On Dec. 14, a few days into winter break, I received a campus-wide e-mail from Dean Crady informing me that my friend, Cody Lavender, had died a day earlier in a tragic accident on the Edinburgh FSP. When the news reached me, I was in the middle of a phone conversation with my mom, casually scanning BlitzMail, and not expecting anything from the message entitled: "Sad News." I read the e-mail and immediately fell silent. My mom started asking for me, and all I could do was hang up the phone.
In the days that followed, I did what most of Cody's friends were doing at the time: I scoured Google News for information, read the Facebook wall that had become a virtual memorial and struggled to process my extreme shock. Cody had been a part of a small but strong queer community at Dartmouth, yet at the time when the members of this community needed each other most, we were miles apart, forced to channel our grief into flimsy and intangible outlets like the Internet. Desperate to fill the void, I tried to pay tribute to Cody by sharing stories with those who would never meet him; it was not enough.
Nevertheless, in this past month of mourning, I've felt an increasing desire to share with the rest of campus a few things about the Cody I knew and loved. Cody was one of my best friends at Dartmouth. And, while I'm sure that some friends shuddered when they first logged onto his Facebook page and saw an outdated status update that read: "Cody Lavender is jizzing in his pants," I think his playful reference to the SNL skit was actually the most fitting set of parting words he could have offered.
Cody had an irreverent frankness about him that was hard not to admire. We became quick friends last Spring term. Enrolled in the same WGST 10A, we met for lunch nearly every Tuesday and Thursday with another classmate and chatted over Homeplate paninis and Pavilion cookies until we parted for 2As. I had just broken up with a guy from another school, and Cody's crass references to gay sex, and his beloved purple dildo (displayed prominently in his dorm room), made me laugh and helped me heal.
But Cody's stories about sexual exploits and experimentation weren't just for entertainment; for him, pleasure was political. By unabashedly claiming his sexual bragging rights in the same manner that his straight counterparts did, Cody treated his sexuality as a weapon against the overwhelming presumptions and misconceptions inherent in our heteronormative world.
Cody's leadership as co-chair of Gender Sexuality XYZ was nothing short of inspirational; his comfort, ease and open-mindedness when running meetings helped assuage the myriad fears of new members to the group. Cody's particular passion for transgender activism was something our campus has never seen before. His work -- including bringing transgender performance artist Kate Bornstein to Dartmouth for Pride Week -- helped to shift the campus discourse on gender and make our school a more open and welcoming place.
While in Scotland, Cody organized a gathering at the U.S. Consulate to protest the passing of Proposition 8, California's referendum to eliminate same-sex marriage. A friend of mine who was studying with Cody told me that he stood up to a class of near strangers to recruit supporters, championing his cause without any hesitation or fear of homophobic backlash. It was that type of fearlessness in Cody that I both admired and envied. Cody didn't just talk about liberation; he strived to live it everyday.
In an environment that often promotes superficiality, everything about Cody was real. When he laughed, it was because every sinew in his body was filled with joy; his daily effervescence was absolutely infectious. My freshman year was rough, and before I got to know Cody, I wondered if I would ever meet students I could truly connect with. Cody eased my worries; he showed deep and meaningful love and care for his friends, and was the first person I believed I would be close to beyond my four years as an undergrad.
During Bornstein's visit, she told us to live our lives freely, promoting the uninhibited expression of our full human nature. Aware that her recommendation could lead us to sin, she gave each audience member a "Get out of Hell Free" card, ensuring us that -- as a bondage fetishist -- she would gladly take the torture on our behalf.
I hope Cody held on to that card while he was in Scotland. If living one's life to the fullest is sacrilege, then Cody was the biggest sinner I've ever known.
