News
for CougGroup 6/27/2018
Robin Held named executive director of WSU Schnitzer
Museum of Art in Pullman
June 26, 2018 WSU Insider
PULLMAN,
Wash. — Creative strategist and cultural entrepreneur Robin Held has been named
executive director of the new Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art on Washington
State University’s Pullman campus.
Held, a
veteran curator and accomplished fundraiser with 20 years of experience in the
Seattle arts community, will start Aug. 7.
“Robin
has a near-perfect skill-set to lead the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art into an
exciting, evolutionary next chapter,” said WSU Provost and Executive Vice
President Daniel J. Bernardo. “She is a bridge builder, an innovator, and an
entrepreneur. She has significant and unique experience within higher education
and the private sector and possesses an impressive curatorial resume.”
Currently
serving as a consultant providing fundraising and strategic planning services
for artists, entrepreneurs and others, Held’s experience also includes working
with not-for-profit groups and projects focused on blending arts training with
science, technology, engineering and math.
Previously,
she served in various roles, including deputy director, at Seattle’s Frye Art
Museum from 2004 to 2012, and as a curator with Henry Art Gallery at University
of Washington from 1998-2005.
The
Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art opened on the WSU Pullman campus in April and is
Washington’s largest public fine-arts facility east of the Cascades. Featuring
seven galleries and 14,000-square-feet of exhibit space, the $15 million
facility was funded mostly through private donations and is named after
businessman Jordan D. Schnitzer, who donated $5 million to the project.
::::::::::::::::::
Schulz,
WSU break ground on new plant sciences building
University
begins V. Lane Rawlins Research and Education Complex
A group
of administrators and state officials broke ground at the location of the new
plant sciences building on June 28.
By IAN
SMAY, Evergreen
June
27, 2018
WSU
broke ground on its new plant sciences building, the V. Lane Rawlins Research
and Education Complex, Wednesday morning.
The
state of Washington will provide $52 million in funding for the project,
according to a WSU news release.
President
Kirk Schulz said the building will not only allow for further research, but
also shows the level of work being done currently at the school.
“To get
support,” he said, “[we] have to have great ideas and go sell them.”
Schulz,
who gave thanks to many people ranging from state legislators to school faculty
and staff, also said Washington is unique for being a state which financially
supports higher education, leading to projects like the new building.
He also
said WSU has benefitted from support from many outside sources, making these
types of projects possible.
“We
have people coming to the table with resources that have … allowed us to do
some pretty wonderful things,” Schulz said.
He also
said this outside support was important not only for students, but also for
Washington’s farming industry.
“[They]
keep us competitive so farmers and ranchers have the tools they need to be
successful,” Schulz said.
CAHNRS
Dean Andre-Denis Wright, who began his term a little under a month ago, also
spoke at the ceremony and said the addition of new facilities helps with
recruitment of high-level faculty.
“They
allow us to attract and retain top-level scientists who know they have the
tools and support to conduct ground-breaking research,” he said.
Schulz
also spoke about recruitment and said this project has helped WSU reach the
high level of student enrollment the university expects this year.
State
Sen. Mark Schoesler, R-Ritzville, of Washington’s ninth legislative district,
who Schulz named as a key force in obtaining the funding for the building, said
the ground breaking is a “bright day for agriculture in Washington and the
world,” as the research done at WSU affects practices around the globe.
Schoesler
also pointed to the new Cosmic Crisp apple created by WSU as evidence of the
level of research conducted at the university.
The
other speaker was Mike LaPlant, president of the Washington Farm Bureau, who
called WSU an “integral part of the agriculture industry.”
LaPlant
also said the organization is looking forward to collaborating with the work
conducted using the new facility in an effort to help ensure food security for
people worldwide.
:::::
WSU
enrollment reaches record high
University
to increase on-campus housing, hire more instructors
By
Scott Jackson, Moscow Pullman Daily News staff writer Jun 27, 2018
Washington
State University is shoring up staff and housing options in preparation for the
largest influx of freshman students the school has seen in its 128-year history.
WSU
Vice President of Marketing and Communication Phil Weiler said the previous
record was set in the fall of 2015 with almost 4,200 new incoming freshmen.
"We're
expecting this year will surpass that record by probably a good hundred
students or more," Weiler said.
Weiler
said since freshman students on WSU's Pullman campus are required to stay in
residence halls for their first year, an important piece of preparation will be
ensuring they have a place to live.
Associate
Vice President of Housing Terry Boston said the university is taking a few
major steps to increase the number of living spaces on campus. The most
significant step may be the reopening historic Waller Hall, which has sat
unoccupied for the past few years after attempts to renovate the structure were
abandoned in 2015. Boston said efforts to refurbish the structure in time for
the fall semester are already well under way.
"Waller
was one of the original halls here on our campus and had a really long and sort
of storied tradition at WSU," Weiler said. "Back in the day, Waller
was the most preferred hall for male students, and the people who lived in
Waller called themselves the gentleman of WSU."
Boston
said his department will also be changing some rooms in existing dorms from
single occupancy to double and possibly offering an option for triple residency
at a reduced rate.
