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November 27, 2017
Trans, non-binary, and gender nonconforming students, this is a moment for you. This is a moment to remind you that your pronouns are valid. This is also a moment to acknowledge the anxiety and stress that you might experience if you’re sharing pronouns (for the first or fiftieth time) or being misgendered. You are not alone.
Your gender self-determination is work. You existing as your beautiful self is work. As we work towards manifesting a world where folks can self-identify their gender freely and without anxiety, these affirmations are here to remind you that you have a right to feel at home with yourself.
1. Marcus (They/Them/Theirs, He/Him/His)
Cis people can be called whatever they want with little to no complaint – you deserve the same. It’s actually quite easy to use correct pronouns, and if people see it as a burden then they are not being respectful or compassionate enough. Your pronouns are a necessity, not a choice you are "burdening" others with.
2. Ezra (He/Him/His, Ey/Em/Eirs)
To be honest, it's still something I struggle with on the daily, but when you find the right person who puts the effort into using your correct pronouns and begins correcting other people, in my experience, people start to catch on. There's also this cool game that I like to have people play, which can help.
3. Nate (He/Him/His)
Never feel guilty correcting people. Email your teachers as much as you need, and ask your friends and allies to correct people for you, especially if it's an authority figure. There’s strength in numbers, and you don’t have to do it all by yourself.
4. Ose (They/Them/Theirs)
You know yourself better than anyone else. No one is entitled to (nor do they need) any more explanation than you’re willing to provide. Do and say however much or little you’re comfortable with.
5. James (He/Him/His)
It's reasonable to feel a lot of stress and anxiety about pronouns, and you're not alone in that. Sometimes the answer to a situation is not as straightforward as you may think. Never correct a person if you don't feel comfortable, and make sure you have some allies around you that can help. Sometimes correcting people takes too much energy and causes too much stress, and it's valid to recognize that and step back. Do what makes sense to you! There's no one size fits all.
6. Cruz (Ze/Zir/Zirs)
There’s always the fear of unacceptance and confusion, but your pronouns are a right that can never be taken away. It is very anxiety-inducing to say, “Actually, my pronouns are… and it is appreciated that you use them.” But you have every right to say it.
As someone who identifies as agender, I want to validate that there are more pronouns besides she/her/hers, he/him/his, and even they/them/theirs. You are who you are, and no one can take who you are away from you. I’ve learned over time that we are valid no matter what, even if we find our pronouns having to be corrected.
7. Niles (They/Them/Theirs)
You are not required to correct people whenever they mess up your pronouns; it isn’t your job to teach people how to treat you with respect. But you absolutely have the right to correct people in any way that feels comfortable to you; your comfort and identity are more important than making your correction overly kind or palatable to others. If you can’t correct someone when they use your pronouns incorrectly, that’s okay. If you correct people every time they mess up, gently or not, that’s okay, too. You are valid regardless. No one can take that away, no matter how hard they try.
And to trans, nonbinary, and gender nonconforming educators, we see you too. Here are words from Milo (They/Them/Theirs):
“As a teacher who uses they/them/their pronouns at work, I experience pronoun anxiety every day. However, I believe that school communities can work together to create more affirming environments for trans and gender nonconforming teachers and students. To the teachers and administrators out there, we all know that building positive relationships with students is essential for a productive and engaged classroom. Proactively creating a school environment where students (and teachers) feel comfortable sharing their pronouns is a fundamental part of building relationships with trans and gender nonconforming students. You don’t have to understand their identities to respect their pronouns. If it’s difficult or confusing for you, do your research and practice! That’s what being a lead learner is all about.”
As you continue your journey, sharing GLSEN’s pronoun resource might be helpful – plus GLSEN’s wealth of resources for supporting trans students.
November 22, 2017
Acceptance of trans folks in schools has become a hot-button issue. With all of the misinformation floating around, many schools wonder how they can best serve their transgender and gender nonconforming (GNC) students. I am a transmasculine student, so these issues hit very close to home.
