This included Indiana head coach Jeff Mercer, a former Michigan volunteer coach, and assistant coach Dustin Glant, a former Ball State pitching coach.
“I love those guys. I root for them when they’re not playing Ball State,” Maloney said. “They’re good coaches, and I was glad that they were a part of my staff [in the past]. They’re friends for life, but in a game, they want to beat us, and we want to beat them.”
In the end, the two got the upper hand on Maloney, as the Hoosiers ended the Cardinals’ four-game win streak with a 7-5 victory.
The Cardinals opened the contest with momentum on offense, as junior outfielder Gavin Balius kicked off the game with a leadoff infield single. Then, senior infielder Alex Richter singled to give the Cardinals two baserunners.
A few minutes later, both counted for runs, as Balius scored on an RBI single from senior utility player Nick Husovsky, and Richter crossed the plate on a fielder’s choice play.
Following that, the Cardinals did not allow the Hoosiers to get into a groove at the plate. Ball State senior starting pitcher Drue Young only gave up two hits through the first two innings. However, that all changed in the bottom of the third, as Indiana tied the contest with a two-run home run.
Later, at the bottom of the fifth, the Hoosiers once again found a rhythm on offense and kicked off a five-RBI inning to give them their first lead of the contest. While it became a defensive showcase in the closing innings, Ball State scored three runs in the top of the ninth. But with a runner at first and the tying run at the plate, the Cardinals fell short with a strikeout.
“We scored two in the first [inning], and we scored three in the ninth,” Maloney said. “There were seven innings in there that we did nothing, and we had a couple of opportunities, but we just didn’t do it.”
Indiana finished the win with seven hits and seven walks, including three hit batters. In the
loss, junior utility player Ty Davis, Husovsky, who also had three RBI, and Richter led Ball State with two hits, while three other Cardinals each recorded a hit.
“Our pitching staff knows they just gotta keep us close because we can strike at any time,” Davis said. “I think going forward, if we can limit the big runs or the big inning, we can strike late as an offense.”
Though Ball State finished on the losing end, Maloney said there are things the Cardinals can learn from the contest to better themselves for the future.
“They have a fight in the dog and they keep fighting ‘til the end, and that’s positive,” Maloney said. “At the end of the day, what I did like is that I thought we played very good defense again.”
Ball State will take the field against Indiana once again April 23. This time, the game will be played in Indianapolis at Victory Field. First pitch is set for 6 p.m. The Cardinals will return to Muncie Friday, April 11, to kick off a home series against Northern Illinois. The game will start at 3 p.m.
Contact Zach Carter via email at zachary. carter@bsu.edu or via X @ZachCarter85.
Football Cardinals set for Spring Showcase
Ball State football and first-year head coach Mike Uremovich are set to play their spring game April 12 at Scheumann Stadium. The public will have its first glimpse of next fall’s team at 1 p.m., and admission is free, but spectators are asked to bring canned foods for Muncie Mission. The showcase will last two hours, featuring 11-on-11 scrimmage situations.
Men’s Basketball Cardinals sign transfer portal recruit
Iowa State transfer Kayden Fish signed with Ball State for the 2025-26 season. The 6-foot-6-inch forward from Kansas City, Missouri, played in nine games last season. Fish scored six points and pulled down nine rebounds last season. Fish has three years of eligibility remaining and was a three-star recruit out of high school.
Baseball
Tickets available for game at Victory Field
Tickets are on sale for Ball State baseball’s April 23 game against Indiana at Victory Field. Ball State is 4-20 all-time against the Hoosiers. Ticket prices range from $6 to $80 for premium seats. This will be the third installment of the series at “The Vic.” First pitch is scheduled for 6 p.m. from downtown Indianapolis.
Ball State head coach Rich Maloney walks by as his team huddles up April 8 before facing Indiana University at Bart Kaufman Field. ANDREW BERGER, DN
Despite a ninth-inning rally, Ball State baseball fell to the Hoosiers 7-5.
Ball State head coach Rich Maloney shoulder bumps outfielder Clay Jacobs April 8 before facing Indiana University at Bart Kaufman Field. ANDREW BERGER, DN
Indiana outfielder Devin Taylor waits on base to run against Ball State April 8 at Bart Kaufman Field. ANDREW BERGER, DN
Indiana pitcher Ben Grable bats against Ball State April 8 at Bart Kaufman Field. ANDREW BERGER, DN
Ball State outfielder Gavin Balius runs into home base against Indiana University April 8 at Bart Kaufman Field. ANDREW BERGER, DN
Ball State pitcher Zach Leduc pitches the ball against Indiana University April 8 at Bart Kaufman Field. ANDREW BERGER, DN
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