My experience with LGBTQ discrimination in campus housing

Jamie Wyatt, Columnist

I wasn’t sure I wanted to write this piece. I wasn’t sure that I would resonate with traditional students as I’m a very non-traditional student. I’m 35, queer, and in fall 2018, I was just moving in with my girlfriend and 12-year-old child into student housing. 

I did my research prior to moving to CWU’s Ellensburg campus. I found they were rated the No. 1 LGBTQ inclusive school in Washington State and I called the housing on multiple occasions. At the time, my girlfriend was also a CWU student majoring in psychology; she also made numerous calls to the housing office. 

I spoke candidly with the housing office, I outed myself on numerous phone calls trying to explain my situation. I had a dependent, yes, and I wanted to share my space with my girlfriend, another CWU student. Seems easy enough to understand. I was told many, many times by a variety of people in the housing office that it wouldn’t be a problem for my child and partner to live with me while I pursued my degree. We even took the pains in explaining that my girlfriend was further ahead of me in her education by a year, meaning she would graduate first. 

Never at any time did anyone tell us that once she graduated, she would no longer be allowed to live with me unless we married. 

I consider myself to be a lucky queer. By that, I mean, I’ve been lucky enough to have a mostly supportive family, supportive friends and, having lived on the west coast for most of my life, I really hadn’t experienced discrimination up until this point. I was surrounded by an inclusive cohort at my community college, particularly with our LGBTQ club. 

It was a struggle to find really any information about the queer experience in Washington State colleges and there was practically nothing for queer students of the non-traditional variety. As stated in the article published in Community College Journal of Research and Practice, by Jason C. Garvey of the University of Alabama, “There is an absence of literature examining the experiences of lesbian, gay, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ).” 

This is true for universities as well, if not more so, since many queer students fall into the bracket of people who find four year schools inaccessible. 

You can imagine my surprise when the housing office called my girlfriend and I, during winter quarter asking who I was planning to room with the following year. First, I tried to patiently explain my situation. 

Many problematic phrases were given on that phone call: “This isn’t how we traditionally do things;” “It’s not our policy;” and “I don’t know who told you that” were some of the phrases I heard. It immediately caused stress since I had moved my girlfriend and child to a rural, conservative county where we could now be potentially homeless. 

We went in for a sit down meeting with a housing office administrator. During this time my girlfriend and I were told, when we asked about our situation, referring to my relationship as though it were an unwanted pregnancy from the ‘50s, what verbiage I used specifically. 

I told the housing administrator that I called on many occasions, not just once, and discussed how I needed family housing because I had a child and wanted to arrange it so my girlfriend and partner paid for the additional room in our apartment; one room paid for by her, one paid for by me. 

This housing official, someone who I thought would be an ally and try to help advocate for our family, told me the words ‘partner’ and ‘girlfriend’ are open to interpretation. Their employees weren’t aware of what I meant by these words since they can have many meanings. I stared at him, and both my girlfriend, myself and the housing official knew he was wrong. I had diligently explained myself to several of his employees.

I responded by asking if they expected me to blatantly come out to strangers, whom I’ve never met, to explain that I need a room in which to have queer sex with my girlfriend, my anger getting the best of me. At this time, he backpedaled a bit insisting he wasn’t saying the housing office expected queer students to out themselves, but what we were asking for was against policy.

My girlfriend and I left the office crying, angry and saddened by what we had experienced. In truth, it soured our experience in Ellensburg and living on campus. At the time, we were determined to fight it, reaching out to the CWU Student Rights & Responsibilities office. 

We were given an advocate who began to work with us and also informed us that housing had been allowing a heterosexual couple in the same situation to live together with their child, one of them a student, the other working in the community, as recent as fall 2018. 

Unfortunately, our child was assaulted at school in the process of our fight and we had to prioritize our families needs. It was decided that our experience living in CWU’s on campus community and within the Ellensburg community was detrimental to all of our mental health and we moved back to the west side when spring quarter 2019 ended. It was, and still is heartbreaking. 

A really great way to support LGBTQ students is through supportive interactions with faculty and instructors. 

One of the ways that administrators can better their interactions with LGBTQ students is by going through trainings and workshops as indicated in the article by Josie L. Linley for College Teaching journal; “Safe zone training could help faculty learn more about experiences of their LGBTQ students and continue to publicly support them as advisors, instructors, and mentors.” 

I would hope some sort of training for faculty exists for interacting, supporting and avoiding bias with the LGBTQ community, but it clearly needs to be updated. 

I want to be clear, I don’t write this with the intention of wanting to drag CWU’s reputation through the mud. On the contrary, I want this school that I still love, with professors who care, to take a critical eye to its policies and practices and ask if it serves ALL students, not just the affluent ones. 

CWU has a unique opportunity to hear this information and not put it aside, but to use this negative experience for one LGBTQ student and family and turn it into future positive experiences for the next LGBTQ family that lives on campus.