Nurturing a Rainbow of Resistance to Anti-LGBTQ+ Laws

Laws targeting LGBTQ+ youth have skyrocketed in recent years, enveloping students, teachers, and schools in a dense, hostile fog of despair.

Recent legislation attempts to censor LGBTQ+ curriculum, books, rainbow flags, to enforce binary bathrooms, to refuse to acknowledge students’ chosen names and pronouns, to ban transgender student athletes in sports, to criminalize doctors and families who support transgender medical care and more.  

However, according to the Trevor Project, an organization dedicated to advocacy, education, and crisis support for LGBTQ+ young people for more than 25 years, “[T]here is reason for optimism: Nearly 90 percent of harmful bills considered in 2022 were defeated by LGBTQ advocates and allies.”

As an educator, I want to bring both stories into the classroom. Yes, students need to be aware of the devastating crush of new — and old — laws, but they also need to know the history and impact of resistance by “transcestors” and allies who have been fighting back against the erasure of the LGBTQ+ community for decades.

Unfortunately, even in Oregon, a state where LGBTQ+ studies are embedded in the state curriculum standards, students don’t learn much, if anything, about LGBTQ+ history, literature, or science beyond a one-day sketch of gender identities in some 7th-grade health classes. When I asked students at Portland’s Lincoln High School what LGBTQ+ curriculum they’d studied over the years, they raised their shoulders and shook their heads. Myron, a trans student, said, “Until this unit, the only thing I learned about trans kids is suicide statistics.” This curricular silence, the omission of LGBTQ+ lives and the work of queer activists, perpetuates a culture of invisibility that needs to end.

Building a Curriculum: Do Laws Protect or Harm Students and Teachers?

Blair Hennessy, a warm and wonderful social studies teacher, and I co-created and co-taught curriculum about the current “anti-gay” laws as well as the battles to defeat them. Blair’s students, who range from sophomores to seniors, are enrolled in a Future Educators Pathway class at Lincoln High School in Portland, Oregon. We built a two-day unit around case studies of anti-LGBTQ+ laws that affect classrooms, and we highlighted the resistance to this legislation. Each class runs 90 minutes, allowing time to rotate through multiple activities.

“Over the next two days, we want you to wear two hats,” Blair and I told students. “First, be a student engaging in the lessons, but also think of yourselves as future teachers who will be impacted by federal and state laws and policies as well as school boards and district administrators. Ask yourself: How do laws benefit or harm students and teachers? How do they protect the most vulnerable students? How did people resist?”

“Rainbowland” and Melissa Tempel

We chose “Rainbowland” by Miley Cyrus and Dolly Parton as our opening lesson because of the controversy kicked off when the School District of Waukesha, Wisconsin, fired Melissa Tempel for speaking out against the banning of the song in her 1st-grade classroom. This delightful, toe-tapping tune encourages listeners to “make wrong things right/And end the fight” so we can all live in a rainbow land:

Wouldn’t it be nice to live in paradise
Where we’re free to be exactly who we are
Let’s all dig down deep inside
Brush the judgment and fear aside
Make wrong things right
And end the fight
‘Cause I promise ain’t nobody gonna win (come on)

Before listening to the song, we told students that “Rainbowland” had been deleted from a 1st-grade music assembly and asked if they thought this song should be banned to protect children. “Highlight lyrics that might be problematic or harmful to children.”

After quick-writing about whether the song should be banned, students talked in small groups. When we returned to the large group, Jason started the discussion by placing his pencil on his notepaper and leaning back in his chair. “I cannot think of a more appropriate song for a 1st-grade classroom.” Other students agreed, noting lines about inclusion and connection, sticking together, making positive changes in the world.

We talked about Melissa Tempel, an award-winning, national board-certified teacher. Before watching Tempel’s interview on Democracy Now! we asked students to take notes on why the school board fired her and to think about what message her dismissal sends to other teachers. Because resistance was a key component of the lesson, we added, “Also, think about why she risked her job to fight back.”

During the interview, Tempel stated, “I think that these policies, like the controversial content policy, are expanding. . . . [T]eachers aren’t allowed to wear rainbows in my district. We’re not allowed to have signs that say ‘anti-racist classroom.’ We’re not allowed to have anything that could be deemed controversial, although the controversial content policy does not explain what ‘controversial’ means, other than something that could be seen as political.”

