Editor’s Note: This article is part of a series of articles addressing the difficulties of life at SLUH for members of the LGBTQ+ community in an attempt to raise awareness of their daily struggles and start a conversation on ways that we as individuals and as a school can change our habits to be more inclusive of LGBTQ+ individuals. The writer interviewed over a dozen alumni and is pulling from those interviews for each of the articles. This article focuses on the steps the SLUH community can take to make LGBTQ+ individuals more comfortable.

In my admittedly limited time alive so far, I’ve noticed two things when it comes to activism: 1) there will always be something that needs to be improved upon (basically a general fact of life) and 2) it’s much easier to complain about issues than it is to do anything about them. So far in these articles, I’ve been talking about the LGBTQ+ community and the difficulties they face at SLUH without offering much help as to fixing those issues, so in this penultimate article of what I’m calling the “Ongoing Conversations Series,” I’d like to address some of the things I and people I’ve talked to have concluded could be helpful on the path to greater acceptance.

 

Places to Talk

More than any other solution, simply having a place to connect with other LGBTQ+ people and voice your struggles was brought up the most in my talks, and this year has seen progress in that direction with the formation of Ongoing Conversations, which gives LGBTQ+ students that opportunity to find other people with whom they can identify.

According to Emil Beckford, ’15, having that safe space allowed him to get through troubling times in his SLUH career.

“Connecting with other queer people in those spaces was huge for me and sort of combated all the negativity,” said Beckford. “Sometimes I think about what my life and my trajectory would have been like if I’d not been repressing so much during high school. And I got there, eventually, but it took me going to Yale and other things for it to happen. If we can create a space to make room for people at the adolescent stage, I think that would be huge for a lot of people.”

“If you're going to a building every day for eight hours a day and you don't feel like you really have a community that uplifts you, it definitely wears on you,” said Jimmy Wolfe, ’19. “But I do think that there's something to be said about, like, once you're able to find that that community within SLUH I think it makes it a lot more bearable.”

It’s a simple fix, but studies show it’s an effective one. In the 2019 National School Climate Survey from GLSEN—an organization founded in 1990 with over 20 years of research in the variables affecting LGBTQ+ youth in schools—compared to students in schools without a Gay-Straight Alliance, students in schools with designated GSAs were less likely to hear homophobic remarks, were more likely to report teachers or other students intervening when homophobic things were said, and “reported a greater number of school staff and accepting peers.”

Francesco Galante, a former SLUH student who left because he felt unsafe in the school’s environment, explained how, at his new school, he not only felt more mentally sound but more supported by his peers because he was more connected with other gay students.

At the very least, it can ease the stress from a hard day and offer a comforting environment for students who feel that they have nowhere else to go.

 

Representation in the Curriculum

Another issue that I’ve already addressed in this series, the lack of LGBTQ+ representation in the curriculum, has proven to be a struggle for the gay community at SLUH. As we mentioned in a prior article, the issue is visibility; in order for students at SLUH to become comfortable talking about and interacting with a group of people, that group of people needs to be normalized. If the LGBTQ+ community is not in the curriculum, they will always be seen as ‘the other’ instead of part of the brotherhood.

“You have to normalize something in order for it to become less taboo and for kids to feel more like they're able to be themselves because as long as something feels like a topic of conversation that is going to be awkward to talk about or that it is going to be not well received, then they're going to retreat further and they’re not going to be themselves,” said Nicholas Dalaviras, ’20.

For Johno Jackson, ’20, part of the problem is that some students simply don’t understand what they should and shouldn’t say about gay people, so incorporating more queer-friendly topics and discussions educate non-LGBTQ+ students about what’s appropriate to talk about.

“Most people at least knew better than to comment about the extent of the obviousness of my gayness,” said Jackson. “But still, a few people seriously didn't know better. I think some people don't have the vocabulary to discuss many LGBT (topics) or to discuss LGBT topics at all.”

