"Now that we've got your attention"
written under a picture of two women making love,
was printed on a flyer handed out by
fraternity brothers during rush week on the
SUNY New Paltz campus, October 2002.

James, 19-year-old New Paltz College sophomore, came out of the closet when he was 14, and was involved in the Long Island Gay and Lesbian Youth group. "New Paltz is comparatively safe school," he explained, "it could be worse."

Some of his friends go to schools with more sports and fraternities, where gay and lesbian students are more at risk of physical violence. Gay and lesbian youth are under all kinds of new pressures, said James, sipping his coffee. High school students are pressured to come out of the closet, and then sometimes they are in physical danger.

It's disarming to look at his teenage face, and short, curly brown hair, while listening to him tick off statistics and facts about gay history and current conditions like someone twice his age. James, Sarah and Wazina are part of the core of students who helped revitalize New Paltz College Queer Student Union.

"Nice faggot," yelled a New Paltz Ice Hawk hockey fan, when someone
caught a puck in midair, and the crowd cheered the fan on.
Letter writers to the college newspaper, The Oracle , wrote,
"Faggot. Fag. Homo. Gay..were carelessly hurled at the
opposing team. followed by thundering laughter."

Queer is a longstanding antigay slur. Over the last decade, academic activists embraced the word queer, theorizing about it in books, journals and conferences, and teaching their students about queer theory. Over the last year or so, college students rejected the alphabet soupiness of their campus group names, like bigayla, lesbigay or LGBT - lesbian, gay, bisexual, bicurious, transsexual, transgender, transvestite.

They replaced those names with Queer. New Paltz College BiGayLa underwent the name change to Queer Student Union last year to be more inclusive, said Sarah, a 22-year-old communication and women's study major. James, Sarah, and Wazina, three of QSU's leaders, are not elected and have no titles.

"Natural leaders rise up out of the group," said Sarah, her short blonde hair framing her face. Explaining how she got involved in the group Sarah said, "I jumped in with both feet last spring." Wazina, an international relations and women's study major, age 20, came to the United States from Afghanistan when she was 2. She lived in the world of her family's culture, while freely participating in the New York City punk scene in high school. At first she went to QSU meetings to socialize. Eventually she too became involved in reorganizing the group.

James did not go easily along with the Queer Student Union name change. Schooled on Long Island by gay people from the Stonewall Inn uprising post-1969 days, he learned "being gay is a big part of who I am." He said, "In trying to create a new identity we are erasing older, more important identities." He went along with the change to continue building community on campus.

Someone put a handwritten poster up on a
bulletin board in the lecture center with a list of
suggestions for women to avoid being raped.
Someone else scrawled on the bottom,
"sponsored by fat ugly women (lesbos)."

There is strength in numbers, but the numbers of participants in BiGayLa were decreasing over the last six years. James explained that there was no perceived need to join a group. AIDS seemed to be under control. There were not too many problems on campus. James, Sarah and Wazina are aware that there are more rights to work for, and put their energy into increasing participation.

They succeeded.

About 250 people went to the Halloween Drag Ball this year, Wazina said. About 30 students, mostly women, sat in a circle at a QSU Thursday evening meeting. Everyone nodded in quiet consensus about next semester's plans, flirting, kissing, hand holding, and relaxing in a safe space, where they could be themselves without fear.

Then they moved onto the fun stuff - planning the following Thursday's sex workshop. About 75 people sat on the floor and chairs at the workshop.

Dildos of every shape, size and color - from vibrating pocket rockets to at least a foot tall - were propped up on a table. Panelists talked authoritatively about G-spots, blow jobs, and safe sex. "Make sure you keep your dildos clean," someone cautioned. Giggles filled the room when one woman strapped on a huge rubber penis. She certainly looked strange standing fully clothed with this rubber thing hanging off her waist almost down to her knees. She giggled along with everyone.

After this article was written, New York State passed the Sexual Orientation Nondiscrimination Act. Activists worked for 30 years to get SONDA passed. Now, one more obstacle on the road to unconditional constitutional equality has been removed for the next generation of activists.