Weiler
said the university has already told older students who may be seeking
on-campus housing in the fall incoming freshmen will have priority. He said it
is likely there will be space for sophomores and above, but many of them will
be placed on wait lists and may need to look into off-campus options.
Tina
Mitchell, a property manager with privately owned Coug Housing, said those
students planning to live on campus who are wait-listed may already be too late
to make other arrangements.
"The
one bedrooms go really fast, so if they're looking for individual apartments,
they need to act sooner," Mitchell said. "All the housing for the
next school year will be rented primarily by March."
Mitchell
said her organization, partially due to its close proximity to campus, has a
100 percent occupancy rate most years.
In
addition to increasing the number of rooms available to incoming students,
Weiler said WSU officials are working to bolster staffing for freshman classes.
Weiler said the primary strategy to address the volume of students taking these
courses will be to hire additional instructors. Weiler said WSU is also
considering ways to use its current staff more efficiently and to encourage
older students who still need those core credits to seek the classes online.
Pullman
City Supervisor Adam Lincoln said a rising number of incoming students is a
healthy component to Pullman's overall growth because it ushers in youth,
energy and diverse ways of thinking.
"If
anything, it's really good news that WSU is able to keep increasing their
numbers, because that's not the case for many universities," Lincoln said.
"I think it's great when we have more students coming to live in Pullman -
it's definitely a benefit to our community."
::::::::::;
Cougar
Football
Washington
State quarterback Tyler Hilinski had signs of chronic traumatic encephalopathy
(CTE) when he took his own life in January. While this revelation doesn't
provide many answers, it does prompt copious questions.
By Matt
Calkins Seattle Times columnist
Originally
published June 26, 2018 at 8:51 pm Updated June 27, 2018 at 10:35 am
If
you’re expecting solutions here, let me spare you the time. Those aren’t going
to come within 24 hours of the latest
Surprising
as it was to learn that the former Washington State quarterback had signs of
chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) when he took his own life in January,
this revelation doesn’t provide many answers. It does prompt copious questions,
though.
If
you’re unfamiliar, CTE is a degenerative brain disease found in athletes (and
others) with a history of excessive hits to the head. It has been associated
with memory loss, depression, dementia, aggression, impaired judgment and other
conditions.
Tyler
Hilinski had signs of CTE at suicide, family says »
Brain
disease seen in most football players in large report »
Death
of a quarterback: Washington State’s Tyler Hilinski is laid to rest »
Though
it can only be diagnosed postmortem, CTE has been discovered in the brains of
hundreds of former NFL players. But for it to happen to a 21-year-old
quarterback who only played 12 collegiate games, mostly as a backup?
How?
That’s
what Dr. Julian Bailes, a neurosurgeon at NorthShore University HealthSystem in
Chicago, wondered when he initially heard about Hilinski’s autopsy. Most
examples of CTE are found in players who incessantly endured “sub-concussive”
hits in practice and games throughout their relatively long careers. They
aren’t found in second-stringers whose teammates weren’t allowed to touch them
in practice.
Sure,
Hilinski did tell his older brother about a hit that “rocked” him during WSU’s
game against Arizona last season. And Tyler’s parents said that they started to
notice changes in Hilinski’s behavior after that game.
But to
make a boxing analogy, it isn’t typically the knockout blows researchers
associate with CTE — it’s the 12 rounds of jabs that occur fight after fight.
That’s
why Bailes wondered what else might have gone into Hilinski’s situation. Were
there hits in high school that may have contributed? Factors outside of
football? And perhaps biggest of all: How much of this was hereditary?
“This
makes you wonder about the genetic aspects to CTE. Like everything in our
health, whether it’s cancer or heart disease, these are genes we get from our
parents,” Bailes said. “There’s not been a known gene that predisposes you to
CTE. This is a very interesting case.”
Here’s
another question: Could youth football have played a role? Remember, it was
just a couple days ago that Hall of Fame quarterback Brett Favre said that Pop
Warner should be outlawed. Hilinski played nothing but quarterback from high
school on, but his parents did say he played linebacker in junior high.
Only
problem is that it was only for a short time. And according to Bailes, youth
players’ size and relative lack of velocity remove most of the head-injury
risk.
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But is
it possible that, despite Hilinski’s lack of exposure in college, CTE is just a
whole lot easier to come by than most people think?
That’s
what Chris Dore, a partner at Edelson PC contends. Dore’s law firm is involved
in scores of class-action lawsuits filed against the NCAA by former football
players who feel they are suffering from CTE. Memory-loss, depression, impaired
judgment — Dore says all the symptoms are there.
“I’m
not surprised in the slightest,” said Dore when asked about Hilinski having
CTE. “It’s a tragic, terrible thing that happened, but unfortunately that can
be expected from the disease.”
Again,
though, there’s a problem: CTE can only be diagnosed postmortem. These former
players might be suffering from the disease, but it’s impossible to say for
sure (also, Dore had a bizarre theory that “behind closed doors,” Hilinski was
getting hit in practice, so take his words how you will.)
And
this leads to what is easily the most uncomfortable question yet: Should we be
careful not to overreact to Hilinski’s diagnosis?