After students talked in their table groups, we opened the full-class discussion. “I just think that not being able to share that kind of music or rainbows makes LGBTQ+ students feel that they’re not welcomed,” said Adrienne. “I think that’s kind of controversial itself and does not create an environment of supportiveness for all students. It’s a very tunnel vision view.”

Renée nodded and added, “Parents are harmed as well because their kids are the ones who are suffering from this. The teacher didn’t even get any messages from parents questioning the song, so it seems obvious that the district made the decision without any parent input.”

Blair prompted, “How do you think the firing of Melissa Tempel affects other teachers in the district or elsewhere?” Sihaya said, “The message this sends to other teachers is that they are not allowed to critique the status quo of the district.”

“This also leads to constricted curriculum,” Andrew said. “Teachers will be afraid to teach about what the district finds ‘controversial.’ They might start self-censoring themselves. The outcome will be students not learning about other people’s identities.”

Melissa and Book Banning

Blair and I chose the book Melissa as the second chunk in the first day’s lessons to highlight the increase in book banning in recent years. I read Alex Gino’s book when my grandson, Xavier, was in 3rd grade, and he read the book as part of the Oregon Battle of the Books (OBOB) competition and encouraged me to read it. The middle grade novel tells the story of 10-year-old George — assigned male at birth — but knows she is a girl. 

Several school districts in Oregon withdrew from the contest because the organizers, a group of librarians and teachers, refused to bow to the pressure to remove a book they knew students needed to read. Their public resistance, coupled with parent and community support, provided more reason to choose Melissa as a case study.

Although Melissa has the dubious honor of being the most banned book in 2018–2020, it does not stand alone. “During the first half of the 2022–23 school year, PEN America’s Index of School Book Bans lists 1,477 instances of individual books banned, affecting 874 unique titles, an increase of 28 percent compared to the prior six months. . . . Overwhelmingly, book banners continue to target stories by and about people of color and LGBTQ+ individuals.”

After sharing PEN America’s statistics, I asked, “Did any of you read Melissa during OBOB?” Several students fondly remembered the book, but most weren’t aware of the controversy. We asked students to read the first chapter, which opens with Melissa, still called George, sneaking into the bathroom to look at her stash of girls’ magazines, concealing them again before her mother and brother return home. Returning to the protocol we used with “Rainbowland,” we said, “Highlight anything that you think might be problematic or harmful to children. Think about why this book would be banned.”

After listening to Jason and Andrew talk in their table group, Blair and I asked them to share their conversation with the class. “Part of the importance of this book is getting a trans person’s perspective about what they go through, what they are sometimes forced to hide about themselves,” Andrew started. “If students don’t have that perspective, cis-gender students get sheltered from trans people’s lives. If you don’t understand something, it makes it hard for you to appreciate someone else’s struggle. We need these stories that are important for trans kids to have, but also for other kids.”

Theresa followed up on Jason’s and Andrew’s insights: “If there are trans students who know that this book is banned, it might cause them to suppress their identity more, like if the school is banning a book about transgender people, they are banning their existence. That is harmful for kids to have to carry.”

Desirée raised her hand and added, “Also, I was saying to my group, if you are trans and not out, then to have the class focusing on this book would feel like having a level of acceptance.”

The depth of students’ understanding and empathy for Gino’s main character Melissa made me hope that they all become educators. Schools need teachers with big, empathetic hearts like the future teachers in Blair’s class.

Newberg School Board and Community Resistance

Blair and I selected Newberg, Oregon, as another case study. Newberg is a small community located in the wine country 25 miles southwest of Portland. The school board’s rhetoric echoed language used in legislation across the country to outlaw the teaching of critical race theory and LGBTQ+ curriculum and inclusion, citing teaching “divisive subjects” that cause students to feel “discomfort.” Specifically, the board banned Black Lives Matter and gay pride symbols in 2021. In addition to tying a local issue to a national trend, Blair and I were inspired by the wave of activism spurred by the board’s decision that brought diverse communities together to defeat the school board and their harmful policies.

