MAY 2024 VOL. 1 • ISSUE 5 VISIT US ONLINE AT: OUTFAU.COM INSTAGRAM: @OUTFAU University of North Florida’s LGBTQ Center Deconstruction Genderqueer Professor Resigns Over School’s Pro-Israel Stance PAGE 4 Interview with Nicole Morse PAGE 6
2 OUTFAU | MAY 2024 BY LISA RAMIREZ T here is a relatively new discussion of the application of queer linguistics, otherwise known as lavender linguistics, to Latino languages. Specifically, this discussion has revolved around Spanish. In this essay I am going to briefly explain the recent terminology and discourse, some of the history of both Spanish and Portuguese colonization, the application of lavender linguistics in different parts of the world, and why the current application of lavender linguistics does not serve its purpose of gender abolition and queer inclusion. If you are unfamiliar with the terms Latine/Latinx/Latino/Hispanic, here’s an explanation of these terms. • Hispanic people refer to people who are from the 21 Spanish speaking countries. • Latino/a people refer to people who are from Latin America including Portuguese speaking people but exclude those from Spanish speaking countries outside of Latin America. • Latine/ Latinx apply to the same individuals, however many use Latine/ Latinx as a force of reform for gender non-comforming Latin American individuals. People acquainted with Spanish/Portuguese understand that these languages are gendered. The -o suffix means the noun used is masculine and the -a suffix means that the noun used is feminine. But that is not entirely true. The -o suffix also functions as a gender neutral alternative. When referring to a group of people, Latinos is used if the group contains men, women, and individuals who do not conform to the gender binary. If the gender of the person is unknown, Latino is acceptable in the same way the singular they is in English. “Someone left their wallet, I hope they come back for it.” Using these changes works like painting a house made of blood white. Even in white washing the parts that are proof of colonization, misogyny, homophobia, and bigotry there will always be echoes of oppression that leak through because language is inextricably tied to colonization. The -x/-e suffix works in this way. These suffixes might look like an attempt to work against the bigotry that inherently lies in these languages but it is an attempt that fails. While we scrub at Spanish walls and rip off the tiles of the Portuguese language, we change our living reminder of history. History spoken by children but made through wars. A prime example of this spoken history can be seen in Brazilian Portuguese and the amount of indigenous influence in its lexicon. Below is a table of examples of words derived from indigenous people used in Brazilian Portuguese (see table 1). In the early 1600s, Portuguese conquistadors invaded. The origin for these words and many others in Brazilian Portuguese come from the (now extinct) indigenous language Tupi. This isn’t limited to Brazilian Portuguese, Spanish also has a history of violence within its language (see table 2). Spanish and Portuguese do not just have a history of the language used for conquest, they have also played a role as the language that was conquered. From the year 711 to nearly 800 years later, the Moors conquered most of the Iberian peninsula. As a result of this, many Spanish and Portuguese words have Arabic origins (see table 3). There are many more examples of Arabic influence over Portuguese and Spanish. Shared words, phonological changes, the generations after adopting these new words without the understanding of their morphology, these are some of the symptoms of colonization throughout history. When we talk about the addition of the -x and recontextualization of the -e suffix, rarely does this subject come up. Aside from what historians can provide us, language is living history. In the way that we constantly use language, we remind ourselves of the past. In the case of these affixes, misogyny and homophobia is prevalent in Latin American culture. The term “macho” comes from both Spain and Portugal. Eliminating the remnants of Spanish/ Portuguese history in Latin American speak would not only mean omitting this history but reshaping Latin American Spanish and Portuguese to abide by external influences without acknowledging the colonization and oppression that has shaped these languages. We need a new language; one that works with the needs of Latin American queer people. We could revise Spanish/ Portuguese to incorporate more to be more inclusive but a new language/argot/cant/slang is a tangible tool to reclaim our identity. Knowledge is power and having a new TABLE ONE ENGLISH Alligator Vulture Pineapple Injury/Wound TABLE THREE ENGLISH Oil Sugar Pillow Cotton ARABIC al-zayt al-sukkar al-muhádda al-qutn SPANISH aceite azúcar almohada algodón PORTUGUESE azeite açúcar almofada algodão BR PORT jacaé urubu abacaxi pereba ENGLISH Avocado Shark Hurricane TABLE TWO Gum SPANISH aguacate tiburón huracán chicle NATIVE ORIGIN Nahuatl Arawak Taíno Arawak Nahuatl Lisa Ramirez is a 23-year-old Colombian American and linguistics major. She lives in Boca Raton. Courtesy photo. Lavender Reform or Living Revolution
