My sister and I are both gay. But only one of us found a safe space at school
Lily and I have an extra layer of sibling closeness because we’re members of an exclusive sibling club: the “we’re both gay” kind. Except we’re not the same – our high school experiences were radically different. My sister, Lily, woke on Monday to <Italic>the letter</Italic>. Signed by 34 leaders of Sydney’s Anglican schools, it defends the right for religious schools to discriminate against teachers and students like us. On the metro to school, I saw a message from Dad in the family group chat. A link to <Italic>the letter </Italic>– “Look who signed it”.
I graduated from Trinity Grammar School in Sydney last year. Trinity’s new headmaster, Tim Bowden, signed the letter. The school where I spent the last 12 years of my life, chose to openly advocate for homophobia. Lily graduated from a Uniting Church school in 2015, a school with a very different approach to LGBT students and teachers. We immediately Skyped each other. Staring at each other’s faces, countries apart, we both wore the same expression – exhaustion. We may have graduated school, but our anger has lingered.
Lily and I have talked extensively about our high school experiences as gay students. We both acknowledge how privileged we are to have attended private schools; but also, the sheer luck of being raised in a loving, gay-friendly family.
For Lily, this safe space extended to her school. I left Trinity feeling relatively unscathed but I’m not so sure about my gay peers. It was certainly confusing to go to a school where I didn’t see anyone who was openly gay. This is what happens when a school implicitly considers homophobia part of their “ethos”. It doesn’t stop us from being gay – it just stops us from seeing students like us. It makes us feel alone.
As I grew older, my response to the school’s evident homophobia was to be as openly gay as I could, almost militantly so. I can’t help thinking how different things could have been for me as a younger student, to see older students who were confident in their sexuality. I wanted to give others the role model I didn’t have.
Lily perceives my openness as a necessity. “I still regret not doing more. I could have been louder about my sexuality – but perhaps I didn’t feel I had to. Being queer was just one small aspect of my school experience; for you, it was central.”
Demonstrations of homophobia was an everyday given at Trinity. On the rare occasion that I reported a student, the school acted directly. I was grateful for that. Yet not once did the school attempt to address the underlying issue. As I grew older, the bullying stopped. Not thanks to the school, but because the students had, for the most part, matured and rejected much of the homophobia the school administration implicitly subscribed to. It still shocks me that my 17-year-old mates were better educated on these issues than our supposed educators.
By year 12, I had a group of friends who were out and proud and a few straight friends who were willing to confront homophobic behaviour. We wanted to change the culture, and just being ourselves was our rebellion. But giving younger students a role model, trying to make them feel accepted, should not have been our job.
My face and Atar, and those of other gay students in my year, are plastered across the school website to promote the school. The school uses art made by my boyfriend in its publications. It has asked a gay friend of mine to help coach debating. Leaders of the school music groups and sports teams are gay. We help make the school what it is. You don’t get to claim that our sexuality is incongruent with the school’s values, and then use us for publicity.
The letter empowers schools to preach prejudice in the guise of “ethos”. At 14, I sat in a science lab listening to a teacher explain that bisexuality was as evil as rape. A few years later a class featured a teacher who spoke at length on the – obvious – correlation between homosexuality and paedophilia.
That is not to say that Lily and I didn’t have many outstanding teachers in high school. Many of Lily’s favourite teachers were gay. “As a gay kid, you have a secret superpower in recognising what pronouns a teacher uses when obliquely referring to their partner. When there is no one out in your year, you know you will be okay – because a number of your teachers are queer. It’s a small acknowledgment that there is a future for you. A future where you can have a loving partner and a fulfilling job. The most powerful thing a closeted gay kid has is recognising they aren’t alone. It arms you for life.”
I didn’t know there were any gay teachers at my school until graduation. I had an incredible teacher who both inspired and challenged me. At graduation I learned that this teacher is gay. I’m ashamed to admit that my first reaction was judgement. 14-year-old me would have killed to have an openly gay teacher to look up to. I thought this privacy was selfish. I now realise how naive my view was. I can’t imagine working in an environment where an essential part of my being could result in my dismissal.
Lily went to a school where she was given the space to engage with queer issues. I remember being so proud – and jealous – on the day she came home and told me about the speech she gave to her school on Wear It Purple Day. “The school chaplains and teachers believed in supporting gay students. I gave a speech to a sea of girls with purple ribbons in their hair, and purple shoelaces on their feet. Each year, it was a kind of catharsis for me. To speak to my peers, to have them hear that message, it was important.”
Boys at Trinity need the leadership and freedom my sister had. How can I justify loving a place that wants to protect its right to reject me and people like me?
The Anglican diocese claims schools do not expel students or sack teachers for their sexuality. Yet retaining the right to do so further entrenches the belief that it’s unacceptable to be gay. The letter is a symbol to young people who haven’t had the support that Lily and I have, and to hard-working teachers who need their jobs. It highlights that we are still not welcome, nor safe because of who we are.
Religious institutions don’t need more protection, but gay students and teachers do.
• Luc is a fashion student at the Ecole de la Chambre Syndicale de la Couture in Paris. Lily is a law and creative writing student at the University of Technology Sydney
The letter empowers schools to preach prejudice in the guise of 'ethos'