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have swept across the United States in recent years. Although the majority of this legislation is defeated each year, the sheer number of bills targeting queer people, and specifically trans people, is unprecedented.听

Cultural queerphobia is nothing new. In many ways, this recent wave of legislation is an overt escalation of the long-standing and long-normalized homophobia and transphobia in U.S. culture, not unlike 鈥� of the 1950s.

Queer and trans people are deeply familiar with the myriad, relentless ways they experience daily discrimination, erasure, and misrepresentation interpersonally, institutionally, and through dominant beliefs and values. The cultural platforming of these values creates an environment for bigoted, discriminatory politics to be framed as legitimate, logical, and even 鈥渘ecessary.鈥� Cultural attitudes build the stage that anti-LGBTQ politicians love to preach from.听

However, there鈥檚 nothing inevitable or permanent about anti-LGBTQ sentiments or cultural beliefs, according to , a queer studies and education scholar and professor at California State University. 鈥淩estrictive, binary understandings of gender and heterosexuality as the 鈥榥orm鈥� are ideas that don鈥檛 start out 鈥榥aturally,鈥� but rather get reinforced through repetition, social stigma, or restrictive policies,鈥� says Mattheis. 鈥淲e can just as 鈥榥aturally鈥� direct people to expand their perspectives rather than restrict them.鈥�

There are many ways cultural beliefs 鈥渉appen.鈥� The American educational system, and in particular K鈥�12 public schooling, is one of the most prominent places where young people learn what鈥檚 considered normal, desirable, and valuable鈥攁nd what isn鈥檛. In this sense, education is both a window and a mirror, reinforcing certain worldviews and creating space for alternative perspectives. 

Because students are a captive audience and spend a significant portion of their formative years in the classroom, schools are, logically, a key site to change鈥攐r codify鈥攃ultural attitudes. Modern , , and anti-LGBTQ activists have been working to ensure schools mirror the existing power structures and exclusionary attitudes that benefit them, at the expense of everyone else. As a result, much of the recent anti-LGBTQ legislation targets youth and public schools, including book censorship, , and other and administrators, , and exclusions . And this list doesn鈥檛 even touch on the predatory that disproportionately targets youth of color and youth with disabilities.

As devastating as it is for the LGBTQ community, this legislation pales in comparison to Project 2025鈥攁 sweeping initiative developed by former Trump officials and the Heritage Foundation, a shadowy, conservative, . Project 2025 is a for the next conservative president to overhaul the federal government and implement an authoritarian regime of widespread surveillance, mass censorship, and discrimination. Project 2025 would dismantle the Department of Education, eliminate Head Start and other programs designed for low-income youth, revoke federal protections for LGBTQ students, and threaten schools that protect trans kids or develop inclusive curriculum with lawsuits. Public education would .

In short, queerphobic attitudes and increasingly prevalent anti-LGBTQ policies form two sides of one toxic bridge, mutually reinforcing one another and making life hellish for queer and trans people of all ages. Project 2025 merely scaffolds itself onto existing queerphobia and takes anti-LGBTQ policies in education to new heights. 

Still, schools can be a window. For every horror story, there is a knowing English teacher who slips a queer kid a life-changing book. There are the no-nonsense coaches who ensure trans kids are welcome on and off the field. And there are the lessons, friendships, and classes that offer all students a chance to connect, collaborate, and think critically across differences. Schools are sites of incredible potential鈥攁nd spaces that can effectively intervene against homophobia and transphobia.

Sparse Support for Teachers鈥攁nd Students

Creating an environment where homophobia and transphobia are challenged鈥攁nd where LGBTQ youth feel seen, safe, and valued鈥攔equires understanding the challenges facing many students and educators on the ground.

Rebecca* is a third grade teacher in Florida鈥攇round zero for much of the country鈥檚 anti-LGBTQ legislation, given the state鈥檚 proudly regressive political leadership. (Editor鈥檚 note: Rebecca asked to use her first name only, out of concern about professional retaliation for speaking candidly. Read 大象传媒鈥檚 policy on veiled sources.) She says teachers in her district lack the support they need to navigate both age-appropriate conversations around identity and a provide culturally responsive, LGBTQ-affirming curriculum (which is ). 

