Editor’s Note: In March, following a lawsuit brought by the SPLC and co-counsel, the Anoka-Hennepin School District adopted a plan to protect LGBT students after years of a “gag” policy that hindered staff from adequately supporting and protecting LGBT students from hostility. This month, as participants in Pride events across the country celebrate progress toward greater equality, we hear from one Anoka-Hennepin teacher whose decision to reach out and speak up made a profound difference. She calls us all to action.
We each have a part to play, a role uniquely ours each day. I’d raised my hand often enough and spoke about equity and LGBT rights during my years in Minnesota’s Anoka-Hennepin School District to convince myself I was accomplishing the role I’d chosen when I decided to teach.
Then, in just 16 months, seven middle and high school children committed suicide in our district of 40,000 students. We were named a “suicide contagion zone.” At least four students had endured months of persecution because they were, or were perceived to be, lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT). It was clear no one was doing enough to foster tolerance. Seven students were gone. Seven.
They did not die in a vacuum. Our district had roiled through two decades of divisive, deeply homophobic rhetoric and decisions. The school board codified hate by adopting a health curriculum in which homosexuality was identified as a “non-normative” lifestyle choice.
Administration and staff heard clearly that they were not allowed to confront LGBT bias. Teachers would lower their voices to a whisper if a gay-related topic arose, even among adult peers. The few of us who did speak were often marginalized and faced threats that made it apparent our jobs were at risk.
Most staff, though, chose silence. Their decision was validated in 2009 when the school board passed the Sexual Orientation Curriculum Policy requiring staff to remain neutral on issues of sexual orientation. What could be more neutral than silence?
It was my honor to join a small group of committed, passionate individuals who refused to be silent. I’m proud to say our efforts brought national attention to the acute level of LGBT bullying in our hallways, buses and classrooms.
After two years of heated debate, grass-roots activism, a successful lawsuit by the Southern Poverty Law Center and National Center for Lesbian Rights as well as a federal investigation, we are making progress towards creating a welcoming school environment for all students. Our actions were called brave. I’ve heard I possess courage.
I disagree.
I can embrace only part of the courage label. For too long, I allowed fear and ego to convince me that I was being moderate enough to keep my job while still being an activist. I did little, actually, to make substantive change. I did not act. Seven children died.
When I did act – albeit a terribly, tragically belated act – it was not all of “courage” that sat me down at my keyboard on a summer day to Email the SPLC’s Teaching Tolerance staff, admitting failure and requesting help.
It was rage. Rage at an educational system that cultivated fear in its students and staff. Rage at hypocritical district leaders who perpetuated a climate of bigotry while espousing that every child is valuable. Rage at community members who felt they could condemn children for who they were without knowing them or spending a moment in their petrifying reality of school days in Anoka-Hennepin.
But most of all I raged at myself, my cowardice, my inaction. Even after I chose to act, to rally allies, I was ashamed that rage was the catalyst. Was it even possible to create positive change from a place of rage? Were my actions worthy of praise when such a negative emotion provided their foundation?
The teen bullycides continue at a terrifying rate across the United States. And I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter where the action springs from, it only matters that you act.
Will you stand?
I’ll stand with you.
Will you act?
Combined, our efforts create change.
Let’s start today.
0 COMMENTS