The national debate on LGBTQ issues in schools has come to the Midwest. In the wake of the passage of the so-called “don't say gaylaw, more than a dozen other states – including Missouri, IowaTennessee and Ohio – they have proposed similar legislation with the aim of limiting how teachers discuss issues of gender identity or sexual orientation.
Based on my own experience, that of my colleague Steven Gill, and our original research, teachers in the Midwest have experiences similar to these elsewhere throughout the country.
We've both faced disabling, even terrifying, obstacles in our journeys as queer educators, and we've seen our queer and trans students suffer as well.
Our stories
For me, being the faculty sponsor for the school's gay-straight alliance student group was both heartwarming and heartwarming. I began my career at an urban school serving a high-poverty population in Nebraska in 2001 and found that the school's GSA membership was only a handful of students.
During my first year as a volunteer group sponsor, another teacher was invited by the official sponsor to one of our meetings and showed a video of people claiming to be “ex-gay”. He then took out a Bible and had a discussion with the disciples about how what it was was a sin. The official sponsor, a school counselor, smiled and let him continue talking.
I fought back tears of anger as I heard students say, “I know I'm going to hell, but I can't control how I feel, and I've tried not to be gay, but it's impossible.” I was furious that this was allowed to happen in a supposedly safe and affirming space in a public school where this kind of proselytizing should not be allowed. I watched as all confidence and self-esteem was drained from the students.
When I became the official sponsor, I ensured that the teacher would not be allowed to talk back to the group. Later, she told a lesbian teacher that she was praying for her soul. Twenty-one years later, he's still at that school – in a leadership role.
When I left in 2011, students were out and proud as allies and part of the LGBTQ community. While I won two national awards for my work there, neither was recognized by my school.
I witnessed martyrs disowning students when they came out and being rejected by religious shelters. There were many suicide attempts and countless mental health crises, and grades were falling as a result of bullying and harassment from teenagers and adults.
I have always been out as a queer woman and many students have thanked me for it. But I was told that two other teachers called me a “dyke” in the staff lounge for participating in the Day of Silence in support of LGBTQ rights. Some students told me they were praying for my soul around the flagpole. One parent accused me of turning their child gay because they went home with a rainbow ribbon and threatened to follow me home and show me “what a real man is”. The school had two visits from the notorious homophobe Westboro Baptist Church. Its members held signs across the street that read “God hates bums” and tried to hand out pamphlets to our students as they left the school building.
My partner Steve Gill reports, “I am a current middle and high school social studies teacher who is non-binary and queer to my students and my school system. When I was going through elementary school and middle school and high school and college, I didn't have queer or non-binary or trans teachers, or any kind of representation.
“This caused feelings of isolation and loneliness for me, as I had no nearby queer icons or performances to refer to.
“In adulthood, as a teacher, I consistently and confidently tell students, 'I'm Coach Gill, I go by 'Coach' because I'm non-binary. I'm also Black and Queer.' I choose to be out despite the discrimination I have faced, continue to face and will face in the future. I choose to be out because representation matters.
“I want people in my community to know that LGBTQ people exist in everyday jobs, not just as famous celebrities. I have students who come out to me because I am a safe space. I know students who have been kicked out of their homes, abused and mocked and mocked for being out in their home.”
Our research and what the preliminary results found
Our research shows that we are not alone. Many schools in the Midwest are places where queer and transgender educators cannot thrive and do their work without fear or hesitation.
We posted a preliminary survey on social media, looking for teachers in the Midwestern states of Nebraska, Iowa, and Minnesota. Of the 45 educators who responded, 12 place their identity within the broad spectrum of the LGBTQ community. But only four of them are out in their schools.
While our original survey data is limited to these 45 respondents, the results are not surprising given our experiences and backgrounds. other research into the treatment of LGBTQ people by schools.
But our experiences and the experiences of research participants are being lost as lawmakers limit what teachers can and cannot tell the class, how students can and cannot participate in school programs, and what symbols teachers can and cannot have in their classrooms. We plan to conduct more research to better understand how schools can play a part in making the future more fair and just for all.
