By Leo Baudhuin, Staff Editor
“One of my best memories is getting to the table that’s in front of the dorms… telling [the Dorm Leadership Team] my last name, and [DLT] telling me back my preferred name,” said Kay Miranda (Bryn Mawr ‘23), describing their freshman move-in day. “I thought that was the sign. I was like, ‘Yes, I feel good.’ I feel like if they had given me my legal name, that would’ve thrown my entire year off.”
Miranda is one of many nonbinary students at Bryn Mawr, a demographic group that has forced the school to evolve its definition of what it means to be a women’s college. Initially designed for cisgender—a term used to describe people who identify with the gender they are assigned at birth, often shortenened to “cis”—women, Bryn Mawr and many other historically women’s institutions have grown into spaces that welcome people who identify along the gender spectrum, with the exlusion of cis men.
On an administrative level, changing attitudes are evidenced by the Bryn Mawr Board of Trustees’ 2015 vote to expand the institution’s pool of eligible applicants to allow trans women into the college. The school’s Pensby Center for Community Development and Inclusion declares, “Bryn Mawr College is committed to developing and fostering a safe space and successful living and learning environment for our diverse and multicultural student population in which all members are valued . . . This diversity includes a range of gender identities and expressions.”
Bryn Mawr’s student body has taken steps as well, something that is most concretely seen through the widespread practice of students introducing themselves with both their name and preferred pronouns. “Students, for the most part, I’d say, try to default to using they/them if they don’t know someone’s pronouns,” Kyra Booth (Bryn Mawr ‘22) observed.
This habit helped Miranda feel instantly comfortable upon stepping onto campus. They noticed that, with the exception of their Bryn Mawr ID (or OneCard), their preferred name was everywhere, along with a space to write their pronouns. “I feel like [in] a lot of my experiences with introducing myself [before college], there’s never a place to put your pronouns or bring it up in conversation,” they said. “The fact that it was already there before I got to school kind of reassured me that this [was] going to go okay.”
However, Miranda’s experience at Bryn Mawr hasn’t been perfect. At the beginning of their first semester Spanish class, they decided to use masculine pronouns to refer to themselves—there isn’t an easy way to use gender-neutral pronouns in the Spanish language—and were repeatedly corrected by their professor. Miranda explained that they didn’t confront the professor about it, because they wanted a break from directing all their energy towards their gender as they had done in high school—it’s unfair to ask that someone constantly advocate for themself. “It was just really heavy on me for that first week [of class],” they said.
More generally, language courses are challenging for students who use they/them pronouns to navigate, as many of the languages taught at Bryn Mawr rely heavily on a grammar structure that reflects the outdated gender binary. Booth pointed out that this presents issues outside the classroom itself; students who use gender-neutral pronouns must misgender themselves during lessons and then ask the professor to use their correct pronouns in any instance where they are speaking English.
The issue of pronouns is not limited to language classes. The Pensby Center and the New Teaching and Learning Institute provide training to new faculty members that addresses gender identity and the diversity of the student body, but not all members of Bryn Mawr’s staff ask for pronouns or make an effort to remember them.
“There is not consensus that asking students to publicly state their pronouns is the best approach in every context,” said Dean Jennifer Walters, “so our staff and faculty consider a variety of approaches.” Walters’ statement alludes to the idea that requiring everyone to state their pronouns puts people whose pronouns don’t obviously match their gender presentation on the spot; they can either state their preferred pronouns, and out themselves in the process, or they can intentionally remain in the closet.
However, a number of students at Bryn Mawr still express their frustration at being consistently misgendered. “I think [the majority of professors] still expect everyone in the room, unless they’re very obviously a guy from Haverford, to say she/her,” Fern Salisbury (Bryn Mawr ‘22) said.
Although not specific to Bryn Mawr, students are also advocating in favor of the term “historically women’s college” when referring to schools that have traditionally been open to only cis women. They claim that this language more accurately reflects the many gender identities that comprise the student body.
