"You know they're going to make you go to church and try to change you," "You'll be lucky to get in the program," "They'll try to make you think twice about your transition." These were all things I heard in the months before starting graduate school at my current college. Why would someone who is transgender, and not at all religious apply to attend a two-year program at a well known Christian college? Two words: No Thesis. I haven't always been the strongest academically; you could say I've gotten through school taking the easiest of routes available to me. I really did not want the burden of my graduation being contingent on a 40-page thesis. This school was the only one in the area that didn't require one. I contemplated for a long time about wether the potential discrimination I might face would be worth it. In the end, it was. I had already lost family in the process of my transition, so the idea of not being accepted by complete strangers didn't bother me. I applied and even disclosed my gender identity in the application essay. Much to my surprise, I was accepted in the program, and I started in August 2017.

My first class was ironically a diversity class. Immediately the professor disclosed she was a social worker, and a pastor. I thought, "Alright, here we go. I'm about to be eaten alive". For an ice breaker, she had us go around the room and say our name, and how we got it. It makes complete sense from a cultural and diversity standpoint. But I thought again to myself "Well this was not how I imagined coming out at a religious college in a room full of complete strangers." I suppose in the moment; I could have lied and said my parents just chose my name, remaining stealth and not outing myself. But as people went around and told the story of how they got their name, explaining how they were family names or meant something significant to their parents, I froze. I couldn't possibly come up with an explanation in the time I had before it was my turn. I also didn't want to spend the following two years closeted, lying about who I was. Closets are for clothes you know? And in the scheme of clothes, I'm more of the wrinkled shirt that's been in the pile on your floor because you haven't had time to hang anything up. So I said, "My name is Kole, and I got to pick my name because I'm transgender." That was it, in my head I was prepared for dirty looks and bible verses about how I was going to hell. Instead, people smiled, and I met the most genuine people in the world that night.

After class, the professor pulled me aside and said: "can I ask what your preferred pronouns are?". What? Was I in the right place? This was not how things were supposed to go. After all, I was at a Christian school, and the professor was also a pastor. Every life experience I had ever had led me to believe that I could not and never would be accepted or welcomed by any person of faith. Of course, people asked me questions, but they were genuine and came from a place of wanting to understand and learn. The semester went on, and everyone knew that I was trans. For the first time in my life, I was fully accepted by everyone I was surrounded by. Classmates, professors, and friends. Suddenly the big scary Christian school that everyone warned me about became a safe haven, and a place I looked forward to spending the next two years at. I would center my presentations around social work with LGBTQ+ individuals, and as decent (for me) grades rolled in, I realized that this was the real deal. I had hit the jackpot of life experiences. My own stereotypes about people that practiced religion were completely shattered, I was accepted, my identity was affirmed, and not for nothing, but I was actually learning here- something that I can't say about my experiences at other colleges.

Now, I will add that being trans aside; I still have an apprehension toward religion. And because it is a Christian school, of course, religion is integrated maybe more so than other colleges. I was faced with another choice, I could completely shut all of that out, or I could approach this experience with an open mind, and a gentle curiosity as I had hoped my professors and classmates would with me prior to starting the program. I knew that my diversity professor, (the one who's ultimately poetic choice in ice breaker activities led to this amazing experience) would be a safe person to approach about the topic. If she was going to judge me, she definitely would have already. Through all of my questions about the bible and god, among my disclosure about my own horrible experience growing up in the Catholic Church, she answered every single thing objectively with kindness and grace. I wasn't converted or berated- another first for me.

The fall semester came and went, further into the spring semester, we learned that there would be a discussion open to students about suggestions for the program. Despite all of my positive experiences here so far, there was one thing that still really bothered me. We were in a social work program, and outside of my presentation topics, I could count maybe three other occasions that LGBTQ+ people were mentioned. Part of me just wanted to be thankful that I hadn't experienced oppression yet, but another part of me wanted to challenge the program to become the best they could be. I spent a little over a month creating a full-blown proposal to present to faculty and staff that night. I had gotten to know most of them reasonably well, but I was still nervous to bring it up. Here I was, the typical Trans person talking about how something in society once again isn't fair. I felt so dumb, and I didn't think anyone would want to hear it. But with the support of a classmate who I had grown closely with, we started the conversation and presented our ideas about how practice with LGBTQ+ individuals could be further integrated, we were blunt about where the program lacked. I should have known it would be well received, and yet again I was simply shocked by the response of faculty.

It was at this time that I had a moment of realization. Who was oppressing who? Having been almost done with my first of two years here, every single expectation I had was completely destroyed and countered with acceptance and love. Though I still had these assumptions that because I was at a Christian college, at the mercy of professors who are openly religious and spiritual that I would be made to feel less than human. I began to see that even though society as a whole isn't always fair in the treatment of LGBTQ+ people, that maybe it was me in this situation not being fair to those who had clearly supported me. An unfairness which stemmed from my perception and fear of their religious and spiritual beliefs. I had zero reason to believe that what I had learned about religion up until then was true. But I still rolled my eyes at the mention of god, trudged through papers where we were asked to integrate spirituality and became overcome with anxiety when faced with a discussion about LGBTQ+ rights. None of that was fair to the people who had shown me so much grace, and love.

I didn't think that I had to start going to church, or praying or even believing in god. I did think it was time for me to really listen and ask those hard questions that I was afraid of bringing up. So I continued to have conversations with the infamous icebreaker professor, who has since become my biggest ally and cheerleader. I started doing research on religion and sought out answers I had longed to find. For the first time in 24 years, I had a completely open mind about spirituality and religion as a whole. I wasn't afraid to talk about it or learn about it. What I learned, was that in the most literal interpretations, God is actually very accepting, and loving, and open to everyone. I learned that the Bible, despite my thought that it was a set of rules to be followed, is actually a collection of poems, and stories, and sometimes very funny jokes. I learned that being close with a higher power is more about how you live out your life, and how you treat or serve others. Everything began to make so much more sense. I was at a Christian college, and I was in a program filled with professors and staff and students who are living examples of what it means to be a Christian and live life the way that God would want.

I still don't know that I personally believe in a God, I don't attend church, I don't pray, I don't identify with any religion, and I really don't even consider myself spiritual. There are scars left from my own experiences that will remain, and that's okay with me. They make me who I am today. What I do know though, is that not every religion is hateful, and not every higher power is prejudice. There are good and bad people all over the world. I've met some pretty awful people who I'm certain didn't go to church or practice religion. However, my experience here has allowed me to get to know the most genuine, and kind humans to ever walk this earth...those people just so happen to be Christian, and I am a better person for having known them. What started as an effort to avoid a 40 page thesis statement in hopes of skating by easy and getting a degree, has turned into one of my biggest personal challenges, and also one of the best experiences I have ever had.