Fridae

I went to Dartmouth College, which is situated in a small town called Hanover in the state of New Hampshire, USA. The campus is right beside the Connecticut River that marks the boundary between New Hampshire and the state of Vermont. I was literally a 15-minute walk across the bridge to Vermont from campus. From what I had heard when I first arrived, Vermont was famous for being infinitely more progressive and open-minded than New Hampshire. For example, it is not legal to be publicly naked in New Hampshire, though it is perfectly acceptable in Vermont! Still, this is hardly a liberty many people would exercise in the freezing winters.

An ongoing, unofficial tradition in my university would take advantage of this legal knowledge, coupled with our auspicious geography, in the notorious Ledyard Challenge. For the Ledyard Challenge, students strip and swim naked across the Connecticut River from the New Hampshire side to the Vermont side. Once in Vermont, they would run back across the bridge to New Hampshire to pick up their clothes and towel themselves dry. This activity thereby initiated students through moving from the banks of wanton illegality in New Hampshire to arrive on the shores of a metaphoric freedom in Vermont, like wading through a baptismal river, to be reborn naked as an embodiment of supercharged American daring and fortitude on the other side. What masculine achievement! What physical prowess! What rebellion! Of course, in 2005, a Bulgarian exchange student drowned from attempting this very challenge, pulled under by the rapid undercurrents of the river that belie her misleading surface trickles.

Still, the emphasis on the difference between the legal attitudes of the two states is possibly superficial. It is difficult to imagine how Vermont was able to legalise same-sex marriage so readily, beyond even a trace of doubt. Certainly Vermont had already been the first state to legalise same-sex civil unions in 2000, which entitled same sex couples to most of the privileges of marriage other than the name alone (and of course, the pulling in an immigrant partner into the country). But other than that, Vermont hardly makes world news for anything else.

It can get a little nippy in Vermont
In February 2004, the middle of a harsh winter, three friends of mine and I all decided to go on a group date, driving 1� hours to get body piercings in Burlington, the largest city in Vermont. I was going to get my nipples pierced.

Because we were buried beneath copious layers of sweaters, jackets, and thermal underwear to protect from the razor sharp air outside the car, it was hard to pinpoint exactly which we were shivering more from, the cold or our excitement. On either side of the highway during our drive spanned vast expanses of gorgeous frosty terrain, caked in the white of recent generous snowfalls. Occasionally, we would pass by short cliffs, whose sides had hardened with ice, so dense and so thick that they had turned a luminescent blue.

There was a thrilling poetry to our breathing, our breaths billowing out in thick and creamy vapour, like a gaseous milk tea. Quickly, they would subside, always to be replaced by chilly inhalations; the bite of nostril hairs that froze erect in all our faces.

Despite the sometimes unbearable cold, this mini-adventure was an emblem of my teenage dreams come true: To get into a good American university somewhere in 'New England,' which encompasses many of the Northeastern states of the USA, with their discrete four seasons throughout the year. New England was named by the first few English Pilgrims who arrived in the area, making it home to some of the oldest European settlements in the continent. New England includes the states of Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island and last (by alphabetical order) but certainly not least, Vermont.

According to the U.S. Census, in 2007 Vermont was estimated to have a population of about 620,000 people, about 96.5% of whom were White, and only 1.2% of whom were Asian. In other words, only one in 100 people is Asian in Vermont, compared to the national average of 1 in 20. There aren't many of us around in the mostly-White state.

And still, Vermont hardly felt like the stereotype of White America, with its ignorance of international affairs or its vapid arrogance and self-aggrandisement. I can say with measured conviction that I rarely felt ostracised because of my race, though to be fair, I did not grow up in Vermont, and had the privilege of attending a good university with many Asian faces around me (one in 10 students was Asian). Still, most Vermonters seemed characteristically quite modest and kind, polite and non-judgemental. Brian Bowden, a drug/alcohol educator and counsellor of students in Dartmouth College, moved to New England from Dallas, Texas with his partner to experience a different side of America. He tells me: "I have experienced the people of VT [Vermont]/NH [New Hampshire] as genuinely friendly and not wanting to get into a person's personal life. In the South were I was raised, the first thing someone would ask you is; 'what church do you go to, and if you are dating/married...' and if you answered in the negative on either of those; they would invite you to their church and try to fix you up with a pretty little thing. People in VT/NH never ask anything about church or personal life. They want to hear what is happy in your life. 'How are you doing?', instead of, 'What are you doing?'."

