Feb 222013
 

I like unicorns.

Who doesn’t? They’re magical, their horns possess healing powers, and they poop rainbows.  What could possibly be wrong with unicorns?

I can even tell you about the first documented case of the unicorn myth for Western minds (Ctesias of Cnidus, 398 BCE), how it came to stand as a symbol of purity, and elaborate on virgin-as-Mary and the unicorn-as-Jesus iconography.  While I’m not a unicornologist, I’ve written a paper (or three) on them, and find myself writing more and more papers on these mythological creatures.

And I suppose that’s kind of neat.

But I’ll tell you what: when I get out of my undergrad program, instead of having a strong in-class guided educational tour of religion from a queer theology perspective, instead of being able to talk from in-class experience about the critical intersections of non-normative identity and faith, I’ll be able to tell you about unicorns.  Because I can’t bring my full self to school, and it’s starting to gall me more than a little.

Why can I not have these critical dialogues? Because I have an advisor that doesn’t advise and has, in fact, compared me to a radical conservative Christian and said that I would not be fit for the M.Div program. Because at every turn the administration shuts down queer dialogues. Because they are silencing of spiritual, sex-positive, queer-positive, and kink-positive dialogues. Because if you ignore marginal identities, in good old Catholic fashion, eventually they will give up and go away, or be so silenced as to no longer be a problem.

So instead, I’m writing about unicorns. Because I’m a senior, because I don’t know ofany university where I can do this – in an undergrad program – that wouldn’t involve me picking up and moving, which I don’t want to do. Because I’m not sure that the malarkey of transferring schools is worth it, and because, sometimes, there are allies – at least on the queer identity, though they may not even know where to start.

I don’t need anyone to come along and fix this for me, but I do need to get it out of my head so I can think about it and what it means. I’m not bringing most – or even a significant part of myself – to school at this point. I’m ducking and getting through, and that’s kind of fucked up.  And because of this, I’m pretty checked out: just going through the motions somewhere out on the fringe, writing about unicorns and getting through the day.

 

  2 Responses to “And instead, I write about unicorns.”

  1. I told Jesse just the other day that,”sometimes you learn different facts and experiences than what you present to the professors to prove that you learned.” In several of my own classes, I have had to grin and bear it in order to get past a meglomaniac prof. Think of it this way, Nik. The offal you put up with is so that you can get past it and do the magic that you are supposed to do. Hey, maybe we could collaborate on a rousing, guilt ridden, suppressive book about heterosexual….unicorns (and modern mythology)

    • Floyd, at the very, very least, we should meet for coffee or drinks. I know that we may be a bit apart in the space-time continuum, but am sure there is a way to make the overlap.

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