• Polari, from the word parlare in Italian, is a cant from the 19th century used by performers, navy sailors, sex workers, and queer people in England. It uses many words from Italian, Romani, and Yiddish. Polari still influences queer and non queer pop culture to this day. • Swardspeak is a cant/argot which incorporates both English and Tagalog. It is used by many queer people in the Philippines. • In an article called “Gay” Language and Indonesia: Registering Belonging posted in the Journal of Linguistic Anthropology, Bahasa Binan is an Indonesian based language used by Indonesian queer people. It has been used to build community in the Indonesian queer community and has greatly influenced Indonesian pop culture. • South African History Online describes Gayle as “an argot or pseudo-language that arose in the South African LGBTQI+ community somewhere in the mid-60s.” It uses Afrikaans and English and was used in South Africa. • IsiNgqumo is another product of queer South African liberation. It is used in the province of KwaZulu-Natal (KZN). MAY 2024 | OUTFAU 3 OutFAU newspaper is a part of J&J Media Group. You should not presume the sexual orientation or gender identity of any featured individuals solely based on their names, appearance, or inclusion within this publication. Any opinions shared within stories, columns, graphics, or letters to the editor should not be assumed to represent the opinions of OutFAU or its publisher. Any stories or content, either in print or online, and also including any articles that are featured in conjunction with any media partners, are protected under federal copyright and intellectual property laws, and this ownership is carefully and jealously guarded by this media group. Nothing that is published may be reprinted, either in whole or in part, without first receiving written consent from Publisher, Jason Parsley. OutFAU is owned by Jason Parsley and Justin Wyse, and is represented legally by Russell Cormican. As a private corporation, J&J Media Group reserves the right to enforce its own standards regarding the suitability of advertising copy, illustrations, and photographs. Copyright © 2024 J&J Media Group. Subscribe to our newsletter! Executive Editor MARY RASURA Designer CRAIG TUGGLE Contributors LISA RAMIREZ • KENNY RUFF CARTER MUDGETT Advisors MICHAEL KORETZKY • JASON PARSLEY BRENDON LIES • AURORA DOMINGUEZ Sales & Marketing FOR AD PLACEMENT, CALL 954-514-7095 OR EMAIL [email protected] FIRST COPY IS FREE, EACH ADDITIONAL IS 50 CENTS OUT FAU MAY 2024 VOL. 1 • ISSUE 5 This publication is solely the expression of the author and/or publisher and it is not an official publication of Florida Atlantic University, nor is it in any way intended to express any policies or opinions of Florida Atlantic University, or its personnel. Cover: Nicole Morse (left) photo by JVP South Florida. Spot an error? Let us know at [email protected] language or multiple new languages gives people the ability to get that power back with their speech. There have been some valid criticisms of this idea, the first being that making a language is too hard and requires a lot of community effort. Revolutions do not occur out of ease, however. Revolutions happen because enough effort is given. Some accomplish through art but many do it through language. We can see this in the formation of new languages and pidgins. To summarize a portion of the section dealing with Caribbean colonization from David Crystal’s English as Universal Language, creoles and pidgins are proof of rebellion. “Creoles like Haitian Creole are a product of people taken from several different countries in Africa who were taken across the Atlantic Ocean and made a language to communicate with each other but not their slavers,” wrote Crystal. These creoles and pidgins like Haitian Creole evolved using the grammar of many different languages in West Africa but using the lexicon of their slavers (Spanish, Portuguese, French, English, etc). In this way and many others, language is also a tool for liberation and revolution. It allows people to work together in ways that simple adjustments to identification do not. Another criticism in this discussion is: we live in a different time, we do not need to hide anymore. While it is true that we have had much more progress than before, not all of us have the privilege of speaking plainly. In the home of one of my closest friends we had to lower our voices or step out of his house to talk about this very subject. He could not talk about his lover in his home. He could