Langston’s campus isn’t the biggest, so it can sometimes be a challenge for a student to stand out and be unique. For Daria Lewis, if she even tried to be under the radar at campus, it could never happen. On a good day, she’s heard before being seen. Her boisterous burst of laughter is infectious, and one can’t help but squawk afterwards.
Daria has been the same since I had my first encounter with her as an incoming first-year student. We would always greet each other in passing, but we would spend most of our time in choir. Since Daria is now in a leadership role in the Ambassadors, she has put choir aside to focus on training the associates, persons upcoming in the organization.
I finally got her to sit in with me to have a heart to heart of her journey living on campus as a trans woman. When Daria enrolled in Langston in 2021, she was known as “Darius.” She open enough to let me view her Instagram archives.
“This was probably the manliest I’ve looked.”
In the picture, Daria stood in the snow with some dark sweatpants and oversized dark crew neck. Her head was covered with a durag, but wore a smoky mascara eye. I continue to see her evolve with each recent post as I scroll upward.
“…That picture was my first time wearing hoops. And they were small ass hoops. And then I bleached my hair, and then I started wearing lashes. But I didn’t start getting my hair done until I came here (to Langston) and once I started, it was just a downward slope.”
Transitioning is an expensive process, and Daria is steadily on her way to completion. Starting out, she was fortunate enough to keep up with her lifestyle by her followers on social media.
“I was on Twitter… It didn’t really lean on it as income, but more an outlet for my hyper sexuality. I used to be on Snapchat and if you find the right guy, you can get $100 off one picture. It used to be easy to sell pictures all the time. That’s how I got through school because I take care of my papa. My mama moved. So, it’s just me and my papa. And he don’t even want to give me no money. The first thing he did for me was get my car.”
She also discussed how she managed to keep up with her doctor’s visits and medications.
“Hormones are covered by insurance, and I’m not on them no more because I started them uninsured. Now, I got to pay them back if I want to go on them again, but I need to pay for my car first. I don’t stress on hormones because I’m naturally very feminine. The expensive part of being trans is more so the surgeries, and I’m not worried about that till after graduation; because college is expensive unless I find a sugar daddy.”
Daria didn’t get moral support from her family. The relationship between her and her parents was dysfunctional. Therefore, she self-taught her way through her transition.
“It was hard discovering womanhood. Whenever I first came into transitioning, I didn’t really know how to dress. Everything was fast fashion and I’m plus size. I’m not always able to find clothes that will fitmy body well… I got to help through friends, so I love my homegirls because they let me go through their closet and I get to see what fits megood, from what I like to wear.”
Daria digs deep as she went to first moment to realize a different identity from birth is where she found peace.
“I remember before, I was gay then I was non-binary. And non-binary was like you can call me he, she, whatever, I don’t care. But then I realized like I enjoyed being referred to as a woman more and I enjoyed walking life this way.”
Even though Daria is only a forty-five-minute commute from campus, growing up in Oklahoma City has made her feel more distance, finding a feeling of home is where the heart is.
“I used to be in foster care for like a year or so, then I stayed with my mom; she’s bipolar and an alcoholic. So, she would have days when she’s up and active and then she’d just stay in bed and sleep all day. So, I had to raise my siblings, and I never really got to go out too much. Being in the house all the time with them made me socially awkward and to top it off we were poor!”
While Daria continued to rear her siblings, she grew resentment to- wards them as she suffered always teased within her environment.
“It’s like, ’Bitch you’re weird and you look dusty.’ I remember al- ways wearing the same clothes and like being self-conscious. But at that point, I felt like everything was shit in my life.”
Daria always threw herself into school and her identifying as queer was not giving her favorable feedback.
“Growing up in Oklahoma, it was hard because it’s a very heteronormative state. People aren’t open with their sexuality and then everybody prides themselves on masculinity. I came out and told everybody I was gay in elementary school because I had this big ass crush on this boy. As a result, I lost some of my homeboys. Some of them were cool with it. Eventually, I started hanging out with girls more. So, whenever people see me and I’m extra feminine, it fights society’s expectations, and they take personal offense to that.”
To Daria’s surprise, there were some people who were not totally disgusted by her ideals. She whispers, covering one side of her mouth, “In high school, the white people- they love gay people. Whenever you’re gay, you’re more palatable to them. They were like, ‘You can have the keys to the teacher bathroom and just go in there whenever you need.’ Because I couldn’t go to the male or female bathroom.”
Daria’s expectations of acceptance when coming to Langston would change her perspective on the way she grew up. “I’m thinking, straight out of high school after getting bullied all four years, I’m going to come to Langston! Everybody’s here for their education, everybody’s cool! …Wrong! The difference from high school is the students were bullying me. Now at Langston, the bullies aren’t always my classmates, but it’s also some teachers and staff. I’m only just now getting to the point of socializing with people where they treat me like a person.”
Daria also reflected on when she first arrived and having to live with in the male dorms.
“He was an international student and was nice overall and I didn’t really have any problem with him. I did feel anxious sometimes in the living space…he and his friends pointing at me laughing. I’m like, what the fuck is the band kids talking about? Like I know the band kids aren’t talking about me. Now he’s like a brother to me and one of my closest guy friends on campus.”
Fact documents for several universities in Oklahoma do not yet mention transgendered persons as an official gender in their enrollment counts. Up to 2023, Langston genders only include male and female. The same applies to Oklahoma State University’s report released earlier this year. The University of Oklahoma on the other hand has had a gender specified as “non reported” since 2005. During this timeline OU had only enrolled a total of 84 non reported students. In 2021, OU had enrolled 28,052 first time students, and 0.007% of them identified as “non reported.”
Daria faced trials and tribulations before coming into her leadership role. “Before I became training chair, I was a training committee member… But then I became Training Chair, and the dynamic changed. So there, I’m like, having to put my foot down more because I can’t just sit and silly goosey and I’m training chair! So, they didn’t take real to that. They felt like ‘You changed, you switch!’ So that was going on and minor miscommunication. Overall, being an ambassador is just like being in a love affair.”
Despite the pushback, Dara still perseveres to ensure her associates are guided to success. “I just felt like people used me as a scapegoat. I was lenient with everybody in my training class, 36 kids at that. Before I became training chair, I was taking extra time out of my day to train with the kids who were struggling. We have people with disabilities, and it shouldn’t keep them from being ambassadors. So, I was taking extra time out of my day to sit and train with them every other day.”
As Daria continues on her journey, she is taught new lessons daily. “I’m still learning myself. I really want to say fuck what other people say, but that’s not going to get you anywhere. I feel like at Langston you’ve got to see it in some fashion. Just be graceful to yourself. I know a really good quote. Don’t appoint malice where you can appoint weakness. Don’t take self-pity whenever something is stronger than you.”
Uri Butler
Staff Writer
Uri Butler is a senior broadcast journalism major
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The Gazette serves as the student voice of Langston University. It is produced within the Department of Communication as a teaching tool and local news source for the campus community. The views and opinions expressed within are those of the writers whose names appear with the articles and do not necessarily represent the views of Langston University.
