Abstract
Our study aims to understand trans students’ perceptions of campus climate, with a particular focus on students’ demographics, academic experiences, and cocurricular experiences. We use Bhabha’s concept of third space as an epistemological lens and Rankin and Reason’s transformational tapestry model as a theoretical framework. Using a national sample of 207 trans collegians from the National LGBTQ Alumnx Survey, we utilize regression analysis supplemented by an analysis of open-ended responses to highlight the experiences of trans respondents. Results demonstrate the relationship between trans students’ campus climate perceptions and year of graduation, outness, academic training, and LGBTQ academic/cocurricular experiences. We close by discussing campus climate experiences and the third space that trans students must navigate within colleges and universities, and we provide recommendations for higher-education practitioners and scholars.
Over the past fifty years, sociohistorical events in higher education have demonstrated a gradual progressivism for lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, and queer (LGBTQ) collegians. Key moments like the formation of the Student Homophile League in 1967, the opening of the Lesbian-Gay Male Programs office at the University of Michigan in 1971, and the creation of the Consortium of Higher Education LGBT Resource Professionals in 1997 have contributed to more welcoming and supportive campus environments for LGBTQ students (Garvey, Sanders, and Flint 2017; Marine 2011). However, the evolution and progressivism of LGBTQ student services is strongly rooted in LGBQ student experiences, erasing and further marginalizing trans students under the assumed singularly imagined and politically framed LGBTQ student experience. Scholars have recently advocated for disaggregating the experiences of LGBQ and trans collegians, recognizing that institutional supports and policies that serve LGBQ students may not equally serve trans students (Nicolazzo and Marine 2015; Rankin and Garvey 2015). As Duran and Nicolazzo (2017:538) note, “This reliance on sexuality-based stereotypes to make sense of one’s gender is an enactment of compulsory heterogenderism, or how participants’ trans identities become invisible due to how others conflate sexuality and gender.”
This study examines trans undergraduate students’ perceptions of campus climate. Two questions guide our study: To what extent do trans students’ demographics, academic experiences, and cocurricular experiences relate to their perceptions of campus climate? How do trans students’ narratives describe their perceptions of campus climate?
We use Bhabha’s (1990) concept of third space as an epistemological lens and Rankin and Reason’s (2008)transformational tapestry model as a theoretical framework. Our intention is not to erase the historical legacies drawn from LGBQ students or student services. Rather, our aim is to reject a monolithic narrative applied to all LGBTQ collegians and to embrace the unique positionalities of trans students and their perceptions of campus climate. Using a national sample of 207 trans collegians from the National LGBTQ Alumnx Survey, we utilize regression analysis supplemented by an analysis of open-ended responses to highlight the experiences of trans respondents.
Language Disruption (Clarification)
Our research team is composed of one nonbinary researcher and four cisgender researchers. Throughout our process, we had many conversations about how to engage with research about the experiences of trans students to acknowledge and attempt to minimize the cis-gaze in trans student research. A pivotal moment came in discussion of the persistent tension in needing to define terms that, within trans communities, are constantly evolving. To center the voices of trans researchers and participants, we chose to reclaim the ambiguity and multiplicity of trans experiences via language in our article. To honor the participants in our study, we use the gender identities in which they describe themselves (e.g., boi, MTF, nonbinary). When referencing other scholarly work, we use language chosen by the authors. In addition, alumni/ae and alumnus/a are plural and singular designations for graduates based on gender. Rather than relying on terms that reinforce gender as a binary construct, we use alumnx as a plural and singular designation to represent graduates across the spectrum of gender identities.
Our intention is to create a third space (Bhabha 1990) within our own writing to provide an opportunity for trans individuals to imagine themselves reflected within our research. Doing so also forces all readers to slow down and consider the importance of language in our communities. The complexities of gender require continual education, which we cannot provide within our article solely by defining gender identity terms. We encourage readers to continue their (un)learning about gendered assumptions within language to problematize unidimensional and binary understandings of identities, experiences, and narratives for trans students within higher education.
Literature Review
Campus climate describes “the cumulative attitudes, behaviors, and standards of employees and students concerning access for, inclusion of, and level of respect for individual and group needs, abilities, and potential” (Rankin 2005:17). Campus climate is an integral component of undergraduate student experiences because of its strong relationship with student success and persistence (Mayhew et al. 2016). For LGBTQ students, campus climate directly affects academic experiences and outcomes (Garvey, Taylor, and Rankin 2014; Hill and Grace 2009; Rankin, Weber, and Garvey 2015; Sue 2010; Woodford and Kulick 2015), and in particular student involvement (Rankin, Hesp, and Weber 2013), identity development (Garvey and Rankin 2015a; Rankin et al. 2010; Rockenbach et al. 2016), and wellness (Reed et al. 2010; Woodford, Krentzman, and Gattis 2012).
Researchers have described a similar phenomenon—the normalizing of a binary gender system, whether dubbed compulsory heterogenderism or institutional cisgenderism (Nicolazzo 2017; Seelman 2014)—as negatively influencing trans students’ experiences, climate perceptions, and well-being. Few studies foreground trans students’ narratives in empirical analyses. As such, our literature review integrates findings from various studies that foreground trans collegians as well as those that examine LGBTQ student experiences more broadly.
Demographics
The intersection of race and gender is a significant component in the everyday lives of trans students of color, yet little research examines trans students of color, particularly their campus climate perceptions. What scholarship does exist asserts that experiences with oppression are different for all trans people, but trans people of color experience harassment at higher rates than white trans people (Rankin et al. 2010). Trans people of color move between many states of consciousness as they seek acceptance while also evading harm, battling stereotypes, and potentially being ostracized due to their identities (Mitchell and Means 2014). Jourian (2017:257) explores perceptions of masculinity/ies among trans*masculine students and finds that “colonialism, respectability politics, and being seen as threats as racialized beings” are all aspects of these students’ experiences.