I think educators are well positioned to be my advocates in schools and make real change in addressing these issues. Enter my wonderful school counselor, Ashleigh. They identify as queer and use gender-neutral pronouns, though they don’t worry about the specific label of their identity. When I spoke to them about trans inclusion in our school, they were a bit nervous – my school is still not very open to the free discussion of queer topics – but my counselor tries to be as open as possible with their queer students. Here’s what they had to say:
On the importance of schools supporting trans faculty:
When we think of schools, we often think only of the students. But schools are made of both faculty and students. We have to ensure that schools are a safe place for their faculty as well; teachers should be able to change pronouns freely and discuss how they identify in class. It would empower teachers to be able to say, “This isn’t right,” and redirect disrespectful students who are using transphobic language. But if an administration is stifling queer and trans voices, it sends a powerful message to the faculty that these identities are not accepted, which then leads to students not accepting trans identities.
On ways educators can be supportive of trans students, even with a difficult school administration:
Teachers can make their classrooms into safe havens. There will always be pockets of positivity and negativity, but I believe positivity will always trickle down. Teachers should make an effort to use gender-neutral language and work to dismantle gender roles. Will teachers always be able to nip everything in the bud? No, it gets exhausting for everyone. But if a teacher makes it clear that derogatory speech or actions are not acceptable, they can help make their classroom a safe place for transgender students.
I still remember the first teacher who ever called someone out of the classroom after he harassed me for being queer. She was my history teacher, and from that day on I stayed in her classroom as much as I could. I ended up loving history, all because I felt safe in her classroom. All because she was the only person who ever fought for me.
On how youth can drive change:
You have to demand rights, and scream for it. Things change so quickly in the LGBTQ community, and youth are who are driving all of the changes.
When I was a teenager, I remember coming home from a trip to see the President arguing against the legalization of marriage equality. I never got an apology for the hurt I had to suffer from this experience as a young person. But to see when marriage equality was legalized and the White House was lit up in rainbows… I can’t explain what that meant to me.
My counselor has been instrumental to making our school trans-inclusive, but we still have a long way to go. Discriminatory acts can still slip through the cracks. I hear derogatory remarks against transgender people almost daily with little to no repercussions.
It is important that schools act as a unit when it comes to ensuring safety for their transgender and GNC students; it cannot simply be talk. Students, teachers, and school administrators must put their words into action. Change is happening slowly, but the future is bright. Students and educators looking for ways to make their school trans-inclusive can look to GLSEN’s wealth of resources.
As my counselor said, “It may seem bad now, but what is going to be your White House in rainbows?” Although fighting for my rights may be tiring, I can’t wait to see what my rainbow will be.
Marcus Breed is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
November 20, 2017
I’m a 16-year-old brown, trans guy. As a visibly trans brown person, I face different and often more intense forms of both racial and gender discrimination. Through this discrimination I often feel like my identity is being erased. I often don’t see myself represented in LGBTQ spaces, which tend to be dominated by white voices and experiences; sometimes those spaces are racially ignorant or even racist. Black and brown trans folks have to be resilient to even exist.
I don’t always feel like I have the support to truly be proud of my transness and my brownness. Today is Trans Day of Resilience, and it’s about continuing the fight towards justice for trans folks. With that in mind, here are 4 things you (especially cis-white folks) can do to better support trans students of color.
Make sure to listen to the stories, experiences, and voices of brown and Black trans students. We have a unique perspective and face different, intersecting forms of discrimination and oppression in our lives.
Once you’ve listened to brown and Black trans voices, make sure to educate yourself. Read books, look at resources, and fill yourself with knowledge! By educating yourself, you can help be a better ally to trans people of color. GLSEN’s resources on supporting trans students and research on the school experiences of Black and Latinx trans students can be helpful tools in your self-education.
3. Acknowledge your privilege
Privilege often brings access and authority that aren’t given to another group. Therefore, it’s important to acknowledge your privilege, recognizing that your race, sexuality, gender, class and so on all affect your experiences. You can use your access and authority to improve the experiences of Black and brown trans folks.
You can be an ally to trans people of color by highlighting their voices; it’s critically important to highlight and raise up their voices when you can. If you have a platform, use it to share stories that aren’t always heard. Remember to make space for those who traditionally wouldn’t have it.
