Author: Holly Chaisson

As outgoing editor-in-chief I’d like to conclude my career at The Star with a few remarks regarding the paper this year. I stated at the beginning of the year that essential to any healthy and thriving community is sustained, respectful dialogue. Along with my staff, I made the decision this year to publish a series of editorials concerning the LGBTQ experience of Houghton alumni under the title Being Queer at Houghton. It was our intention that these editorials would be understood as an opportunity for those who have been routinely unheard to add their voices to the campus dialogue. I recognize that discussing LGBTQ issues may be uncomfortable for many on our campus and community alike, and these editorials proved challenging for many (and inflammatory for some). However I am confident they promoted a valuable dialogue on campus and exemplified a core tenant of The Star’s mission: to maintain a safe platform for diverging opinions to meet and perhaps clash.

The articles in the series were selected from a large number of submissions, some of which we decided not to print for various reasons (e.g. unnecessarily inflammatory language). The stories we selected were balanced, fair, and honest, while maintaining a clear and distinct position on the issue. Additionally, we printed all pieces (editorials and letters) submitted by those responding to the series. The disparity in numbers is not a result of The Star rejecting an opinion that does not reflect its own, rather it is representative of all that we received from our readers.

I’ve maintained strongly that The Star does not have a particular agenda: we welcome diverse perspectives (particularly in our opinions section), striving above all else to maintain fairness and integrity. Although the series was titled Being Queer at Houghton, other voices were brought into the public forum via opinions submitted directly to the staff, letters to the editor, and online comments. Having received roughly equal amounts of criticism and praise for the series, I think I can safely say that the staff and I believe the series to be a success.

There will never be a “right time and place” to talk about controversial issues. The LGBTQ conversation is not something to be shoved aside until a more convenient time. To suggest so effectively communicates to members of this community that they’re inconvenient on our campus, that perhaps we’d rather they not be here at all. We as a community cannot pretend this issue doesn’t exist, to do so would be a grave disservice to society and to the church.

The Star is accountable first to the students, and then to the Houghton community at large. As a student newspaper, The Star is meant to reflect the conversations students are engaging in already on campus, as well as to spark new topics of dialogue. I’m not suggesting that The Star is ignoring the Houghton community at large. Rather, we’ve made it a point to print letters and publish online comments from community members and alumni alike.

At the end of the day, I’m confident in the decision The Star made to print this series of challenging editorials. My hope is that these stories have given Houghton students and community members alike the opportunity to grow in their ability to respectfully join in dialogue with others while having their own perspectives challenged.

During Easter break, I spent a day holed up in my room at home indulging in one of my favorite pastimes: watching documentaries. This time around I stumbled on the lesser known film How to Die in Oregon on Netflix. As the title suggests, the documentary takes place in Oregon which, in 1994, legalized physician-assisted suicide with the Death with Dignity Act. The film’s website defines the process in this way: “any individual whom two physicians diagnose as having less than six months to live can lawfully request a fatal dose of barbiturate to end his or her life.” While a fantastic film in its own right, I was impressed with the way this film tackled the intense debate over physician-assisted suicide in a responsible and respectful manner.

Often referred to as either “physician-assisted suicide” or “physician-sanctioned end-of-life option,” the decision that the Death with Dignity Act places in the hands of terminally-ill patients is their own right to die, and to die with dignity. This is a distinctly modern dilemma, one created by the exponential growth of medical technology that has extended the human lifespan considerably. While this progress is undeniably welcome and beneficial, it nonetheless leaves an increasing number of individuals with a life that is artificially prolonged far beyond a point they believe necessary or desirable. In a way, current medical progress has become harmful. It has gotten to the point that people can no longer die a natural death on their own terms.

As a legitimate medical option, physician-assisted suicide (PAS) should be a legal option for terminally-ill patients who wish to retain their right to die a death with dignity. The debate surrounding PAS is fierce and is not without its merit on both sides. While I align myself with those arguing for PAS to be an available and legal medical option, I acknowledge that those who oppose this argument have a case.

