For the benefit of those few of my gentle readers who don’t know, I reentered academia in the late 90’s at University College London, one of the constituent colleges of the University of London. Categorized by UCL as a mature student, I found that ‘mature’ was considered any one mid 20’s, returning to uni after a few years away. Some considerable distance from my 2nd decade, upon returning my maturity was of the superannuated variety.
Jeremy Bentham’s ‘auto-icon’
Nevertheless, I found, as I still do find, UCL famous for its warmth and inclusivity. If ever one was concerned about British reserve, let me tell you it is absent at UCL, formed in the early 19th century, as one might not know, as a dissenting option for those free thinkers who might have found the still operating medieval rubrics of Oxford and Cambridge stultifying. In the best tradition, UCL is yet sufficiently quirky, with the mummified remains of founder Jeremy Bentham still prominently on display.
Wilkins Building
Now I’ve made a pitch for UCL whilst simultaneously dishing Oxbridge, the matter at hand. Gay liberation was in its infancy in my original college career, but burgeoning when I entered UCL, so I thought it would be fun to express myself therein by involvement with what I took to be the college’s active gay student’s organization. I have to say, parenthetically, that I had assumed walking around during my initial interviews and first few weeks of classes, my never-failing gaydar was working at full strength. Mind you, I had to be circumspect at home about this, as my partner Keith McCullar had regularly opined my desire to return to uni was driven in part as an opportunity to pick up on what he termed ‘the young ones’. No, it wasn’t and isn’t but more on that later.
Bloomsbury Building
Even just a few years ago, no one used the now ubiquitous albeit fluidly changing abbreviation LGBTQ+, and the notice posted on the board at UCL’s Bloomsbury Building early in my renewed career announced the gay men’s group for an evening a few days hence, starting at 8PM, and I looked forward to attending. A bit of background for those of you not in the know- gay culture in England did then, and mostly does now, consists of socializing in pubs. Indeed, most social life in England does, with everyone loyal to their ‘local’, and bonding takes place around the consumption of beer. I knew all that prior to my attendance at the gay men’s group at UCL, but although I didn’t know anything about any upcoming agenda, and although there was nothing of the sort noted in the notice I’d read, assumed there would be some kind of program. I was wrong. I showed up, and paid £5 to a young chap I had never seen before to get in to a small-ish function room in the Bloomsbury Building. There were perhaps 20 other young guys there, none of whom I had ever seen before who though unknown to me seemed well known to one another. Cheap lager was available for purchase at the rate of £1 per bottle. Did I say ‘cheap’? I should have written ‘crap’. But I had a bottle all the same, sussing out that here, too, pub etiquette applied. I did see a fellow from my department who was there, and I tried to chat with him- not chat him up, but just tried to engage in polite conversation. I have to say, he was as uncomfortable as if I had outed him not just in front of his Tory family, but from the lectern during high mass. So much for that, so I wandered about the edges, looking for someone to talk to, as it was apparent that this get together was really no more than a piss-up.
I have to say, there exist gay men, and then there are very gay men, and although I have never considered myself any paragon of butchness, I would have been considered so in that company. ‘Nelly’ is not a term much heard these days, but I can think of no other that describes the young chaps who were there. In the fulness of time, though, there were a few other gents who came in that were at least more my age, so thinking that, though none looked familiar, at least common life experiences brought by a commonality of age might work for a conversation starter. Was I wrong! Pub etiquette, I found, was in this instance combined with gay pub etiquette, by which I mean, small talk was automatically assumed by the conversant to be chatting up and the mature attendees save my own self were there to shall we say plight their troth with the young ones. I was then an odd man in the course of the evening, and as odd man I moved myself out.
I did not know then, nor do I know now, who it was who organized any of this, but there was in a few weeks another notice posted for yet another gay men’s evening, and silly me, decided to go again. Actually, this was a decision made following some bit of reflection, thinking that perhaps as the first event was early in the term, it was just for social enjoyment, and any business would then get underway at a subsequent event. I also assumed that attendance would be greater, again thinking that the student community would have found their feet after a few weeks, and then be attending such like as the gay men’s evening. Also, in the finding of the feet category, I had inadvertently found shall we say activity of a salacious kind in select bogs at UCL. Although I do know enough about English culture to know that ‘cottaging’ in the Gent’s loo, then as now is a favored activity amongst gay English men- I thought if it was taking place with such shall we say abandon at UCL, it might be thought to at some point swell the attendance at the gay men’s beano. It was also, I have to say, a relief to find the welter of this kind of ‘society’ a confirmation of my own gaydar, questioning it as I had done based on the sparse attendance at the first gay men’s function.
Again, on all counts I was wrong. The second get together was the same as the first- same entrance fee, same crappy beer, same number, and mix, of guys, same no agenda. I stayed maybe an hour, left, and never returned- not in my remaining tenure at UCL.
The upshot of all this is, I never at any time felt demeaned, excluded, or otherwise dismissed whilst at UCL, and I must say, the department of the history of art knew me well, and knew my partner Keith McCullar well. Keith was at every department function, became friends, and is still friends, with my favourite tutor and thesis supervisor. There was nothing closeted about our relationship, but it was for all I knew a matter of indifference. Scholarship was what was taken seriously, then as now.
I write all this apropos the current edition of Portico, the UCL alumni magazine, and its brief squib on LGBTQ+ alumni. Interestingly, save one woman who read anthropology in the late 70’s and didn’t come out until recently the other three contributors were recent male graduates. All three of them cited UCL as providing a safe environment in which to come out- of note, though, it was the academic environment within the disciplines they chose to study that was welcoming, not any sort of auxiliary organization. I cite this not by way of saying that UCL failed to provide any particular outlet for the gay community, but as with my own experience, the culture and ethos of the college as a whole functioned as an outlet for the LGBTQ+, and don’t I know this firsthand. How much more inclusive could any institution be, than that something specific for gay students is hardly existent because it is- wait for it- irrelevant. And irrelevance of a positive kind.
And so it seems still to be. As mentioned, I was prompted to write this blog entry based on the recent print edition of Portico, which also contained an email address for the UCL Alumni Association for the establishment of a gay alumni group. I wanted to provide a livelink to the online edition of Portico and in particular to the article about gay alumni. Nothing exists of the most recent Portico online, however, with UCL per usual bringing up the rear in terms of 21st century methods of communication. That sounds snide, but frankly, as with other bits of quirkiness, I find it strangely endearing. It might be that some benighted soul in the alumni office inadvertently delegated the task of establishing online communication to Jeremy Bentham. Even so, I did respond to the printed email address indicating affirmatively my interest in forming or at least being included in a gay alumni organization. I have yet to hear back, so presume Squire Bentham is slow to respond, or more probably the establishment of such a group is not a high priority. Indifference? I would prefer to think that it is, in the best UCL tradition, yet an example of positive irrelevance.