September 11, 2026 | Amy Luettgen

Dr. Liz Cannon: the teacher who never stops learning

With limited language, resources, and support available, the path to understanding and self-acceptance was anything but straight.

Dr. Liz Cannon

A life of academia and activism is the living legacy of Dr. Elizabeth (Liz) Cannon (ey/em/eir). Liz was born 10 years after the middle of the 20th century, and the journey to fully understanding who they were took a bit of time. This was typical for folks who did not have the internet to understand sexuality or gender identity, nor social media to help find a community.

Liz embarked on a journey that wasn't traditional or linear. In fact, it has been somewhat of a circuitous route.

Born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Liz’s educational experience included completing three degrees in English Literature: a Bachelor of arts from Oberlin College, a Master of Arts in 19th Century British and American Literature from Indiana University, and a PhD in Women’s Women’s Writing and Feminist Theory with a minor in Women’s Studies from the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

With master's degree in hand, Liz started a teaching career at Phillips Exeter Academy, and finally, after earning the PhD, landed at UW Oshkosh for 25 years, directing the Women's Center (3 years), LGBTQ+ Resource Center (14 years), and Social Justice Program (3 years) while also developing and coordinating an LGBTQ Studies certificate (8 years.)

While at UW-Oshkosh, Liz also taught courses in the Women’s and Gender Studies Program, such as Queer Lives Through Memoir and Introduction to LGBTQ Studies. Although retired, Liz now runs a part-time business, Somewhere Over the Moon Trainings, works part-time with individuals with osteoporosis and osteopenia at Osteostrong, and teaches Tai Chi and a barre class at a local gym.

Initially, Liz identified as heterosexual. There were crushes on girls when Liz was younger, but at the time, ey didn’t recognize them as such so being straight was the default for em in eir youth.

Later, acknowledging attractions to women, Liz identified as a lesbian for 13 years and had loving, fulfilling relationships with women. Liz felt misidentified: as a young person and as a young adult, the concept of bisexuality was absolutely invisible. Liz did not know of any role models or mentors who might have smoothed the path to an authentic self as a bisexual, genderqueer person.

Liz reflects on bisexual and queer identity. Ey did not hear the word “gay” until middle school, the term "bisexual" until age 30, and "gender queer" until age 48. At the time, there was limited language available to describe people who were not straight or cisgender, and there certainly wasn't an open discussion.

Liz was attracted to boys and men, so identifying as straight seemed to make sense at the time. It was “easy” to dismiss those lingering crushes on girls without the vocabulary to articulate these feelings. To some extent, Liz also had concerns about familial reactions which were resolved over time. (A sister came out as a lesbian in her 20s and 30s.)

Queer identities were understood or accepted in Liz's youth:

"The first time I heard the word 'gay' was when I was in ninth grade. My family discussed everything at the dinner table, and one evening my sister started talking about the gay couple that visited her high school. Suddenly, my dad cleared his throat and said, 'sex is for procreation.” My sister, not missing a beat, replies, 'wow, I didn’t know you and Mom wanted more kids!' He turns red. My mom laughed. I got the distinct impression that being gay was not considered good by my dad, but, at the time, I’m more focused on this new-to-me concept of same-sex couples. Since my sister thought it was cool, so did I. But, at the time, it didn’t occur to me to question my own sexuality."

While Liz’s dad did have some problems accepting his two queer daughters, they all ended up having a very strong relationship. Interestingly enough, that sister now identifies as straight. Liz gives eir dad credit for being able to change his hetero-focused worldview.

While Liz came out to a select few at age 25 while teaching at Phillips Exeter Academy, the first real ‘coming out’ to others occurred at the age of 26 while attending the doctoral program at UW- Madison. At that time, Liz identified as a lesbian and expressed that identity for about 13 years. Switching from a focus in 19th Century English Literature to Women’s Writing and Feminist Theory was critical to acheiving an understanding of identity and self, but that still took time and was an evolving process.

"I'd heard the word bisexual by this point, but it took some time to realize and accept what that meant."