Academic Experiences
Academic disciplines are a microclimate of students’ college environments, and they greatly shape trans students’ academic experiences (Vaccaro 2012). Garvey and Rankin (2015b) found that among LGBTQ students, gender-nonconforming students perceived the classroom climate as less inviting than did gender-conforming students. Trans students, in particular, express difficulty with navigating their classmates looking at them and exploiting their experiences versus looking with them to understand their experiences (Duran and Nicolazzo 2017).
Linley and Nguyen (2015) note that disciplines that embrace positivism and objectivity (e.g., business, health professions) foster an academic climate in which LGBTQ people are perceived as irrelevant. Other academic majors, such as social work and social sciences, are more open and affirming environments for LGBTQ students (Mullen 2014). BrckaLorenz and colleagues (2018) show that gender-variant students experience chilliness in certain academic majors (e.g., business, health professions) and warmth in others (e.g., arts and humanities, social sciences).
Faculty who silence LGBTQ voices, tokenize LGBTQ students, or do not include LGBTQ-related course content inhibit LGBTQ student learning and involvement, thereby invoking negative perceptions among students (Rankin, Weber, and Garvey 2015). Faculty who listen and encourage students to participate in the classroom environment foster a positive perception of campus climate for LGBTQ students. Renn (2007) shows the importance of mentoring relationships, yet Dugan, Kusel, and Simounet (2012:731) find that mentorship support varies: “MtF and intersexed students reported significantly less mentoring by faculty members than their FtM peers.”
Cocurricular Experiences
A lack of support and resources across campus is a common theme in the literature on trans students and their perceptions of campus climate. Garvey, Sanders, and Flint (2017) found that students who were involved in LGBTQ groups or frequented an LGBTQ center had better perceptions of the campus climate. LGBTQ centers and support groups are significant resources that provide support for LGBTQ students while affirming their identities (Marine and Nicolazzo 2014; Westbrook 2009). These spaces are vital because they offer opportunities for LGBTQ students to find community and support. Establishing and developing a social group helps LGBTQ collegians develop a sense of purpose and creates positive self-esteem (Ellard-Gray and Desmarais 2014), and peers are central for LGBTQ student support and community (Garvey, Sanders, and Flint 2017). In addition, connecting with these spaces helps LGBTQ students develop the relationships they need to be successful in college. LGBTQ student organizations provide support on and off campus by connecting students to LGBTQ-friendly opportunities within the institution and the community, and they create affirming spaces through mentorship and activity programming (Pitcher et al. 2016). Nicolazzo and colleagues (2017:310) discuss the importance of these relationships for trans students: “LGBT student organizations provided the support needed for some participants to persist in college.” These organizations also serve as a space to develop meaningful relationships to further a sense of belonging and identity development.
Although LGBTQ programs have been designed with the intention of serving across sexualities and genders, numerous scholars have discussed the deficiencies in outreach and support of trans students (Beemyn et al. 2005). Within the micro-environment of LGBTQ resource centers, Duran and Nicolazzo (2017:538–39) describe the ways queer communities have a positive and negative influence on trans collegians’ campus climate perceptions: “tensions experienced by [trans] participants often stemmed from microaggressions such as being misgendered, which they encountered within larger LGBTQ communities.”Marine and Nicolazzo (2014) describe a similar tension between the inclusion of LGBTQ identities in one space, and the push for separate identity centers for trans students who have different educational, support, and advocacy needs. Similarly, McKinney (2005) notes that most staff, even within LGBTQ centers, are not educated on trans topics and focus their attention mainly on LGBQ students.
Traditionally limited to gender binaries, many residence halls have now integrated gender-inclusive housing options into their offerings to accommodate trans students (Garvey et al. 2018). Residence assistants—mostly undergraduate peers—undergo rigorous selection and training processes; they are educated on LGBTQ topics and in efforts to avoid paternalism to understand and support the needs of their trans peers (Brown et al. 2004). Housing and residence life professionals, who often have professional degrees in student affairs with a focus on inclusivity and identity development, can serve as advocates and supports for trans students. “Residence-life staff who demonstrate their sensitivity to and understanding of transgender experiences create a welcoming environment for students to explore their housing needs and options more honestly and effectively” (Beemyn et al. 2005:53). Likewise, residence halls have standard policies, protocols, procedures, and conflict resolution systems in place, and they are quick to respond to incidents of bias, harassment, and interpersonal conflicts that might otherwise make trans students feel unsafe. As Nicolazzo and Marine (2015:167) note in their case study, “Implying that trans students need protection (a deficit-based perspective) rather than being people who can successfully manage and negotiate their environments (an affirmative perspective) is problematic.”
Accessing and using support services at colleges and universities is a primary concern among trans people (McKinney 2005). Mental health professionals and counselors often serve as gatekeepers to support services, and trans students worry these gatekeepers will label them as having gender dysmorphia disorder. 1 Some institutions even require trans collegians to see a counselor before receiving access to health care. Among participants in McKinney’s study, few said their counselors were knowledgeable of trans issues, helpful, or supportive. They also reported fear of being labeled with a gender-identity disorder and coming into contact with clinicians who had little to no knowledge of trans issues or experience working with trans collegians.
