Out at a women's college.

I'm a feminist. I'm a daughter. I'm a sister. I'm a Democrat. I'm girly, and I love a good pair of stilettos. And since arriving at Randolph-Macon Woman's College in Lynchburg, Va., a small liberal arts school in the heart of Jerry Falwell country, I have realized that I am also gay.

Before I came here, family members and friends suggested that going to a women's college might "make me" gay. But all it really did was open my eyes to the way I was born. When I started school I was still involved with a boyfriend. But by the end of my first semester, I had my first girlfriend. She showed me love, acceptance, music, and culture--a culture I was desperately craving and a community that embraced me. It was the most natural and comforting experience I had ever had.

When I came out to my straight friends back home they were shocked. "But you don't look gay," they said. True, I don't look like a stereotypical dyke. I'm more of a skirt-wearing Kate Spade lover. But just like every other queer, I'm in between haircuts and still in search of that perfect pair of jeans. "No, I guess I don't 'look' gay," I told my friends. "But what does gay look like anyway? It looks like me, like you."

As I became more comfortable with dating a girl, I became more proud of who I am. Now all my professors know, as does most of the campus. I've become active in our gay-straight alliance. I've never felt discriminated against or held back, and I have never been taunted. Perhaps it's because I don't "look" gay.

I like Randolph-Macon because it allows me to be who I am. There is no hush-hush policy here. I neither hide my sexuality nor lie about it. This school of only 760 women encourages me to make a name for myself in a community that fosters my strengths.