As you read this, I am either dying or already dead. By that I mean I’m about to graduate, and that means the knowledge I’ve gathered in my past four years as a perpetually exhausted queer is going to be lost unless it’s passed on. Hopefully, this advice is helpful to another queer Comet in this vast, beautiful galaxy.

I had the opportunity to stay closer to my family in the Midwest for college, but forwent that opportunity to reinvent myself in Texas. Part of this decision was based on UTD’s ranking as one of the best universities for queer students (one of two in Texas, the other being Texas Tech) multiple years in a row.

We had the programs to back it up. We used to have the Galerstein Gender Center, which freely handed out chest binders and pronoun pins. Students had the opportunity to sign up for mixed-gender housing, meaning queer students wouldn’t be forced into uncomfortable (and sometimes dangerous) living situations. Our diaternity (queer fraternity/sorority) used to put on a drag show every year. These all got nuked in the wake of Senate Bill 17 and Senate Bill 37, which were ironically written by the now-president of Texas Tech, becoming law.

Our campus used to have these boulders called the Spirit Rocks that people would use to advertise their different clubs, support political causes, or overwise express themselves. Their removal in 2024 was discovered by students who were about to spraypaint the rocks for Transgender Day of Remembrance. A member of the administration later tried to justify the rocks’ removal on the grounds that she had allegedly seen homophobic remarks written on them.

To start my advice section: Always be cautious of this kind of justification. At its core, it is the same “think of the children” rhetoric that censors queer education and art. It is the same rationale that leads to the censoring of student organizations, such as Students for Justice in Palestine, for daring to have a voice. I have never been able to corroborate the admin’s claims of homophobia on the Spirit Rocks, but even if the remarks ever existed, please understand that taking away a platform for student speech — on Transgender Day of Remembrance of all days — does the opposite of helping queer people. I know the blanket of “this hurts me, so it should be censored” can help protect you through middle and high school, but you are an adult now. Any bigot can think “hurto ergo censoro” and end their thinking there. You have to be better than that.

Find community. Find healthy communities that will build you up and connect you to the resources you need — which will often mean having something in common that isn’t just being queer (art, technology, politics, etc.). These communities are not found on Grindr or with creepy, flirtatious grad students. Don’t confuse cheap attention for meaningful affirmation.

Don’t get too caught up in labels. Any time you spend trying to find a specific flag that matches your exact experience is time you could spend holding someone’s hand and fighting for a better future. The whole point of community is that people are different but united under shared experiences. Don’t try to create artificial barriers.

Many trans people change their preferred display name by emailing the records department, but fewer change their preferred email through the Atlas service portal. I know entirely too many deadnames as a consequence. You can use your last name if you’re not comfortable with people knowing your chosen name yet. Many professors do this; no one will question it. Also, if you want, getting HRT is entirely possible. There’s a nearby clinic, albeit with a waitlist, that will help you for free. The clinic aims to help all queer people, so even if you’re not trans, you should definitely familiarize yourself with the resources.

You are not absolved of racism by virtue of being queer. You do not understand every oppression by virtue of experiencing it on one or two or even three axes. College is the ideal place to lock in and better yourself as a person about this. Thinking you have no room to improve can only ever make you a worse person.

Talk to your professors. Their unique perspectives, institutional knowledge, and possible research opportunities will serve you well, and cultivating personal relationships will get you further than cold-emailing ever will. These things, in my mind, are what separate a real college experience from staying in your bedroom and watching 3Blue1Brown videos.

Even this is a highly inadequate guide. I’ve purposefully not mentioned the name of the queer clinic because bad actors looking to gut institutions like it may be reading this. I’ve hidden a number of things that still exist on this campus for the same reason. I’m genuinely sorry. The solution is to find meaningful communities in real life to tell you what this magazine article can’t.

As a final note, college will change you in ways you never could have anticipated. Few people I know today would even recognize the man who entered the dorms four years ago (I’ve really just grown a very poor mustache since, but that goes surprisingly far). The future is a galaxy: I can tell you there’s stuff out there, but from where I’m standing, I can’t say exactly what. You’ll just have to launch and trust that something beautiful is waiting up there for you, because I promise you, it is. To borrow some words from a song that’s helped me a fair bit over the past four years as I’ve gazed into the hazy dark above this campus:

and I think it’s gonna be a long, long time

’til touchdown brings me ’round again to find

I’m not the man they think I am at home

Oh, no, no, no

I’m a rocket man

…but I’m not up here alone.