Dave Brown, Newberg school board chair, told Oregon Public Broadcasting that he was not racist, and that the district needed to support “all” students: “As a school board, it’s our job to make decisions that are going to be there for every single kid at Newberg High School, not just the kids that are represented in just one group — it has to be all kids.”

The Newberg school board, which received more than 500 emails, continued to outlaw pride and BLM flags despite testimony from students, teachers, parents, and counselors. Ines Peña, the only person of color on the board, showed up to the meeting wearing a Black Lives Matter T-shirt and a rainbow headband. She asked for more student testimony. On Aug. 10, the school board voted 4-3 to ban Black Lives Matter and pride flags “to get political symbols and divisive symbols out of our schools,” according to vice chair Brian Shannon.

In response to the school board’s repressive measures, Newberg farmers Erin McCarthy and her husband Jaybill built a 71’ x 30’ plywood pride flag on their hillside, which overlooks the high school football field. When word got out about their project, people from all over the region came to help build the flag. Erin said, “When members of a marginalized population ask for help, you just say yes.” After the Black community reached out, they also built a BLM flag.

In September 2021, hundreds of activists took to the streets of Newberg, chanting, waving pride and BLM signs and wearing pride flags to protest the board’s decision. ACLU of Oregon and the Newberg Education Association filed lawsuits against the district. Eventually, both groups won, and Newberg reversed its ban.

After watching two news clips we showed, Greta responded to our prompts of who was harmed, who was protected, and who resisted by saying “This legislation harms BIPOC and LGBTQ+ students.” She connected Newberg to Waukesha. “This reminded me of the Melissa Tempel case. The school board was making decisions by themselves, based on their own beliefs without listening the students and community members.”

Brianna added, “These bans did not protect anyone. They harmed BIPOC and LGBTQ+ students’ mental health, and they kept all students from learning how to be inclusive.” Later, she wrote on her paper, “These kinds of bans limit all students’ knowledge by restricting their access to other people’s experiences.” Brianna’s words about the bans harming all students were repeated on many students’ papers and in their demands and rationales.

Thomas was moved by David Myers’ words during the newscast. Myers, a Black man who grew up in nearby McMinnville, where he was one of a handful of Black students, said, “Having a BLM sign would not be political to Black children. Having that opportunity to feel a community support you is great for children.”

Students observed that the work of activists didn’t stop legislation from being written, but it made a difference. They noted that it wasn’t just one action, it was the cumulative actions: the farmers, the protesters, many students and teachers, the ACLU of Oregon, and the teacher union. As Sihaya wrote, “The law being rescinded brings hope. Showing that protesting for people’s rights is worth it.”

Trans History: Time Marches Forward and So Do We

The ACLU’s Trans History: Time Marches Forward and So Do We is a four-minute history of the trans movement; one that every student — and teacher — should watch. Co-written by Chase Strangio, ACLU’s LGBTQ & HIV Project attorney, and Zachary Druker, and narrated by Laverne Cox, this brief history of “trancestors” is deftly and beautifully illustrated by Molly Crabapple. Instead of starting with statistics, anti-trans laws, and murder rates of trans people, the video starts with the defiance and resilience of the trans community, calling out trans women and femmes of color who led uprisings against the over-policing of trans communities in Stonewall, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. “[These events] remind us of our courageous history of resisting institutionalized bullying and oppression.”

The history doesn’t cover up the legislative and social harm visited on trans people. As the video points out, “In the decades that followed [these uprisings] trans people largely remained in the shadows quietly contributing to society. Our community was still denied employment, housing, health care, and legal protection — essentially the basic right to live. Yet even when they were criminalized by anti-crossdressing and anti-loitering laws, our transcestors, including Miss Major, Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, and Flawless Sabrina, survived. They all spent time in jail because they dared to be themselves.”

Before watching the video, we asked students to think about the legacy of laws/policies and resistance. Students seemed to love the video. During our discussion, they echoed lines like “resistance is our birthright” and “lawmakers can’t erase us,” and the term “transcestors.” They also noted that because of anti-trans laws, trans people struggled to win basic rights, like housing and jobs. In her notes Adrienne wrote, “It was difficult for trans people to love themselves as they were constantly reminded that they are not worthy of that love, support, and acceptance.” Later, when the video pointed out that harassment in schools often forces trans students to drop out, Renée returned to the word “sanctuary” from the video: “Schools should be sanctuaries where all students feel safe.”