At 8 and 9 years old, Rebecca says her students are already starting to use the word 鈥済ay鈥� as an insult and parrot reductive gender stereotypes. In her experience, students don鈥檛 always have the social-emotional skills to understand corrective discussions. Educators are often left to address issues of identity or name-calling ad hoc鈥攁nd Rebecca says many aren鈥檛 equipped or don鈥檛 feel comfortable with the responsibility.

鈥淪ome of my own teammates will get into [these situations] and they鈥檙e like, 鈥極h, well, 鈥済ay鈥� means happy, so consider it a compliment,鈥欌�� Rebecca says. Educators who know better, meanwhile, are caught in an impossible bind鈥攖rying to support students, teach kids and colleagues how to respond to these incidents, and not run afoul of state laws that in some cases prohibit the very mention of sexual orientation or gender identity.听

Though her school鈥檚 administration has been supportive of her personally, as a lesbian teacher, Rebecca says the school district does not invite discussions about LGBTQ issues, figures, or history in or outside of the classroom. Instead, LGBTQ topics are swept up under the umbrella of teaching 鈥渞espect鈥� and anti-bullying efforts. Rebecca sees her district as mostly reactive to bullying rather than proactive about inclusive curriculum, culturally responsive staff training, and social-emotional learning opportunities for students.听

In the absence of any meaningful presence of more inclusive, expansive cultural models, many students are absorbing restrictive, queerphobic norms by default.

Even in states with , there鈥檚 little direction on how to actually enact inclusion-focused policies. As a result, many of these responsibilities end up falling through the cracks or onto well-intentioned but overburdened teachers. 鈥淚n California, state education code describes multiple aspects of school life in which teachers are expected to actively support and include queer and trans youth,鈥� says Mattheis. 鈥淗owever, most teachers receive little to no introduction to state laws and policies as part of their preparation and are unfamiliar with these protections and requirements.鈥�

Taken together, these factors鈥攆rom top-down policies and lackluster curriculum to underresourced teachers and underprepared students鈥攃reate an environment where all kids can struggle to shine and grow.听

Shaking Up the Syllabus

Building an LGBTQ-affirming classroom starts early, according to Erica Castro, MSW, a facilitator and educator at , a Denver-based organization serving queer youth. A large part of Castro鈥檚 job is going into schools, summer camps, and nonprofits鈥攁nywhere kids are growing up鈥攁nd providing educator training and organizational audits.

鈥淧articularly in elementary, there is this stigma and idea that talking about gender and sexuality does not belong,鈥� says Castro. But Castro says that by the age of 2, kids are and differentiate between boys and girls鈥攎eaning the adages that kids are 鈥渢oo young鈥� or 鈥渃an鈥檛 understand鈥� age-appropriate conversations around gender and sexuality just don鈥檛 hold up.听

鈥淏eing able to get into the elementary schools and do these workshops has been, I think, transformative for the ways that teachers are able to build foundational, cultural, and policy-level structures [from the] first day of school,鈥� says Castro. 

In shaping workshops for all ages, Castro works directly with youth to identify what resources they want and the types of training their educators need鈥攊ncluding using and respecting pronouns, creating gender-support plans in the classroom, and connecting to free or low-cost therapy and mentorships for LGBTQ youth. Castro also partners with educators to diversify and update curriculum. (As a jumping-off point, Castro recommends .)

Aside from comprehensive, and above all, consistent education for students, educators, and their families, it鈥檚 also important to consider two more factors: the physical environment and policies at a school.