not talk about being a boy. Times have changed, but not for all of us. Some of us have had the privilege of honest conversations with our families and friends about homosexuality but many of us do not. Lavender linguistics, the linguistic innovations that have come about as a part of this struggle, are proof not only that we have always had to work around societal rejection, but that we have succeeded and survived. OUTFAU In the last example provided, IsiNgqumo, the writer (Stephanie Rudwick) of the research paper used argues, “While the secrecy function for the protection from sexual discrimination has been noted repeatedly in reference to gay codes, it is important to remember that they are also tools which unite and empower the identities of their speakers.” Secret languages are not just for keeping us in hiding but giving power back to the people who need them. Latine/ Latinx works solely as a diverse form of identification and does not provide us with what we need. We need tools to protect us and build communities in the way that the examples above have, history as it was and revolution as it could be through language. Here are some examples of our developments through language:
4 OUTFAU | MAY 2024 The day the University of North Florida lost its color F or as long as he can remember, Manny Velasquez-Paredes had the names of each LGBTQ Center team member written on a white board. Each time someone left, he covered their name. On April 26, he covered his own. Exactly seven days before graduation, the University of North Florida’s LGBTQ Center officially closed its doors to the campus community on April 26. The Center turned 18 years old this year. The LGBTQ Center director, who took up the role in 2020, spent his last two weeks boxing up the office in a scene that resembled a cross between a garage sale and a flea market. A “FREE CLOTHES + BIN ITEMS” sign was put above a mass of binders, flags, merch, stickers and other items. That pile shrunk smaller and smaller every day. Rainbow flags, colorful artwork and flyers used to cover the walls, but they were stripped bare last week, returning the office to just its dull mustard-yellow colored paint. A room with a table and a calendar Some of the artwork is just “on loan” to various faculty and students, VelasquezParedes said. One such painting went to Doyle Tate, an assistant professor of psychology at UNF researching LGBTQ+ topics. “I'm currently safeguarding one of the bigger art pieces, a giant rainbow osprey painting, in my office until Florida decides to stop their crusade against DEI on college campuses and [the LGBTQ Center] one day hopefully reopens,” Tate told OutFAU. Messages of support like, “We will not be silenced” and “We will be B A C K” were left written on whiteboards. Yet, staff at UNF, in Jacksonville, aren’t the only ones undergoing significant change. Racing to comply A similar scene has been playing out across Florida’s public higher education this past school year as universities moved to comply with new rules banning spending on diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts. In 2023, Gov. Ron DeSantis signed Senate Bill 266 into law, which introduced new restrictions against DEI in the state’s higher education system. It took effect on July 1. Some schools, like Florida Atlantic University, closed their centers shortly after Senate Bill 266 was signed. Others waited until the Board of Governors passed their own ban, which happened on January 24, 2024. However, even after their decision, the timeline for each closure — and an answer to the question “where will staff go?” — was unclear. At UNF, President Moez Limayem released an email hours after the decision, announcing that the university’s diversity centers would begin to be “phased out.” Beyond VelasquezParedes’s team, that also included the Intercultural Center, Interfaith Center, Women’s Center and the Office of Diversity and Inclusion. But the UNF president made a promise: “No staff members will lose their employment at UNF as a result of the closures of these centers. We are working with affected employees to establish new work assignments within the University at their current salary or above.” Not every school had the same approach. The University of Florida in Gainesville axed its diversity departments on March 1, firing 13 full-time DEI positions and ending 15 administrative appointments for faculty, the Independent Florida Alligator reported. Starting a new role in a new office Velasquez-Paredes told OutFAU he’s grateful that UNF didn’t take the same approach as Florida’s flagship university but wished there was another way: “I can't help but feel that all of this could have been avoided.” Before Florida’s crusade against diversity, equity and inclusion, UNF was recognized as the best college in the southeast for LGBTQ+ students by Campus Pride in 2022. It was the sole