Four minutes is certainly not enough time to teach trans history; the fact that four minutes is more trans history than most students have received in all of their schooling is sobering. Students deserve to study LGBTQ+ struggles and movements in both local and national history.

Trans Students Speak Out  

Renée’s comment about schools as sanctuaries led us to the unit’s final reading, which brought the laws and policies directly back to schools. Over the two days of lessons, these prospective teachers examined laws and policies that affected students and teachers, but they hadn’t heard directly from trans students about the effects of these policies on their schooling. Ty Marshall, co-editor of Transgender Justice in Schools, and I had gathered testimonies from students around the country for our book.

Before the readings, Blair and I shared the Trevor Project’s Protective Factors graphic that outlines the ways schools can improve positive outcomes and reduce stress for LGBTQ+ students. These include access to a GSA, access to gender-neutral bathrooms, most or all teachers respecting students’ pronouns, access to sex education that includes LGBTQ+ experiences, and history lessons that discuss LGBTQ+ people.

We also shared the Movement Advancement Project graphic that illustrated a multi-colored map showing states that legislate inclusion of LGBTQ+ curriculum in their state standards. Oregon, one of the six states on the map, requires the study of “ethnic and social minorities, inclusive of LBGTQ2SIA+ individuals” as well as K–12 standards that “promote self-awareness, awareness of others, critical thinking, and understanding regarding the interaction between systemic social structures and histories, contributions and perspectives of individuals,” naming “LGBTQ2SIA+ youth.”

We asked, “How did the good intentions of the Oregon Board of Education play out in students’ lives?” To answer that question, Blair and I distributed the trans students’ testimonies. “As you read students’ words, think about what you learned about policies and actions that make trans students feel safe and included in schools. Where do you see evidence of the impact of the state’s standards in students’ lives?”

Blair’s students highlighted the transcripts and discussed them in their small groups before entering the conversation as a class. Many expressed surprise and outrage at how difficult it was for trans students to get their correct pronouns and names on record and used in class. “Just getting people’s names and pronouns right shouldn’t be that hard,” said Lulu, “but it caused students anxiety to have their deadnames called out in class.” Theresa’s group noted how deadnaming, which is referring to a trans person by their birth name rather than their chosen name, and the lack of support for pronouns affected trans students. She pointed out a student’s testimony:

As a trans person, just the act of seeing or hearing my deadname is enough to make me upset. And I know this is a common feeling within the community. Many students do not have a safe place in their lives in which they have the luxury to change a given name. It’s a part of ourselves we have grown out of, and hearing it is an act of disrespect to our identity. In class, specifically when there are substitute teachers, I get extreme anxiety knowing that my deadname will be read aloud during attendance. The act of having to tell the substitute the specific situation, and why, is incredibly scary for a student who does not feel comfortable with the person they are sharing it with. This is causing students to out themselves in situations they may not be comfortable with, and often in front of all of their peers.

Adrienne followed up by discussing the student who said their pronouns were respected because they got good grades. “That’s crazy,” she said, “that not everybody can be respected. Just because somebody doesn’t do as well in class they aren’t respected in the same way.”

Students also talked about how few students received any curriculum about LGBTQ+ people. Lacy’s group pointed out the student who wrote, “Trans people never tend to get mentioned in class other than maybe a few sentences dedicated to transness in my sophomore health class and a day or two in my freshman year health class. My freshman health teacher was a queer woman.”

Katrina spoke about the student who found a home in their middle school library. “The librarian made a space for me to hang out and be and talk. When I got my ID card with my deadname, I told her about it, and she helped make me an ID card that had my real name and I loved it. I kept it, and I still have it today.” Katrina said, “It must be frustrating that you have to look for these little moments of acceptance and it’s not a given that you’re respected.”

I had wondered how the trans student testimonies would land with these future educators. Some testimonies repeat information — e.g., the problem of deadnaming and pronouns — but Blair’s students clearly felt empathy. Perhaps more than any other piece of the unit, the words of young people moved students to want to take action to make schools more inclusive. As Lacy wrote, “After reading the words of the high school students, I realized that there needs to be changes in the school system.”