Epistemological Overview
We situate our study epistemologically through Bhabha’s (1990) concept of third space. This epistemological framework enables us to examine trans students’ climate perceptions sociologically by problematizing singular narratives and community among trans and LGBQ students, especially when considering the sociohistorical entanglement of trans narratives with LGBQ narratives. Bhabha, a postcolonial literary theorist, refers to a third space, or an in between/hybrid space, as “a process of identifying with and through another object, an object of otherness, at which point the agency of identification—the subject—is itself always ambivalent” (1990:211). We contend that historically, campus climate scholars have identified trans students’ perceptions through dominant LGBQ narratives, thus rendering trans experiences ambivalent. A third space illuminates some of the complexity in the social exclusion that trans students report (Dugan, Kusel, and Simounet 2012; Goodrich 2012; Nicolazzo et al. 2017; Singh, Meng, and Hansen 2013), particularly within academic and cocurricular experiences.
Although some see a benefit (socially, culturally, and economically) to keeping LGBTQ collegians under a symbolic unit of a single identity, the unifying of LGBTQ student services in higher education reinforces trans students as being on the fringe of affirmation and liberation. The idea of a third space requires scholars “to rethink the profound limitations of a consensual and collusive ‘liberal’ sense of community” (Bhabha 1990:219). Likewise, the confluence of LGBQ and trans communities requires scholars to acknowledge the limitations of current scholarly discourse that treats LGBTQ students as a monolith by rethinking how trans students’ narratives are different within LGBTQ contexts.
Theoretical Framework
We theoretically frame our study on trans students’ campus climate perceptions using Rankin and Reason’s (2008:264) transformational tapestry model (TTM), which defines climate as “current attitudes, behaviors, and standards and practices of employees and students of an institution . . . particularly on those attitudes, behaviors, and standards/practices that concern the access for, inclusion of, and level of respect for individual and group needs, abilities, and potential.” Rankin and Reason’s model emphasizes the complexity of colleges and universities, and thus the necessity of multiple contexts, rather than a singular intervention, to systemically transform campus climate.
As discussed in our literature review, we foreground three interrelated concepts to understand trans students’ campus climate experiences: (1) demographics, (2) academic experiences, and (3) cocurricular experiences. Given the dynamic and complex nature of the campus climate for trans students, we assert that the TTM represents an effective theoretical approach to examine campus climate perceptions among trans undergraduate students.
Method
Survey Instrument
Data for this study come from the National LGBTQ Alumnx Survey (Garvey 2016). Development of this survey involved three steps: instrument review by content experts and potential respondents conducted in fall 2012, a pilot study conducted in spring 2013, and national distribution in spring 2014. The electronic survey operationalized experiences among LGBTQ alumnx from four-year institutions of higher education and included four distinct categories: demographics, undergraduate student experiences, alumnx experiences, and philanthropy and giving. The survey instrument was developed through empirical testing and was grounded in literature about LGBTQ alumnx giving (Drezner and Garvey 2016; Garvey and Drezner 2013) and LGBTQ campus climate (Rankin et al. 2010). Rankin and Reason’s (2008) TTM emphasizes the complexity and evolution of campus climate perceptions, which underscores the importance of entangling academic and cocurricular undergraduate experiences through demographic information.
Data Collection
The National LGBTQ Alumnx Survey asked closed- and open-ended questions to allow respondents to provide quantitative and narrative insights regarding their experiences as LGBTQ undergraduate students and graduates. Data collected for this project replicated and improved upon the sampling procedures used in other national LGBTQ studies that have yielded the largest samples of LGBTQ people to date (Rankin et al. 2010). We used snowball sampling among respondents through social media networks, which is commonly used when sampling-related information is lacking (e.g., sexual identity; see Faugier and Sargeant 1997).
Using point people, namely campus administrators and volunteer leadership, was a critical step in recruiting LGBTQ graduate respondents (Miles and Huberman 1994). Our research team initiated the sampling communication process by first contacting campus administrators and volunteer leadership at select four-year institutions from each state, focusing on institutions with preexisting LGBTQ alumnx outreach or established programs for students. We asked these point people to email a brief description and survey link to LGBTQ graduates and constituencies. To promote institutional participation, we offered personalized LGBTQ alumnx reports for every institution with fifty or more respondents.
We used an electronic flyer to advertise the online survey instrument via electronic mailing lists within higher education and student affairs, alumnx relations, and LGBTQ advocacy. We also advertised via social media, including Twitter and Facebook (Johnson et al. 2016). For example, we searched for Facebook groups that had the words “college,”“university,”“LGBT,”“LGBTQ,”“alumnae,”“alumni,”“alumna,”“alumnus,” and “alumnx.” After finding the groups, we reached out to group administrators to inform them about the study and ask permission to post the link to the electronic survey. On Twitter, we used hashtags targeting academic events and associations (e.g., #ACPA, #ASHE, #NASPA) to reach people following conference and association Twitter streams. We also used hashtags to engage people interested in LGBTQ and alumnx relations topics (e.g., #LGBTAlumni, #LGBT). For both social media platforms, we had landing pages to legitimize the study and increase dissemination (
Sample
Total response for the survey was 3,121 individuals. For the purposes of this study, we include only trans respondents (N = 207). To classify gender on the survey, we asked respondents “What is your current gender identity? Please mark all that apply.” Response options included genderqueer, gender variant, man, transgender, woman, and another gender not listed. For our analysis, we include respondents who indicated their gender as genderqueer, gender variant, transgender, or another gender not listed, including those who selected more than one gender. Our sample of 207 trans respondents includes the following genders: genderqueer (n = 130, 63 percent), transgender (n = 69, 33 percent), woman (n = 48, 23 percent), man (n = 45, 22 percent), and gender variant (n = 27, 13 percent). A substantial percentage of respondents (n = 149, 72 percent) indicated a gender not listed, including the following: trans man/trans guy/trans masculine (n = 22), FTM (n = 16), MTF (n = 6), and trans woman (n = 4). Additional genders listed by respondents included agender, androgyne, boi, fabulous, femme, fluid, gender fluid, gender-nonconforming, genderfucked, nonbinary, and questioning, among others.