Tuesday,
I came across an interesting piece from Yahoo! sports writer Eric Adelson, who
wrote about some of the misconceptions surrounding CTE. Though doctors and
scientists are glad that the risks of CTE via contact sports are coming to
light, there was a thought that appropriate concern had morphed into
counterproductive fear.
He told
a story of an amateur athlete who, upon suffering from depression and
memory-loss, was so convinced he had CTE that he took his own life. He actually
had vasculitis, which was treatable.
In a
column for the Huffington Post, Brooke de Lynch — director of the MomsTeam
Institute and head-trauma educator — delved into similar territory. As part of
an argument that the media’s CTE narrative is “literally scaring people to
death,” she noted how former NHL player Todd Ewen also took his own life
because he thought he had CTE, only for his postmortem autopsy to reveal he
didn’t.
What
happened to Tyler Hilinski was tragic, just as it was for Junior Seau and Dave
Duerson — two former NFL players revealed to have had CTE after killing
themselves. His age and position raised terrifying concerns about who this
disease can afflict.
We
don’t have answers or solutions yet. But we can’t stop asking questions until
we do.
………..
SPORTS
Grip on
Sports: CTE and the death of a young athlete
Wed.,
June 27, 2018, 8:16 a.m.
By
Vince Grippi Spokane S-R
A GRIP
ON SPORTS • Yesterday was another tough day for fans of Washington State
football. Heck, for all of us, really. Once again we are trying to answer a
question that has deep import: How the heck do we get our arms around the
effects of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy? Read on.
• The
term CTE hasn’t been around all that long. But over the past decade we have
become more aware of the brain disease and how it eats away at the mental
health of its sufferers.
As
research has been done and we’ve come to learn more about how continual trauma
affects the progression of the disease, its changed the way football is
practiced and played. But it hasn’t changed the bottom line: CTE is real and it
is a curse for many former – and current – athletes.
The
disease struck again yesterday, in the form of a well-planned and
well-intentioned media blitz orchestrated by Tyler Hilinski’s parents.
As all
of you know, Tyler committed suicide in Pullman on Jan. 16. Since then, Tyler’s
parents, Mark and Kym Hilinski, have devoted themselves to ensuring what
happened to their child doesn’t happen to anyone else’s. They have started a
foundation, Hilinski’s Hope, to raise money for programs that will, according
to its website, “help destigmatize mental illness.”
Yesterday,
they were on NBC’s Today Show. They revealed there – and in a Sports
Illustrated article that also was released yesterday – Tyler suffered from CTE.
An autopsy performed by the Mayo Clinic revealed the disease. That's the only
way, to date, we can be sure if one is suffering from CTE.
It is
heartbreaking to watch the Hilinskis recount that terrible day and its
aftermath. It is devastating to read about Tyler’s final hours. It is
terrifying to wonder if anyone you know is suffering from a disease that is
undetectable in the way we’ve come to expect from doctors and caregivers.
Heck,
many of us have probably looked back at our own lives and wondered if we are
susceptible. I know I have. In the past few years I’ve thought about the four
concussions suffered before I turned 21 – the four that I can remember – and
wonder if they make me a candidate for the disease.
But
with knowledge comes power. That’s what the Hilinskis are trying to support.
They have raised awareness of mental health problems among young athletes. They
are helping to move the conversation forward on CTE. They are turning a tragedy
into, well, what happened with Tyler is still a tragedy, but if it doesn’t
happen to one other person due to their efforts, then there is at least some
good coming from it.
And
they are educating. We have a story in today’s S-R from reporter Rachel
Alexander that delves into the science behind CTE and young athletes. It
contains some information I didn’t know, information we all should know.
It
wouldn’t have been available today if not for the Hilinskis’ efforts.
No
matter the problem, it is always better to shine a light on it. Mark and Kym
Hilinski are trying to do just that.
• So
where do we go from here? If a player like Tyler Hilinski, who didn’t play one
of the positions in football that involves consistent and repeated blows, can
develop the disease, is anyone safe?
No one
knows for sure. More research is needed. There may be many more reasons CTE
occurs than just concussions or repeated blows or genetics. It may be sports
such as football or soccer or others may have to evolve even more. It also may
be they have already made the needed changes. We don’t know.
Like
any disease, scientists and researchers attack, trying to decode its essence
and then figure out how to combat it. That takes support, financial and
otherwise. It also takes awareness and understanding.
CTE
doesn’t cause its victims to grow extra limbs or anything. It’s not that easy
to spot.
It
manifests itself through changes in behavior. That’s where we all come in.
Instead of shying away from identifying such changes and trying to ignore them,
it’s about being a conduit for help. The changes may not be a manifestation of
CTE. But they also may signal something else that can be helped.
“We
need to erase the stigma,” Kym Hilinski said on the Today Show. “What we’re
trying to do for our student-athletes is fund programs for their mental health.
They need it.
“There’s
not enough out there for these beautiful athletes that are so giving of
themselves to colleges, but their minds aren’t taken care of.”
…………
Increasing
number of young athletes, like Tyler Hilinski, suffering from CTE
UPDATED:
Tue., June 26, 2018, 9:38 p.m.
By
Rachel Alexander Spokane S-R
Tyler
Hilinski was far from alone.