Demanding Justice

When Blair and I started this unit, we asked students about the ways laws and policies harmed or protected students and teachers, and how resistance manifested itself. To bring the unit home, Blair prompted students to create a poster with five demands to make schools safer and more inclusive. She asked them to create a rationale for each demand:

• Why is this demand important for teachers and students? 
• How does it ensure student well-being and a healthy learning community?
• How does this demand connect to case studies from class: “Rainbowland,” Melissa, Newberg, statistics, trans history, trans students’ testimonies?

Students quickly gathered their poster papers and markers and set to work with 20 minutes left in the period. Blair and I moved from group to group, listening in, thinking out loud with them about their rationales.

Some demands showed up on every poster. Some groups spent more time getting the five demands down as they talked through the evidence; a few were able to get both demand and rationales on their posters. I collapsed the common demands together with collective rationales:

1. Require all teachers and substitutes to roll call using last names.

• It can be nerve-wracking to hear your deadname announced to students and to have to correct the teacher/substitute.
• It’s a simple change and can make a huge difference for LGBTQ+ students.
• Require professional development regarding names and pronouns for staff.

2. Improve accessibility and effectiveness of changing preferred names.

• It’s difficult to find/understand how to go through the process.
• Information should be shared on posters, on a school’s website, on the system used to track attendance, grades, assignments.
• Even if a “preferred name” is added, it is not effectively implemented.

3. Incorporate trans and LGBTQ+ history lessons into the curriculum.

• Add a required course on LGBTQ+ history and current events to the curriculum.
• Professional development time for teachers to develop LGBTQ+ curriculum and lessons.
• Initiate a trans history day with a shorter schedule and a full day of lessons.

4. All identities must be represented in the classroom.

• Flags, posters, BLM stickers to make all students feel welcome and able to see themselves in the classroom.
• Display Black Lives Matter and pride flags on school property.
• Pay more attention to including all identities in lessons.

Some variation of the previous four demands appeared on each group’s poster, but other demands also surfaced:

• Students should have access to gender-affirming clothing in community closets.
• LGBTQ+ students should have access to mental health resources at school.
• Schools need more LGBTQ+ mentors and teachers.
• Schools should provide trans history books in the library and advertise them so students know they are available.

Their discussions pulled from the unit’s different pieces, but the trans student testimony motivated most of their requests for change. Their thoughtful exchanges demonstrate both knowledge and heart — two attributes I hope they carry into their future classrooms.

Political Imagination

“Any progressive social change must be imagined first, and that vision must find its most eloquent possible expression to move from vision to reality,” wrote poet Martín Espada. “Any oppressive social condition, before it can be changed, must be named and condemned with words that persuade by stirring the emotions, awakening the senses. Thus the need for the political imagination.”

When Blair and I constructed this unit, the rise of anti-gay laws and transphobia made us gut-punched aware of the need for schools to change, to become more inclusive and safer for LGBTQ+ students. What I hadn’t understood, until I met Blair’s class, was how important it was for students to name and condemn the laws and bans and erasure of trans students by bringing the stories — from “Rainbowland” to Newberg, to Melissa and trans students — that stirred the emotions, outrage, and compassion of these future teachers. 

Blair created a feedback document asking “What did you take away from this lesson that will impact you as a student and future educator? How will you use your learning as a form of advocacy?” Their comments demonstrate the importance of this work:

It made me much more aware of the daily struggles trans students face and makes me want to be more sensitive to those kids during my internship and while working at camp, where living on the property for a whole week adds another level of stress for trans kids.

I think that making the demands made the greatest impact on me. After reading the packet of the high school students’ testimonies, I realized that there needs to be change in the school system and making the demands felt impactful.

I took a lot away from this unit and I really hope that as an educator in the future I am not as restricted as some of these teachers. I will use my learning to advocate for those who are too scared to advocate for themselves.

As teachers we can’t just wish injustice away. But we can educate our students, building on their empathy and compassion to make schools more just and more inclusive by giving them the opportunity to use their political imagination.