university in Florida to receive the ranking that year, but that was rescinded the very next year. Campus Pride cited antiLGBTQ+ legislation as the reason. But for UNF, the LGBTQ Center is gone. Keeping with Limayem’s promise, the formerLGBTQ Center director began a new role as Career Services’ director of career education this week. “I’ve been saying all along that, over the past year and a half, we’ve been on this rollercoaster of emotions,” he told OutFAU. “And I’m ready to find solid ground. I am ready to get off the rollercoaster and find the floor so that I can center myself again.” For the past four years, Velasquez-Paredes has called the first floor of the Student Union home, where he worked in an office surrounded by Pride-themed artwork and memories. Now, he’ll work out of Founders Hall with the rest of Career Services, where the Student Ombudsman, Military Resource Center and Counseling Center work. One of the first things he plans to do in his new office? Put up a Pride flag. OUTFAU The former home of the University of North Florida’s LGBTQ Center. (Left) “Free to take” items in the LGBTQ Center during its last days. (Right) Photos by Carter Mudgett. BY CARTER MUDGETT
MAY 2024 | OUTFAU 5 I remember the absolute disgusted face my friend’s mom made when my friend told her he saw a man kiss another man. I remember how much it hurt me to see, but I didn’t know the words to express why. We had just finished playing a game of soccer for another friend’s birthday at an indoor field when a gay league came in. This is where the kiss happened. My friends all rushed out. I didn’t understand what the issue was, but I left with them. All they could talk about was the “awful” sight they saw. All I could think about was why they thought love was awful. I was 14 at the time. I was a self-described aromantic-asexual, which meant I felt no sexual or romantic attraction. I found the term researching sexuality on the internet because, like many confused queer teens, I was lost. Looking back, I think a lot of it was guilt-related. The funny thing was that my friends knew this and didn’t care, but when it came to the most direct forms of being queer, then it was an issue. I grew up in Christian schools, where using the terms “gay” and “queer” negatively were common occurrences. I would need 100 hands to tell you how many times I heard the phrase “that’s so gay” get thrown around like they were playing pass in the playground. I was one of the few people in my grade who ever mentioned the topic of being gay in a positive light. My class was small, at about 22 people throughout all three years of middle school. Most people simply stuck to the Christian principles the school taught. Sometimes, it felt like living in an echo chamber. It was isolating and damaging. Now I know why it hurt so much, but when I was young and much more fragile, I didn’t get it. I tried to tell myself I was like everyone else. I had “crushes” on girls. I had a “girlfriend” for a year in 5th grade from my previous school, who then transferred over. We broke up instantly and remained close friends, which is really what we were the entire time. I thought a girl in my grade was cool, so I thought I was in love with her. I just wanted to be her friend; there was nothing there. Yet, for some reason, I convinced myself I was “normal,” whatever that meant. That was, until I involved myself in the online reality game show sphere on ROBLOX, a video game where you could build and do anything you want. I got into the community when I was 11, but I didn’t feel the full effects of it until I downloaded Discord, a social networking app, when I was 13. The community was the thing I needed. All my closest friends either were queer or came out as queer later. It opened my eyes to new people and new ways of life. I felt safe around people for what felt like the first time. Yet, I still conditioned myself to be “normal.” I didn’t think of the possibility of me being romantically involved with anyone, nor did I care much for anything sexual at all. I thought that was it. I tried not to think too much about it. That was until, my entire world hit a giant brick wall. I fell in love with one of my best friends involved in this community. And not “love” in the way with my “girlfriend,” I mean hard love. For me, I didn’t think this was possible, but it shook up the fabric of my being. It made me realize why every negative thing I heard about being gay was hurting me so much. I was gay, and I had to accept that myself. Regardless of the outcome of the crush - it didn’t go well - I now had to grow up and understand myself more, and something about that unsettled me. I was scared to come out to anyone except for my closest friends, who all accepted me. I just didn’t know what my family would think, nor did I really want anyone else to know. I went through the next two years trying