In brief, the “pros” of PAS include the following: a person has the right to die with dignity and in a humane way; as patients, they have a right to their preferred treatment option; PAS takes into account a person’s wish to not burden their family with additional medical costs and suffering. In my opinion, the strongest arguments for PAS are those centered on the patient’s right to die. If a terminally ill patient is judged to be competent and psychologically stable and they request the aid of a physician in dying, why should they be denied? Our medical system has several protocols already in place that address this right, including the DNR (do not resuscitate) order and designation of a medical proxy by the patient. Physicians are legally bound to follow these protocols, even if the patient’s family desires otherwise. The decision, as I think it should, belongs solely to the patient. Which is why I argue that PAS should be legal and respected in the same way that a DNR order is.

The “cons” of the debate include the following: there is the option for terminally ill patients to receive palliative care; some argue that for physicians it is a violation of the Hippocratic Oath (e.g. “do no harm”); possibility for doctors to make an inaccurate prognosis; and it is hotly contested in terms of whether or not it is moral or ethical practice. While I acknowledge the moral and ethical dilemmas PAS may pose for physicians, it is not a convincing counter argument.

I’m for physician-assisted suicide for the same reasons I’m pro-choice. A physician’s job in either case is to look out for and care for the patient’s physical and psychological well-being. Physicians are responsible for informing patients of the procedures and the risks they carry physically and psychologically. They are responsible for answering to the best of their ability questions their patients pose regarding the medical decision they are weighing. And should it be necessary, they are responsible for following-up with patients and/or their designated medical proxy. At this point their responsibility stops, both legally and professionally. Physicians are neither required nor should they feel compelled to provide their personal moral or religious opinion to their patients. Additionally, they cannot take the burden of the patient’s decision on themselves. The decision and responsibility belong to the patient alone.

I support the Death with Dignity Act. I support the right for patients to request and receive medical assistance in making the decision to die with dignity. I support the right of physicians to help and enable their patients to make this decision legally. At the end of the day, the controversy surrounding PAS is warranted, however I firmly believe that the rights of the patient as a person must be respected above all else.

As I stated at the beginning of the semester, I want The Star to serve as a platform for the sustained dialogue that is vital to any healthy and thriving community. Overall, Houghton has done remarkably well in this area, embodying both openness and receptivity even in the face of more controversial issues. In the spirit of this, The Star has decided to publish a series of editorials concerning the LGBTQ experiences of Houghton alumni.

These editorials are an opportunity for those who have been perhaps routinely unheard to add their voices to the campus dialogue.For some, these editorials may prove challenging, yet I want to emphasize that The Star is committed to maintaining not only a safe platform for disparate opinions to meet and perhaps clash, but an equal-opportunity platform as well. As always, I want to encourage you, my readers, to join in the conversation.

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The conversation at Houghton surrounding sexuality and the Community Covenant has been vigorous over the last few semesters. At times it has been constructive, and at other times it has been ineffective and even hurtful. This is to be expected in a community of roughly a thousand flawed peopleNonetheless, if we are to make progress as a community in how we talk about LGBTQ sexualities and gender identities, we must remember that behind the issues are real, flesh-and-blood people with feelings.

That is the task of this series: putting faces to the issues. Every two weeks, we will hear from a Houghton alumnus on what it meant for them to be LGBTQ during their time here. These men and women have shared their stories because they care about this community-and hope to see it become a place where everyone can thrive.

That being said, allow me to commence this series with my own story.

I did not admit to anyone that I am gay until I was 17 years old, halfway through my first semester at Houghton College. The months after that first confession were filled with anxiety, because I knew that by and large my academic and faith community at Houghton would not accept this part of me. I believe the dissonance which many in the Houghton community perceive between Christianity and LGBTQ sexualities is perpetuated by inaccurate language, such as in the Houghton College Community Covenant.

I think most of us, whether we are gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, queer, or anywhere in between, can agree that we are whole human beings with many complex layers fully known only by our Creator. As emerging adults, we realize that we are more than our sexualities. While we may feel confident or insecure about this aspect of ourselves, when it comes down to it, sexuality is as matter of fact as brown hair or glasses. Our sexualities are just as intimately understood and loved by the Creator as is every other aspect of our being.

