Statement of Diversity

For an application to school, I have to include a "Statement of Diversity." The prompt asks me to explain how I will contribute to a diverse student body in such ways as gender, class, race, ethnicity, heritage, etc. Here's my statement.

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Growing up in Oklahoma as a liberal, gay atheist made me nothing if not diverse. When I moved to New York I quickly seemed to be anything but diverse, though it was abundantly clear to me that my diversity had not abated.

First of all, I was overweight. While in the context of America's "obesity epidemic" this was nothing special, I was something of an odd, too-fat-to-fly bird in the gay clubs. Despite every effort to layer on loose fitting clothes to conceal my person, it was clear something was amiss in the sea of shirtless men in tight jeans and the one bibulous flannel sail. Things were further complicated when I realized that I in fact hated pop music. While I could gyrate with the best of them to a Britney Spears hit, I always deep down pretended it was a Ramones song. However, my experiences allowed me to understand other homosexuals and to even translate their language. While "Totes gotta M-K my 'tein shake cause Tina is def raging" is indecipherable to most, I understand this cry for help as "I very much need to vomit my protein hake like Mary Kate Olsen because the crystallized methamphetamines I have done are making me sick."

As an Oklahoman moved to New York, I felt lost, alone and scared. I now had to walk and use such foreign things as “public transportation.” People threw at me foods like “egg plant” and “Pad Thai.” I had never had a meal that did not consist of a brick of meat and something fried, and soon I found myself faced with the conflict of whether I wanted my wheat gluten wrapped in grape leaves or smothered in Tahini. In a year I learned more about gastronomy than I had in the previous 19 years of McDonald’s drive-thru and reheated frozen dinners.

While attending New York University, I was aware of some subtle class differences. One example was my dorm room—the "low cost triple"— in which three beds, three desks and three men were to share one dresser and 120 square feet while others complained that their Luis Vutton luggage would most definitely not fit in their closet because the Manolo Blahniks needed space to breath. When I finished college, I also found it difficult on a nonprofit salary to live in New York City. This struggle, though, was somewhat concealed since so many others also suffered but with the pain of living with trust funds. The fear of feeling over-privileged and hated was so subtle it was almost missed until you found yourself staring at the Empire State Building through their floor to ceiling windows.

While my awkward phases eventually passed, I was no less separated from others. While studying in Sociology, I found that I was one of the few people intent on actually pursuing the study. As could happen with any major, there were a number of Sociology students who were pursuing their major in order to either simply have a major or to tell personal stories. I felt unusual when I said "Vay-ber" instead of "Way-ber" and a seething resentment from others when I refused to clarify a theoretical idea in gender inequality with self-indulgent points about my "queer-ness."

I see my diversity of belief and sexual orientation as invaluable. But my diversity in thought and experience is a contribution of no less importance.