Considering our epistemological frame of third space (Bhabha 1990), we chose not to include samples of cisgender LGBQ students as cisnormative comparisons. Rather than compare trans students to cisgender LGBQ students, we situate trans students’ perceptions of campus climate as distinct and important on their own.
Study Constructs
We selected independent variables based on a theoretical and empirical understanding of campus climate for trans students (Rankin and Reason 2008). We developed factors using principal axis factoring (PAF; Thurstone 1935, 1947) with oblique rotation to improve the meaningfulness and interpretation of the extracted factors while recognizing their interrelatedness. We calculated Cronbach’s (1990) coefficient alphas to assess the reliability of factors. Appendix A details results from PAF, including item loadings and coefficient alphas for factors. Appendix B details means, standard deviations, and coding schemes for all other independent variables.
We use LGBTQ undergraduate campus climate (α = .90) as the outcome variable, and we include five Likert-type items that measure how welcoming an institution was for LGBTQ people when respondents were undergraduates. Scores are standardized so that low scores on the LGBTQ undergraduate campus climate factor indicate negative perceptions of campus climate, and high scores correspond to positive perceptions.
Due to sampling constraints, we operationalize race as a binary (person of color, white). We do not have enough respondents in specific racial or ethnic categories to include more nuanced racial identities in our analysis. To acknowledge the importance of racial and ethnic identities in shaping campus climate, we include respondents’ racial and/or ethnic identities in open-ended responses when appropriate. We code undergraduate financial independence using a binary response option: financially independent (i.e., sole provider for living and educational expenses) or financially dependent (i.e., family/guardian assisted with living and educational expenses).
We operationalize outness using Sorgen’s (2011) outness subscale, which he adapted from Mohr and Fassinger’s (2000) outness inventory. Outness measures the extent to which undergraduate students disclosed their marginalized sexual and/or gender identity across six dimensions: around close friends; around extended friends; when they met new people; with professors, faculty, and instructors; with people where they lived; and with members of campus activity groups. Response options were on a five-point Likert-type scale, with 1 indicating not at all out and 5 indicating completely out. We added all six scores together and then divided to create an average outness score across all dimensions.
We measure academic major using a single item that asked participants to select the category that best matched their primary undergraduate major; response options included engineering, life sciences, physical sciences, social and behavioral sciences, arts and humanities, education, professional program, and other. We classify major into four categories: arts and humanities; professional programs; science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM); and social and behavioral sciences. Academic training (α = .76) is a factor score that includes three Likert-type questions and measures the extent to which alumnx felt prepared academically by their undergraduate experiences. Scores are standardized so that low scores represent poorer perceptions of academic preparedness.
Two variables measure the number of LGBTQ students and faculty/staff that respondents knew as undergraduates. Both constructs include quasi-continuous response options (1 = none, 2 = 1 to 2, 3 = 3 to 5, 4 = 6 to 8, 5 = 9 to 11, 6 = 12 or more). We also include a variable to operationalize living situation as an undergraduate: either living on campus or not on campus.
Finally, we created a series of four variables to measure LGBTQ involvement. LGBTQ academic experiences include two items related to taking an LGBTQ-related academic course and attending an LGBTQ-related educational lecture or program. LGBTQ student services include three items to measure visiting an LGBTQ student services office, participating in an event/program hosted by LGBTQ student services, and participating in an LGBTQ-focused workshop or training. We measure LGBTQ cocurricular experiences using two items: attending an LGBTQ student organization meeting/event, and participating in an LGBTQ political/social awareness event. Finally, LGBTQ supports include two items: attending an LGBTQ support/counseling group meeting, and participating in an LGBTQ mentor program. All four variables have quasi-continuous response categories (1 = never, 2 = rarely, 3 = sometimes, 4 = regularly, 5 = all the time). We added together item responses within variable categories and divided to create average scores with the original response categories.
Data Analysis
To understand the relationship between independent variables and factors on trans students’ campus climate perceptions, we use a linear regression analysis with listwise deletion to account for missing data. Our regression analysis includes three blocks: demographics, academic experiences, and cocurricular experiences. Following Rankin and Reason’s (2008) TTM, we foreground these three blocks to emphasize the complexity and entanglement of contexts in shaping climate perceptions.
We supplement the quantitative analyses with a content analysis of participants’ narrative responses within open-ended questions. Creswell (2009:217) calls this approach a concurrent triangulation strategy, “when a researcher uses two different methods to confirm, cross-validate, or corroborate findings in a single study.” Thus, we use quantitative results to guide our analysis of qualitative data. Using Rankin and Reason’s (2008) TTM enables us to examine respondents’ climate experiences and consider differences across demographic, academic, and cocurricular experiences.
The survey allowed respondents to provide narrative responses through open-ended questions. To contextualize the quantitative findings, we analyze one open-ended question from the survey: “If you would like to elaborate on your undergraduate experience, please do so here.” Of the 207 total respondents, 73 answered this question. We used a deductive approach (Creswell 2009) and searched for key themes associated with respondents’ responses. Creswell and Miller (2000:127) describe this search as “the process where the preliminary investigators first establish themes or categories in a study and then search through the data for evidence that is consistent with or disconfirms these themes.” Using our quantitative findings to illuminate major themes in our qualitative data facilitated data triangulation (Creswell 2009).
Limitations
Although our analyses center trans students, we recognize that our survey was constructed to broadly represent the experiences of LGBTQ collegians. We are thus unable to examine variables specific to trans students.
Using survey methodology to center trans individuals is decidedly difficult, particularly when considering data collection, sample size, and yield. Because we recruited respondents through campus administrators and volunteer leadership, there may be an inherent bias among our participants: these respondents are more likely to be connected to and more engaged with their alma maters. Such bias is unavoidable given the lack of inclusion of trans students and graduates in institutional forms and national datasets (Rankin and Garvey 2015).
