Why the death of the college and university experience is so detrimental for LGBTQ students

This is an opinion column by Lisa Basil, who is attending classremotely at the University of British Columbia from her home in Lethbridge, Alta. For more information about CBC's Opinion section, please see the FAQ.

If September is any indication, the global pandemic has all but eradicated any semblance of the "university experience" as we know it.

Gone are the days of frat parties, sporting eventsand 300-person lecture halls. The loss of the university experience means the absence of direct access to professors via office hours, campus resources, library accessand clubs.

But one of the lesser-known casualties of this shift to remote learning is also one of the most fundamental aspects of university life: the on-campus community.

For LGBTQ students like myself, the on-campus experience is an indispensable opportunity.

While Canada loves to boast about and project an image of tolerance, many areas still remain problematic for queer youth. These are communities whereanti-LGBTQ vandalism, banning of pride flagsor hate crimesstill occur.

Going away to college is a chance for some to finally escape the stifling realities of communities that are less diverse, more socially conservativeor just outright homophobic.

Now, capped campusresidence capacities have forced LGBTQ students all across the country to return to their (often) less-than-progressive hometowns, and those entering first year to be robbed of their long-awaited escape from them.

As I return home to finish my studies this year, I am returning to a community where Pride installations were vandalized at least twice. I am returning to a community where the provincial government is trying to undermine gay-straight alliance clubsin high schools, and I am returning to a community in which I get near-constant attention in the form of stares and glares when out with my girlfriend.

On campus, my queer existence isn't politicised. College was alsoan integral opportunity to find solace and companionship in LGBTQ and allied groups.

In that sense, remote learning means that we are losing an irreplaceable component of the queer university experience.

The 2015 GLSEN National School Climate survey of U.S. schools found that school-based resources were an essential factor for LGBTQ students' feelings of inclusivity. Another 2015 survey of LGBTQ students at Ontario universitiesfound that 84 per cent of respondents wished there were more staff to run LGBTQ groups, eventsand spaces.

Working with incoming LGBTQ university students and reflecting on my experience, I can attest that for many students, university is their first opportunity to truly be out. It is frequently the first time queer students are able to be part of specifically LGBTQ spaces.

Finding myself amonga community of peers where being gay was the least-interesting thing about me was one of my most central and defining college experiences. Participation in queer-specific campus clubs, eventsand even an LGBTQ residence hallwere paramount to my journey to distancing myself from years of internalized homophobia.

Some may argue that the establishmentofsafe spaces creates a generation of LGBTQ students ill-equipped for the "real world." But a queer-friendly campus experience is an education in a different sense one of self-acceptance and community.

LGBTQ students across the country, for the time being, must mourn not only the loss ofcampus resourcesbut the loss of an integral campus life that makes their university years a cornerstone ofpersonal growth.

• This column is part ofCBC's Opinion section. For more information about this section, please read ourFAQ.