to figure myself out. Then, 17 hit. I don’t know what it was about that time. I mean, it was 2020. Maybe it was the COVID isolation, or the damage of not having concrete social interaction due to being homeschooled all through high school, but I began feeling worse about myself. I was so torn about my identity and my self-image that I resorted to terrible measures. During this period, I realized I wasn’t a man. I never felt like I was connected with masculinity to begin with, but being referred to as “he” or any other masculine term made me feel physically ill. I found out what being nonbinary was - essentially not identifying on the gender binary of male and female - and it connected to my identity more than anything else had before. That realization made me feel so far from “normal,” and I tried to push it down. Yet, I couldn’t stand the perceptions and expectations the world had for me as a “man.” It was something I wasn’t. I remember the nights of anguish in my small bathroom, in pain from my own actions. I didn’t want to let anyone in. I was scared of who I was. I was suffering from a lot of mental health problems at the time. These issues were worsened by the new realizations of who I was. I was constantly anxious and didn’t want to leave my room. I obsessed over such a small fraction of who I was that it wrecked my well-being. I remember one night, I put a countless number of my excess pills in a tiny bag and left it in my drawer. I put a note next to it, and would constantly re-read it. It was almost like a will. Yet, slowly but surely, I learned to put down my walls. I got help. I stopped repressing emotions that I never should’ve repressed in the first place. All the self-hatred I built up for who I was born as was slowly torn down. I threw the bag and the note away around the time I turned 19. I am so happy I never tried to end my life. I am so happy I got help. I am so happy that I lived to graduate high school and meet new people. I am so happy to be alive. I came out as everything to my mom slowly. By 20, I was out fully. She knew I was gay and nonbinary, and she loved me still. I am so lucky to have such a loving woman as my mother. Now, I am in the process of coming out to my entire family. I talk about guys with my younger cousin. I’m the president of an LGBTQ+ club at Florida Atlantic University. I found my first real love, who I am so indebted to. I’m just proud of myself. I’m proud that I learned to love myself. I still struggle, but I’m finally at a place where I’m safe in my own skin. Some days, I think about the scared, younger me. If I could go back to them, I would tell them how much life would get better. I would tell them to embrace who they were earlier instead of running from it. I hope they would understand how much love is waiting for them. OUTFAU Photo courtesy of Kenny Ruff. I am Queer and Nonbinary. My Coming Out Story. PERSONAL ESSAY BY KENNY RUFF
6 OUTFAU | MAY 2024 Genderqueer. Jewish. Anti-Zionist. Nicole Morse is Jewish, and genderqueer. They’re also antiZionist. Earlier this semester they resigned their position as the director of the Center for Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies (WGSS) at Florida Atlantic University. They announced it publicly in an editorial for TruthOut. More recently, they also submitted their letter of resignation as an associate professor, where they taught sexuality and gender studies at the graduate level and sexual identities at the undergraduate level. Ever since Hamas attacked Israel on Oct. 7, and the subsequent retaliation and incursion by Israel into the Gaza Strip – their outspokenness against the State of Israel has caused tensions to flare. Their resignation letter reads in part: “...the institution’s response to what the International Court of Justice determined is a plausible genocide in Gaza makes it impossible for me to continue as a faculty member. As a deeply faithful and observant Jew, I cannot in good conscience work at an institution that so decisively prioritizes Zionist ideology over the well-being of its diverse students, staff, and faculty while privileging ethnonationalist propaganda over freedom of expression, freedom of inquiry, and the pursuit of truth,” they wrote in the letter. “It has been devastating that my attempts to advocate for Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim students have been met by ridicule, stonewalling, and threats that I myself might be investigated for ‘policy violations.’ I have been treated as a problem and even as a terrorist sympathizer, rather than as an accomplished scholar, teacher, and committed member of the campus community.” Two protests took place following the Oct. 7 attack on Israel, one on Oct. 9 where students came out to show their support for Israel, and a second one on Oct. 11 where students came out to show their support for Palestine. OutSFL interviewed Morse in February, after they announced their resignation as the director WGSS, but before their resignation as a professor was announced. Below is the conversation with Morse. It’s been edited for brevity and clarity. Can you tell me what it was like the day before the war broke out, and how quickly did you feel singled out? I started at FAU in 2018. From the moment that I came to FAU, I was concerned that this would eventually become an issue for my employment because I have been in the antiZionist Jewish community, including my synagogue, for over 10 years. It was very clear from messaging at the university level, and also from state law such as a 2019 law that criminalized criticism of the State of Israel, that there was going to be a level of repression around Zionism and Israel in the context of FAU. But up until I would say Oct. 9, I was able to balance these things, although it was sometimes challenging, especially when my research intersected with questions of Palestine, research and teaching. What was so deeply disturbing to me — the week of Oct. 9 — was seeing the way that the university immediately abandoned the community of students, staff and faculty who are Palestinian, or who are connected to Palestine, whether by being Arab or Muslim, or being in solidarity with the Palestinian struggle, and particularly the way that the two marches were handled. It really became starkly evident that the university’s priorities were not just at odds with my own personal commitments, but that the university was distorting the facts on the ground in order to prop up a narrative that favored one side. Particularly public statements that the President [of FAU] made that misrepresented the Oct. 9 march as fully peaceful and stigmatized the Oct. 11 march by framing it as wild and violent in ways that are not the responsibility of the Palestinian student organizers. Can you just briefly explain the Oct. 9 and Oct. 11 marches? It’s just such a complicated question. Because you know, what, what was happening before Oct. 7, there was, you know, a 16-year siege — following 50 some years of occupation — following 75 years of ethnic cleansing. On a personal level, it was manageable. So on Oct. 9, Owls for Israel held a march on campus, and during that march, I was surrounded, threatened. My sign was punched out of my FAU Professor Resigns Over School’s Pro-Israel Stance Nicole Morse speaks on behalf of Jewish Voice for Peace South Florida at a march organized by the South Florida Coalition for Palestine on November 11, 2023, in South Beach, Miami. Photo by JVP South Florida. hand. I was called an “it” and a “zonah” — which is Hebrew for prostitute, because I was holding a sign that was critical of Israel. And that advocated for no U.S. funding for war crimes. At that point the State of Israel had announced it planned to engage in things, like collective punishment, that are war crimes. So that was Oct. 9. That was a planned pro-Israel march, so you were there as a counter protester? Yes. My understanding was that most Palestinian students and staff had chosen not even to come to campus that day because they were concerned for their safety. I consulted with my rabbi, and he encouraged me to quietly accompany the march to communicate that there are multiple Jewish perspectives. That’s what I did. I said nothing to the marchers. I merely had this sign, and I was attacked quite viciously. Specifically, they said, things that were highly gendered, rape threats, calling me a “zonah,” a prostitute and calling me an “it,” which I believe is a reference to the fact that I’m visibly genderqueer. Israel is made out to be a very [LGBTQ-friendly place]. So for them to engage in those sorts of attacks on you, were you shocked or surprised? I was not. My experience being a public anti-Zionist Jew for about a decade is that there is a very strong trend of conservatism in any movement that is ethnonationalist, and that believes in the supremacy of one group over others. That tends to produce a range of prejudices, including misogyny, including homophobia, transphobia. You mentioned pinkwashing. So you’re aware of that, and the ways that queer people are used, and queer rights are used to make Israel look gay friendly when in fact, Israel is known for outing Palestinians in order to compel them to be collaborators in using LGBTQ+ issues, and LGBTQ+ identities in really dark and dangerous ways. All of this is kind of the troubling underside of it and my own experience has been that when I am at a march, or if I am handing out information as part of Jewish Voice for FROM OUTSFL