Despite this, Bryn Mawr remains a women’s college in all official capacities. Walters explained that this language “is not only or even primarily based in law,” but rather “reflects a commitment to a mission that is as yet unfulfilled.” In explanation of Bryn Mawr’s identity, she referenced a letter from the Board of Trustees that illustrates their decision to allow trans women to enroll in the college.
Written by chair member Arlene Joy Gibson (Bryn Mawr ‘65), the statement asserts that, “the mission of the College at the undergraduate level is to educate women to be future leaders… [and] Bryn Mawr’s identity as a women’s college is fundamental to its distinctive environment… [The Board members who came to the decision] also recommended that the College use language that affirms our institutional identity as a women’s college (e.g. use of gendered language) while respecting the diversity of individual identities in the community.”
Charley Mestrich (Bryn Mawr ‘22), who works as a tour guide on campus, explained that Bryn Mawr’s legal status as a women’s institution has a huge impact on how they present the school to prospective students. “I have to be really careful of the language that I use,” they said, “because I’m not allowed to call Bryn Mawr a historically women’s college when I’m on the clock as a tour guide for admissions.” Mestrich makes an effort to emphasize that Bryn Mawr is not exclusively a women’s institution when they give tours to prospective students. However, they pointed out that this language limitation often leads them to omit key parts of their experiences at Bryn Mawr when giving tours, providing a less authentic picture of the school.
Booth also sees this erasure as an issue. They point out that it’s important for the college to highlight its status as a historically women’s institution, “just so people don’t come in with this mindset that we all are cis women.” Booth noted that there’s a risk of students who are unable to visit campus falling into a similar trap; although Bryn Mawr has a policy for the admission of trans students posted on its website and a fact sheet on pronouns on the page of the Pensby Center, Booth pointed out that cis students are unlikely to seek those resources out.
“It’s a women’s college on paper, but in real life it’s not,” said Anderson Gaskill (Bryn Mawr ‘22). “I don’t know why the term ‘historically women’s’ would harm cis women; I don’t know why they would care if we called it a historically women’s college. It’s only helping the community and better reflecting who’s here.”
The lack of acknowledgement of the nonbinary and male-identifying portion of Bryn Mawr’s student body extends beyond school-sponsored pamphlets or official websites. “Because people think this is a women’s institution, they think it’s okay to say things like, ‘Hey ladies,’” Gaskill explained, a sentiment echoed by Mestrich and Elliot Fleming (Bryn Mawr ‘22). Beyond being misgendered, Mestrich pointed out that they view the term “ladies” as demeaning to women, given the contexts in which it is most often used.
References to Bryn Mawr’s student body as exclusively women is just one part of Gaskill’s hugely complex experience at the school. He was out upon his arrival and frequently had to deal with transphobic remarks during his first couple weeks at the college. In other instances, he felt tokenized as one of only a few men at Bryn Mawr. “I heard several times, ‘Oh, Anderson? Everyone either wants to be friends with him or date him,’ which is not a normal way to regard a person,” he said. “I just felt very objectified and othered, even though I belong here as much as anyone else does.”
In his time at Bryn Mawr, Gaskill has been pressured to defend his presence at the school on multiple occasions. He frequently points out that there are a number of students who aren’t women at Bryn Mawr. Additionally, the fact that he was raised as a woman at a young age means that he faced misogyny growing up, even though it was misdirected. “I was taught to be silent, and I was taught to be quiet, and being at Bryn Mawr is beneficial to me in that way,” Gaskill said, alluding to one of Bryn Mawr’s core goals of empowering those who were taught to minimize the space they took up in a patriarchal society.
The fact that Bryn Mawr is removed from the pressures and expectations of a patriarchial society is a draw for trans, nonbinary, and cis students alike. It’s one of the factors that makes Bryn Mawr’s campus so inviting; for many, the school provides a safe and welcoming community.