Because participants’ experiences were measured retrospectively, there may be systematic errors in memory recall. Individuals’ identity and experiences may be fluid and change throughout their college years, which would add to complications in recalling how they perceive their relationship with their alma mater at a specific moment in time. As Porter (2013) notes, questions involving respondents’ attitudes and subjective states (e.g., campus climate) cannot be independently verified. In addition, listwise deletion, although a commonly used approach to missing data, may not elicit samples fully representative of the original sample or population and may decrease the statistical power of the analyses (Cox et al. 2014).
Although open-ended questions allowed participants to provide detailed narratives, we are only able to analyze open-ended questions that were part of the initial survey administration. As such, we are unable to probe and further inquire about participants’ responses and are therefore unable to speculate on participants’ continued thoughts. Because the data were analyzed post hoc, we cannot control for other factors or ask additional probing questions that would give more information that might explain trans collegians’ experiences. Finally, the survey administration does not let us determine causality; rather, the results describe relationships between the outcome and independent variables.
Results
We integrate quantitative and open-ended results to illuminate key themes and insights related to our research purpose. Our results include three central themes: demographics, academic experiences, and cocurricular experiences (Rankin and Reason 2008).
The linear regression analysis model with all independent variables explains 45 percent of the variance in trans students’ campus climate perceptions (p < .001; Table 1). To check multicollinearity between variables in the model, we confirmed that variance inflation factor (VIF) values do not exceed 10 (Table 1) and correlations between each of the independent variables do not exceed .8 (Table 2). To assess independence of residuals, we determined that less than .5 percent of cases have standardized residual values above 3.0 or below −3.0. The largest value for Cook’s distance is .09, suggesting no major problems for independence (Tabachnick and Fidell 2007).
Regression Analysis with Campus Climate for Trans Students.
Note: Reference groups included for major (arts and humanities).
p < .05. **p < .01. ***p < .001.
Correlation Matrix between Independent Variables.
Demographics
Within the sample, the average graduation year was 2004 (SD = 10.34), with distribution from 1965 through 2013. Nearly one-quarter of respondents (n = 49, 24 percent) identified as a person of color, and 76 percent (n = 157) identified as white. About one-third of respondents (n = 61, 29 percent) indicated they were financially independent as undergraduates, and 71 percent (n = 146) were financially dependent as undergraduates. Regarding outness as undergraduate students, respondents somewhat or mostly disclosed their gender and/or sexual identities, on average (M = 3.54, SD = 1.36).
Two demographic variables in our regression analysis positively relate to campus climate perceptions among trans students. Respondents who graduated more recently (ß = .20, p < .01) and respondents who had higher levels of outness (ß = .36, p < .001) had more positive perceptions of campus climate. In other words, trans students who disclosed their identities at greater rates reported warmer climate perceptions.
Several respondents foregrounded their graduation year as central to their experiences with campus climate. One trans masculine respondent who graduated in 2006 wrote, “I did not understand all the ways my institution was systemically hostile to LGBTQ students when I was there. I do now, and so can recognize it. This complicates my responses.” Another respondent who identifies as genderqueer wrote, “In 1961–65 there was no BGLT awareness, and I had no clue. It was off the radar.” A trans man who graduated in 2012 shared, “Overall fantastic education. The school’s LGBT climate improved over my 4.5 years.” Another 2012 graduate respondent who identifies as a genderqueer woman wrote, “I feel that there were people who may have had a worse experience than I, and I know that things were different for older alumni. But things are changing in a more accepting positive way.”
A large portion of respondents discussed how outness and identity disclosure shaped their undergraduate experiences. Some respondents were not out as trans during their undergraduate years, including a 2000 femme genderqueer respondent who wrote, “I was not out in undergrad, nor did I know anyone who was.” Some respondents discussed the surrounding community as influencing their identity disclosure. A 1997 genderqueer respondent wrote, “It was such a small community that it felt like the repercussions of being ‘out’ would last forever.” Similarly, a trans guy who graduated in 2003 shared, “I wasn’t sure about my sexual or gender identity, and I also didn’t feel like it was a safe place to do more investigating. I just ignored it, and had a few very unhappy years at the end of my college career.” Other respondents said their school’s institutional culture and policies restricted their coming out as trans. One participant who graduated in 1984 wrote, “I am MtF transgender and was completely closeted. Had I been any bit out of the closet, I would have been kicked out of school.” A 1999 transmasculine respondent noted, “I went to a small Christian Liberal arts school. At the time the campus was NOT a safe place to be out.” Similarly, a 2003 FTM respondent wrote, “My school had a written policy of expelling LGBT students and advocates. I knew of LGBT people who were expelled under this policy.” In contrast, two graduates shared that the warm climate of their institution encouraged their coming out. A 2004 genderqueer woman wrote, “[My institution] was a place where I found supportive community that helped me come out.” A 2010 genderqueer graduate shared a similar response: My campus environment was a huge factor in my coming out process; I’d lived my entire life before college in spaces that were hostile to LGBT people, and had internalized a lot of fear and queerphobia. My campus, on the other hand, was a hugely affirming environment. The community’s welcoming, affirming attitude towards LGBT people gave me the courage to come out, and I’ve never looked back!