“Initially, the only two words I had were straight and lesbian. So clearly, I’m lesbian because I’m attracted to women. And there was a wonderful community there to embrace me in Madison, who, I later learned, was not welcoming to bisexuals. But, of course, the hardest part is coming out to your parents. I didn’t actually have to because my mom looked at me once when we were out to dinner, and she asked, are you a lesbian? I said, yes. We cried. We hugged. Her only concern was that it might make my life harder. We both knew we couldn’t tell Dad.”

Liz’s father was an academic and, interestingly enough, a very liberal person. He taught in the English Departments at Drake University and Coe College. He supported his gay and lesbian students who came out to him. But he struggled with having queerness in his own family, as he came from a very traditional family. While Liz was part of a loving family, ey didn’t really want to rock the boat as at the time eir Dad was already grappling with eir elder sister’s same-sex relationship. He consoled himself with the thought that Liz was going to be the “success”: ey was going to be the one who married and produced grandchildren all while having a successful career. There was pressure in thinking that ey would hurt eir dad because ey couldn’t live up to that expectation in the way he envisioned it.

“I was supposed to be the hope, the glory, the successful career, the marriage, and the grandkids. My dad found out I was not straight as I had come home to Cedar Rapids and had a girlfriend there. (Ironically enough, one of his students whom he supported!) To go see her, I had to sneak out and say I was spending the night with a friend. My mom knew where I was and couldn’t lie to my dad so she told him. I came home to find him in a fetal position on the bed, saying if it were not for my mother, he would kill himself.”

While this was a low moment, he eventually came to terms with the news, and their strong relationship continued forward.

"He had a best friend who was a psychiatrist," said Liz, "and his friend asked him if maybe God had given him two lesbian daughters because he was the one who needed to learn a lesson of acceptance and support."

Things got better from that point forward. Liz later brought home a girlfriend and there was concern about where they would sleep.

"Dad told Mom to put us in the same room to “save sheets”. He had a transformation. He was always the one to write cards signed, give my love to Lisa. That transformation and support from my dad meant a great deal.”

Liz felt a sense of belonging within the Madison lesbian community, realizing that there really were queer people, places, organizations, and culture. Feeling connected to queer culture was illuminating and reassuring. There were queer people in the world and connecting with them made Liz feel seen. Support, resources, and guidance were freely offered.

Apple Island was a lesbian oasis in the city.

“They rented a large basement of a building. It was an alcohol-free zone for women. If there was a public event, such as a comedian or a speaker, the space would be open to everyone. I took karate and earned my black belt at Apple Island and even dated the instructor for 6 years. It was a truly phenomenal space.”

The Michigan’s Womyn’s Music Festival also had a profound effect on Liz. This was a sanctuary for community building and women’s music which featured various workshops and prominent feminist musicians.

"I really felt in my element at the festival, but my memories are bittersweet given the anti-trans direction of later years."

However, people were not really seeing the full extent of Liz’s identity at this point -- and neither was Liz.

After ending a relationship with another woman and starting teaching at UW-Oshkosh, Liz decided to take a peek at the personal ads in Madison’s local publication, the Isthmus. Liz was seen as an amazing out lesbian on campus, but was starting to challenge those boundaries.

Liz was perusing the personal ads and saw “women seeking women” and “men seeking men.”

And then, "men seeking women."

"I saw this ad and it said, 'I have a ponytail. I play guitar. I like to read, and I’ll try anything once. And, that last one is a lie.' That ad was placed by Jay, who later became my husband. We will celebrate our 25th anniversary in December. I really thought I would just read the personals for a laugh. Instead, I found Jay."

Liz knew that having a relationship with a man was going to involve some soul searching. What did this mean, exactly? Coming out as bi was one of the most difficult things Liz would ever do.

“I didn’t know how my students would react. I was used to being part of the Madison lesbian community. I know if I had come out as bi in my last relationship (before Jay,) she would have dropped me like a hot potato. I was lucky as my students were very supportive.”

"I also had to reckon with the difference in self: who I was, how I would operate in the world. This evolution turned out to be amazingly freeing."

Next up for Liz: gender identity.

