Day 5 Into The Queer Apocalypse: Conversations Among the Queerios of Campus

UQS #1, student, 20 y/o, she/they.

Soundtrack: “Something,” Abbey Road, The Beatles, 1969.

Possibly the most stereotypical topic to start a queer column with. And yet, I would argue, the thrill you get from a pair of alternatively tied-up Doc Martens is an integral part of the LGBTQ+ experience. My friend Unidentified Queer Subject number 1 and are eating pizza on a Sunday night and chatting, both of us wearing our institutionally mandated Docs.

The mere idea that a complex and universal feature of the self - such as sexual orientation – could be ascribed to a brand of shoes or a certain way to tuck your floral shirt into your kilokilo pants is at the very best ridiculous. Sometimes, when I scroll a bit too long on the gay side of TikTok, I get a weird alienation to see how a part of my identity is limited to a set of markers – somewhat reduced to a brand, a “currency” to find others of my kind. Also, just try to put this into perspective thinking about gender identity: the whole idea that one’s gender should be directly reflected in the way they present is cisnormative by definition. Plus, the whole thing of pointing out behaviours and style choices as “gay” is also a staple homophobic thing to do, as I am sure we are all aware.

But, in the end, I want to look gay! UQS #1 points out. Their rationale is that if you are

by Cate Zanardi

already part of a minority, you might – if you have the chance to safely do so, she adds – want to make it easier for yourself to find people that are also part of it. If you are not part of a norm, you might want to be celebrated by those who share a similar experience.

I agree, but having mentioned how the whole idea of gaydar is kind of meh given how the idea of identity=looks is kind of meh, what exactly makes a person look queer? What looks are there that we share as queer people, across styles and gender identities and cultures and eras?

UQS#1 says that, in her friend group, the people that “looked the most gay” - although they were actually straight after all - were those who cared the least about what they were supposed to look like, given their gender and social role. A friend used to wear a lot of sports gear in an environment in which girls were expected to wear makeup. We know that this is a known stereotype – the sporty masc lesbian - yet I trust my friend when she says that their perception was mostly about the way this specific girl made it a point to wear what she wanted regardless of what people thought of her.

I had never thought about this on these terms before, but it’s beautiful to hypothesize that certain air around queer or queer-looking people to be given by a general sense of freedom; as if in ascribing to certain aesthetic markers that we consider part of our community (and creating new ones) we were offering to the world a liberated and untan- gled version of ourselves: one that shines through our clothes, interests, and favourite music. The idea is that when you have gone through or are going through the process of questioning hetero and/or cisnormativity, you quickly realize that any other societal expectation is also constructed and can therefore be challenged and revolutionized.

Even Vinterberg himself happened to be cheating; rumour has it that he covered a window during the shooting of one scene in Festen! The audacity!

Are you interested in questioning the importance of appearance and fear of bad reputation? Do you want to enlighten the unit movie night? Festen is the way to go this weekend. I assure you it is more than just 101 minutes of family drama.

We know that you can be incredibly stylish and revolutionary regardless of your orientation or gender identity. But at the same time, I also would argue that maybe that flair, that edge that makes you one of a kind also comes from an experience of deconstruction, of ownership of yourself against whatever it was that you were supposed to be. There is a sort of fluency in being able to embody a style, a cultural wave, to mark yourself as part of a community: just like in a language, we are the most aware of its grammar and unwritten constructs when we take it apart. And if you’ve ever reconsidered your sexual orientation or gender identity, you know that there’s quite a lot of taking apart to be done to get to an answer.

“Way to justify your deeply conformist shoe choices, Zanardi!” you might point out –and you would not be wrong. But just keep in mind, all of this is pure and quite biased rambling from me and other people of this community that have the misfortune to be asked queer-coded questions whilst they try to peacefully enjoy their Sunday pizza.

Until next time,

Cate

“itusedtobejustAysu,butnowalsothegirlwhowas my silent dinner date- she’s scary” – Marijn

“Maarten Diederix in boxers, almost naked”

“

People who walk past my window and make eye contact with me. And Naomi because she’s a brunette” - Karolien

THE BOOMERANG BOARD

Giulia Martinez-Brenner | Editor-in-Chief

Ivan Ryan | Managing Editor

Monse Martinez | Executive Editor

Nina Alberti | Executive Editor

Noor Hofs | Layout Manager

Jana Fragoulis | Art Director

Avantika Bhowmik | PR Manager very scary.

