Finding Home Again

Honestly, I never expected to be invited back to RMC. Truthfully, I never really had a strong desire to come back. My time at Randolph-Macon can be summed up in one world, emotional. I first came to RMC in 2005, I was recruited to play football, and excited to find a new home among new friends and a place to truly fit in. My high school days were marked by transfers, and therefore a lack of continuity. Attending a small college would give me the community I so desired, so would being part of a team, and being part of a major program. Suffice it say football didn’t work out. As someone struggling with my own gender identity I could no longer put the energy into trying to play a sport that I didn’t love, and couldn’t deal with another season of masking who I really was. It was in my Freshmen year I first encountered the diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria, and because of living in a male dorm, on a southern campus in 2005 and being a Religious Studies student there was nothing to do but hide myself under more layers of faux interests and facades. Luckily enough that freshmen year I was still welcomed by new friends, and found a home in making friends with many of the RMC women’s basketball team, and being an avid supporter, along with close friends from the now defunct FYE program. I was lucky enough to also have great roommate.

But like all campuses in the Spring Semester there is change. No longer a football player, and not a member of Greek Life I saw friendships disappear, and change to simple head nods while passing on walks to class. I spent countless hours playing pick-up basketball, and really sticking to the same group I connected with already. But as the semester comes to a close you learn some friends are transferring, while you see others graduate. As much as I looked for stability, college was a reminder the only constant we have is change.

However, one thing was poignant and at the forefront of my emotions — ​RMC was home​. Moving to Ashland, from a home in Baltimore was a culture shock, but in the first two semesters I felt like I had a place that fit, and as the summer of 2006 wore on I anxiously awaited the days to move back to campus to start my Sophomore year. I petitioned to move back early, and was approved! There were changes that awaited, I switched roommates and also adjusted to life without sports. I was a regular student now, and, unfortunately, the summer dulled some friendships due to distance, and the fact that social media wasn’t a factor to easily stay in touch. I would have to forge a new group of friends, again. That itself wore on me, as did my consistent internal struggle of who I was, and where I was going. The person I decided to room with, another ex-athlete was finding a new way forward, and I was losing a friend again. I spent a lot of time isolated, as someone with extreme social anxiety, and as an introvert I wasn’t someone that was going to put myself out there. You would not find my flying solo to an event, ever. It was with this depression, coupled with finally talking to a pastor about being trans that led me to contemplating, and unsuccessfully trying to end my life one weekend while alone in Moreland. I guess sometime better would await.

Sophomore year saw me involved in much more, from SGA, to other campus religious and social groups and led me to run for SGA Junior Class president and win. I was still willing to fight for my love of the campus, though I was seeing more and more of myself isolated, and without a home. There was no acceptance of LGBT people on campus, and as someone who needed desperate help, no one that wanted to really sit with the anxious kid when there were countless classes to attend, events to be a part of and social lives to be had.

Junior year saw me take on multiple new roles, in hopes of building friendships, but really I just got weighed down with more jobs and no way to really connect. Yes I was at a lot of events, but it was because I had to plan them, not because I was invited. It was also the year I met my future wife. And with that connection I saw my closest friendship die, because of course there is always tension when things change. With that change, along with a continual change in the overall atmosphere of the college I truly found myself wondering how did I lose my home? By the time fall break hit I saw myself forced to move out of a special interest house I fought to get, and giving a long list of apologies to a friend so I could find a safe room on campus. A place that was so welcoming now felt strange. I felt disliked, and people were quick to tell me how much they disliked me. Whether that was an old teammate bullying me on a walk back to my dorm room, or coaches telling students to avoid “thugs like me”, to students harassing me at my door the campus was not home, it was a war-zone. As I walked to class I didn’t feel like I was part of anything but pulled apart by everything. 2007–08 saw a lot of tension on campus as well. Fraternities still holding “Welcome to the Hood Parties,” KA was coming back to campus and still doing an “Old South” party that raised racial tensions because historically black fraternities has been turned away. Additionally RMC saw rising tension between religious and secular groups, and the first arrival of an LGBT campus group supported by the Campus Center and Chaplain. There was awkward stares at gay students, ignorance to the Day of Silence, and vandalism to transgender suicide displays during the month of April. Additionally for Juniors and Seniors we began to feel the pressure of the economic recession, career choices and the impending “welcome to the real world” due date with no way to make it.

By Senior year in 2008 I was engaged. I lived in an apartment on campus, but kept to my fiance, and roommate from freshman year. The three of us were close. Many on campus thought I was absolutely crazy for being engaged, and even more crazy for starting my first career post before the end of term. So suffice it to say, when I took a job as a Youth Pastor that called for 6am alarms and 9am starts to work days the social aspect of the college was done for me. Add to it my health was a wreck that semester and for two months I was restricted to hospital visits, a wheelchair, and being stuck on the second floor apartment because of lack of handicap accessibility. At this point I was a non-entity, but faced gossip about my life, my marriage, and understood being an outsider. By May of 2009 I was more than ready to leave and never come back. I stuck around for 20 minutes after commencement, got married the next week and would not even drive through campus again in my mind.

But now in 2018 I came back. I was invited back. To say I was apprehensive was an understatement. I was terrified. Here I am a transwoman in a world where I face constant discrimination, and am coming back to a school in Virginia, that when I attended was staunchly right wing. I remember the night President Obama was elected and many frat houses looked like funeral homes, while other students had signs, and marched through campus. How in the world would I be received in the era of Trump? But still I came back because I knew it was important. I never had the courage to live my truth while in college, and wanted to speak for the students who may feel the same. I have been a pastor, and also felt the venom of religious discrimination. I also wanted to address that. So with all the confidence my anxious, ptsd self could muster I found myself here again.

And I was shocked. Where was I? RMC, you have changed so much, and you have grown in many beautiful ways. I sat in a room more diverse than any I could imagine in 2005. I saw students from three divergent groups (from a 2005 perspective) come together to sponsor an LGBTQIA+ panel that addressed and welcome a transwoman to speak on Christianity! I was honored to meet trans students, non binary students, and gender queer students. I saw Christians sit with LGBT students in friendships. I found out there is an affirming Christian group on campus! I met old pastors who sat and chatted with me like only a few days had past since 2009. I was hugged. I was welcomed. I made new connections with beautiful leaders, to a Chaplain committed to faith and justice, and a diversity center that is at the forefront of what the campus does, not the back room where I worked as a student worker so many years ago. I was welcomed back into the bookstore and sat with Barclay for hours. Laughing about the old times, and rejoicing in the new. I met students that weren’t ashamed to know a trans person and went out of there way to speak with me, and to say hello when they saw me on a second day on campus.

I can say proudly I have found a home again. I have never felt more proud to be a Yellow Jacket than I have these last two days. RMC you welcomed me, you loved me in ways I did not know you could. You affirmed me, and are learning to affirm others. Where once there was distrust now I see friendships blossoming. To students usually pushed aside I now see in leadership roles, with strong loving voices echoing in the halls of the Brock Commons. In professor’s offices I saw trans inclusion posters, and events. I saw the LGBT safe zone sticker proudly displayed. I saw Christians speak up for love, and against discrimination. I see events and courses coming to the college that will continue to inspire, include, and fight injustice. Macon, oh how you have grown.

For that I want to say thank you. This week I found a home again.