MAY 2024 | OUTFAU 7 Peace, if I’m participating in anything that is critical of Israel, those are the times when I get attacked, misgendered, or I guess perhaps you could even call it being “gendered” correctly, if people are recognizing that I’m genderqueer, but it is of course very dehumanizing to be referred to as an “it.” So yeah, that did not surprise me, but I did find it disturbing — it always is. So the Oct. 11 march, that was the march for Palestine? So that was organized by some young student activists, and they were so cautious and careful to make sure that the march was safe. Unfortunately, there were 15 to 20 counter protesters, and unlike me on the ninth these people were shouting aggressively at the marchers, they were in particular saying a lot of gendered and misogynist comments. They were shouting whore and prostitute in English, Arabic and Hebrew. They were shouting rape threats. In both of these situations, police were present. But on the ninth, the police observed what was happening — they did make sure that I wasn’t physically harmed. Although they also did not document it, and I have not been able to get the police to investigate what happened. On the 11th state troopers were called in and FAU police escalated very quickly following the heckling of the counter protesters to hassle and escalate the atmosphere and myself and many other people, you know, witnessed what from what we saw was unprovoked police brutality, and then that was represented as evidence that the Palestinian students were violent and in another situation, a counter protester. So, someone who was protesting the Palestine march hit someone and was temporarily arrested and that arrest was also attributed to the Palestine march, even though of course, his behavior cannot be the responsibility of people he was coming out to heckle and harass. So you’re saying the way it was framed is that there was this violence that broke out, but it wasn’t explained or clearly [communicated] that the violence actually came from the counter protesters. Right, and so, that second public statement from the university was incredibly disturbing. It created an atmosphere of anxiety, alienation and danger, honestly, for Palestinian [students]. I because I am publicly known to be someone who is willing to criticize Israel. Even at this institution I heard from students anonymously, and occasionally, students I knew about their experiences and about the struggle they had trying to get support from the institution. I also had the dean of students and others reaching out to me regularly asking me how the students were doing and every time I would convey that the students really just needed a public statement that said that the university supported them and was concerned for their well-being to go along with the statements of support for Israeli and Jewish students. That has still not happened. The university did not even acknowledge the suffering of the Palestinian students and what they were experiencing. That was kind of shocking [that the university did not even acknowledge those students]. That’s horrifying, but it’s also shockingly common at this university. I’ve had administrators say to me, “What do you mean Palestinian students are suffering?” and when I said, “Well, you know that for some of our students like their family is being killed. They have lost family members, sometimes multiple family members. Their families have been evicted from their homes in the West Bank, even if other family isn’t in Gaza.” I had administrators who were shocked, who were unaware, and didn’t realize that that is what Palestinians are experiencing. So the level of ignorance was also really disturbing. But then instead of responding, by wanting to know more, by wanting to learn more from myself, from scholars at the University, who specialized in this, from students whose real experience it is, you know, what ended up happening was that I was targeted for a series of investigations. Constantly being asked to produce more documentation about my work and pressure to resign. That is especially disturbing given that we’re in a moment where LGBTQ+ studies is being targeted, and I have been a very strong defender of LGBTQ+ studies, gender studies and of queer trans students at FAU and have been effective in that role. Why did you resign as the director? The reason I resigned from the directorship was because I was no longer able to be an effective leader. Especially in this time when leadership is needed so badly for Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies for LGBTQ+ students. I was no longer able to be an effective leader because so much of my time and energy was being taken up. Responding to to accusations, to requests for further information, meetings to question me about political and religious beliefs, etc. That was interfering with my ability to do the work that the Center needs. If you were just a professor, would they have treated you the same way? What we’ve seen nationwide is incredible repression of academics and students at every level, in my situation, the message that I was given repeatedly is that