ME”

Boomerang uses wind energy printers watching me go, confused. While this might be the norm on campus, it is not where I am from. ‘Did you ignore our neighbour?’, my mum asked me this morning. Embarrassed, I stuttered, ‘yes’.

The Boomerang is a periodical newspaper. It comes out eight times a year. This is the first issue of the academic year.

In passing I asked her, ‘how are you?’, and then quickly walked on. She turned around,

But when I go home over the break these very greeting habits accompany me. They sit next to me on the train, they ride shotgun in my car and walk alongside me as I enter my parent’s house. Yesterday, as I was walking down the street, a neighbour greeted me.

"Where are these customs actually -com ing from? Could it be an international thing?"

Yet there is also some logic to these -instanc es of asocial socializing. We live on a small acreage, we trot down common paths, and frequent the same buildings. Not to mention, everyone knows everyone. So if we were to start chatting, we might never stop.

Or maybe it’s just a young people thing. We might just be unwilling to have clumsy conversations in our awkward states of being.

I am simply wondering. Where are these customs actually coming from? Could it be an international thing? Afterall, countless other aspects of expat life have seeped into our student experience. Or perhaps it’s an American thing. As Amazon packages flood the reception and the free world is indoctrinating us with their letter grades (by the way, the E is missing), why not also greet the American way?

Is that why we keep it short, why we don’t slow down, and almost never answer -truth fully? Of course, I am exaggerating. Not everyone on campus behaves this way and if they do, who knows, it might just be a personal thing. Still, I tend to miss the sincere and direct greetings that I’m used to, and these shallow alternatives can make me feel quite insecure. Is nobody interested in me?

I am not bitter or upset. I don’t want to hate on campus or cancel our cherished culture.

The weather is perfect and with an empty grocery bag in each hand I cross campus on my way to the supermarket. Walking slowly, the unfamiliar faces of first years glide past as I approach the gate. Then, from around a corner, a friendly face appears. It’s that person I talked to last week at that one party. Or that person I took two courses with that one semester. Or that person I have known since my introweek. As we get closer our mouths simultaneously morph into a smile. Forced or authentic, who can tell anymore. I raise my hand as if someone is pulling it up. I have turned into a puppet, my strings pulled by UCU etiquette. We walk as we wave. ‘How are you?’, they say. ‘Good, and you?’, I reply. ‘Fine’. And the exchange ends.

On good days or when meeting exceptional people these conversations may be extended. ‘Good’ could turn into ‘tired’, along with a brief summation of due dates. ‘How are you’, might include a short delay in movement, like when someone almost comes to a stop. And of course, there is always that special version of the campus greeting. That meaningful addition specifically meant to cover the tracks of our indifference: ‘we should catch up!’ No time frame, no mode of communication, nothing concrete. Sometime, somewhere we are all going to catch up with someone. Because admit it, we have all made these same vague plans.

This is a projection of my fear. This might

Or what about that sinking feeling of being frozen, realizing you might never be loved?

But this is all mere frustration, nothing else. Because the next morning, such a strong belief in love will come over me that I will barely remember the remnants of such mistrust. It won’t sicken me as it once used to. If you see me reaching for a hand to hold in Jumbo, thrust this out for me to read. I might fold it carefully and place it in the confines of a bag be the forecast of my future. It is etched in the possible glances I could’ve received but never did.

The very expectation that you eventually project onto your partner and later, tell your friends another version of it.

Is this why people feel the urge to make romantic comedies? The never-ending -docu mentation of gender roles and expectations.

This isn’t an expose or an opinion piece. I could never be able to make up my mind to call it anything. While you read this, feel free to psychoanalyse me, it’s only fair. And as you’re doing this, tell me - what makes someone worthy of love? What makes it acceptable or even appropriate to flaunt it? Walk into Jumbo and hold hands? Cycle and hold hands? What a foolish stunt. It’s this wild attempt at making yourself feel remotely better by fixing someone else. This undeniable urge to feel validated when they seek you out or even just look at you differently.

In the careful glimpses taken in reluctance, it is clear that people in love need no reason to hide it. It feels like a shiny new piece taking residence in the exposed houses during Christmas time. But I don't wish to fall in love. What a strange gimmick it is. Buy them flowers and lay your heart out. No no, I think they tell you to leave it unprotected.