University of Rochester senior Treamelle “TJ” Taylor is using his experience as a queer student-athlete to help build the kind of group he wished existed during his three years on the university’s football team. He created a support video featuring LGBTQ+ and ally athletes, coaches, and staff as a lead-in to launching the UofR Queer Athlete and Ally Collective (QAAC).
WHY QAAC
Finding a very limited amount of representation of queer athletes and a lack of understanding of the athletic component in LGBQT+ spaces, Taylor sees QAAC as an avenue for both advocating for, and spreading awareness of, queer athletes. “I think the number one thing is that queer athletes exist everywhere and the combined identity of being queer and an athlete is a much different experience than just being a queer person,” he pointed out. “Not many people understand this and in addition to bringing awareness to that, I want to be the person I wish I had in my corner. College is meant to be some of the best years of your life, but at times it has felt so isolating for me.”
Taylor, who identifies as bisexual, has been comforted by talking with those with similar experiences who showed him the urgency of creating something to support LGBTQ+ student-athletes. “We must break the cycle of isolation. In talking with (Rochester men’s basketball alum) Nate (Novosel) and (current Rochester women’s soccer head coach and Yellowjacket women’s soccer alum) Ashley (Van Vechten). I have found that, despite the number of years between our graduating classes, our experiences are remarkably similar. All three of us and a men’s soccer alum all waited to come out until after our final playing season ended. Honestly, that breaks my heart that it is that way,” he expressed. Taylor and Novosel were each part of an online UAA mental health panel hosted by Rochester in April.
The decision to start building QAAC was not an automatic one for him. “Originally, I did not want to start a group. I thought it was unnecessary,” admitted Taylor, who then found out how much he needed it in a difficult time. “I was cheated on and when my relationship ended, I had no resources, no one to lean on, and felt so misunderstood. Queer athletes need a space where they can come together and don’t have to explain themselves,” he described.
The timing of the breakup was particularly challenging because it coincided with his major decision regarding continuing football in his senior season and where to apply for graduate school. “My breakup was the morning of January 22nd, and I was meeting with my coach to decide about playing, but I broke down crying telling him everything that was going on. My coach is not homophobic and did his best to be sympathetic and understanding, but he has different life experiences,” stated Taylor, who said the two agreed that it was not the best time for Taylor to decide on playing football.
“TJ is just a great person who always showed up for everything with an excellent attitude. He brought great energy, worked hard, and did everything he was asked to do. He is just a quality human being,” Rochester head football coach Chad Martinovich commented.
The Rochester football banquet was held February 22nd with Taylor’s future playing career still in limbo. “Even though I only knew Coach (Casey) Williams for one season, he delivered a beautiful speech about me and my character,” described Taylor, who was so nervous about his impending conversations with Martinovich that he practiced what he would say at the campus tutoring center. “Every time I talked to him after that, I would break down again trying to explain what I was dealing with. That is when I realized we needed a group where athletes facing similar things could feel heard and understood by others with shared experiences.” Their meeting on April 22nd essentially ended his playing career at Rochester as he was unable to practice in the spring.
“I’ve had many student-athletes break down in my office for all sorts of reasons. explained Martinovich, who had a senior come out to him as gay before the player’s senior season at MIT, where Martinovich served as head coach before taking over at Rochester. “With 33 years of coaching football, I have experience with a lot of different things, but I am still not a professional counselor. Mental health has become such an important issue, particularly over the last 10 years, and we encourage our athletes to take advantage of the professional resources on campus. TJ was going through a lot personally and football had to take a back seat at the time.”
MAKING THE VIDEO AND MOVING FORWARD WITH QAAC
Taylor found himself at a breaking point with his football career on hold and facing multiple challenges in seeking an understanding ear in non-athletic LGBTQ+ spaces. “There was a moment when I was meeting with people on campus and I felt like I was being gaslighted. I began to dissociate (a coping mechanism where one detaches from their immediate situation to avoid a more severe disconnection from a physical and/or emotional experience), which is something I have dealt with my entire life. It has gotten better over time, but in that moment, I felt like I was in a dream or more like a nightmare, like an out-of-body experience,” he lamented. “I had a lot at stake at the time. My family didn’t know I was bisexual and I couldn’t just go home and tell them I was done with football, the sport that I love, without the proper context.”
Feeling pressed for time to tie all the experiences of the spring together and move forward with the idea of QAAC, Taylor pushed hard to get interviews done to create the support video. At least one representative from every team at Rochester participated in the video, which Taylor and his team spent the final weeks of the spring semester filming. “What I found were people, especially my student film editors Ellie Hayward and Maren Smith, who listened to me and validated my experiences. Those people saved my life because I was in such a low place and felt like nobody had my back,” he explained.
Taylor believes that QAAC will provide much of what being part of the Black Student-Athlete Coalition (BSAC) brought him. “I compare it to what (Rochester women’s basketball alum) Raquel (Williams) offered to me through BSAC. I felt like it was almost a shield, that Raquel had my back and would deal with issues that impacted Black student-athletes on campus,” he remarked. “Now I can offer that to queer athletes because even though I knew I had that shield with BSAC, I also knew I had to put up a front as “straight passing” for other Black athletes to have my back. That is tiring and is the experience of so many queer athletes. If we can create a space with QAAC where people can be fully themselves, the generation of future athletes following us won’t have to go through what I did.”
