Sex Class

I am in the middle of the final weekend of Human Sexuality in Counseling, a slog of Powerpoint slides interspersed with intense discussions about our respective sexual cultures, subcultures and disorders.

I have been doing my damndest to be persistent in making sure lesbian, gay and bisexual issues are addressed in this class. Rather than snarking behind the teacher's back or complaining to faculty, I've just turned myself into an obnoxious *educator* on gay issues, making considerably more noise on the subject than I ever have in my life.

That Couples Therapy class obviously pissed me off something fierce, and now the Human Sexuality class is seeing the ripple effects of that. I have made myself a tireless advocate by pointing out every fucking nuance of queer hoo-haw related to counseling that comes up on my radar during class discussions. I'm afraid I'm sounding like a nag, but I really don't like any other option.

Now having passed through essentially all of the graduate school's required courses, I am highly aware of the education my classmates are *not* getting on the matter of working with LGB issues. Although queer people are a distinct minority -- estimates are no more than 10 percent of the population -- they access mental health providers at a higher rate than the general population. Lesbians, specifically, are the demographic most likely to see a therapist.

There are two ideas I have about why this is: First, queer people are at greater risk for depression and anxiety than their counterparts, regardless of race, probably due to the social stigma we experience. Second, women are more likely to access mental health services than men are, perhaps because our gender carries less stigma amongst ourselves about the work of therapy. Whatever the reasons, queer women like therapy.

So as I have for the past two years watched my colleagues proceed through this program with so preciously little education about queer issues and relationships, I feel this tremendous sense of dismay. I feel like my classmates are not being adequately prepared to work with a group of clients with whom they will very likely work with, especially in a "gay haven" like this fair Stumptown of ours.

When I take a second look, I am all the more appalled to realize that, at least in the classes I have had, the vast majority of the education on gay issues has come from *ME.* I have had two other gay classmates -- both of them men -- who have been regular voices on the topic of queer issues in our classes. But otherwise, just about every presentation that was given on gay issues in my classes has passed through my hands in collaborative work with a few other classmates.

In my diversity class, we have an hour of gay discussion, if I recall, but the biggest presentation of information and education was done by me, The Debutante and Tigrrr Woods. I was also involved in presentations on gay issues for Research Methods, Counseling Women at Midlife and ... something else. The Couples Therapy presentation was more a frustrated striking out against heterosexism than it was an educational piece on queer issues.

Other than that, The Gays haven't been visible in my classes. Not in development, not in theory, not in ethics or career or group therapy (except for an intense moment on a video). If I had chosen to do my projects in those other classes on the topic of grief and dying, would similar projects be done by my classmates? Perhaps sometimes. But I feel certain the issues would have received less an airing. ... My only hope is that, in other classes I do not attend, there is someone like me sounding off about queer issues with some regularity.

Otherwise, we're still producing less-informed therapists than for which the circumstances call. If straight men were the demogaphic most likely to seek counseling, we'd all be doing just grand (especially given the origins of our dominant theoretical orientations). But when the demographic with the highest per-capita access to therapy gets services rendered, it's pretty sad to think they could get them from someone who hasn't heard of "lesbian bed death" or hasn't had specific education about the sources of oppression and marginalization for queers.

Thankfully, the 20 or so students in this class are getting some of that. And not just from me. The teacher gave a more detailed lecture today than any I have seen thus far. (Sadly, this is not a required course.) But I was sounding off anyway, mainly for the act of being engaged and fleshing out the discussion any way I could. I had some company in the form of Handsom Gay Male and Dr. R, but I was still the one farthest out on a limb.

Oh well.

Tomorrow will be my grand finale. As far as classes go, I have only Assessment and Internship required of me, and the rest may very well be spent in independent study. So if there are parting words I want to say to my classmates on the matter of queer issues and counseling, it will be then. I have no plans to say anything specific, but I apparently will be required to "present" this decorated sexuality box to the class tomorrow.

Mine is queer, Queer, QUEER.

So if asked to speak about my box (or better yet, to speak "as if" my box), there will no doubt be plenty of gay things to say. (I do love, by the way, the double-entendre of talking about my "box." Hee....)

The box itself is something about which I believe I can be proud. Good thing, too, because I'll be presenting it on Pride Day, probably right about the time that the parade kicks off downtown. I believe this box is both graphically pleasing and also does a fair job in representing my attitudes toward sexuality and the biases and influences that shape them.

For the inside of my box, I have acquired a rather spectacular orchid that is truly one of the most graphic depictions of female genitalia I have ever seen in the flower world. It's really STUNNING. The woman running the flower shop almost didn't want to part with it. She only had a single bloom of it and had been "gawking at it all day long." She thought I might "get in trouble" for putting such a salacious flower in my presentation. But given the graphic depiction of manhood on HGM's box, anything I do will be mild in comparison.

So this seductive orchid, beckoning and teasing me as it is even this moment while I write, is going to be in my box and, later, on my table in class. Where, when I am bored, I will enjoy "gawking" at it myself.