From the Community | Why can’t I learn about my identity in school?
“Gay.” I was nine years old, sitting alone in the ninth row of a cold, yellow school bus when I first heard the word echoing from the seats behind me. It was neatly packaged inside of a quick — but piercing —insult, as if it felt comfortable serving as a tool for violence. Although initially unaware of its significance, I could tell it felt both natural and out of place at the same time — a feeling I knew all too well.
“Faggot.” I was twelve years old, utilizing social media as a means to understand my identity, when I first encountered those six, seemingly innocent letters. Initially oblivious, I looked up the word’s meaning – a simple action that altered my perception of myself. I realized I was not only abnormal, but my very existence was offensive.
In a society where LGBTQ+ education is not only scarce but actively censored, I was forced to learn about my community — and myself — through less reliable means: social media. With Instagram and YouTube as stand-ins for teachers, I matured without fully understanding who I was becoming and why I strayed from the status quo. My life became plagued with conflict catalyzed by an absence of LGBTQ-inclusive education and representation.
Despite this lack of representation, the LGBTQ+ community has been present throughout history. However, the first push for LGBTQ+ inclusive education didn’t occur until directly after the Stonewall Riots of 1969. Although initially unsuccessful, this push prompted further movements — the first successful one arriving 42 years later.
As a part of the FAIR (Fair, Accurate, Inclusive and Respectful) Education Act of 2011, California became the first state to enact legislation “requiring that the curriculum include information about the contributions and roles of LGBTQ Americans.” However, in the 12 years since, only five other states have followed suit: Colorado, New Jersey, Oregon, Illinois and Nevada. While progress is inspiring, many other states are deliberately censoring this education.
Most notably, in 2022, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis signed the Parental Rights in Education Act (more commonly known as the “Don’t Say Gay” law). This legislation, which only 40% of Floridians support, prohibited classroom discussions regarding sexual orientation or gender identity through third grade. In April 2023, this was extended to the 12th grade. Politician Nikki Haley — who most view as a moderate alternative to President Donald Trump — said that the law doesn’t go “far enough.” Since the Florida legislation, over 30 similar anti-LGBTQ+ education bills have been passed in 16 states.
Legislation is not the only barrier, though; many teachers are also hesitant about LGBTQ+ inclusive education. Specifically, a 2021 Education Week poll found that 43% of teachers, district leaders and principals believe that LGBTQ+ matters should not be taught in schools — even in an age-appropriate manner. This hesitation could stem from several factors: teachers might fear parental backlash, face limited curriculum options or simply lack the necessary training. However, other teachers and school faculty members believe that at a time in which LGBTQ+ rights are being targeted throughout the country, it is more important than ever to promote LGBTQ+ education — especially since 20.8% of Gen Z identifies as LGBTQ+.
According to the American Bar Association, “an LGBTQ-inclusive curriculum promotes a positive school environment and student well-being.” Further, research indicates that a positive school environment for LGBTQ+ students increases academic motivation and decreases feelings of sadness, disconnectedness and even suicidal ideation, especially when LGBTQ+ students felt as safe at school as their straight, cisgender peers. Considering that LGBTQ+ inclusive education directly improves the quality of life for one in five of our nation’s students without harming the other four, I find it difficult to comprehend the reason for its censorship — and so should you.
Similarly to teachers and faculty, the general public is also hesitant to endorse LGBTQ+ inclusive education. In fact, a recent study from the University of Southern California revealed that a mere quarter of respondents said they support LGBTQ+ inclusive education at the elementary school level. However, this reluctance was largely based on blind, uninformed conclusions — half of the respondents stated they were “unsure” whether LGBTQ+ matters were even being addressed in educational curricula. Although a higher number supported LGBTQ+ inclusive education at the high school level, I contest that it is imperative to begin as early as possible.
Drawing from personal experience, I know that by the time LGBTQ+ students reach high school, adverse effects of exclusive education have already taken their toll. To remedy this, I propose age-appropriate education. Many believe that more inclusive education means that primary school students would learn detailed sexual education or complex theories, but that is simply not the case. Instead, according to teacher Sara Springer, primary school students might learn that “no one should be treated unfairly because they are different” and that “families come in all shapes and sizes.” Then, as students progress to middle school, they can learn about prominent LGBTQ+ figures, gaining insight into the challenges the community had to overcome to get to where it is today.
Another criticism of LGBTQ+ inclusive education is that it will distract students from other aspects of education. In support of the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, Ron DeSantis said: “Schools need to be teaching kids to read, to write, they need to teach them science, history.” While I completely agree with this sentiment, I believe compromise is both possible and necessary. In English classes, teachers can assign books with LGBTQ+ characters — even if they simply serve supporting roles (after all, it is the representation that matters). In history classes, curricula can highlight prominent LGBTQ+ figures (e.g. Marsha P. Johnson, Harvey Milk and Pete Buttigieg) and events (e.g. the Stonewall riots, Pride and the AIDS crisis). Finally, in science classes, students can learn about prominent LGBTQ+ scientists. For example, elementary schools currently revere astronaut and physicist Sally Ride as the first American woman in space without disclosing that she was, in fact, bisexual. Although these suggested curricula changes seem minor, it is education like this that fosters more accepting school environments. In fact, California students who studied LGBTQ+ inclusive topics at school reported less bullying overall.
Finally, by fostering age-appropriate LGBTQ+ inclusive education and dispelling misconceptions, we can create positive learning environments that not only inform students of an important community but allow LGBTQ+ students the comfort and bravery to begin embarking on journeys of self-discovery.
So now, as you consider your stance on implementing LGBTQ+ inclusive education into national curricula, I urge you to think of the approximately 15 million American LGBTQ+ students who face bullying every day, just for being themselves. I urge you to think of the students who are forced to learn about their identity through unreliable — typically damaging — means. I urge you to think of the students who long for representation.
I urge you to think of me.
Peter McGinnes ’28 is a first-year at Stanford interested in neuroscience. He has been published in the San Francisco Chronicle and BioTreks journal.
The post From the Community | Why can’t I learn about my identity in school? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.