"Gender was a different story. Gender was part of a life-long struggle. As a kid, I did not fit in as a girl. I was called a tomboy, but I didn’t like that as I was not a boy. The best day of my life as a kid was when my mom bought me some black Converse boy’s tennis shoes. There were tears over having to wear dresses and joy when I got my first football. I just felt there wasn’t a gender category for me.”

"As a lesbian, there was a category: soft butch. How would that work in a bisexual relationship?"

“It wasn’t until I was 48 that I heard the term non-binary. Of course, it was from one of my students. And, I thought, I’ve been non-binary my entire life. The term that fits the best for me is genderqueer."

"I don’t say I’m transgender, as that was not my experience growing up. It is more like I am trans-ish. I wasn’t dealing with gender the way I was seeing my trans students dealing with it. I felt like here is the trans umbrella and here is the cis umbrella and I felt sort of in-between but more towards the trans side.”

Now, Liz is completely comfortable with bisexual and non-binary identities. It is a restful space to occupy and a place to call home.

As far as mentors go, Liz recalls taking students to the Midwest Bisexual Lesbian Gay Trans Ace College Conference

"In the beginning, A stood for ally, and many straight cisgender allies attend the conference. Every queer person can be an ally to other identities in our community."

Liz met two bi+ activists who have had a major influence on Liz’s own knowledge and activist endeavors. Meeting Robyn Ochs, and bringing her to the UW Oshkosh campus to share knowledge and insight about bisexuality, made a lasting impact on Liz’s work at the LGBTQ+ Resource Center and provided much needed support for bi+ students. Attending the Creating Change conference was also an important step in Liz’s knowledge base. The people and presenters at Creating Change were closer to Liz’s age than the students at MBLGTACC and gave eir a different view of the intergenerational aspect of queer activism and education.

“From day one it was my goal to bring in as many speakers, events, everything, of all different identities and different intersections. I wanted to create a space at the Resource Center where we could not only educate but also provide a safe and supportive refuge for all LGBTQIA+ folks on campus.”

She was also fortunate to meet Victor Jason Raymond, an established bisexual Two Spirit educator and activist in Wisconsin.

Victor contacted Liz to work on a Wisconsin bi+ organization, and while that did not come to fruition, it did result in a bisexual outreach panel which toured Wisconsin college campuses for over a year. Liz's colleague, Professor Amney Castaneda, was also involved. Ultimately, Amney and Liz collaborated to create Somewhere Over the Moon Trainings, providing LGBTQ+ presentations state-wide.

When asked what might surprise younger folks in the bi+ community, Liz points to living out and queer in the pre-internet era.

“I don’t think younger people fully grasp what it was like to try to make local, national or global connections without access to the internet. If you were going to interact with anybody who was queer, it was going to have to be face to face: you had to find them. It could be a small thing that made you aware that you were meeting with another queer person. I had a dog at one time. I named her Ferron (a well known womyn’s music artist) If someone knew Ferron, it meant we probably had some things in common. It could definitely be hit or miss to make connections.”

"If you lived in a small town or a rural area, it could be very difficult to make any queer connections at all," said Liz. "It was very difficult to learn about the wider queer community beyond gay and lesbian identity. Most queer folks moved to larger cities in order to make friends and create community. If you wanted queer books or magazines and could not go to a bookstore, such as Room of One’s Own in Madison, you were likely to receive your purchase in a brown paper wrapping so that no one would know you were obtaining LGBTQ+ material."

Liz shared two deeply uncomfortable memories:

“I’m basically ashamed of two moments. I remember the first time I met a trans man. One of my students introduced us. He was just beginning his transition and the thought that went through my head was, this is such a cool butch woman, why does she want to be a man?"

"The second memory involves an episode where I was presenting a paper on lesbian literature at a professional conference when I was in grad school. A guy, who was attending with his girlfriend, made a comment about how he was queer. I was incensed. I was thinking, I’m queer, I’m in a same-sex relationship, I am getting all this crap and you are trying to say you're queer. I see this as so cringe now, and I am thankful for what I have learned in the interim. I did learn a lot from the books and articles I incorporated into my classes, but I learned even more from my queer students.”