“I really like that I’m at Bryn Mawr because I know that while I’m here… I don’t feel that I am less safe if other people can tell I’m trans,” said Genevieve Love (Bryn Mawr ‘22). “[It’s] a really nice feeling to have, and one that is not very applicable elsewhere.” That Bryn Mawr is a historically women’s institution factored heavily into Love’s college decision. The feeling of safety and community figures strongly into her college experience.
However, Love does note that she has yet to meet another student that she knows to be a trans woman at Bryn Mawr. That’s not to say they don’t exist—it’s not always obvious when someone is trans—but Love notes that, while she wasn’t expecting the school to have a ton of trans women students, she “wasn’t really expecting to not find any at all.” During her freshman year, her dorm’s Campus Diversity Assistant (often shortened to CDA) helped Love reach out to administration and the alumni network to see if there were other trans women that were or had been on campus. Likely due to privacy laws, the school was unable to provide information.
“Whether that means I’m the only one on campus right now, or the first I don’t know. I might be, I might not be,” said Love. While this sometimes leads to Love adjusting her behavior—she mentioned that, because she has a low voice, she tries not to talk in spaces where people can’t see her face—she still finds the community at Bryn Mawr to be overall welcoming and safe for her.
Fleming also spoke to a sense of safety at school. Although he applied as a cis woman, Fleming realized during his time at Bryn Mawr that he was actually a trans man. He’s been able to obtain referrals for testosterone and a letter for top surgery through Aury Garcia, a nonbinary counselor at Bryn Mawr’s Health Center. “It’s nice to have someone who knows everything, who’s knowledgeable, who has been on testosterone, who’s got[ten] top surgery,” Fleming said, although noting that he wished that Garcia wasn’t the only person at the school with the experience to provide support to trans students.
Garcia’s support of Bryn Mawr’s trans and nonbinary community doesn’t stop there; they run a weekly group therapy session for trans, nonbinary, and gender non-conforming students, as well as students of any gender identity that does not match the gender they were asigned at birth. Supported by the Bryn Mawr administration, the group was “developed as a result of our Counseling Staff seeing a need among our students,” according to Walters.
“It was a wonderful, safe space,” said Salisbury, who participated in the group first semester. Miranda, who was also a member of the group during the fall, holds similar views.
Miranda praised the group as a comfortable space for students coming from an array of past experiences. “I can confidently say that each of us had a different story and yet there was a common thread about us that connected us all together in a way,” they said. “I felt like that was a super grounding thing for me because I didn’t have to explain myself, I didn’t have to think about whether I’m going to get misgendered that day or anything.”
They found this to ring true even when the day’s discussion didn’t center around gender. Despite the variety of experiences of those in the group, everyone shared an understanding of what it was like to exist as someone who wasn’t cis—an awareness that bound them together on a fundamental level, even if that shared experience wasn’t explicitly spoken at every meeting. “The fact that that group was solely trans and nonbinary people was super liberating for me,” Miranda said, “especially just easing some of the heaviness that I felt on a day-to-day basis.”
It’s within these communities—be they the students in groups such as Garcia’s, among one’s friends, or within the school as a whole—that many of Bryn Mawr’s trans and nonbinary students have found comfort and security. Despite coming from a variety of backgrounds and a range of experiences at Bryn Mawr—some negative, some positive—every student that the Bi-College News spoke with for this article acknowledged that they would rather be at Bryn Mawr than anywhere else.
As summarized by Gaskill, “I couldn’t picture myself making any other choice. I’m pretty sure this was the right choice, but that doesn’t mean it’s always the right choice; it doesn’t mean that it’s always something I’m happy with. I don’t know if cis people feel that, I don’t know if people at other schools feel this, I don’t know if it’s a normal feeling. But I’m here, and I don’t think I’m leaving.”
Image credit: Bryn Mawr College
