To better understand queer life at Queen’s across generations, The Journal spoke with current and former students about their experiences finding community on campus.
Then
When Stacy Kelly, president of Queen’s University Association for Queer Employees (QUAQE), first started looking for queer community at Queen’s, visibility carried a different kind of risk.
Kelly, ArtSci ’ ‘96 sat down with The Journal to speak about his experiences.
As co-founder of QUAQE, Kelly said the queer community existed during his time at Queen’s, but wasn’t always easy to find. He remembers being scared to enter queer spaces on campus, including one formerly located in the Yellow House Centre for Student Equity and Inclusion on what’s now Bader Lane. “It was a very special magical place once I got the courage,” Kelly said.
Years later, Kelly said the visibility of the queer community at Queen’s and in Kingston has changed significantly. At this year’s Kingston Pride march, he walked with QUAQE and noticed Queen’s groups around him, such as the AMS.
For Kelly, marching in Kingston has always carried particular significance because of the city’s size. Unlike larger cities, where people may feel more anonymous, he said being visibly queer in Kingston can mean being seen by colleagues, neighbours, and community members.
“It was brave for people to be like, you can now find me if you need to,” he said.
Indigo Bunting, ArtSci ’13 and member of QUAQE, said in an interview with The Journal that their queer experience as a student differed from their experience as a staff member. Bunting said they identified as bisexual while studying at Queen’s but didn’t become deeply involved in the queer community at the time.
“I don’t know if I didn’t know where to find it, or if it wasn’t obvious and clear,” they said.
Bunting said the Yellow House didn’t exist when they were a student, and they didn’t know of a consistent physical hub for queer students. Today, they see the Yellow House as an important gathering space.
As a staff member, Bunting said they feel safer and more confident being queer at Queen’s. They came out as non-binary in 2021 while working at the University , adopting a new name and pronouns. “It was generally, overall, a very supportive process,” Bunting said. “I felt safe to do that.”
Still, Bunting believes we have more work to do. “With Queen’s being such a historical institution, one of the big things that we can do to change is always question the ‘we’ve always done it that way’ mentality,” they said.
Now
Comm ’27 student Haydon Barta said Queen’s reputation impacted his expectations before arriving.
“Queen’s has historically had a reputation of being an institution predominantly populated with straight white males,” Barta said in a statement to The Journal. “As a commerce student, that reputation was intensified, so it definitely affected my expectations as a queer student.”
Barta said that, from a safety perspective, the reputation only shaped his perception “in a minor way,” adding he felt undergraduate students can choose who they surround themselves with.
His experience at Queen’s has been “pretty spot on” compared to what he expected. He said queer life at Queen’s is present, but not always immediately obvious.
“It’s there if you look for it, otherwise it’s really not that noticeable, whether that’s moving towards normalcy or not, I’m not too sure,” Barta said.
He pointed to the Yellow House and Q+, a club under the Commerce Society geared towards community and allyship for queer students, as examples of visible queer spaces and organizations on campus. While he hasn’t used the Yellow House personally, he said knowing it exists still matters.
In an interview with The Journal, Adelaide Somoza, ArtSci ’28, said she entered Queen’s with neutral expectations about queer life on campus. Coming from a small town, Somoza said Queen’s and Kingston have felt more open-minded. Somoza said queer spaces are visible, but she hasn’t felt the need to rely on formal queer supports because she’s found community through friends. She said Kingston lacks some more specific queer spaces such as lesbian-focused events, but she credited students with helping create community.
“It’s there and it’s meaningful, but it is limited,” she said. “You won’t find things like you’d find in Toronto.”
For Kelly, the changes he sees now are part of a longer history of queer people at Queen’s and in Kingston building community for one another.
He said Queen’s is a flawed institution, but one that has been “trying to do better.”
Tags
Alumni, now, Pride, proud, then vs
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