As
researchers have moved beyond the NFL to look at the brains of high school and
college athletes, they’re increasingly finding signs of traumatic brain
injuries in young football players.
Hilinski’s
parents said on “Today” that their son was diagnosed with chronic traumatic
encephalopathy, or CTE, a neurodegenerative disease caused by repetitive head
trauma. The Washington State University quarterback killed himself early this
year.
The
disease, which can currently be diagnosed only after death, is the most serious
condition on a list of impairments and diseases linked to repetitive head
trauma.
It was
diagnosed after death in an 18-year-old high school athlete whose family
donated his brain to Boston University for study. The boy suffered multiple
concussions while playing football, and his brain was the earliest evidence of
CTE yet found in a human brain.
A 2015
Mayo Clinic study analyzing the donated brains of athletes who played contact
sports in high school found CTE in one-third, compared to none in the
non-athlete population. That was true even though 33 people out of the 198 in
the non-athlete group had a documented one-time brain injury from causes
including falls, motor vehicle accidents and assaults.
The
telltale sign of CTE is a buildup of tau proteins in brain tissue, which cause
the brain to shrink. That buildup can only be seen by cutting into the brain,
hence the postmortem diagnosis.
Tau
proteins are part of the structure of axons, helping to hold small, tube-like
structures together. Repetitive blows to the head cause them to detach from the
axons and break, forming tangled masses.
Dr.
Bennet Omalu, the pathologist who first discovered CTE in the brain of former
Pittsburgh Steelers center Mike Webster, has since become an advocate for
reforms in youth sports to limit contact and prevent brain damage.
Omalu
has reported receiving calls from the parents of middle and high school
athletes whose families are noticing changes in behavior following blows to the
head. Many eerily mirror the symptoms of retired NFL players: difficulty
focusing, increased aggression and irritability, and poor performance in
school.
Though
early discussion about head trauma in football centered around concussions,
more research has shown that repetitive blows to the head, even if they don’t
cause any symptoms at the time, may be the culprit. And head trauma is common
in youth sports outside of football, including wrestling and soccer.
A
concussion is a very broad term for any blow to the head or violent shaking of
the head followed by symptoms like a headache, dizziness, nausea or memory
problems. A “sub-concussive injury” is a blow to the head where no symptoms
follow.
Boston
University has become the leading national center on CTE research, with a brain
bank program that examines the brains of former athletes and military members.
A study published in January by BU researchers suggested CTE was linked to
repetitive blows to the head, not to concussions.
WSU
quarterback Tyler Hilinski suffered from CTE when he killed himself
Tyler
Hilinski cemented his place in Washington State lore in September with a 22-yard
touchdown pass to Jamal Morrow in double overtime to claim a 47-44 win over
Boise State. | Read more »
Researchers
induced head trauma in mice and observed their response, and also examined the
brains of several young athletes who had died while recovering from head
injuries. They found that early signs of CTE in the brain may be present even
without outward signs of concussion following injury.
“The
same brain pathology that we observed in teenagers after head injury was also
present in head-injured mice,” said Lee Goldstein, a BU School of Medicine
associate professor of psychiatry, in a news release about the study. “We were
surprised that the brain pathology was unrelated to signs of concussion.”
About
20 percent of athletes who show early symptoms of CTE have never had a
diagnosed concussion, BU says
…………………………………………..
WSU
quarterback Tyler Hilinski suffered from CTE when he killed himself
UPDATED:
Tue., June 26, 2018, 11:06 p.m.
By
Thomas Clouse Spokane S-R
Tyler
Hilinski cemented his place in Washington State lore in September with a
22-yard touchdown pass to Jamal Morrow in double overtime to claim a 47-44 win
over Boise State.
Four
months later, the sophomore quarterback, who was set to take over Mike Leach’s
vaunted Air Raid offense, took his own life with an AR-15 rifle he had borrowed
from a former teammate. Now his parents have revealed in multiple interviews
that Hilinski was found to have first-stage chronic traumatic encephalopathy,
or CTE.
“The
medical examiner said he had the brain of a 65-year-old,” his father, Mark
Hilinski, told NBC’s “Today.” “He was the sweetest, most outgoing, giving kid.
That was difficult to hear.”
After
Hilinski took his life Jan. 16, his parents said they were contacted by the
Mayo Clinic to do a study of their son’s brain.
The
results showed the 21-year-old was suffering from CTE, a degenerative brain
disease that has been associated with repetitive brain injuries and has put the
future of professional football in doubt.
“I
mean, we were in complete shock,” Mark Hilinski told “Today.” “We wanted to
know everything we could and find out anything we could. So we immediately
said, ‘Sure … we’d like to know what we can find out.’ ”
The
parents noted Tyler Hilinski hadn’t played that much college football.
A
backup to Luke Falk, Hilinksi led the 21-point comeback victory against Boise
State on Sept. 9 and played most of the game against Arizona, a 58-37 loss Oct.
28. With an injury to Falk, the Dec. 28 Holiday Bowl against Michigan State
turned out to be Hilinski’s first and last start for the Cougars.
Reached
by the Seattle Times, coach Mike Leach said WSU has already taken precautions
to avoid exposing their quarterbacks to unnecessary hits.
