When Jared Beighley declared he was gay during his senior year of high school, his friends and siblings supported him.

But his mom is an “old-school” catholic, he said. She wanted him to pray it away. And his dad thought it would change who he was.

So he went to stay with what he calls his “foster family,” before finishing high school. Painted on the walls in his foster house was a phrase: “carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe omnious” – meaning, seize the day, seize the night, seize it all.

“When my foster family moved to Boston and sold their house, I wanted to keep a part of that with me, so I wrote it out in my own handwriting and had it tattooed on my leg,” Beighley said.

Beighley is now a sophomore at UW-Eau Claire, and after seeing a flyer for The Fireball, an annual event promoted by the Women’s and LGBTQ Resource Center, his second semester on campus, he started volunteering for the organization.

“I was still ashamed of my sexuality when I came out, and this office helped me a lot with that,” Beighley said.

Student Senate passed next year’s organized activities budget unopposed Monday. The budget delegates more than $4 million in student fees to campus organizations.

And while many organizations absorbed funding cuts, Senate rubber-stamped the Women’s LGBTQ resource center with a 72.7 percent funding bump -— one of the highest percentage funding increases on campus.

The organized activities budget doles out funds collected from segregated fees — next year, a $439 charge tacked onto tuition. Eleven student-funded programs will get less money next year, six will get the same amount and the resource center is one of 11 that will get more.

“We’ve been telling all these organizations that we’re going to try to maintain (funding),” Senate Finance Commission Director Tyler Will said. “But for some programs we’ve been able to increase funds.”

The resource center will have $8,000 more in its coffers next year, up from $11,000 this year.

That’s because the resource center outlined what it will do with more funds next year, and how well they’ve spent this and last year’s funds, in front of the Senate Finance commission, Will said.

“Last year they wanted more money,” he said. “The finance commission told them to show good evidence (their programs) work. They came back; they showed that.”

But the numbers don’t stop outside receipts and ledger lines, Chris Jorgenson, Women’s and LGBTQ director said.

Thousands flock to resource center events like National Coming Out Day and The Fireball – a drag show expected to draw about 1,400 people this year, more than any other event other than the annual Viennese Ball, he said.

But in the mid 90s, when Jorgenson was an undergrad at Eau Claire, there was strong pushback against LGBTQ students. He said people scrawled “silly faggots” in chalk across the footbridge that leads to Haas Fine Arts Center on National Coming Out Day.

But that’s not the worst part, he said. Although the university said it supported LGBTQ issues in public, it didn’t make an effort to erase the chalk messages. The slurs stayed until shuffling feet scuffed the cement clean.

Until a year before Jorgenson took over in 2010, the Women’s LGBTQ center was the Women’s and Gender Equity Center. There wasn’t a space on campus set aside for LGBTQ students.

Jorgenson graduated from Eau Claire in 1999. He came out when he was 19, living in Towers Hall. When he accepted the job at the resource center, he funneled his experiences as an undergrad into resource center projects.

“I tried to create programming I wished had existed here when I was a student,” Jorgenson said. “I feel the success of the office is in response to students wanting to be involved with it.”

There are more resources on campus gay students now, but results from a 2009 university survey showed LGBTQ students were more likely to leave the Eau Claire based on their college experience than any other group, Jorgenson said.

“That’s not unusual,” he said. “Theres a lot bigotry. The more we can have those conversations the more we can support each other as Blugolds, not as gay Blugolds or straight Blugolds.”

Beighley is now an intern at the LGBTQ resource center. Next year he’ll take over as a Safe Space trainer in the Affirmative Action office, coaching faculty and students on gender-neutral language and other LGBTQ-friendly terms, he said.

Beighly said the Safe Space planners haven’t had time to edit or update its guidelines, and as a result the training program has “plateaued.” But next year the resource center will partner with the Safe Space office to update the training regimen and extend the program’s reach.

These programs help bridge the gap between LGBTQ and straight students, Beighley said. And it’s crucial for many students who feel isolated to connect to a group like the resource center.

“For a lot of people there is something influential in an office that cares,” Beighley said. “There is really nothing like it.”

But in the mid 90s, when Jorgenson was an undergrad at Eau Claire, there was strong pushback against LGBTQ students. He said people scrawled “silly faggots” in chalk across the footbridge that leads to Haas Fine Arts Center on National Coming Out Day.

But that’s not the worst part, he said. Although the university said it supported LGBTQ issues in public, it didn’t make an effort to erase the chalk messages. The slurs stayed until shuffling feet scuffed the cement clean.

Until a year before Jorgenson took over in 2010, the Women’s LGBTQ center was the Women’s and Gender Equity Center. There wasn’t a space on campus set aside for LGBTQ students.

Jorgenson graduated from Eau Claire in 1999. He came out when he was 19, living in Towers Hall. When he accepted the job at the resource center, he funneled his experiences as an undergrad into resource center projects.

“I tried to create programming I wished had existed here when I was a student,” Jorgenson said. “I feel the success of the office is in response to students wanting to be involved with it.”

There are more resources on campus gay students now, but results from a 2009 university survey showed LGBTQ students were more likely to leave the Eau Claire based on their college experience than any other group, Jorgenson said.

“That’s not unusual,” he said. “Theres a lot bigotry. The more we can have those conversations the more we can support each other as Blugolds, not as gay Blugolds or straight Blugolds.”

Beighley is now an intern at the LGBTQ resource center. Next year he’ll take over as a Safe Space trainer in the Affirmative Action office, coaching faculty and students on gender-neutral language and other LGBTQ-friendly terms, he said.

Beighly said the Safe Space planners haven’t had time to edit or update its guidelines, and as a result the training program has “plateaued.” But next year the resource center will partner with the Safe Space office to update the training regimen and extend the program’s reach.

These programs help bridge the gap between LGBTQ and straight students, Beighley said. And it’s crucial for many students who feel isolated to connect to a group like the resource center.

“For a lot of people there is something influential in an office that cares,” Beighley said. “There is really nothing like it.”