When reflecting on their experiences, numerous respondents discussed the climate for trans students relative to LGBQ students. One 2008 transmasculine trans man expressed this general sentiment: “Overall the campus was much more welcoming and ‘safe’ for lgb students than trans students.” Several respondents described trans and LGBQ climates relative to their graduation years. One trans woman wrote, “There was only G&L community when I attended in 1980. No B & no T.” A 2003 fluid woman wrote, “Trans issues were coming to the forefront while I was in college and I would certainly said it was safer to come out as LGB etc than as T. Cisgender folks were just really starting to advocate for Trans and Gender Queer peers.” A 2004 man respondent wrote, “I felt more unsafe as a gender minority than as a sexual minority (e.g., I was harassed based on non-normative gender presentation a lot more often than I was based on my sexuality or relationships).” Some respondents discussed the intersection of their trans and sexual identities relative to their climate experiences. A 2013 genderqueer man noted, “I was definitely comfortable with my sexuality, but my campus was not very welcoming to non-cisgender individuals.” One 2010 genderqueer respondent wrote, “Being B wasn’t an issue, but disclosing T I felt was more risky.” Similarly, a 2006 trans genderqueer participant wrote, “I felt more free to explore and disclose my sexual orientation (as bi/pan/queer) on campus than my gender identity (as trans/genderqueer).”
Three respondents discussed their trans identities relative to other social identities. A 2008 femme graduate wrote, “Very LGB inclusive; lots of misunderstanding and lack of discussion around trans* folks. Little discussion around queerness or intersecting identities.” A 2002 Asian genderqueer/gender-variant respondent wrote, “The college was open but my ethnic minority wasn’t open, in fact it was downright hostile to LGBT persons so I was unable to come out.” Similarly, a 2004 genderqueer graduate shared how their Asian identity shaped their outness on campus: “I did not come out until my last couple of years as an undergrad and was still navigating my racial identity.”
Academic Experiences
Regarding academic experiences, respondents represented the following major classifications: arts and humanities (n = 86, 42 percent), STEM (n = 43, 21 percent), social and behavioral sciences (n = 65, 31 percent), and professional programs (n = 12, 6 percent). On average, respondents knew one to five LGBTQ faculty or staff (M = 2.68, SD = 1.49), and rarely or sometimes participated in LGBTQ academic experiences (M = 2.54, SD = 1.34).
Trans students who described more positive academic training (ß = .19, p < .001) had more positive campus climate perceptions. In addition, respondents who participated in LGBTQ academic experiences (ß = .22, p < .05) had better perceptions of campus climate.
Although few respondents discussed academic experiences in their open-ended responses, a small number described their academic training and major-specific experiences when describing their climate perceptions. Two respondents described the inviting environment within their academic major. One trans* man who graduated in 2013 wrote, “I did not experience an uninviting environment, but since one of my degrees was in Women’s and Gender studies, my experience was fairly well empathized with.” Similarly, another respondent who identifies as genderqueer and graduated in 2003 commented, “I had an incredible undergraduate experience due to my major and the professors who mentored me. While the campus climate was not extremely welcoming, they managed to create and foster a safe environment in which I was treated very well and the content of my studies were extremely relevant.” One gender fluid student who graduated in 2011 discussed their intentional switch from one major to another: “I started my undergraduate degree in Engineering, and felt much less acceptance in that field. When I changed my degree to Sociology and Gender and Women’s Studies, it felt much more comfortable to be open about my identity as a queer/trans person.”
Other respondents described their academic training relative to their climate perceptions, and in particular their capstone and clinical experiences. One respondent who graduated in 2012 and identifies as FTM wrote, “I did my capstone on my experiences as a transgender person at that college to try and determine the school’s attitude and level of acceptance towards trans individuals.” Another participant who also identifies as FTM wrote about their clinical rotations for their degree in life sciences: “I was told my best fit was a state hospital which was, overall, a wonderful LGBT-inclusive experience. However, it was intimidating to know I was unwelcome to perform my clinical rotations at other hospitals.”
Cocurricular Experiences
Turning to cocurricular experiences, 60 percent (n = 125) of respondents lived on campus, and 39 percent (n = 81) did not live on campus. On average, respondents knew six to eleven LGBTQ students (M = 4.89, SD = 1.67). Finally, respondents rarely or sometimes utilized LGBTQ student services (M = 2.44, SD = 1.34), sometimes participated in LGBTQ cocurricular experiences (M = 3.01, SD = 1.45), and never or rarely utilized LGBTQ supports (M = 1.74, SD = 1.01).
Within cocurricular experiences, one variable significantly related to trans respondents’ campus climate perceptions. Trans students who participated in LGBTQ cocurricular experiences had poorer perceptions of campus climate (ß = −.35, p < .001).
Several key cocurricular influences emerged from participants’ open-ended responses, including living on campus, peer interactions, cocurricular involvement, LGBTQ cocurricular involvement, LGBTQ student services, and LGBTQ supports. Three respondents discussed difficult living situations as undergraduates. A 1987 genderqueer/gender-variant respondent wrote, “My on-campus social experience was close to misery. I made friends with LGBT folks in the town. Basically, I moved my social life off campus.” Similarly, a genderqueer respondent who graduated in 1982 noted, “There was a good support community, but still a lot of overt hostility from some dorm-mates. Administration wasn’t openly hostile, but they weren’t really supportive either.” Finally, a 2010 graduate who identifies as FTM wrote about direct experiences in the residence halls: “I had some personal experiences with discrimination due to my gender identity. Several derogatory slurs were written on some of my friends’ doors and in elevators of my residence hall as well. Campus only sent out a campus wide email and privately investigated the discrimination claims.”
A small number of respondents discussed their climate experiences relative to peers and interactions with other students. One 2002 genderqueer graduate discussed perceived support: “The administration was very supportive of LGBT people. The student body was more neutral to hostile to LGBT students at that time.” Two other students spoke more indirectly about the relationship between their campus climate perceptions and peers. A 2004 graduate wrote, “Did not come to terms with my non-standard identity until well after graduating . . . (being androgyne). During undergrad years, it was less ‘there is lots of hostility’ and more ‘many people are clueless.’” Finally, a trans man who graduated in 2010 wrote, “As one of the ten-few out transgender students, I often felt I filled the role of a ‘model’ student, who was expected to always be publicly available for comment on trans issues. I now joking refer to it as the ‘petting zoo’ experience.”