“Our
QBs don’t get hit in practice,” Leach told the Times. “They get hit less than
any other position.”
He also
responded to a question about CTE with questions of his own. “Are they saying
that CTE caused this?” Leach asked the Times in a text. “What do doctors think?
Is it possible to get CTE in a couple weeks? Or is this something that he
possibly had since high school?”
In a
statement, Washington State said the university has pledged to address the
mental health needs of its players, saying it launched four new initiatives
after Hilinski died.
Those
new changes will include a second-formal mental health screening for all
football team members and meetings with all varsity athletes to “help identify
individuals who might be at risk for mental health issues,” the statement
reads.
The
university is also adding a full-time clinical psychologist to the Athletic
Department and providing free access to Mental Health First Aid, a proactive
intervention training for the entire student body.
Hilinski’s
mother, Kym Hilinski, said the parents went back and looked for any hits or
signs from their son that he was developing CTE.
“Of
course, you go and you look at every piece. And there’s nothing really there,”
she told “Today.” “Maybe there was comment made here and there. There are
certain plays that you look at … certain hits that he took. But there weren’t
really any verbal signs to us or to anybody at Washington State that he was
suffering.”
The
interview on “Today” follows the release of a documentary by Sports Illustrated
about Hilinski and his family.
Increasing
number of young athletes, like Tyler Hilinski, suffering from CTE
Tyler
Hilinski was far from alone. As researchers have moved beyond the NFL to look
at the brains of high school and college athletes, they’re increasingly finding
signs of traumatic brain injuries in young football players. | Read more »
As a
result of their loss, the Hilinski family has started the Hilinski’s Hope foundation.
Its aim is to promote mental health among student athletes.
“People
need to keep talking about suicide and mental illness and mental health. We
need to erase the stigma,” Kym Hilinski told “Today.” “We’re trying to fund
programs that support them and their mental health. They need it. There’s not
enough out there for these beautiful athletes that give themselves to their
colleges.”
As the
Hilinskis, of Irvine, California, continue to deal with the loss of Tyler,
their youngest of three sons, Ryan, recently committed to play for South
Carolina.
Asked
if she had reservations about letting Ryan play football, Kym Hilinski told
“Today” that the family did a lot of research.
“Can
CTE be tested in the living? It can’t,” she said. “Is there a genetic or
hereditary link? They’re not sure. We had to find out as much information as we
can, talk to experts and let Ryan know.”
Ryan,
according to his Twitter account, wants to play to honor his brother.
“I’m
all bought into football, and I think Tyler would want me to do the same
thing,” Ryan Hilinski tweeted. “I don’t think he’d want me to stop.”
In
another tweet, Ryan Hilinski said he has been blessed with talents “that cannot
be wasted.
“We may
never know the reason why Ty did what he did but we know how we can continue to
make him happy even when he’s not here,” he wrote. “If you are ever suffering,
reach out to someone close, call the suicide hotline because You are MORE!”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Finding
identity and expression at WSU
June
27, 2018
By
Brian Charles Clark, Washington State Magazine
Bob Dlugosh
says that he and his roommate, Al, “were always chumming around Pullman
together.” Best friends, Bob figured Al for straight, but he liked the guy so
much he didn’t let it bother him. Bob did wonder if Al knew he was gay. In
1968, “gay” felt like a brand new word. So it probably wasn’t the one used on
the sign Al and Bob found tacked to their Stephenson Hall door: “Bob and Al are
gay.”
But
that’s what Robert Dlugosh ’71 recalls decades later. The noun was probably
something from the much crueler vernacular of the day: They were being called
faggots, queers, fairies. Al brushed it off, Dlugosh says, and the friends
roomed together until graduation. In recalling the sign of aggression, Dlugosh,
too, brushes it off. Others had it much worse than him. He has “warm and fuzzy
feelings” for the University. Dlugosh, an activist-through-education and
Seattle architect, and his husband, Don McKee, now endow a scholarship for
LGBTQ — lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer — students at Washington
State University.
For
Prudence Miles ’77, being outed wasn’t a homophobic attack, but an act of
defiance. Although open about her orientation, she only shared that with a
small group of other gay and lesbian students, staff, and faculty. But one day
the editors of WSU’s student newspaper, The Evergreen, published a letter by
one of that small group. Prudence’s name was on the list of signatories.
“There
was little me,” she recalls, “eating breakfast in the Regent’s Hall dining
room, suddenly seeing this letter with my name attached to it. Probably 99
percent of the women in the room didn’t care or didn’t know who I was — but it
was a public outing that I had not expected.” She says she was already a member
of the Gay People’s Alliance, one of the first activist and awareness groups at
WSU, and had volunteered for its speakers bureau. She got pretty good at
answering the question, what’s it like to be a lesbian?
Becca
Prescott ’12 came out in the safety of the Gender Identity/Expression and
Sexual Orientation Resource Center: GIESORC (“gee-sork”), or just the Center.
She discovered she was a lesbian while in college. Friends she made at the
Center on the fourth floor of the CUB, along with the staff there, shared
experiences and insights “about what being gay meant, and why people are that
way,” she says from her parents’ home in Montana, on break from nursing school
in Oakland, California. During her college years, it was precisely going home
she stressed about. Her mother, especially, was having difficulty accepting her
daughter’s orientation, fearing she had made some terrible error in rearing her
child.