While Liz did not respond outwardly negatively in these instances, the memories are a reminder of how limited views can take time to unlearn.

Looking back on a life with many achievements, it took Liz a moment to think of what ey sees as eir most satisfying accomplishments. Coming out as queer at a relatively young age in an era which was not very supportive of queer identities ranks highly.

“Although I had a lot of depression in my 20s and 30s, there were definitely wonderful moments. Coming out to myself as queer and coming out to my family were very important. I was able to teach the first gay and lesbian course at UW-Oshkosh as well as the first queer course. I was able to co-lead several study abroad courses. One of the last trips was to Germany, and we developed a course on resistance movements, specifically the gay resistance movement of the 1870s-1920s and the Nazi resistance efforts from 1933 to 1945. We also got to see contemporary LGBTQ+ activism at work.”

When asked about reductive bisexual myths, Liz reflects that being defined by a partner's gender is definitely a myth which has a great deal of destructive power.

“When you are bi, and being seen as gay or straight depending upon your partner, it means that in every situation you have to use your voice to make sure people are not misidentifying you. And, even if you do express your bi-identity, there are those who won’t believe you because of your relationship status. All I can say is that if being bi is a phase it has been the longest one of my life.”

In grad school studying gender theory, Liz was really attracted to the idea of deconstructing societal binaries and boundaries.

“My academic pursuits have taught me many things, but one very important thing is that human beings are very complex. We rarely fit neatly into binary categories. Understanding this about humans definitely increased my ability to deconstruct binaries, but it especially gave me the lens to really see people in all their uniqueness.”

“I think before we even talk about visibility in the larger queer community, or even visibility in the larger community, we have to acknowledge that despite being almost 60% of the LGBTQ+ community, bisexual initiatives and organizations get a very minimal amount of funding. That makes having an impact very difficult. Another problem is that we are often not even visible to each other, and that is why having bi+ programming and bi+ organizations is so important.”

Liz recalls a conversation ey had at Creating Change with another LGBTQ campus organization director. Liz asked what bi programing they had, and the director indicated that there was no demand for it. That did not seem accurate to Liz as in eir experience as director of the LGBTQ+ Resource Center on the Oshkosh campus, ey found that the identity discussion groups that always had the most attendance were the bi/pan/poly groups.

“I can tell you one of the first discussion groups my students asked for at the Center was a bi group. When I first got to campus, it was mostly gay and lesbian students who showed up at the student organization I advised, but once I came out as bi, bi+ students started showing up. And by the time the Center was established, bi+ students were a major demographic of the students we served. I think they felt seen and safe since I was acknowledging my bisexuality.”

Liz is proud not only to study and teach queer theory, but to put those theories into practice as the director of the UW Oshkosh LGBTQ+ Resource Center.

“We did so much to promote queer culture on campus, creating the Resource Center, doing so many SAFE trainings, developing so many programs, bringing in so many queer speakers. That Resource Center we built is now gone and all that remains of the work I have done is the LGBTQ study certificate. To say I am concerned about the current political climate is an understatement."

Liz also takes great pride in Somewhere over the Moon Trainings. Unfortunately, given the current political climate, this important work is not in demand like it was several years ago.

“I worry about the current situation for queer folks, and especially trans people, here in the US. I am very proud of the many LGBTQ+ students I had the privilege of working with who are now out in the world making a difference. I’d like to think I had something to do with the journey they find themselves on.”

While optimistic about the future of the community, Liz reminds us that we must maintain vigilance. Liz sees older queer generations as having a duty of care to continue to support younger queer folks.

“We always have this hope that we are building something for the future. Especially those of us who are older and followed different paths in our lives. We have to do everything we can to make the lives of younger queer folks better. Those of us in the community who have any privilege need to use that undeserved step up and make a difference for those in our community who are black, brown, trans, or marginalized in any way. I have always tried to introduce as many different voices in our community to my students, whether it was through the classroom or the Resource Center. It is really important to continue to hear different experiences and figure out how to amplify different voices and communities.”

Liz may be retired now, but their commitment to their work is never-ending.