Why Vermont is chill
One theory as to Vermont's relative ease with setting the tone for same-sex civil unions in 2000, and now same-sex marriage in 2009, besides the prevailing culture of gentility that seems uncharacteristic of the stereotype of America, may have to do with its disproportionate number of convert Buddhists.

According to "Green mountains, good karma," a February 23, 2005 Boston Globe news article written by Sarah Schweitzer: "Buddhism has taken root with astonishing vigor in Vermont. California may have the nation's largest number of Buddhists, but Vermont, where Asian-Americans are barely one percent of the state's population� has what surveys suggest is the highest concentration of Caucasian Buddhists [in the United States]." According to Stephen Prothero, a professor of religion at Boston University, the number of Buddhist followers in Vermont is far above "what's normal for New England or the United States."

From my perspective, of course, being Buddhist alone does not necessarily equate to being gay-friendly. Still, given that Buddhism has historically been seen as a Godless, 'heathen' religion in Christian America, a disproportionately high concentration of convert Buddhists may signify open-mindedness, and a propensity to accept social change.

Perhaps French-influenced liberalism too has had something to do with Vermont's bold statement about marriage equality. After all, the name Vermont is from the French "Verts Monts," literally "Green Mountains," named after the coniferous mountain range that stretches through the beautiful state. Even the capital, Montpelier, is a French name, signifying homage to French aid in the American Revolution which saw the original thirteen settled colonies in New England overthrowing British monarchy rule, declaring independence, and marking the beginning of the United States of America.

Compared to Singapore where I grew up, Vermont has an area that is nearly 40 times larger with less than 1/7th of the population (Vermont: 24,923 sq km, population 620,000, Singapore: 655 sq km, population 4.6 million). In Vermont, there is literally a lot of room for people to respect the sacredness of personal space, and to make peace with sexual difference. And what an incredible backdrop to practice Buddhism in, the Boston Globe article suggests. What a world to sit in quiet meditation, to bask in tranquil equanimity. What a place to bathe in solitude, a lush wilderness open for calm contemplation.

Pam Misener, an assistant dean of student life and staff advisor to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender students at Dartmouth College, tells me: "Vermont was ready to embrace marriage equality because a great deal of work has taken place in the state since civil unions were created in 2000. Part of that work has been helping more and more people take notice of and better understand the life experiences of those of us who are gay or lesbian (or bi, or trans, or queer), and particularly as related to state civil rights."

The University of Vermont in Burlington, for example, was the first to hold the region's only transgender-focused conference, called "Translating Identity," which started there in 2003, featuring workshops, guest speakers, and activists addressing issues of gender identity and the concerns of transgender people in America. It has since bloomed in subsequent years to host an increasing number of participants from around the country, some even visiting from nearby Canada just to be a part of the program.

Vermont Warms Me
Burlington of course, was right where I was heading that cold February of 2004, home to the closest piercing parlours whose work I might actually trust, whose walls would not necessarily be plastered with tacky flash art of scantily clad ladies, showcasing the gaudy machismo of the usually heterosexual male staff.

When we arrived in Burlington, it was already nearing dark at 4 o'clock. Burlington is a small university city, of outdoorsy types, young artists, hippies, bohemians and intellectuals roaming the streets, like a smaller, cleaner, more relaxed, and more wintry version of San Francisco. Small art galleries and a myriad of continental restaurants and cafes cluster in the city centre in red brick buildings. The city is settled serenely along the coast of the majestic Lake Champlain, which that evening shimmered a dark icy blue under the light of the moon. We made our way to the piercing parlour.

There, I paid the fee and sat topless in a faux leather chair in a private room with the gorgeous queer piercer with large green eyes glittering under brown lashes. He told me "breathe in." And so I breathed in. "Now breathe out," he said right after that, and as I exhaled, I yelped out "FUCK!" My face winced through the pain of sharp surgical steel sliding through my left nipple like a knife through butter.

I was hot for a handsome man with gloved, nimble hands touching my naked torso and speaking kindly to me through the pain, twisting in a titanium ring. Snow was falling again outside, ever so softly, and I was sitting in a warm room with a piece of Vermont dangling secretly through me, resting sore and squarely next to my heart.

Shinen Wong is a high calorie product of globalisation and lives in Sydney, Australia en route from Malaysia, Singapore, and the USA. In his fortnightly "Been Queer. Done That" column, Wong explores gender, sexuality, and queer cultures based on personal anecdotes, sweeping generalisations and his incomprehensible libido.