“Having
that conversation at the Center made me more confident in having that
conversation with my family,” she says, just before she heads out the door to
go skiing with her dad.
Harvey
Milk, the San Francisco city supervisor and first openly gay elected official
in California, urged his “brothers and sisters” to come out “for your sake,”
and for the sake of friends, family, and coworkers. “I know that it is hard and
will hurt them,” he said in a 1978 speech. “Come out [and] once and for all,
break down the myths. Destroy the lies and distortions.” Milk urged people to
come out at least to those they knew well, because coming out is a tonic for
homophobia.
Coming out
is how community is created among a very diverse group of sexual minorities.
But it is no guarantee; it can be, as Milk acknowledged that day, dangerous.
Later in 1978, Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone were gunned down in San
Francisco City Hall, murdered by Dan White.
Opening
a door
Becca
Prescott learned a cool new word: “queero,” queer + hero. The portmanteau,
coined by comedian Cameron Esposito on her podcast, Queery, refers to activists
such as Harvey Milk, Ellen DeGeneres, or Esposito herself. Much closer to home
though, there is the quotidian grind and exaltation of “the little things,”
says Melynda Huskey, the first permanent director of the Center. That we can
discover our orientations and identities at all in such an overwhelmingly
straight, gender-binary—and frequently violently homophobic — culture is the
real act of heroism. Huskey recalls students who walked past the always-open
door of the Center, time and again, sometimes slowing down, maybe peering in.
But only some ever made it in.
That
door, always open, is not just a metaphor for LGBTQ community; it really is one
of the entrances to queer culture at WSU.
As Paul
Kwon, a psychology professor at WSU Pullman, says, partaking in community —
having people to talk to and allies to count on — is the most important factor
in the resilience of lesbians, gay men, and bisexuals. Minorities have forever
formed communities, when possible, trying to strike an equitable equilibrium
with the dominant culture.
Matthew
Jeffries, the Center’s current director, says that because Washington state—and
Washington State University — have long been models of inclusion and diversity,
we have a responsibility to keep striving for civil rights for all.
But WSU
and the state weren’t always that way. Just this year, Washington state
legislators finally passed a bill that outlaws conversion therapy, a
long-disproven “cure” for emergent, juvenile homosexuality that’s still legal
in 40 other states.
Dlugosh
summarizes the situation in Pullman in the late ’60s, but he might be talking
about just about anywhere in the United States other than a few major urban
centers — such as San Francisco, New York, and Seattle. He hesitates, then
says, “How do I put this? I knew some other gay people — I mean, they seemed
gay to me but we never talked about it. It was very frustrating for all of us
students.” Dlugosh’s recollection is that there was no gay liberation movement,
as it was only beginning to be called, during his years in Pullman.
Alumni
mentioned in various Evergreen articles, and especially in the student
newspaper’s letters section, are difficult to find. Dlugosh says that when he
tried to kickstart an LGBT alumni group, “we found [many alumni] had a bad
taste in their mouth for WSU not being very progressive back in those days.
They did not have warm and fuzzy feelings.” It’s not surprising; the virulent
homophobia in some of the letters the Evergreen published from the early 1970s
until as recently as the late 1990s is sometimes horrifying. To the paper’s
credit, the editorials were mostly in favor of giving gay people that right to
live — a “right” as ominous as it sounds — and have at least some civil rights
(if not all the rights, such as to not be fired from a job for one’s sexual
identity).
Dlugosh
graduated in 1971. By the time Prudence Miles got to Pullman in 1973, things
were perking up. She says she must have seen a poster for Gay Awareness and
started going to meetings. Then, as now, what to call an alliance as diverse as
a group of sexual minorities was always a struggle, so in the Evergreen, this
group, or perhaps another, also went by Gay Alliance or Gay People’s Alliance,
with the name gradually becoming more inclusive over the years as it became
more inclusive of identities.
In any
case, Miles was soon part of what was then a community transitioning from
“protective invisibility” to out, proud, and loud. She misses the diversity of
what was then a sort of secretive social club. Secretive for self-defense, but
it was nevertheless a group of people who spent their time rapping about awareness,
rights, and the simple observation that coming out to people changed minds and
softened hard hearts. That’s why, she says, “there were a group of us who were
willing to go out and talk when asked.”
The Gay
Alliance’s speakers bureau would do interviews on the campus radio station, or
give talks and answer questions at residence halls and sorority and fraternity
houses.
“Human
sexuality classes always wanted gay people to come and talk,” Miles recalls.
“You try to talk to people: it’s not scary and it’s not going to change who you
are if somebody you know is gay. You’re the same, they’re the same. It’s just,
they’re in love with somebody different.”
Miles
spoke up because of the tonic effect of coming out. Even more important, she
says, “You never know if someone in that room is scared and questioning. They
need to hear it’s OK.”
