The importance of LGBTQ+ visibility in school curriculums
Continuing the series of articles written for Pi across the course of LGBT History Month, an anonymous writer reflects on the value of inclusive education.
Growing up in a relatively conservative community…you know how the story goes. My school was quite liberal in comparison to others around, but even within classrooms that opened the door for LGBTQ+ conversations, they ended up failing to deliver on their promises of inclusivity. Classes on discrimination excluded any mention of homophobia; politics classes stopped discussions on feminism due to misinformed opinions that it served “lesbian ideologies”; sex education classes skipped the experiences of queer people. Uniformity was valued over individuality, excluding LGBTQ+ topics from our education - even where some teachers, as individuals, may have supported this discussion.
I thought that even an environment that called itself “liberal” didn’t have space for me and other LGBTQ+ kids who came out after high school, sweeping much needed discussions about the LGBTQ+ community under the rug. Representation in school curriculum matters, however, because through knowing your history, you can be hopeful about your future. Through learning about your reality, you can make sense of your present.
Then, English Literature happened. A particular class.
Maybe it was the teacher being so open about everything, or perhaps it was the curriculum options that were so diverse and inclusive. Either way, it was the first time I felt as though I truly belonged, and that my opinion mattered.
We read poetry by Carol Ann Duffy, Mary Oliver, and Katherine Phillips. We read plays by gay and trans playwrights, and discussed everything from the perspectives of queer theory to feminism. The detail in these topics might seem insignificant, but I’m sure a lot of UCL students who come from all over the world can remember examples of when they appreciated such aspects of their education: someone who inspired them, something that made them feel “seen”. When for far too long, the voices, histories and experiences of LGBTQ+ people were forgotten or willingly ignored, it was my first chance of discovering icons in our history and their work, which I would otherwise have had to find online on my own.
This piece of writing is not meant to be revolutionary. It’s simply me recognising that even small changes make a difference, especially if it means diversifying the curriculum for the benefit of all students. I was able to come out to my teacher, and the support I received gave me the much-needed courage to continue to work hard during a difficult time in my life. I am now studying at a more diverse and inclusive university than I could ever have dreamt of, studying a course that I love. I would never have been able to do this if I didn’t feel that any of my successes had a meaning; that they would be remembered; that they would be celebrated.
I don’t know who will read this. To any teacher or academic that might stumble upon it: remember that LGBTQ+ people, stories, and experiences shouldn’t be celebrated only during LGBTQ+ history month. Every classroom has LGBTQ+ people who deserve to learn about their history, so I’d like to thank those already working to achieve this goal. To any students who may be reading this - either prospective UCL students or current members of our community - please remember that your voice matters, whoever you are. LGBTQ+ people don’t exist only in February; we have always been present, we always will be present. Nobody can underestimate the importance of the first time one feels listened to.
I like looking back at my journey in life so far, yet I recognise the prominent and scary uncertainty of life as an LGBTQ+ person at home. The thing that gives me hope, though, is my growth through the years despite challenges I have faced. I grew up thinking that I had to blend in if I wanted to succeed in life, but, now, in a different environment, I feel freer to be myself in every ordinary sense of the word - especially during my higher education experience. Finding out that a lot of my professors are LGBTQ+ and feel comfortable talking about their experiences during lectures, the LGBTQ+ Network and its social events at UCL, all of the societies recognising us through diversity events - I still find all of these things extraordinary and needed. I know that there are a lot of people here who have had a positive experience after “coming out”, but as my time at UCL as an educational institution continues, I acknowledge that my education would be lacking if it wasn’t for teachers along the way recognising that all classrooms are not only filled with diversity of sexual identity, but also diversity of experience navigating such identities. A lot of people argue that education may not solve all of our societal problems, but it is still a good place to start.
The Pride flag might not be as visible in March, but as far as education is important, inclusive education does wonders.
This series of articles was curated and edited by Jess Fairchild. Artwork for the series created by Vera Liu.