Over the summer, I found out that a friend of a friend had decided he wanted to date me, despite the fact that he had a girlfriend at the time. Complicating the situation further was the fact that no one involved knew then that I was a lesbian. It wouldn't have been too complicated had I been able to take him aside and explain this to him, but that choice was taken from me pretty quickly. I was far from the first person he tried to talk to about his interest in me, and he seemed confident that the feeling was mutual, so I had little control over what was happening and I resorted to telling another good friend of his that I didn't like boys. This person was understanding and assured me (a few times) that he wouldn't tell our mutual friend, someone I've known for nearly my entire life, but who - through no fault of her own - has trouble filtering what she should and shouldn't say to certain people.

He didn't make good on that.

Somehow, in the midst of all the middle school-esque drama, I was outed to her, and later her mother. They were both respectful of my privacy, but it was something of an ordeal for me. I was sobbing in front of people who, like me, had just been trying to watch a movie in the basement. I had to hold back tears on my way home so I could see the road. I knew I would be safe - I wasn't going to get kicked out of the house or disowned or loved any less, but a huge personal choice was taken from me before I got the chance to make it for myself. I was furious and devastated and terrified. This guy I barely knew unthinkingly put me through a brief but intense Hell.

The Hollins Board of Trustees expects the students to do the same to each other.

Before I came to Hollins, our infamous transgender policy was fairly prominent on the school's website. The first time I skimmed over it, parts of it made sense to me. We are a women's college, so requiring and helping a trans male student to transfer to a different school seemed understandable. I think I was under the assumption that the student would have already known they weren't a woman when they applied, when the reality is that they likely didn't. This is only my second year at Hollins, but I've started to miss it when I'm back home. If my sexuality put me at risk of being forced to leave, I'd be heartbroken. Why should we do this to people who are more fully realizing their gender?

This policy is so egregious that it was featured in a recent NBC article as an example of women's colleges that "have resisted widening their gender policies." This particular name-drop of our tiny school is embarrassing, but frankly, it's what we deserve if the policy isn't revised soon.

Hollins is a second home to us, and we're supposed to be a supportive and empathetic community. Yet, in addition to excluding an entire group of women because we don't equate their bodies with those of "real women," we're supposed to notify the University if we know someone is transitioning, or even questioning their gender. Students should be permitted to stay and complete their education in the environment they've come to know and love, regardless of their place on the gender spectrum.

I trusted the wrong person this summer. I won't be the wrong person to trust.