Community
as resilience
The
letter to the Evergreen where Miles’ name was signed really sticks out as a
sign of just how bad things were for LGBTQ people in the 1970s. Published on
December 4, 1973—while Miles was still in her first semester of college—the
letter refers to an ASWSU survey asking if gay people should have “the equal
rights supposedly guaranteed to all human beings.” A majority of respondents
said no, gay people should not have basic human rights. But, the letter writers
say, here’s “a good word for the ASWSU Assembly” for arguing otherwise and
counting LGBTQ people among the human.
For his
part, Dlugosh says he worked at passing for straight: the best defense against
homophobia was camouflage. For many people, it still is; Becca Prescott is
quite candid about that. But that approach to life results in an internal
self-conflict that degrades mental and emotional health.
An
anonymous interview in a video produced in 1977 by KUID called “From Sweet Land
of Liberty: Moscow/Pullman Gay Community” captures this double consciousness
perfectly. The interview subject is in shadow, but clearly bearded and, says
the on-camera reporter, a faculty member, likely from the University of Idaho.
“You have to establish a dual personality,” the man in the shadows says. You
have to have a straight face that you put on “so you can go out and cope and
function with straight people. And then, somewhere between your house and the
office, you become somebody else, the person who no longer plays games with
himself.”
“What
if you were discovered?” the interviewer asks. “I’d be fired immediately. Shock
and appall by my colleagues. My students would freak out. My parents don’t
know, and it would be really difficult to tell them. My father would disown me.
I’d like to stop being a dual personality… . It’s a lonely life.”
Lonely,
and not at all healthy. Minority stress is the fracture line between a stigmatized
minority and the dominant culture. It drives its victims to drugs and suicide
at a much higher rate than the straight, white population.
Kwon
enumerates the factors that defuse the chronic wear and tear caused by minority
stress and that help create resilience. The most important, he says, is having
a social support network, being connected to a positive community. Having hope
and optimism about the future, where oppressors have a change of heart, and
being emotionally aware are the other two major contributors to resilience and
mental health.
Emotional
self-awareness is a little counterintuitive, Kwon says. “If someone is targeted
with an insult, the intuitive thing might be to immediately push your emotions
aside, to try to not feel bad about what just happened. But what we know in
psychology is that kind of emotional suppression is more damaging than
accepting that there are going to be some uncomfortable emotions, and that we
need to process and spend time and deal with those emotions wisely.” And, he
says, “rates of mental health disorders are about twice in LGB folks — I
suspect it would be even higher in trans folks — compared to non-LBGT
individuals.
“Some
sources of minority stress can be very blatant,” Kwon continues, “like having
laws that are discriminatory. But it’s also more subtle, just feeling that you
can’t be yourself, that you have to conceal your identity. Or if you see
negative messages in the media, or even overhear a remark that’s not personally
directed at you, it still impacts your sense of being OK with who you are.”
A 2016
WSU Health and Wellness Services survey indicates just how many people are
potentially affected by minority stress resulting from homophobia and
microaggression. Nearly 15 percent of student respondents indicated they were
not heterosexual.
Miles
remembers the excitement of discovering that the LGBTQ community was blossoming
into a social movement in the early 1970s. “A woman friend called me up and
said, ‘Come over, come over!’ She had this album of women’s music! Women
singing about women!” Miles and her friends would sit and listen to Lavender
Jane Loves Women, Meg Christian, Ferron, and many other voices that found their
way to vinyl via a burgeoning network of labels and festivals.
“We
knew we were becoming more visible and we believed in possibilities,” Miles
says. “And I think over the years we’ve gotten a lot of those possibilities but
with it has come pain.”
The
pain comes in the form of a seemingly endless backlash. According to a classic
definition of prejudice by psychologist Gordon Allport, backlash is due to the
fact that “prejudice treats persons as categories rather than as individuals.
Because someone is black, female, homosexual, and so forth, the prejudiced
person needs no further information on which to base his evaluations and
behavior…. A summarizing, administrative spirit prevails.”
Prejudice,
including homophobia, has little to do with facts and everything to do with
categorizing nemeses. Instead of a life-affirming view of the world where other
people are a potential source of support, people who suffer from prejudice,
writes Thomas Henricks in a 2016 Psychology Today article that expands on
Allport’s analysis, “preoccupy themselves with social competition. Life
strategies center on victory and defeat, offense and defense. Resources are
comprehended as difficult-to-attain prizes, awarded to individuals and their
allies.”
As Kwon
says, “Part of what I teach in my diversity class is the idea of privilege, the
unconferred advantage that certain people have based on their demographics. I
think what we’ve seen is that people are extremely reluctant to give up their
privilege. And I think that is what results in this kind of backlash. People in
power feel they are losing that kind of privilege and they retaliate by
reinforcing that privilege. I think we know prejudice rises when there is more
competition over scarce resources.”
Matthew
Jeffries concurs that education is important. One of the goals of the Center’s
work is to offer workshops and trainings that educate faculty, staff, and
students about the realities of being a minority. “We are here to create
cognitive dissonance in students, so that the next time they think before
speaking: ‘Oh, maybe I shouldn’t say “That’s so gay.”’ We can’t unlearn
behaviors for students that they’ve acquired over 20 years. But even tiny
shifts in the way people go about the world — I’ll take that.”
