Queer student finally has an ‘acceptable’ excuse not to visit homophobic family member: COVID-19

When the pandemic hit in March, many of us scrambled to pack up our student rooms, plan trips home and generally retreat to our parents’ basements, only to surface for food or when the internet cuts out.

Queer students around the world, however, were doing quite the opposite.

“Sorry Mom, I just don’t think it would be safe for you to come visit tomorrow after all,” Yue Hall, a third-year nursing student, said into her phone as she re-hung her pride flag. “Yeah, with COVID cases rising and everything closing down I wouldn’t want to risk it for either of us,” she continued, bringing three She-Ra and the Princesses of Power posters out from the back of her closet.

The pandemic has provided the ultimate cover for queer students everywhere to avoid awkward visits with family members who never get the hint (the hint being that when your child brings their “roommate” home for Christmas three years in a row, it’s time to reconsider their sexuality).

Avery Goodlay, a local drag queen, said their parents are super supportive. Their extended family, though? Not so much. “Last year, my aunt got me a bible. It wasn’t even Christmas or anything. She just had one lying around the last time we visited and insisted I take it,” they explained. “But the joke is on her because I use it to prop up the mirror I do my drag makeup in.”

This year was the first time queer students made it all the way through reading week without having to hear Uncle Bob go on his patented Thanksgiving dinner rant about how “the homosexuals need to stop rubbing it in everyone’s faces.”

Every year, he fails to see the irony in leaving at the end of the night in his truck plastered with garish “THE LORD IS OUR SAVIOUR” and “Believe and you shall be saved” bumper stickers. An additional benefit many queer students have experienced from the pandemic has been more free time. Queer students at Ryerson are taking the time they would have spent defending their right to exist and putting it towards other things.

Lexi Jones, a biology student who volunteers with the Ryerson Urban Water office, has spent more than 20 hours putting chemicals into Toronto’s water supply ever since the pandemic started. “This has been proven to turn folks queer,” they said, when asked why they were devoting so much time to the task. “A happy coincidence,” they continued, “has been a rise in homosexuality among the frog population!”

This is not the only useful way queer students have been using their newfound free time.

“Personally, I spent my entire reading week working on petitions to make straight marriage illegal,” explained Chet Erophobe, who is a fourth-year politics and governance student. “I figured I may as well get a head start on the next phase of the plan,” he said, before proclaiming “Glory to Cher!”

The pandemic has been hard on everyone, but queer students are determined to see the silver lining. The one thing all queer students will miss, however, is that look you exchange with the other gay cousin over dinner.

When the pandemic hit in March, many of us scrambled to pack up our student rooms, plan trips home and generally retreat to our parents’ basements, only to surface for food or when the internet cuts out.

Queer students around the world, however, were doing quite the opposite.

“Sorry Mom, I just don’t think it would be safe for you to come visit tomorrow after all,” Yue Hall, a third-year nursing student, said into her phone as she re-hung her pride flag. “Yeah, with COVID cases rising and everything closing down I wouldn’t want to risk it for either of us,” she continued, bringing three She-Ra and the Princesses of Power posters out from the back of her closet.

The pandemic has provided the ultimate cover for queer students everywhere to avoid awkward visits with family members who never get the hint (the hint being that when your child brings their “roommate” home for Christmas three years in a row, it’s time to reconsider their sexuality).

Avery Goodlay, a local drag queen, said their parents are super supportive. Their extended family, though? Not so much. “Last year, my aunt got me a bible. It wasn’t even Christmas or anything. She just had one lying around the last time we visited and insisted I take it,” they explained. “But the joke is on her because I use it to prop up the mirror I do my drag makeup in.”

This year was the first time queer students made it all the way through reading week without having to hear Uncle Bob go on his patented Thanksgiving dinner rant about how “the homosexuals need to stop rubbing it in everyone’s faces.”

Every year, he fails to see the irony in leaving at the end of the night in his truck plastered with garish “THE LORD IS OUR SAVIOUR” and “Believe and you shall be saved” bumper stickers. An additional benefit many queer students have experienced from the pandemic has been more free time. Queer students at Ryerson are taking the time they would have spent defending their right to exist and putting it towards other things.

Lexi Jones, a biology student who volunteers with the Ryerson Urban Water office, has spent more than 20 hours putting chemicals into Toronto’s water supply ever since the pandemic started. “This has been proven to turn folks queer,” they said, when asked why they were devoting so much time to the task. “A happy coincidence,” they continued, “has been a rise in homosexuality among the frog population!”

This is not the only useful way queer students have been using their newfound free time.

“Personally, I spent my entire reading week working on petitions to make straight marriage illegal,” explained Chet Erophobe, who is a fourth-year politics and governance student. “I figured I may as well get a head start on the next phase of the plan,” he said, before proclaiming “Glory to Cher!”

The pandemic has been hard on everyone, but queer students are determined to see the silver lining. The one thing all queer students will miss, however, is that look you exchange with the other gay cousin over dinner.

“Personally, I spent my entire reading week working on petitions to make straight marriage illegal,” explained Chet Erophobe, who is a fourth-year politics and governance student. “I figured I may as well get a head start on the next phase of the plan,” he said, before proclaiming “Glory to Cher!”

The pandemic has been hard on everyone, but queer students are determined to see the silver lining. The one thing all queer students will miss, however, is that look you exchange with the other gay cousin over dinner.

Congratulations! If you’re reading this, you’ve made it to the end of the article. Full disclosure: none of what you just read is real. It was satire. Satire is a noun that describes the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people or institutions.

“Personally, I spent my entire reading week working on petitions to make straight marriage illegal,” explained Chet Erophobe, who is a fourth-year politics and governance student. “I figured I may as well get a head start on the next phase of the plan,” he said, before proclaiming “Glory to Cher!”

The pandemic has been hard on everyone, but queer students are determined to see the silver lining. The one thing all queer students will miss, however, is that look you exchange with the other gay cousin over dinner.

Congratulations! If you’re reading this, you’ve made it to the end of the article. Full disclosure: none of what you just read is real. It was satire. Satire is a noun that describes the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people or institutions.