Two “straight looking” guys were spotted publicly making out at a highly attended and exclusive party earlier this semester. It was a big deal, and people made a fuss. “This was progress!” “Look how far Bowdoin’s old boys’ network has come!” “How exciting!”

And then of course, there were the less-public asides, the gossipy exclamations, even by LGBTIQ students: “Aha, I knew it! They must be gay!” “I didn’t know he was out!” “He seemed so straight!” “There were clearly signs!”

Let’s not get our panties in a bunch people. It’s certainly not the first time two guys made out. It won’t be the last, either. Relax. Enough with the labels.

Maybe it’s our academic training, the Aristotelian in all of us, or maybe it’s the insipid effects of the infamous Bowdoin bubble, but Bowdoin students have this impulse to classify and organize everything. While it’s a great habit for archaeology majors or evolutionary biology fans, it’s a terrible habit when it comes to navigating the sexual landscape of the College.

I have this inkling that most of the labels are motivated out of convenience and curiosity. In such a small place, we want to know who is available and who is off-limits. If they’re off-limits, we want to know why. Is it because they’re in a relationship, because they’re uninterested in the hardware we’re equipped with, or because they don’t like kids from Massachusetts? People want to place their peers in the sexual spider web, to find out who is hooking up with whom, because it allows us to identify where we fit into it all. It’s six degrees of separation, Bowdoin style—but in half the steps.

Labeling people’s sexual orientation is a quick and crude shortcut. It answers what we think we need to know to strategize about our own choices. Because Bowdoin prides itself on its political correctness and progressive leanings, most students are sensitive to the variety of sexual orientations beyond the monolith of heteronormity. They know there’s a bunch of labels out there: gay, straight, bisexual, polyamorous, celibate, etc.  

But in all honesty it is bullshit. It really, genuinely, truly is bullshit.

Trying to label each other’s sexuality is pointless and harmful. Sorting people into sexual cubbyholes, no matter how openly and acceptingly, doesn’t help anyone. Finding the right words or feelings to figure it all out for ourselves is hard enough without other people creating expectations of what we should or shouldn’t be doing. 

Other people’s labels are inherently clunky and judgmental. Instead of pushing us toward progress, they pull at our heels, holding us in place. They create illusions of what is and isn’t acceptable for us to be doing.

Those guys could be straight, gay, bi, or just too drunk to care. It doesn’t matter. You just don’t know or need to know. In fact, you’re probably wrong, no matter how educated you think the guess is. 

This notion that there’s an appropriate playbook of activities to which each person should be sticking is totally fictional. You should feel free to make out with a teammate, dance with someone of the opposite sex, go home alone, or veg out watching Gossip Girl and football all in the same weekend. The only thing that’s important is that you do you. Do whatever you want to do with whomever you want to do it with.

Hookups can have as much or as little meaning as you put into them. They can take the form of friendly hellos, sloppy goodbyes, clear overtures of interest, or cautious explorations. Life’s ambiguous. Some people go to Thorne all the time; some people go to Moulton; some people pick based on convenience; and some people go only when there are chicken tenders.

Being a sexual being at Bowdoin isn’t easy. It can feel like operating inside a fishbowl where everyone is watching and colliding. And even though we aspire to be clued in, progressive, welcoming, and accepting liberal arts students, maybe we can take a chill pill on trying to categorize everything, because when people start assigning labels to each other, it creates a hostile environment inimical to self-discovery. 

Let’s resolve to encourage each other to do as we please, for the sole reason that we think it might make our lives more enjoyable.

Two “straight looking” guys were spotted publicly making out at a highly attended and exclusive party earlier this semester. It was a big deal, and people made a fuss. “This was progress!” “Look how far Bowdoin’s old boys’ network has come!” “How exciting!”
And then of course, there were the less-public asides, the gossipy exclamations, even by LGBTIQ students: “Aha, I knew it! They must be gay!” “I didn’t know he was out!” “He seemed so straight!” “There were clearly signs!”
Let’s not get our panties in a bunch people. It’s certainly not the first time two guys made out. It won’t be the last, either. Relax. Enough with the labels.
Maybe it’s our academic training, the Aristotelian in all of us, or maybe it’s the insipid effects of the infamous Bowdoin bubble, but Bowdoin students have this impulse to classify and organize everything. While it’s a great habit for archaeology majors or evolutionary biology fans, it’s a terrible habit when it comes to navigating the sexual landscape of the College.
I have this inkling that most of the labels are motivated out of convenience and curiosity. In such a small place, we want to know who is available and who is off-limits. If they’re off-limits, we want to know why. Is it because they’re in a relationship, because they’re uninterested in the hardware we’re equipped with, or because they don’t like kids from Massachusetts? People want to place their peers in the sexual spider web, to find out who is hooking up with whom, because it allows us to identify where we fit into it all. It’s six degrees of separation, Bowdoin style—but in half the steps.
Labeling people’s sexual orientation is a quick and crude shortcut. It answers what we think we need to know to strategize about our own choices. Because Bowdoin prides itself on its political correctness and progressive leanings, most students are sensitive to the variety of sexual orientations beyond the monolith of heteronormity. They know there’s a bunch of labels out there: gay, straight, bisexual, polyamorous, celibate, etc.  
But in all honesty it is bullshit. It really, genuinely, truly is bullshit.
Trying to label each other’s sexuality is pointless and harmful. Sorting people into sexual cubbyholes, no matter how openly and acceptingly, doesn’t help anyone. Finding the right words or feelings to figure it all out for ourselves is hard enough without other people creating expectations of what we should or shouldn’t be doing. 
Other people’s labels are inherently clunky and judgmental. Instead of pushing us toward progress, they pull at our heels, holding us in place. They create illusions of what is and isn’t acceptable for us to be doing.
Those guys could be straight, gay, bi, or just too drunk to care. It doesn’t matter. You just don’t know or need to know. In fact, you’re probably wrong, no matter how educated you think the guess is. 
This notion that there’s an appropriate playbook of activities to which each person should be sticking is totally fictional. You should feel free to make out with a teammate, dance with someone of the opposite sex, go home alone, or veg out watching Gossip Girl and football all in the same weekend. The only thing that’s important is that you do you. Do whatever you want to do with whomever you want to do it with.
Hookups can have as much or as little meaning as you put into them. They can take the form of friendly hellos, sloppy goodbyes, clear overtures of interest, or cautious explorations. Life’s ambiguous. Some people go to Thorne all the time; some people go to Moulton; some people pick based on convenience; and some people go only when there are chicken tenders.
Being a sexual being at Bowdoin isn’t easy. It can feel like operating inside a fishbowl where everyone is watching and colliding. And even though we aspire to be clued in, progressive, welcoming, and accepting liberal arts students, maybe we can take a chill pill on trying to categorize everything, because when people start assigning labels to each other, it creates a hostile environment inimical to self-discovery. 
    Let’s resolve to encourage each other to do as we please, for the sole reason that we think it might make our lives more enjoyable.