Just as
gendered language is a constant source of microaggressions against women, so
too are all the default heteronormative things we say and do that ramp up
minority stress; it’s death by a thousand cuts as your true self is again and
again diminished and erased—or worse. Violent crimes against sexual minorities
are on the rise, according to studies by the Southern Poverty Law Center and
the Human Rights Campaign. Mark Potok, a senior fellow at the SPLC, wrote that
“LGBT people are more than twice as likely to be the target of a violent
hate-crime than Jews or black people.”
And a
lot of that violence is invisible. It does not rise to the scale of the 2016
mass murder at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, but is rather in homes,
highways, streets, and schools, according to the HRC study.
But
it’s hardly a competition to see who can suffer the most. One of the great
realizations of the past few decades has been the idea of “intersectionality.”
The term was coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, a Columbia Law School professor, in a
1998 paper that sought to illuminate the oppression of African-American women.
The term has since been taken up by those seeking to elucidate the inherently
intertwined workings of prejudice against all minorities. The result has been a
networking of minorities and their allies fighting together against racial and
identity oppression.
As
Jeffries says, “The major issues are really intersectional. It’s not just that
they’re LGBT, it’s they’re LGBT and a student of color. That adds a lot of
complexity and creates a lot of work on their part.” It’s as Margot Lee
Shetterly wrote in Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of
the Black Women Who Helped Win the Space Race, about the women who were working
in a Jim Crow, male-dominated world: They had to work twice as hard to get half
as much.
The
summer that Becca Prescott read The Laramie Project—the play about the brutal
murder of a gay man, Matthew Shepard, in Wyoming—she realized that her personal
experience intersects with those of people in the LGBTQ community as well as
other minorities. “The community is so incredibly diverse,” she says, as she
realized that “if I’m going to be an ally to other parts of the community, it
is going to take educating myself.” One of the ways she does that is by
reading, networking, and, yes, listening to podcasts, such as Cameron
Esposito’s Queery.
Even
before the word intersectionality was coined by Crenshaw, students at WSU have
been working in that direction. Melynda Huskey recalls that “we had a Filipina
student who worked with students and me to put together something called Brown
and Out,” in 1997. “It was an opportunity to bring together white LGBT
students, LGBT students of color, and students of color who did not identify as
LGBT for a facilitated discussion about being your full self in all places.”
Huskey says that Brown and Out was part of the reason that the Center, after
the CUB was remodeled, moved to the fourth floor, “the same floor as all the
multicultural student centers because there’s a large community of folks with
many identities who needed support.”
Challenging
the future
Civil
rights for LGBTQ people are improving, at least in Washington. WSU has
certainly played a significant role in that progress. WSU ranks among the top
25 in the national Campus Pride Index for its progressive policies and support
networks. But, as Nolan Yaws-Gonzalez says, the support is uneven across WSU’s
campuses.
Based
at WSU Vancouver, where he is the assistant manager of student services,
Yaws-Gonzalez is also a member of the President’s Commission for Gender
Identity/Expression and Sexual Orientation, which has representatives from
every WSU campus. The commission advocates for policies that contribute to a
positive campus climate for LGBTQ people. One of the goals is to be less reactive
and more proactive, Yaws-Gonzalez says.
“If
people want to come to a meeting and raise things, to ask us to partner, we
want that,” he says. “There’s a lot of people with a lot of energy and
motivation on the campuses” and the commission wants to tap into that.
As
hopeful as conditions are in Washington, Huskey points out that we still have a
long way to go. “In the U.S. we are now seeing significant pushback around LGBT
civil rights. We thought marriage was settled but it is not clear to me that it
is going to stay settled. We have not achieved solid employment rights at a
national level. There are many states where it is still perfectly legal to
terminate someone from their job for the non-job-performance related fact that
they have an LGBT identity.
“We
have enjoyed civil rights for such a short period of time,” it’s hard to see
them start to slip away. “It’s one thing for someone of my age. I went for a
long time without the right to be married or for my children to be the children
of both of their parents. But for young people—they started out thinking they
would have those rights and to lose them is much harder if you didn’t know that
could happen. We’ve got to move forward.”
Kwon
says that “folks have been inspired to be more vocal, to be more active
politically… . But it’s draining, and you hear that all the time. People who
are really making those efforts are just exhausted.” Kwon, who offers
counseling services one day a week in Lewiston, Idaho, admits to sometimes
feeling “paralyzed by what is going on nationally or even statewide.” So he
focuses on those things where he can make a difference: teaching and working
with clients. And reminding people to build community, be emotionally
self-aware, and have hope.
Prudence
Miles offers a ray of hope.
“I work
for Seattle Parks and Recreation, and I had a funny thing happen recently. I
was at the bus stop. Quarter of seven, it’s dark. This random man walked up to
me, looked at me, and said, ‘Your girlfriend’s cheating on you.’ I had
headphones on, and was like, I’m not engaging with you. But I was telling
people at work about it and my boss, a straight woman, immediately quipped,
‘Your girlfriend’s cheating on you? Does your wife know?’ And I just cracked
up! That kind of casual comment at work!
“When I
think about times in the past when I was so scared at work, when I was
closeted. It’s just so nice to just be who we are.”
This
article originally appeared in the Summer 2018 issue of Washington State
Magazine.