The Art of Homophobia

I'm going to backtrack here about something I meant to write about in a more timely manner, but as usual, real life got in the way.

Last month, the University of Notre Dame's student newspaper, The Observer, featured a 3-panel comic strip entitled "The Mobile Party" that ran as follows:



Panel 1: A tall, saw-like object with human hands and feet holds a bottle (presumably alcohol). He says:
"What's the easiest way to turn a fruit into a vegetable?"
Panel 2: A second figure, a human male, also holds two bottles. He replies:
"No idea."
Panel 3: The Saw Man again. He says:
"A baseball bat."

I'm not going to lie-- my jaw literally dropped when I first read this on the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) website. Thanks to GLAAD, the comic strip controversy made national headlines, and The Observer was inundated with angry letters from readers including current and former gay ND students. "The Mobile Party" was permanently discontinued. A Managing Editor resigned.

And then, the newspaper issued an apology that shifted from an apologetic tone to a discussion of Senator Harry Reid's now-famous racial remarks about President Obama. In other words, broader issues of diversity insensitivity were brought up to push the target away from themselves and instead on American society as a whole. Ah, college kids are sly.

The cartoonists claim that they were actually trying to critique homophobia in the first place through the absurd logic of the "Saw Man" character, who is literally depicted as a "tool" in the strip. This is rather difficult to believe (it comes off as all-too-convenient), especially given the fact that GLAAD reported the original punchline was "AIDS" rather than "baseball bat." Thus, the cartoonists felt that "baseball bat" was a less insensitive term than the fiery buzzword that is "AIDS," which is completely ridiculous since "baseball bat" makes light of-- and, indirectly, encourages-- physical violence against gays.

The cartoonists' desperate justification for their actions and their all-around stupidity reminds me of a situation that occurred when I was a columnist for my college newspaper. In my junior year, I wrote an article about the National Day of Silence, an annual event organized by the Gay Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) to address the persistent bullying of LGBT students in U.S. schools. The article simultaneously denounced the Day of Truth, created by the Alliance Defense Fund (ADF) as a response to the DOS urging "open dialogue" about human sexuality and the "Truth" behind homosexuality (yes, with a capital T). Except their definition of the "Truth" meant that people can de-gay-ify themselves through Jesus. Yeah, I know.

Anyway, I received an email from an editor of my school's rival newspaper, in which he accused me of being anti-free speech for my criticism of the ADF and the Day of Truth. He also asked me, and I'm quoting this word for word, "Who is being intolerant here: the Alliance Defense Fund, or Brigid Black?"

I almost laughed.

I suppose you could say yes, I was being intolerant-- intolerant of intolerance. Groups like the ADF sugarcoat their anti-gay platforms with the facade of "openness" and "truthfulness," and that's exactly what I sought to expose in my column. The "Mobile Party" cartoonists also sugarcoated the message behind their artwork, which was in reality a painfully upsetting piece. Who knows if they were truly sorry for what they did, or just sorry that they were caught.

As a former cartoonist and art department editor of a school newspaper, I'm well aware of the responsibilities that come with these positions. Cartoonists are journalists too-- as much as writers are-- and have a duty to the public that must be taken seriously. Yes, comic strips are meant to make us laugh, but not all cartoons are funny. The ND incident shows how some of the worst cartoons try to be humorous, but fail horribly in the process. And interestingly enough, some of the best cartoons are those of a serious nature. If the cartoonists were truly trying to demonstrate a pro-gay attitude, as they claim, then a more effective cartoon could have shed light on campus homophobia in a more subtle, sobering way.

I've always believed that good artistic journalism shouldn't be measured by how far the envelope is pushed, but by the intent and effect of the material. The cartoonist-artist-journalist has a choice: change the status quo and inspire readers to do the same, or perpetuate the same old sad stories. I would hope that The Villanovan staff takes a lesson from The Observer, and never needs to hear that phone call from GLAAD. Not even a successful basketball team can take away the shame of an unaccepting campus culture.