Several students discussed cocurricular involvements as shaping their climate perceptions. One student described being deeply entrenched in the “Queer-Bubble” of LGBTQ student organizations. This 2011 genderqueer graduate wrote, “I often spent all of my free time in our Pride Office, I worked in the Pride Office, I spent time exclusively around queer people. This was not the case for everyone on my campus, and often if they weren’t part of the ‘in-group’ with the Pride organization, then they felt uncomfortable on campus and unable to access LGBT resources.” A genderqueer respondent who graduated in 2009 wrote, I did not feel comfortable being open about my LGBT . . . identity until the final year of my undergraduate degree, at which point I became very involved in LGBT activism on campus. There were negative reactions and I didn’t feel safe during my first years, but I also remember feeling amazed at the amount of support that was there. The week when there were rainbow flags all over campus each year always made me cry, even before I was open.
This student also discussed the negative impact of cocurricular involvement on their campus, sharing that “the Greek community was vocally hostile, sports organizations were ambivalent and joked about gayness in a negative way, and I didn’t feel the university did enough until later on to demonstrate support for the LGBT community.” Other students also wrote about campus culture within cocurricular involvement shaping their experiences. A trans guy who graduated in 2011 wrote, “There were lots of resources for LGBTQ people, but the strong presence of fraternities on campus was threatening and I did not feel safe around fraternities. My own fraternity was very small and not well-known.” Similarly, a genderqueer woman who graduated in 2007 wrote, “The main impediment to feeling comfortable as an LGBT student was the athletic community and my varsity athletic team/coach, not the campus overall.” Conversely, one genderqueer student who graduated in 2012 noted, “Many of our on-campus organizations were extremely receptive to LGBT students. I never heard of an incident on campus where discrimination was an issue.”
A few respondents wrote about LGBTQ student services and supports as influential to their climate perceptions. A 2011 genderqueer respondent wrote, “[My alma mater] is an excellent school for LGBT students. Queer Resource Center, gender neutral bathrooms, and Women’s Resource Center were all available. Very supporting community.” In discussing the absence of LGBTQ student services, a 2011 gender-variant woman wrote, “There wasn’t a resource center, but there was no outward hate that I noticed. It was more like the LGBT community was ignored or the university acted as if they (we) didn’t exist.” One transman who graduated in 2009 spoke directly about the absence of support for trans students: “My university did not have a trans-inclusive health care policy nor were its financial aid policies accommodating of LGBTQ students who were disowned by family.”
Discussion
This study examined perceptions of campus climate among trans collegians. Results from our regression analysis show a positive relationship between campus climate and year of graduation, outness, academic training, and LGBTQ academic experiences. In addition, we found a negative relationship between campus climate and LGBTQ cocurricular experiences. Our analysis of participants’ open-ended responses substantiates the complexities of demographics, academic environments, and cocurricular environments for trans undergraduates.
The most influential independent variable in our regression model was outness: trans respondents who disclosed their identities at higher rates had more positive perceptions of campus climate. Students’ level of outness may be shaped by their own comfort about their gender identity and their perceptions of others around them (Dentato et al. 2013). Prior work has found a clear connection between outness and relationships with faculty, staff, peers, and mentors (Dentato et al. 2013; Garvey and Inkelas 2012; Garvey and Rankin 2015b; Renn 2007). Respondents’ open-ended comments confirm the relevance of relationships for outness and climate perceptions, with many students discussing interpersonal interactions as central to their campus climate perceptions and identity disclosure.
When examining the historical relevance of trans students’ climate perceptions, it is important to note that more students are entering college already out and open about their gender identity (Renn and Reason 2013). This openness can influence their experiences and perceptions within their college campus, and it likely explains some of the relationship between year of graduation and campus climate perceptions. Higher-education historians have provided detailed reviews of these sociohistorical cultural contexts for LGBTQ students (see Marine 2011), but few scholars have empirically examined the influence of these events on LGBTQ student experiences, particularly trans students’ experiences. Garvey, Sanders, and Flint (2017) examined cohorts of graduates from 1944 through 2013 and found a gradual progressivism in campus climate perceptions across generations of LGBTQ graduates. Our study supports this finding, noting a similar trend among trans undergraduates.
Previous scholars have noted the importance of academic contexts in shaping campus climate perceptions (BrckaLorenz et al. 2018; Vaccaro 2012). Although we did not find significant results in our regression model by academic major, participants’ open-ended responses highlighted key academic disciplines as influential in their climate experiences, particularly arts and humanities majors. Our study also indicates that trans students had warmer perceptions of campus climate when they participated in LGBTQ courses and lectures. Disciplines within arts and humanities, as well as those that center LGBTQ contexts in courses and lectures, likely foster a more open and affirming academic environment for trans collegians (Mullen 2014).
Interestingly, regression results indicate a negative relationship between campus climate perceptions and LGBTQ cocurricular experiences among trans respondents. In other words, trans respondents who participated in LGBTQ student organizations and political/social awareness events as undergraduates rated their climate perceptions as more negative. These results contrast with Garvey, Sanders, and Flint’s (2017) findings that students who were involved in LGBTQ groups or who frequented LGBTQ centers had better campus climate perceptions. Within our study, one respondent spoke of being immersed in the “queer bubble” but also feeling like some spaces on campus were safer or more welcoming than others. The mixed responses in our study indicate that campus climate perceptions are not solely due to the presence of LGBTQ student services resources. The quality and trans inclusivity of LGBTQ student services dictates the warmth or chilliness that trans students experience at their institutions. Regarding this liminal space, Bhabha (1994:5) writes, “This interstitial passage between fixed identifications opens up the possibility of a cultural hybridity that entertains difference without an assumed or imposed hierarchy.”