鈥淎m I seeing visual cues of queerness [or] that the school is openly accepting?鈥� asks Castro when making an assessment of a school environment.  鈥淎nd beyond it looking safe as a checkbox, what does it look like for our young people to actually feel safe?鈥�

The implementation of many of these resources occur at the intersection of physical space and policy. Gender-neutral bathrooms, for example, are 鈥攂ut the policy doesn鈥檛 necessarily guarantee the resource is in place. At one Denver high school, Castro says a group of queer students were forced to cross a busy road to access a bathroom at a local library. 鈥淸LGBTQ students] were just holding it all day, or they would just go home and stay home. There were attendance barriers that impacted their education tenfold.鈥� Access to sports, too, can be make-or-break for many queer and trans kids.听

To truly support their LGBTQ students, most schools need a major shake-up when it comes to the variety, consistency, and depth of resources they offer queer and trans youth, their families, and communities. The good news is that, by and large, these tools already exist. As their own program faces closure largely due to , Castro believes a school district鈥檚 budget and priorities must reflect .听

鈥淲hat made us want to become an educator in the first place is to protect all students,鈥� says Castro, who taught high school for five years themselves. 鈥淸LGBTQ youth] are experiencing so much at home, in addition to homophobia and transphobia, and it is our responsibility to be that safe place for them.鈥�

Beyond the Classroom

In an ideal world, every school administration and teacher nationwide would hitch their wagon to the potential and needs of LGBTQ students and families. But as Nereyda Luna, a community organizer and former case worker for the gender-expansive community in New York City, points out, trans youth can be bullied at the kitchen table just as easily as in the classroom. 

鈥淧eople often think that youth exist in this whimsical world. And no, I think that youth are very aware of what is happening around them,鈥� says Luna. 鈥淭hey know that 鈥業f I come out, if I present myself to the world for who I am, this is going to be hard.鈥欌��

Community spaces often provide much-needed educational opportunities for caregivers to disrupt a queerphobic culture. Outreach to cisgender and heterosexual parents鈥攑articularly those with misconceptions about LGBTQ people or those unaware of the impact of anti-LGBTQ legislation鈥攊s especially important, because these adults vote, raise queer and trans kids, and take their values to all areas of public and private life.

鈥淭he most effective way to help families and ensure people break through cultural norms is through personal connection and stories,鈥� says Rev. Ray McKinnon, in North Carolina. 鈥淭he most effective way to reach people is not with data; it鈥檚 not going to be some incredible argument. It is humanizing the person, it is taking these means and scare tactics and [putting] a face on it.鈥�

Through PFLAG, McKinnon and his colleagues offer peer-to-peer support and workshops for adults鈥攑rimarily the parents and grandparents of LGBTQ kids. Last year, PFLAG Charlotte offered 29 workshops to more than 1,200 total participants. More than 600 people鈥攔anging from their 20s to 70s鈥攗sed PFLAG Charlotte鈥檚 peer-support services. To better serve their community, McKinnon says they鈥檝e recently launched Apoyando con Amor, a Spanish-speaking peer-support group, and plans to start groups for Black and gender-expansive families as well. 鈥淲e also firmly believe that it is not the responsibility of queer people to educate straight people on these things, and it especially isn鈥檛 the job of queer kids to do that,鈥� McKinnon adds.听

Though the organization is nonpartisan, PFLAG Charlotte also offers voter outreach and education on local legislation and policies that target LGBTQ people. 鈥淎dvocacy, allyship must always have an action,鈥� says McKinnon. 鈥淵ou are not just accumulating information when you come to the workshops … it鈥檚 for a purpose. It鈥檚 to give you tools so that you can become an accomplice who is walking lockstep with us.鈥�

Those accomplices鈥攊n schools, churches, community centers, and culture-setting institutions nationwide鈥攚ill be integral to cementing a culture shift that not only makes U.S. society safe for LGBTQ people, but welcoming and affirming. Building an LGBTQ-affirming culture requires a healthy dose of imagination, problem-solving, and critically, the willingness to become a life-long learner (and un-learner) to help map out a more just culture鈥攊n and out of the classroom.

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Sara Youngblood Gregory is a lesbian journalist, editor, and author. She covers identity, power, culture, and health. In addition to being a 大象传媒 contributor, Youngblood Gregory鈥檚 work has been featured in聽The New York Times, New York Magazine, The Guardian,聽Cosmopolitan,聽and many others. Most recently, they were the recipient of the 2023 Curve and NLGJA Award for Emerging Journalists. Get in touch at saragregory.org. Connect:

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