Yet, I don’t think that the Community Covenant we all signed as first year students fully reflects that truth when it addresses sexuality. The Community Covenant’s only words addressing people like me are: “We believe that Scripture clearly prohibits certain acts… (including premarital sex, adultery and homosexual behavior)”.

In essence, the community I am a part of has responded to me with “don’t.” Sometimes this community has responded to me with “EEEEWWW”, “dyke”, and “are you still a Christian?”

           We can assume that the “straightforward” meaning of the Covenant language is “don’t have sex with a person of your sex or gender identity.” But this presents problems. Every single day on this campus I and other LGBTQ students are having our full personhood reduced. Our sexual and gender identities are being unfairly reduced to sex acts, to be affirmed or forbidden.

The Community Covenant recognizes the beauty of heterosexual romance (minus extra-marital sex acts) because it affirms the full personhood of straight couples. I hope that soon the Houghton community will be ready to embrace the humanity of same-sex couples, without feeling the need to sexualize them. (A good number of us do strive to remain chaste until marriage, which is more than I can say of many straight couples who have passed through this campus.)

I am not advocating a change in the language of the Covenant because I want to feel secure in holding a romantic partner’s hand on the quad or open up about a girlfriend, though that would be nice. I am advocating a change because I desperately want all current and incoming students to feel safe, affirmed, and whole on this campus. I want first year students to be open about their authentic selves without having to fear questioning or isolation. I want this community to be able to separate sexuality and romance from sex acts, and sex acts from debauchery.

Therefore, as the Community Covenant issue continues to be debated, remember this: LGBTQ students are not an issue that one must form “right” opinions about. We are children of God, striving to “do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly”-just like other Houghton students.

Dear Students,

For all the complaints that Houghton is too small, too rural, and too “bubble-like,” there is much to be said of its merits on these accounts. Living in such a small community is of course frustrating at times, perhaps even boring, but it provides us a wide array of unique occasions for involvement, commitment, and dedication. In some ways Houghton can feel fairly limited in what it has to offer students in comparison to other significantly larger schools, but in other areas our opportunities far exceed the collegiate status quo.

Being involved on campus is one of those things your Transitions leader urges you to do your first couple of weeks here, an injunction most of us blatantly ignore, too caught up in the excitement of our first year. However, after the nerves have settled and we fall into a routine, the chances to be involved start springing up like the flowers we hope will emerge after the much-too-long winters. We have quite a plethora of opportunities at our disposal: the SGA, The Drawing Board, Printed Matter Press, Global Christian Fellowship, the STAR, and dozens of other clubs, all of which are chances to make our marks on campus, to create our legacies. While involvement certainly has its resumé-building perks for us students, it is also is incredibly beneficial to the college as a whole. Committed students help make Houghton distinctive and a place hopping with creativity; we elevate Houghton’s reputation and add to its street cred. In all seriousness, Houghton would be a much less vibrant place without the bustling of students organizing floor events, performing SPOT skits, slamming poetry at a Lanthorn event, or singing their hearts out at a CAB coffeehouse.

Being involved gives a dimension to your college experience that isn’t communicated with the piece of paper they hand you when you walk across that stage. When you’re involved, Houghton becomes your Horcrux. I mean this in the best way possible: you give a little part of yourself to the school, and that little part you leave behind becomes an indestructible and valuable connection you will remember fondly twenty years down the road. I won’t lie, in the midst of finals or if you’re juggling a double major, involvement really does feel a bit like selling a piece of your soul. Not to worry though, you’ll emerge more intact than ever.

I came to Houghton with the mindset that I would only eat, sleep, and breathe my classes, graduate in three years, and move on to bigger and better things. After all, isn’t that the point of college? Thankfully I’ve changed my mind. You’ve been given this chance to become a part of Houghton’s narrative and to let its story shape yours, so why not embrace it? My advice to you is this: find your sanctuary from academics and worship there regularly.