leaders at FAU are expected to support the State of Israel. And while I don’t believe that that should be the case. I found that I was in a position where I could no longer effectively lead without making a change. And I was certainly unwilling to change my religious beliefs and specifically what I was asked is, you know why I couldn’t or whether I would be. I was asked whether I would be disaffiliated from anti-Zionist Jewish groups, and since my synagogue is an anti-Zionist Jewish organization, I chose to resign. Yeah, they are allowed, but they are under attack and at FAU, just like there was no appetite to defend my right to pursue my religious beliefs separately from my position. There has been minimal appetite to defend our right to study and teach LGBTQ+ studies, and that has been very disturbing to me. So I am still teaching these classes. But I have had to repeatedly fight to defend the courses and the program of Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies. And the administration has not been as active in defending these programs, as I believe they should be because the laws that have been passed are designed to scare people, but the actual text of the law does not forbid studying these disciplines. So there’s no reason to over comply and further harm LGBTQ+ communities and scholars and teachers in Florida by pretty actively doing things that the laws don’t actually even require because that would be unconstitutional. I know you said you didn’t want to mention names, and I respect that. I want to be really clear, because I have had outreach from the university and I believe that, you know, there would be a preference to portray this as, you know, a bad apple or someone who made a mistake. The fact is that this was pervasive. It was something I encountered in every aspect of my job. So it’s simply wasn’t one individual. It also was pervasive because this is the culture that has been cultivated at FAU through years of stronger and stronger ties to the State of Israel. Stronger and stronger donor relations with people who make support for Israel, a precondition of their support of the University, and this means that FAU is not able to support all of its community members, all of its students. And also limits the research and teaching that can be done. That’s not appropriate for a state institution. Of course, we also know that, Gov. Ron DeSantis is similarly trying to repress voices that disagree with him on Israel. So, you know, it’s a broad problem in Florida, but at FAU, it is particularly strong. Did you feel like there was anybody at the university that had your back or supported you? Students and colleagues have been incredibly supportive, which I deeply appreciate. You said that you did feel your safety was threatened? The one time I felt my safety was threatened was on Oct. 9 when I was surrounded by numbers of Owls for Israel. In that moment, the police did protect my right to free speech. But because subsequently the police did not — I was stonewalled as I tried to record it and try to follow up about that. I certainly don’t feel supported by the institution. I don’t feel that my safety is a concern of theirs. But the biggest concern I have is for the students because students, especially students who are visibly Muslim, have really been suffering this year, and they have tried and tried to report this, and they have not been heard, and they have not received the support that they need. And in many cases, all they have been asking for is a public statement that says that Palestinian, Muslim and Arab students are members of our community. That would send a message to the people who are harassing them, who are subjecting them to death threats. This institution doesn’t stand behind that kind of behavior, but instead what we’re seeing is this atmosphere that, you know, implicitly condones what’s going on. Is there anything else that you wanted to add? I would just want to emphasize that whatever I have experienced it is, you know, the students who are suffering the most; whether it’s Palestinian students who feel unsupported and unheard as their people are experiencing a genocide; or whether it’s queer and trans students who want to find support on campus and are not able to find that because someone like me gets targeted for something that should be protected and that actually is a core value of the discipline. The National Women’s Studies Association has affirmed support for Palestine Liberation, multiple times. So this is part of the discipline. Just as affirming, queer and trans people is part of our discipline and in all these ways, we’re being attacked by the government in Florida. It just breaks my heart that it reached a point where I was unable to effectively advocate for my students because of the way I was being targeted by the institution. OUTFAU THIS STORY WAS REPRINTED FROM OUTSFL