In recognition of Trans Day of Resilience, a number of trans, gender nonconforming, and non-binary artists of color, in a project put on by Forward Together, created artwork that truly shows the strength, beauty, and power within the trans brown and black communities. One of these artists, Art Twink, created the piece below, which really resonates with me. Black and brown trans people have been twice gifted with diversity, and our uniqueness makes us glow.
(Art by Art Twink. More pieces at TDOR.co)
As Trans Awareness Week comes to a close, I’m inspired by the resilience of my community of trans folks of color, and I’m hopeful that you’ll join us in fighting for justice.
Kian Tortorello-Allen is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
November 20, 2017
GLSEN’s data has long demonstrated the hostile school environments that many transgender students face: including high rates of harassment and assault, denial of access to facilities, such as bathrooms and locker rooms, and being misgendered — including educators refusing to use students’ appropriate name and pronouns. The combination of peer victimization, discriminatory educator practices and policies, and lack of access to safe and appropriate educational spaces contributes to the elevated rates of negative outcomes experienced by transgender students, as compared to their cisgender peers. Transgender youth are more likely to miss school, drop out of school, face disciplinary sanctions, and, as a result, become involved in the juvenile justice system.
Two new reports from the National Center for Transgender Equality (NCTE) and their collaborating partners provide deeper insight into the experiences of transgender people in the educational system, specifically the experiences of Black and Latinx trans people in K-12 schools.
Using data from NCTE’s U.S. Transgender Survey, these reports provide retrospective data on what these transgender adults (ages 18 to 87) experienced in their K-12 school environments, and the statistics are jarring. Of those who were out as transgender at some point in their K-12 schooling, nearly three-quarters (74%) of both Black and Latinx transgender people reported experiencing some sort of mistreatment at school, including harassment so severe it caused them to leave that school. The bar chart below details percentages of Black and Latinx transgender people who were out as transgender or perceived by others as transgender and reported various negative school experiences during their time in K-12 schools.
These reports are from current adults, so it’s important to remember that while some of them were students more recently, many of them attended schools multiple years or even decades ago. Yet, GLSEN’s data on school climate for current trans middle/high school students demonstrates that victimization and discrimination are still very much a reality in our schools today, and that trans youth, and LGBTQ Black, Latinx, and multiracial youth are at greater risk for being pushed out of school.
Thankfully, we know what is needed to improve the outcomes for these youth. Resources including student clubs such as GSAs (Gay-Straight Alliances or Gender-Sexuality Alliances), anti-bullying policies that specifically protect gender identity and gender expression, and LGBTQ-inclusive curriculum have been demonstrated to improve the school experiences of trans youth and LGBTQ youth of color. In order to maximize the benefits for Black and Latinx transgender youth, these resources must be explicitly trans-inclusive and directly speak to LGBTQ youth of color.
In regards to specific policies, the GLSEN/NCTE model policy on supporting transgender and gender nonconforming students provides schools with best practices they can implement to improve access to education for transgender students and create a learning environment in which they can thrive.
Schools should also enact specific efforts to end unfair discipline policies and curb disparities in juvenile justice involvement for transgender students, particularly Black and Latinx transgender students. This should involve ceasing the use of zero-tolerance disciplinary policies and promoting restorative justice approaches designed to keep students in school.
Additionally, providing anti-bias training for school staff — including security personnel and school police — will help to help to create safer school environments for transgender students and reduce bias in the application of disciplinary and other school policies.
The results of the reports are jarring, but they provide important information about the needs of Black and Latinx transgender students that can be used to improve school policies and provide these students with an opportunity to learn without fear of violence or discrimination. For ways to continue working towards schools that are inclusive of these youth, see GLSEN’s resources for supporting trans students.
Sandy James, JD, MA, is the Research Director at the National Center for Transgender Equality, and Emily Greytak, PhD, is the Director of Research at GLSEN.
November 19, 2017
I have admired history for as long as I can remember. Ever since I could read, I’ve enjoyed finding the stories of people just like me, albeit five hundred years ago. I’ve always liked how history is less like a lens, and more like a window. You can always look through it and discover something new, about others and yourself. History is powerful in that way; it shows examples of the triumphs and failures of humanity. The past empowers the present, proving we can be successful if we try hard enough.