SUPPORT AT ROCHESTER
One of the most challenging aspects of Taylor’s journey was the lack of people who shared his intersection of being a Black and queer athlete. “I specifically asked Ashley what her experience was like as a student-athlete because I hadn’t found anyone who shared my experience and I constantly felt like I was explaining myself to someone. Our experiences were so similar, and I needed to hear that more than she knew,” he explained. “I wanted to be an advocate for queer athletes, but I was scared, so I figured I would wait until I embarked on my hopefully professional football career to become an advocate, thinking that would be the perfect time.”
It was Van Vechten’s response that changed the timeline for Taylor. “I vividly remember her saying, ‘TJ, there is never going to be a perfect time. You will always be waiting for a perfect time that is never going to arrive.’ That totally changed my mindset. Just talking to her and seeing her face light up that there could be something for the next generation of athletes that we didn’t have is so exciting,” he emitted.
Van Vechten remembered the conversation vividly. “It was January 2026 and I was the only coach with my door open at the time. I have door signage signifying that everyone is welcome with a lot of queer and multi-racial symbolism. I saw TJ walk by and then come back. He came in and I knew he had this look that indicated he needed to come in and take a seat,” she recalled. “It was like meeting someone at a crossroads. Our conversation got real deep quickly. We talked about his journey being a queer bi-racial student-athlete at Rochester and being a Canadian citizen. He was wondering how much to share with people, including his family and coaches. TJ was wondering how to navigate all his identities but at every point, he kept thinking how could he make an impact for others.”
She stressed with Taylor that although it is natural to wait for a perfect, or at least better, time to do something, we can always find something to delay a choice. “We all do this in our lives. ‘Once I choose a college, decide on a major, get my first job, then things will be easier and I can do so and so,’ but the truth is that at every point, we face increasingly harder decisions and we have to turn ourselves into someone who can handle hard,” she explained. “I told TJ that he has a platform right now. He is a UofR Yellowjacket and that means something. He has visibility. Why wait? TJ is running with self-generated momentum. He is excited to take what he has talked about in private conversations into something that will support all our student’s identities”
“I didn’t know TJ until recently, but Chad Martinovich, the head football coach, invites me to speak to the team every fall, so TJ would have seen me in that capacity. I am visible on campus, I show up at athletic award banquets and advise several athletes. I’m also matter-of-fact about having a husband,” said political science and history professor Gerald Gamm, the associate chair of the political science department and director of undergraduate studies, while additionally serving as the UAA chief operating officer. “Ostensibly TJ came to see me to find out about doing a fifth year here through our Take Five Program. When we finished meeting about that, he wasn’t rushing out of my office, and I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to talk about. A lot of things went through my mind, but I didn’t expect him to tell me he is bisexual.”
Taylor shared that he had not told any of his teammates and that very few people in his life knew what he had just told Gamm. “I spoke with him about his teammates and that a few people may be difficult, but that he couldn’t ask for a better football team to be a part of,” Gamm reported. “We started meeting regularly after that and he saw being with me as a safe space, somewhere where he could be himself. It was a privilege for me to be someone he trusted that much. The more I got to know him, the more I appreciated and respected him.”
Taylor has consistently felt supported by other Rochester staff, including Associate Athletic Director Kris Shanley and volleyball head coach Ladi Ilya. Shanley accompanied him to a meeting where he proposed the idea of QAAC to Executive Director of Athletics George VanderZwaag, who immediately approved the formation of the group.
FOOTBALL AND FAMILY
Most people have things they would do differently if given another chance, but Taylor is adamant that one thing that does not fall into that category is his sport of choice.
Football has long been a part of his family and continues to be. His father, also named Treamelle Taylor, a past All-American receiver at the University of Nevada, was drafted by the National Football League’s Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and put together an excellent rookie season with the Ottawa Rough Riders of the Canadian Football League in 1992. TJ’s oldest younger brother is currently going on recruiting trips and plans to play football in college.
“I would never ever, not in a million years, change that I chose to play football. Ironically, I think it is because my dad played professionally that I originally didn’t want to play,” laughed Taylor, who wanted to compete in gymnastics as a boy and was as comfortable playing with his female cousins’ Barbie dolls as he was with playing with his trains. Even then I felt like playing football meant I had to conform, and I planned to stay away from it.”
That changed when Taylor was in the seventh grade. “I wanted that camaraderie, that feeling of being a teammate. Football offered me the brotherhood that I wanted. Plus, honestly, it provided me a built-in friend group,” he admitted. “I knew my dad was good at it, so I was sure I could be somewhat good. Football has truly taught me so many life lessons. I was in an atmosphere many queer guys never are with a lot of straight, masculine guy friends. I am grateful and not grateful for that.”
