University of Cincinnati’s Attack on Trans Students Sparks the Rise of a New Queer Fraternity

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This story first appeared in Queer Cincinnati: Beyond the Binary, published Oct. 23, 2026.

In the spring of my freshman year at the University of Cincinnati (UC), Ohio Senate Bill 1 was moving through the state legislature. The bill, which would take effect on June 27th, 2025, requires Ohio’s public colleges and universities to maintain institutional neutrality and “intellectual diversity” on certain “controversial beliefs and policies” including climate policy, electoral politics, foreign policy, immigration, marriage, and abortion. It also bars faculty from “indoctrinating” students toward a position on these topics, bars the institution itself from taking an official stance, and eliminates diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) offices, departments, and required trainings at the same institutions.

UC, however, wasted no time adopting these principles, even before the bill became law. UC President Neville Pinto complied in advance, stating in a public email on February 21st, 2025 that “it is untenable to operate as if noncompliance with these directives is an effective option” and that “we are committed to meet our compliance obligations.” Soon after President Pinto’s address, DEI offices including the LGBTQ+ Center, the Women’s Center, Ethnic Program Services (EPS), and the African American Cultural Resource Center (AACRC) were immediately shut down. Many students, myself included, felt this response failed to address their concerns.

That same spring, the university began replacing bathroom signage with new “biological men” and “biological women” signs. This action was a result of Ohio Senate Bill 104, the “Protect All Students Act,” signed by Governor Mike DeWine in November 2024, which prohibits members of one biological sex from using restrooms designated for the opposite biological sex and erases multi-occupancy restrooms open to any gender. The law does require institutions to provide alternative accommodations, such as single-occupancy facilities, but the bathroom signage UC implemented was worded of their own accord. The new signs were adopted quickly, sending a clear message that transgender, nonbinary, and intersex students were not welcome. Because of this, many students became worried that their university housing options would no longer be viable if the available restrooms did not match their “biological sex.” As a trans man living in freshman dorms at the time, I worried for my housing security.

My fears came true when my fellow trans roommates Seth Rane, Grayson Castellucci, and I were relocated to the margins of campus mid-spring semester. We were originally approached in an email by UC’s Director of Resident Education & Development at the time, Trent Pinto, on February 10th, 2025. Pinto invited us to a “conversation regarding upcoming changes to the residential experience.” This meeting was held at UC’s LGBTQ+ Center before it was dissolved, and its conclusion resulted in two options: 1) Stay in our dorms and travel to the women’s dorms to use the restroom, or 2) Relocate to an off-campus apartment where we would have access to a personal restroom.

Option 1 was an unreasonable request for us. Not only was this option directly invalidating our identities as men, but it was also oversaturating the communal space and required us to travel to a different floor or building to use the restroom. Because of this, my roommates and I conceded to option 2 and were relocated to an apartment near campus. While UC quickly responded to a flood of backlash by removing the bathroom signs, the damage had already been done. What was supposed to be an exciting year to make new friends and invest in our studies instead became a year where we were isolated from our peers and pulled from our classes to accommodate the move to our new apartment.

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Amidst the predatory legislation and considerable lack of LGBTQ+ spaces, we quickly realized we were not alone in our isolation and observed an almost solemn environment throughout campus. To combat this, my roommates and I decided to make a change.

One day after class, I came home to Seth and Grayson sharing the idea of starting a queer fraternity: Phi Alpha Gama (PAG). At first, we treated it as a joke. After all, it is customary across university Greek life to exclusively allow one gender (women in sororities, men in fraternities). It seemed absurd to imagine visibly queer or transgender individuals enjoying this same staple of college life, but the more we thought about it, the more we realized that PAG’s existence might be a space that UC’s LGBTQ+ community desperately needed: a space made by queer people for queer people to enjoy without consequence.

A fraternity was the best option for us to organize an LGBTQ+-friendly community because we felt that queer individuals deserved to be included in traditional college experiences that they may otherwise shy away from. We gathered a few close friends to join PAG, but we realized that to expand our community past our small clique, we needed to give our fraternity structure. To do this, we created the governing body of PAG, consisting of the following roles: president, vice president, secretary, recruitment officers, philanthropy chair, social media chair, diversity chair, and grievance officer.

We didn’t expect PAG to be more than a small community at first, but soon, friends of friends came to our parties and told their friends about PAG, and it became a vast network of students where all are welcome. During our recent spring rush campaign, we had a great turnout, with around 30 members present and 10 rushees. We implemented different group bonding activities including ice breaker games and a friendly s’mores roasting competition. However, the main standout of this event came about when several people approached our front yard asking about the event we were hosting. What stood out to me the most was how accommodating the members of PAG were to total strangers. Seeing a community that I helped create foster such a kind and welcoming environment made me realize how important PAG was to creating a safe space for queer and allied individuals to be themselves and make new connections.

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