I've been here for years, but I can count off thenumber of gay people I've met on one hand.
Everywhere I have been, provided I stayed there longer than a few weeks, my circle came to include more people with homo-, bi- or transsexual tendencies than in all of my time here.
And it was not for lack of trying. I am never comfortable with generalizations, but I'll allow myself that recklessness today for demonstrative purposes: As a rule, my queer friends have had both a broader imagination and a greater capacity for courage than any of those who were straight.
And since guts and brains not only boost the opulence and authenticity of your life, but are also, astoundingly, not a common human trait, I found myself seeking these people out. Without much luck.
Why? Where are they? Is it just me? Or is the simplest explanation correct -- are there more bigots and a greater culture of fear here than, say, in Manhattan?
I'm skeptical.
Many people agree that aggression toward homosexuality stems from fear. It does. That fear is commonly defined as fear of the other, fear of the unknown. Yet I disagree; it's much more powerful. It's fear of discovery.
The human heart is not immutable. This is a well-known and widely accepted fact. We are not mannequins. Anyone who does not routinely overdose on E! -- the channel, not the drug -- will vouch for that as well. Love is real and respectable in all of its forms, however unfamiliar or raw. My entire generation, every last one of us, learned that from Mr. Rogers.
Homosexuality is something each of us can empathize with. Gay love is nothing but another flavoring of something we've been familiar with all our lives. Heterosexuals instinctively recognize it. Heterosexuals instinctively understand it.
Straights might be more willing to admit this were it not for that debilitating fear of being identifiable, branded, of losing the power of the mob.
The University community is based on homogeneity. The very idea of a community -- which we are spoon-fed from our convocation onward -- can be tyrannical. Cohesion demands similarity. Or, at the very least, it can't be created without segregation. In order for people to belong to something, there must be those that do not. And I'm not talking about Virginia Tech.
Those who do belong tend to make the parameters known very noisily. Is there a more efficient way to define our community than wading through Scott Stadium, school spirit up to your knees, bellowing "not gay" during our school's anthem, in unison with thousands of others, your faced painted orange and blue?
The University community climate has less to do with the university itself than we think. U.Va. as an institution does its part to promote the presence of gays, lesbians and the entire spectrum in between. There are clubs. Social clubs. Night clubs. Still, however vocal and prevalent they are, they're isolated, packaged away. Cleanly.
I'm convinced that my experience is not a singular one. If the University had a closet, it would have to be a walk-in. And even if gay people here are not encouraged to hide -- even if my experience is particular only to me -- their thread is not pronounced in the University's fabric.
And so, the obligatory columnist's advice follows: Prepare your voice, paint your face orange and blue and please walk out of that walk-in.
Katja Schubl is a Cavalier Daily sex columnist. She can be reached at katja@cavalierdaily.com