In seventh grade, I took my first intensive history class. Instead of general world history, I learned about this history of West Virginia. While my classmates found learning about their home state boring, I thought it was interesting to learn about the Civil War conflicts that happened in our backyard.
At the same time, as I was learning the name of every Confederate, I was learning more about myself. That year, I finally began to identify what had been bothering me. See, for as long as I had loved history, I had also been distinctly aware that something was off about the way I had been raised. The dresses my mother had me wear, and the long hair that dragged me down, bothered me deeply, and in the seventh grade, I finally realized why: I was really a boy!
During that year, I found the word “transgender” online, and I tried it out a few times to see if it fit. I would write the name I preferred, James, on my class papers, stare at it, and then erase it. I would wear my dad’s hand-me-downs, rather than the tight feminine clothes my parents had bought, and it felt right. When I was finally ready to share my identity with parents, I was lucky to grow up in a very accepting family.
At school, however, I wasn’t as lucky. Spurred on by the positive reception from my parents, I came out to my friends. Instead of accepting me, they spread my identity around the school like it was a dirty secret. My teachers didn’t ask how they could support me; they started gossiping about me, and I became quickly isolated. My school’s administration didn’t offer support, but questioned the validity of my identity. I began to doubt the decision to come out. I missed weeks of school, and my grades plummeted.
While I would have felt relieved when studying history, now I felt stressed. I had never heard of anyone being transgender in the past, and I began to feel like I was part of something new, a burden I would have to carry through my life.
During the final project of my history class, I took a leap of faith. I asked my teacher if he had ever heard of a transgender person from West Virginia history. His response was no, that he had never heard of something like that, and it didn’t exist. I don’t fault him for not knowing about trans figures from history (even though he was a history teacher), but I don’t think that anyone’s identity should be told it doesn’t exist, and certainly not mine. His answer scared me, but I was desperate to find some kind of validation. I decided I would do my final project on transgender Civil War soldiers from West Virginia.
Who I found ended up becoming a role model for me. His name was Albert D.J. Cashier, who was a trans man who enlisted in the American Civil War (if you haven’t heard about him, you should definitely look him up). His story propelled me to a place of self-confidence I didn’t know I had. He was just like me, but two hundred years ago, and he was an important part of West Virginia history. The research I did on him, and the other soldiers like him, not only made me feel valid in my identity, but garnered me first place in the Social Studies Fair in my school.
I proved my teacher wrong about transgender people in history, proved my peers wrong about the validity of trans identity, but most importantly, proved my self-doubt wrong. I often think about what would have happened if I had learned about trans people from my teacher, rather than from my own insecurity. I would have probably come out sooner and been more sure in my identity. I also probably wouldn’t have faced so much rejection from my peers, if trans identity had been normalized in the classroom.
Too often our history is edited to conform to our society’s ideals today. The colonization of Turtle Island, also known as North America, violently ripped out the stories of queer and Two-Spirit Indigenous people. LGBTQ people have existed on this continent, and all across the world, since the beginning of time, but in our history books, that is seldom reflected.
And if LGBTQ history is taught, it is often not inclusive of transgender people. We, as students and educators, must make a concerted effort to highlight the stories of transgender people, which have often been erased from our history textbooks, especially the stories of folks with multiple marginalized identities, like trans folks of color.
The history of trans people is very important to me as a history nerd, but it’s important to every young person. History is the proof of existence, and the affirmation of identity. The benefits of teaching trans-inclusive history reach further than trans students themselves, and can alter the school climate for the better. To include trans history, affirm your students, and improve school climates, you must use trans-inclusive education materials, like those offered by GLSEN.
James van Kuilenburg is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
November 17, 2017
I identify as non-binary, which means that I don’t identify as exclusively male or female. I am also disabled. These identities are inseparable to me. However, many people assume that these identities have no relationship and create resources or access that only serve a fraction of who I am.
My gender expression is femme, and I enjoy dressing myself accordingly. But my presentation hinges upon my disability. I have chronic pain conditions that limit my ability to walk, which means stairs are generally inaccessible to me. Using the stairs results in immense pain and sometimes leads me to pass out. I also walk with canes and crutches to manage my conditions. Certain clothing and fabrics, usually boxy clothing with rough, tight fabrics are off limits to me due to how much they amplify my chronic pain. Looser, flowier styles work better for me because I can move easier with or without my mobility aids.
