It comes as no surprise that higher education is experiencing a crisis in inclusivity, given both state and federal legislative attempts to dismantle its infrastructure. While many elite institutions, such as Harvard University and well-funded public universities, have the resources to legally challenge these restrictions, community colleges, often underfunded and overlooked, lack the financial means to do so. As public institutions, community colleges also have limited flexibility in interpreting and implementing restrictive laws. When lawmakers, or even the nation’s president, target elite institutions with sweeping legislation, it is community colleges that disproportionately suffer the consequences.

Despite these challenges, community colleges hold a unique strength: public trust. A 2024 Gallup poll found that two-year institutions enjoy greater bipartisan confidence than their four-year counterparts on issues such as cost-effectiveness and preparation for life and work (Marken, 2024). However, that popularity does not shield them from the harm caused by the repeal of inclusive excellence, an occurrence that affects students of color and rural students—as just a few examples—greatly.

When policies centered on belonging are weakened or eliminated, it is community colleges, not universities with robust legal teams and alumni networks, that bear the brunt. These institutions typically have only a small office focused on inclusive excellence, if one exists at all, often staffed by a single employee responsible for a range of initiatives. Work surrounding inclusive excellence includes ensuring accessibility, supporting first-generation students and fostering belonging among all minoritized identities encompassing race, socioeconomic status, sexual orientation, disability and more. Community colleges enroll the most diverse college student populations in the country. Efforts to include all are essential to supporting and retaining these students.

One particularly vulnerable population within community colleges is LGBTQ+ students. Research shows that approximately one in three LGBTQ+ individuals will attend a community college at some point in their lives (Conron et al., 2022). These students are more likely to report negative campus climates, mental health struggles and experiences of discrimination, all factors that often discourage them from disclosing their identity as part of the LGBTQ+ community.

Some may ask: Why does it matter whether a person discloses sexual orientation? Why not just focus on academics? While I cannot speak for all LGBTQ+ individuals, many of us have learned to navigate the world as chameleons, adapting our behavior and presentation to blend into cisheteronormative environments—settings structured around the assumption that being both cisgender and heterosexual is the default—for safety and acceptance. Colleges and universities are microcosms of society, and community colleges are no exception. LGBTQ+ students often find themselves on guard, constantly assessing whether they are safe to be themselves. This hyper-vigilant mentality takes a toll on learning and development.

For instance, a seemingly innocuous question such as, “Are you bringing your girlfriend to the party?” can force a gay student to pause and decide whether to correct the assumption, stay silent or lie. Without cultural competence programming to foster awareness and allyship, these micro-moments accumulate and contribute to an unwelcoming environment. Curricula that include queer history, LGBTQ+ public health issues or rural/urban sociologies are increasingly under threat, resulting in sanitized course content and further erasure of queer identities.

Personally, it wasn’t until my doctoral program that I encountered ideas such as queer theory, social cognitive theory and the sexual identity development model, frameworks that helped me understand and embrace my queerness. If federal and state governments continue to overstep and interfere in academia, queer students will lose the opportunity to learn more about themselves, while heterosexual students will be denied the tools to challenge assumptions, confront biases and engage with diverse perspectives that foster empathy and inclusion.

LGBTQ+ students, faculty and staff may understandably feel discouraged or powerless in this moment. But there are ways to organize and push forward.

The LGBTQ+ community has a long and proud legacy of grassroots activism. This is a moment to return to those roots. If your institution has banned identity-based student groups, take the work underground. Organize off-campus efforts. Connect and partner with existing groups. Meet in trusted spaces. Reclaim community on your own terms.

Bring in queer guest speakers, even if they don’t explicitly discuss their identity. For example, inviting a successful LGBTQ+ entrepreneur to speak to a business class subtly challenges stereotypes and demonstrates to students that queer individuals can thrive in traditionally conservative fields. These visits can be followed by closed-door conversations with LGBTQ+ students, creating spaces of affirmation, mentorship and even sponsorship.

Professional membership organizations can also help fill the void left by defunded inclusive excellence offices. For example, SafeZone trainings, which equip participants to support LGBTQ+ individuals, were once common in higher education. After completing the training, participants would often display a sticker on their office window or digital badge in their email signature to signal their allyship. Many institutions have now lost their certified SafeZone facilitators or have been forced to shut down the training. Professional organizations can stand in the gap. If your professional organization doesn’t offer such training, I encourage you to advocate for its implementation.

Local LGBTQ+ nonprofits such as Muncie OUTreach, located in Muncie, Indiana, are another key resource. These organizations may provide meeting space, programming support or community connections that colleges can no longer facilitate. Building bridges between campus communities and local queer organizations strengthens both.

For closeted students who make up the majority of LGBTQ+ students at community colleges, it is crucial to know that something is being built for them, even if they are not ready to engage yet. Word of mouth, discreet networks and careful social media messaging can spread the word. Unsanctioned gatherings, however, should be planned thoughtfully to avoid unintended consequences.

Finally, no grassroots movement can succeed without allies. LGBTQ+ coalitions must intentionally recruit heterosexual friends across campus, particularly in offices or departments where queer representation is lacking. Collective action will always be more effective than isolated efforts.

Inclusive excellence infrastructure is being dismantled across higher education, but the damage is most acutely felt at community colleges. While all marginalized groups are impacted, this piece has focused specifically on LGBTQ+ students. I advocate for the formation of queer grassroots coalitions at community colleges. By collaborating with professional organizations, local nonprofits and straight allies and accomplices, we can begin to rebuild the support systems and sense of belonging that full inclusivity efforts once provided.

References

Conron, K.J., O’Neil, K.K., & Marzullo, M.A. (2022) Community college and the experiences of LGBTQ people. Williams Institute. https://williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/publications/community-college-lgbtq/ 

Marken, S. (2024, July 8) Americans more confident in two-year schools. Gallup. https://news.gallup.com/poll/646841/americans-confident-two-year-schools.aspx