Again, the data backs up the idea that more inclusive school programs lead to better mental health and recognition for LGBTQ+ individuals. Juxtaposed with schools lacking that factor of inclusivity, schools with LGBTQ+ representation in the curriculum saw a decreased likelihood of hearing homophobic language, an increased level of safety among LGBTQ+ students, and almost double the amount of students who felt that they had supportive peers. It’s worth noting that the benefits of an inclusive curriculum were even greater than the benefits of having a GSA.

According to Beckford and Fitz Cain, ’20, that level of visibility achieved through an inclusive curriculum is one the most important steps. Cain especially feels as if he had to work to make himself seen.

“I feel like if the administration were open to having these conversations that it would be better for everyone,” said Beckford. “I feel like learning about queer issues and talking to people who are different than you, who maybe want different things in life, it's all helpful in learning how to become a man or a functioning adult in society.”

I think it starts with visibility—like just talking about gay people and queer people—and then it becomes, ‘well let's make people actually engage.’

 

Designated Supportive Faculty

The curious and/or observational people in the school may have noticed in their time walking the halls that some doors, the most notable being the choir room, have a small, pastel-green and pink triangular sticker on which is printed “LGBT Safe Space.” These stickers, which have long since faded, were once indicators of supportive teachers—a beacon for LGBTQ+ individuals looking for someone to talk to. It’s an idea that seems to have been left behind, but the want for queer-friendly faculty is still strong in the LGBTQ+ community at SLUH.

In many of my conversations, some of the most praised allies to the gay population at SLUH were the teachers, but oftentimes new students had to search to find those teachers. A simple solution would be to have a list of faculty that have indicated that they’re supportive of the LGBTQ+ community and are open to having conversations when things go awry.

“There needs to be a consortium of administration and teachers that are like, ‘hey if you're having these things, if you think you're gay or something like that, you can come talk to us and we'll give you like a positive outlook on things,’” said Alex Seidel, ’10.

A look at GLSEN’s biennial report supports the idea. Students who had supportive teachers with whom they could talk about their troubles showed higher GPAs, a greater sense of belonging, and more safety in their school environment.

Put by Johno Jackson, teachers tend to be the best pillars of support for students and are oftentimes the people that stand up for the gay community, so having a list of teacher to talk to could be helpful as a new student at the school.

 

Supportive School Policies

School policies to prevent descrimination and bullying have been around for my entire life. In essence, they’re pretty simple: teach students to stand up when hurtful comments are said. Freshman Jack Janson put it plainly.

“Treat everyone like a normal person and be nice to people,” said Janson. “Eliminate words like the f-slur from your vocabulary and just be aware of what you're saying and how you're acting, because you never know who is around you.”

In a similar vein, Jackson and Brian Tretter, ’18 felt that, on a student-to-student basis, it’s important that students serve as checks on their classmates.

“Probably the biggest thing that can be done on an individual basis is calling out comments,” said Jackson. “It's disheartening when a handful of gay students in the class are the only ones who will call out an offensive joke.”

“I think it's holding each other accountable,” said Tretter. “When your friends say something that is not cool, you should call him out on it.  Everyone should be made to feel comfortable.”

Again, GLSEN’s research backs up this idea. Schools with comprehensive anti-bullying policy had fewer reports of homophobic language, fewer reports of LGBTQ+ victimization, and more reports of teachers intervening when a student threw out a homophobic comment.

For Seidel, SLUH could utilize the already-established JUG program so that they’re ‘punishment fits their crime,’ so to say. 

“Maybe instead of cleaning a classroom you need to go do some research on where this word come from and the history of the gay civil rights movement in America,” said Seidel.

But for all of the students I spoke with, there was a sense of longing for change. Beckford conveyed a sense of relief that SLUH now has a group like Ongoing Conversations.

“I feel like things are never going to get better if we didn't start the conversation,” said Beckford.

And with that in mind, this conversation is ongoing.