On a campus as arguably liberal as Harvard’s, it’s easy to dismiss claims of homophobia or heterosexism as outmoded or inane. After all, a quick glance at the Gaypril calendar shows bisexual/gay/lesbian/transgender (BGLT) lawyers lecturing on marriage rights, training by AIDS activists, a massive dance, the Day of Silence, a sex toy party and a film screening on transgender bathroom access—hardly the furtive plottings of an oppressed minority. But homophobia is still a massive problem on both sides of Johnston Gate, and this is precisely why yesterday’s anti-homophobia speak-out has such extreme importance. For many of us, it brings visibility to an oppression that we assume was handily solved somewhere in the mid-1990s.

Though Harvard voices a strong commitment to BGLT students, a number of important policies are rarely debated in a larger campus context. For transgender students—and often, queer students in general—basic issues of bathroom access and housing policy are a bureaucratic nightmare each and every day. When you can be arrested for going in a bathroom that doesn’t match the sex on your birth certificate or you’re paired with a roommate who urges you to “turn straight,” your best bet is often to move off campus. While gender and sexuality studies have been adopted into Harvard’s Courses of Instruction, queer studies professors are still few and far between. And though Harvard’s nondiscrimination policy states that no group can discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation, the University continues to allow military recruiters who ban openly queer people from service. Blood drives are equally explicit: if you’re a male who’s had sex with another male since the late 1970s, you simply can’t donate blood.

Each of these institutions and policies can be debated at length—but all too often, that debate never happens. For anything to change, Harvard needs less passive tolerance and more positive engagement with the issues. It’s easy to put up a Safe Space sign on the door, but it’s another thing to put that support into action. While we tabled in Annenberg Hall for the Gaypril dance, many students lost interest as soon as they learned what the dance was for. Yes, I wanted to explain, it’s a queer dance. Yes, some guy (or girl) might flirt with you. I go to parties that are largely straight, girls tell me I smell good and I survive. It’s easy to regard queer events as part of a positive and necessary movement without actually attending or supporting them, but it’s not nearly enough to combat the sometimes blatant homophobia on campus.

Homophobia exists, and it’s necessary that we all recognize it as a serious and deadly problem. It’s easy to insulate ourselves in a sexuality-savvy world, but just thinking back to high school conjures up a veritable hell for gay and lesbian teenagers, where they risk abuse, homelessness, eating disorders, depression and suicide. We may be in a supportive environment now, but there’s work to be done in housing, employment, education and healthcare in the larger world.

Implicitly, most students oppose homophobic policies. But for any real political and cultural change to occur, this implicit support must be vocalized and put into action. The speak-out reminds us that our progress should be celebrated, but there’s still work to be done. Harvard needs to be a place where students, queer and straight, are able to foster a discourse where these issues matter. On and off campus, a constant awareness and consciousness is crucial. While it’s a show of support to tack on a rainbow pin, try asking your queer friends what they think of Harvard’s campus climate. Instead of simply advocating same-sex marriage, take a quick poll to see if your friends even want to get married. If some guy in section mentions the date he had, don’t ask if she was hot—because yes, he was. Take down that damn poster of “The Kiss.” Try actively mixing your social events so parties on campus aren’t solely queer or solely straight, and acknowledge that bisexual students should feel comfortable in both of these communities. Come to some Gaypril events, petition against the proposed Federal Marriage Amendment, use a single-stall bathroom that doesn’t match your gender and write back to those ROTC mailings and tell them you’re a raging homosexual and oppose state-sponsored discrimination.

The speak-out is about sharing narratives of homophobia and hate that simply shouldn’t be forgotten. By comparing our experiences, we’re better able to formulate real strategies against homophobia and ultimately recognize it as a pervasive problem that still requires attention at Harvard and beyond. So share your reactions to the speak-out, listen to the stories of your friends and classmates and carry them with you as you live out your life. Subtle forms of homophobia are easy to miss, but devastate the people they affect the most. Whether you sat on the Science Center lawn with us or not, this is the time to change the way we think about queer issues, question what we take for granted and recognize the long struggle that needs to be fought every single day. And if we’re able to do this at all, the speak-out was a smashing success.

Ryan R. Thoreson ’07 lives in Grays Hall. He is secretary of the Bisexual, Gay, Lesbian, Transgender and Supporters Alliance.