Holly Chaisson ’16 – Past, Present, & Future STAR Editor

The original impetus to write this article stemmed from a frustrating discussion on Marx and the plight of the proletariat in one of my philosophy courses, however things took off after I saw one of VOCA’s inserts on a table in the cafeteria. In advertising their resumé workshops, VOCA juxtaposed the outcomes of both a good and bad resumé. On the top half of one of the ads,  VOCA slapped the bolded phrase “GOOD RESUME” over a white male dressed in business casual, sitting with his laptop in a high-rise office building; an image that screams moderate-to-high paying corporate job. The bottom half featured the phrase “NOT SO GOOD RESUME” superimposed over a grocery store worker pushing carts in from the snowy parking lot, dressed plainly in khakis, work boots, and a fluorescent vest; the typical effigy of the working class.

VOCA’s message to Houghton students is anything but subtle: get your resume together or else you will end up like the poor sap working the dead-end job pushing carts, instead of sitting on a leather couch in a suit and tie. This is perhaps the most explicit shaming of the blue-collar worker and blue-collar jobs in general that I have seen thus far at Houghton. Last year’s “Theology +” advertisements to “find your calling” hinted at a similar message: a “calling” or a vocation is more than “just a job,” which is what I would guess most people here on campus would characterize blue-collar work as. This glorification of vocation over a simple job imposes an unavoidable value-judgment on those with a vocation versus those with “just a job.”

Whether it is intentional or not, this trend of shaming blue-collar workers and devaluing their jobs is disturbing. I am well aware that those of us attending a private liberal arts college intend to find jobs in a more white-collar environment, and I want to clarify that I’m not attacking anyone’s desire or preference to do so. Regardless of the fact that Houghton plays a crucial role for those of us seeking these types of jobs, it does not give the institution or its members the right to devalue jobs. After all, there are plenty of blue-collar workers here at Houghton. How offensive is it for VOCA to put out these public advertisements that devalue their jobs, their livelihood, and their vocations?

It should be no surprise to anyone here that people have an overwhelming tendency to equate a person with their job. Let me elaborate. People in suits, men and women who have their names on office doors and degrees hanging on their walls, are accorded respect and a sense of status by the vast majority. People who work at McDonald’s or wear fluorescent vests at work are rarely given the same level of respect, let alone thought of as having power or status in society. Thus, we equate the value of the work with the value of the person: those doing work that is valued higher socially (white-collar) are personally accorded more value and respect, while those working lesser valued jobs are, more often than not, seen as lesser in status, and thus given less respect and subsequently value. This value-driven attitude, however subconsciously it may arise, is reinforced practically everywhere–including Houghton–and inevitably, it creates a culture of white-collar superiority, so to speak.

In emphasizing the importance of a vocation–and of a good resume to get there–the message that comes across emphasizes this attitude of inequality. It tells students: Do this or you’ll regret it. What I am proposing as the alternative is not some “how-to” on “grinning and bearing it” through some sort of blue-collar purgatory, rather a change in perspective on the value of “just a job”. Perhaps it is as simple as this: the value often awarded to white-collar jobs is based on some cost-benefit analysis related to various factors, happiness being a popular one. For some, money buys happiness, for others respect, power, and status do, ergo we flock to white-collar jobs. However, a recent survey done in 2012 by City & Guilds on “Career Happiness Index” shows that those with more blue-collar jobs (e.g. florists, hairdressers, and plumbers) have the highest happiness indexes that range from 76%-87%, while white-collar jobs follow closely with the highest index ratings ranging from 69%-75%. Interestingly enough, bankers and IT workers wind up in dead last, with happiness index ratings ranging from 44%-48%. I bring up this study to demonstrate that, at least in terms of happiness, working a blue-collar job is not a death sentence; there is value to be had.

What I’m recommending is not that everyone work a blue-collar job, or that white-collar workers are inherently crummy people; I’m asking primarily for there to be a shift in attitude on this issue towards equality. Whether you end up as a doctor researching a cure for cancer, a successful lawyer, an electrician, or a retail employee, you–and your job–deserve an equal amount of respect and value.