page 12 The Signal October 22, 2014
Features
Monologues bring both laughter and tears PRISM hosts annual Coming Out Monologues
Courtney Wirths / Features Editor
Zach Dzierzgowski, a junior Spanish and secondary education double major, recalls coming out to his family.
By Jess Ganga Social Media Editor
It was a night filled with funny stories, emotional moments and dramatic microphone dropping during PRISM’s annual Coming Out Monologues. Students and peers filled the Library Auditorium to hear some of the club’s members and others share their own coming-out stories on Wednesday, Oct. 8, and Thursday, Oct. 9. “(I have an) immense sense of pride for TCNJ students,” said Megan Osika, senior English, secondary education and women’s and gender studies triple major and president of PRISM, about seeing her fellow members on stage. Watching from the audience, everyone felt that same sense of
pride, witnessing poignant and powerful moments of fellow students opening up about difficult times in their lives. Zach Dzierzgowski, a junior Spanish and secondary education double major, spoke about the difficulties of coming out to both his parents. In the end, however, Dzierzgowski knew his parents, especially his father, would “love him no matter what.” He considers his parents to be his best friends. Many of the monologues centered on family and the emotions that came with coming-out to their parents and siblings. Verbal abuse and sexual abuse were also focal points across several stories, silencing an audience rapt in empathy. In a monologue by junior sociology and women’s and gender
studies double major Tommi-Estefan Granados, he initially began with laughter, telling the audience the things everyone needed to know about him. “I’m such a macho man,” Granados said to a charmed audience. But soon after, his monologue became emotional, delving into his experiences this past summer when confrontation erupted between him and his family at his brother’s wedding. The auditorium was silent as he spoke about how he no longer lives with his family and the difficulties of leaving home, even though it was the right thing for him to do. But even with so much hardship, Granados was able to proudly say, “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Many of the monologues, moreover, were linked by their appreciation for the home the College has provided. Jordan Stefanski, a junior nursing major, said he knew the College was where he should attend school after visiting and seeing the giant Queer Awareness Month banner in the Student Center. He took a picture of it, then posted it to Facebook with the triumphant caption: “I’m home.” Although emotional at times, the night was still full of good spirit and humor. “I’m a large teddy bear of a homosexual,” Stefanski said of himself at the beginning of his monologue. He explained how in high school, he started his school’s GayStraight Alliance to give people a place to go.
“I was like the FDR of the gays,” he said. Dzierzgowski had many laughs throughout, as well. He adores his family, emphasizing how his little sister, his “little angel,” is someone with whom he can look at couture wedding gowns. Ryan Eldridge, the event coordinator and sophomore political science and women’s and gender studies double major, closed out the night with his own coming-out monologue. Eldridge’s story, as he described, was not an emotional one, but one that still affected him deeply. He said that being a part of PRISM has helped him the most. “(It’s) absolutely indescribable to be able to facilitate an advocacy event, which helped me so much when I was a freshman just last year,” Eldridge said, proud to have helped put together the
event and watch his friends and fellow PRISM members speak in front of so many people. The floor was then opened up for audience members who wanted to share their own stories, inspired by those who spoke before them. And, in response, some viewers bravely stepped up to share what they have gone through in their lives. The monologues were mutually inspiring to those who are a part of the LGBTQ community and to those who aren’t, creating a community that supports one another and allows its members to personally grow. “Growth is a fantastic thing,” Stefanski said, walking to the front of the stage in a pair of black pumps. “And as long as I can do it in my four inch 17W heels, I’m going to look damn good while doing it.”
Courtney Wirths / Features Editor
Meghan Osika, president of PRISM, introduces the evening of monologues.
By lantern light, PRISM honors those we have lost
Kyle Bennion / Photo Editor
Students gather to listen to speakers sharing their experiences with depression and suicide.
By Chelsea LoCascio Features Assistant
Eclipsed by the blinding stadium lights and cheers of girl’s field hockey fans, students shared their darkest moments by the glow of candlelight in the
AIMM amphitheater. What seemed like a seamless shift from laughter and smiles to self-reflection and understanding, PRISM’s Lantern Vigil on Thursday, Oct. 16, at 8:30 p.m. aimed to remind students of those in the LGBTQ community who have passed from hate crimes or suicide as part of Queer Awareness Month. “There is hope,” said Robin Schmitz, sophomore criminology major and PRISM’s community advocacy chair, in her introduction. “We are not alone in this fight anymore.” Functioning as a wake-up call for the community, the speakers at the event intended to prevent any more lives from being taken. PRISM, along with the help of To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA), wants everyone to “remember those who we lost (and) to prevent anymore … to keep as many names off the list,” said Mary-Elizabeth Thompson, a sophomore women’s and gender studies major and TWLOHA secretary. Thompson reminded everyone of this past National Suicide Prevention Day on Sept. 10 where 395 flags lined Green Hall, each one representing 100 suicides that occur annually, with a quarter of them from members of the LGBTQ community. Thompson, who has experienced depression for the past 10 years, offered
some advice. “It isn’t always obvious that someone is hurting,” said Thompson. “(I) encourage you to let people help you … reach out for help (from) loved ones. I guarantee they will care.” When the floor opened up, Jordan Stefanski, a junior nursing major and member of Delta Lambda Phi fraternity, took the stage and recounted a tragic yet uplifting story regarding a fellow brother in need. Delta Lambda Phi, a fraternity for gay, bisexual and progressive men, held a ceremony where Stefanski met a fraternity brother from Los Angeles, C.A. This brother later called Stefanski and told him about his suicidal thoughts. For hours, Stefanski listened and persuaded him to acknowledge that suicide was not the answer. “There’s always at least one person who cares … me,” Stefanski said, repeating a line that helped him during his phone conversation. “Reach out and touch … even if they’re 3,000 miles away. If someone is in distress … you can always do something. I personally believe it is a matter of reaching out.” Next came Disha Dass, a senior psychology and women’s and gender studies double major and vice president of PRISM,
with a memory of watching her best friend perform in the “Laramie Project: Ten Years Later” at Fairleigh Dickinson University. According to Playbill, this play is about the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard, a gay 21-year-old, in Laramie, W.Y. “There is still a lot of hate and sentiment and violence against qu eer individuals, and we need to talk about it,” Dass said. Despite the hatred and violence that continues off campus, the LGBTQ community is grateful for the College’s increasingly accepting environment. Megan Osika, a senior English, secondary education and women’s and gender studies triple major and president of PRISM, gave closing remarks about her appreciation for the College’s concern. “In the wake of all the destruction (and) violence, I’m so proud of (the) TCNJ community and their support,” Osika said. Osika let everyone know that when PRISM’s signs were knocked down during Welcome Week, the College’s students, staff, campus police and many others contacted her in hopes that this was not a hate crime. “People are looking out for us … people have our backs,” Osiak said. “When I leave this campus, that’s a different story.”