“It did really feel like a homophobic environment, and I felt like I couldn’t be my true self because of things that are said in football locker rooms and on the field. It made me very uncomfortable, and it made me feel like I couldn’t stand out,” he continued. “At the same time, I felt like I could really get into their brains and understand why they operate the way they do, why they say the things they do. What I learned when I came out is that most of the time, they are not homophobic but didn’t know what they were saying was harmful. It really opened their eyes, realizing that it really could be anyone who is queer and that their words affect people. They started to think twice about what they were saying.”
“The biggest separator among queer student-athletes is gender. Being queer in women’s sports is a whole lot different because of societal pressures on men,” Van Vechten pointed out. “Culturally there are things you can and cannot do as a football player. TJ is truly a trailblazer in a way that is so meaningful, particularly in relation to looking at the experiences of male-identifying athletes”
“My brothers are a great example of what allies are. There is no one else who gets me the way my brothers do. I just said, ‘Guys, I need help with this video’ and obviously they heard the context of the video and me sharing my experiences, so they put two and two together. It was never like I had to sit down and have the ‘I am bisexual’ conversation. They just understood and didn’t treat me any differently. My younger brother even created the logo for QAAC,” Taylor said proudly.
ALLIES
With Gamm’s encouragement, he chose the moment to come out to a teammate for the first time, then senior Jackson Kane. “He broke down in tears because he was so honored. I didn’t realize until that point the impact that my identity had on other people. I was wondering why he was crying,” Taylor expressed.
“I get emotional even thinking about it. I had no idea and it was a complete surprise,” Kane commented. “It impacted him of course, but it also impacted me so much and made me think differently about how I approach conversations and to have more empathy. We talked for more than an hour and we laughed and cried. It was an incredible experience.”
Kane remembered back to Taylor’s first year. “I noticed that he kept to himself and I always wanted to make sure people felt included. I vividly remember TJ sitting by himself one time in the dining hall. We were teammates, but we didn’t hang out. I sat with him and asked if he was enjoying himself at Rochester,” he recalled. “He was far from home being from Canada and I empathized since I am from Oregon. Although we still didn’t hang out a lot, we did get closer and talked on the field and in the locker room. It was just that our friend groups didn’t overlap much.”
Taylor jokes that even he didn’t know how to define an ally. “As I was becoming more open about my sexuality, people asked me what they could do as a friend and ally. I didn’t even know what I was asking for myself,” he joked. “I give so much credit to Ladi. She gave me a book to read, which inspired me heavily. I think it comes up in the video too that it means showing up for people when they need it most or even when they don’t’ need it at all, but just being there for them, validating their experiences and making them feel like they are not alone.”
“For those who are not supportive of queer athletes, their idea of what we want is special treatment. That is a way to deny allyship. We just ask that everyone is treated as human and that people treat us with the same grace they give everyone else,” Van Vechten suggested.
The first two names that come to Taylor’s mind as peer allies are Kane and women’s soccer alum Cece Vassallo. “Jackson’s reaction and how he treated me no differently afterward is exactly how I want everyone to act. I knew that he was that layer of protection because he knew what I was going through and I knew if someone said something out of line around him, he would put them in check.
“I remember feeling honored and appreciated that TJ felt comfortable and safe enough to tell me about that part of himself back in freshman year,” Vassallo communicated. “I knew it was extremely private information to him at the time, and it was never my place to tell anyone else, so I never did. I felt he needed someone to just listen to him, to be there for him, and when he was ready, he would tell others.”
“Cece was one of the first people I ever came out to and she told absolutely no one. She would have taken it to the grave if I asked her to and kept it in for years. I don’t know how she did it!” Taylor effused. “There were so many rumors about us dating because we spent a lot of time together and it didn’t faze her. I remember one time we were in an Uber coming back from a night out and I mentioned how all these people thought we were dating and how we were both getting teased. She told me she didn’t mind or care at all what people were saying. She probably doesn’t even remember saying that, but it took a weight off my shoulders. She knew the real me and easily could have just told people I was bisexual, but she kept the secret always. A true ally is someone a queer person can trust and call on anytime.”
“The thing for me is I didn’t feel like I had to do too much. It didn’t change the way I thought about him. I love him for him. He is one of the nicest people and an incredible guy,” Kane stated. “It didn’t affect anything in our relationship and he appreciated that. We have had a lot of great conversations since then. It took so much courage for him to come out to me, to be so vulnerable. He was taking a huge step and I admired that.”
“TJ has always been someone who has had my back and whom I could call on whenever. I’m happy he’s chosen to share this part of himself and has found support in it. I’m really proud of him for how far he’s come and all the work he has put into QAAC. It’s nice to see others see the very fun and animated presence that TJ is and not a watered-down version of his personality,” Vassallo asserted. “He’s told me stories about things I’ve said or done in the past that I don’t even remember, but that assured him he had an ally in me, even though, at the time, I had no idea I was saying anything that mattered. We take a little from most people we meet, whether it’s lessons or mannerisms or something else, and that’s one of the biggest lessons I’ve taken from TJ: our actions and words impact others, whether we even know/remember it or not.”