Implications
Our findings contribute significantly to the evolving and diverse narratives of trans collegians’ perceptions of experiences on U.S. college campuses. Our results can help researchers disaggregate the singularity of the LGBTQ lived experience to understand the unique and nuanced narratives of trans collegians. Furthermore, by using open-ended responses from the original survey, we provide valuable insight into the academic and cocurricular experiences that are salient to trans collegians.
Our results challenge practitioners and researchers alike to continue viewing the experiences of trans collegians through a framework that centers trans students. As institutions continue to improve the collegiate experience for trans students, this study and previous research can provide a deeper understanding of the environments that are necessary to make campuses safer, more welcoming, and transformational places for trans collegians.
Practice
Changes in serving trans students are an attainable and pragmatic first step toward improving campus climate perceptions among trans collegians. First, there must be a partnership between trans collegians and communities when implementing any new services. Nicolazzo and Marine (2015) encourage educators to develop environments that allow trans collegians to have more agency in determining how services can best meet their evolving needs. Student organization leaders, student services professionals, and faculty can take a more affirmative, proactive, and trans-centered approach in addressing the needs of trans collegians.
Few student services directly address the needs of trans students outside (and often within) LGBTQ student services. Trans students have historically been grouped into student services that were not specifically designed for the emerging needs of this community. LGBTQ programs are designed to serve the entire spectrum of sexual and gender identities, but they are usually deficient in outreach and support of trans students (Beemyn et al. 2005). Creating trans-centered services and programs can help build a sense of belonging and acknowledgment for trans collegians within LGBTQ student services and student groups.
Trans students who participate in LGBTQ academic experiences tend to perceive a warmer campus climate. We recommend institutions review current undergraduate curricula to determine if LGBTQ courses, or courses that foreground social identities, can be more readily integrated as required courses to increase the visibility of LGBTQ students and make them feel more represented across the disciplines. Administrators who oversee undergraduate curricula development at an institutional level might require inclusion of trans sociohistorical experiences within general education coursework, or that classes on gender be added as a requirement for general education requirements.
Research
Further research on this topic is still needed. As a basic initial step to gather more information about trans students, researchers should provide more gender options on surveys. Johnson (2015) suggests a transfeminist methodological approach to deconstruct cissexist assumptions and the invisibility of gender identity within sociological research. We also encourage continued use of Bhabha’s (1990) third space to situate trans collegians’ experiences as central to LGBQ student narratives. Combining third space with campus climate (Rankin and Reason 2008) can provide a framework to explore missed areas within academic and cocurricular environments.
We encourage further interdisciplinary education research to avoid the tendency to frame trans collegians’ experiences within a singular hegemonic LGBTQ experience. “The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story” (Adichie 2009). This research and its participants challenge practitioners and researchers alike to widen the narratives of trans students in education to include not only identity but also experiences salient to trans collegians.
Footnotes
Appendix
Coding and Descriptive Statistics for Variables.
| Variable | Coding | M/frequency | SD/% |
|---|---|---|---|
| Demographics | |||
| Year of graduation | 2004.07 | 10.34 | |
| Race | Person of color | 49 | 23.67 |
| White | 157 | 75.85 | |
| Financial independence | Financially independent | 61 | 29.47 |
| Financially dependent | 146 | 70.53 | |
| Outness | 1 = not at all, 2 = hardly, 3 = somewhat, 4 = mostly, 5 = completely | 3.54 | 1.36 |
| Academic experiences | |||
| Major | STEM | 43 | 20.77 |
| Social and behavioral sciences | 65 | 31.40 | |
| Professional programs | 12 | 5.80 | |
| Arts and humanities | 86 | 41.55 | |
| Academic training | Standardized factor score, higher score = higher agreement | 0.00 | 1.00 |
| LGBTQ faculty/staff known | 1 = none, 2 = 1 to 2, 3 = 3 to 5, 4 = 6 to 8, 5 = 9 to 11, 6 = 12+ | 2.68 | 1.49 |
| LGBTQ academic experiences | 1 = never, 2 = rarely, 3 = sometimes, 4 = regularly, 5 = all the time | 2.54 | 1.34 |
| Cocurricular experiences | |||
| Living | On campus | 125 | 60.39 |
| Not on campus | 81 | 39.13 | |
| LGBTQ students known | 1 = none, 2 = 1 to 2, 3 = 3 to 5, 4 = 6 to 8, 5 = 9 to 11, 6 = 12+ | 4.89 | 1.67 |
| LGBTQ student services | 1 = never, 2 = rarely, 3 = sometimes, 4 = regularly, 5 = all the time | 2.44 | 1.34 |
| LGBTQ cocurricular experiences | 1 = never, 2 = rarely, 3 = sometimes, 4 = regularly, 5 = all the time | 3.01 | 1.45 |
| LGBTQ supports | 1 = never, 2 = rarely, 3 = sometimes, 4 = regularly, 5 = all the time | 1.74 | 1.01 |
| Outcome | |||
| Campus climate for LGBTQ students | Standardized factor score, higher score = higher agreement | 0.00 | 1.00 |
Research Ethics
All research on human subjects has been approved by an appropriate ethics committee and has therefore been performed in a way that is consistent with the ethical standards articulated in the 1964 Declaration of Helsinki and its subsequent amendments and Section 12 (“Informed Consent”) of the ASA’s Code of Ethics. All human subjects gave their informed consent prior to their participation in the research, and adequate steps were taken to protect participants’ confidentiality.