When I share that I am a trans person who was assigned female at birth, the resources automatically shown to me assume that I prefer things like button downs and binders. While these resources are necessary for many, they ignore the fact that my needs as a trans person do not include things like binders, which aren’t for me in part due to my disability.
Sometimes my needs are forced into conflict, and I have to choose between my safety and comfort as a trans person, and my physical health as a disabled person.
For example, there were no gender-neutral bathrooms at my school, but there were a set of gendered bathrooms that were rarely used. Although gender-neutral bathrooms would make me much more comfortable as a non-binary student, using the empty, gendered bathroom was my best option when it came to avoiding harassment. (If it were easy as that, this story might end here, but it wasn’t.) These bathrooms were located on the opposite side of campus from most of my classes and required stairs to access, forcing me to choose between my need of not being harassed and my need to avoid stairs.
The result: I often chose to try and avoid bathrooms at all.
I’m asking us to push beyond the narrative that bodies are the same and that there’s one way to address one’s bodily needs. We must hold space for non-conformity, bodies with many identities, and people with many needs. My needs as a white, non-binary, disabled person are different from the needs of a white able-bodied trans person or a non-binary disabled person of color. There are nuances within my needs that encompass all of my identities. We must meet the needs in the nuances that address the differences that we hold.
Accommodations for trans people OR disabled people OR people of color isn’t enough. This type of thinking separates identities that are inextricably linked. Disability justice is LGBTQ justice is racial justice is healthcare justice, and so on. In working towards social justice, we must recognize these as intertwined, and understand that addressing these individually, instead of collectively, further marginalizes those with multifaceted identities rather than work towards collective liberation. I don’t want to have to choose between using the stairs and risking passing out from the pain or taking the elevator and having to interact with the kid who always harasses me for my gender and disability.
I encourage you to think critically about how multiple identities intersect, especially in a school context. Does your school have gender-neutral bathrooms? If so, are they close and accessible, or far and isolated? Does the clothing drive your GSA is running for trans youth include a push for sensory-friendly or more neutral clothing? Does the history timeline you are creating for your GSA or history class include trans people of color, or is it white-centric or tokenizing? These are just a few examples of holding space for intersections in your work.
Niles Clipson is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
November 15, 2017
Let’s be real here: Biology, anatomy, and sex-ed classes are distressing for trans students. I distinctly remember sitting in freshman biology, a class required for graduation, as a newly out trans guy. I had to deal with gender dysphoria when my teacher constantly used “boys have...” and “girls have…” when talking about body parts. I could not stop myself from fixating on the ways my body wasn’t traditionally male. This was a huge emotional burden, and it was compounded by classmates who sometimes made transphobic remarks. Somehow, I had to try and learn the content.
In part because of my experience in freshman biology, I’m among the 75% of transgender students who have felt unsafe at school because of their gender expression. It’s up to educators to create environments where trans students feel safe and can learn, which includes making sure their classroom culture and curriculum are trans-inclusive.
Not surprisingly, GLSEN research shows that LGBTQ high school seniors whose STEM curriculum included positive LGBTQ content are twice as likely to choose a college major in those fields. Our experiences in classes truly make a difference in how we live our futures.
My experience as a trans student didn’t only make me feel unsafe, it specifically made me decide against taking AP Biology the next year and created a barrier to furthering my education in the STEM field. If trans students like me shy away from biology class, we’ll lack representation in the medical field, because the biology students of today are the healthcare professionals of tomorrow.
Already, doctors are severely unprepared to care for transgender patients. According to a national survey of transgender discrimination: 19% of transgender people report being refused care due to their transgender or gender non-conforming status, 28% were subjected to verbal harassment in a doctor’s office, emergency room, or other medical setting, and 50% reported having to teach their medical providers about transgender care.
Creating the environment for future trans medical professionals starts in schools. For the sake of trans students’ emotional wellbeing, their career aspirations, and the future of healthcare, health educators must work to make their classroom and curriculum trans-inclusive. This can begin with modifying language used in class.
Gender-neutral language is transformational for me and other trans students. After feeling so frustrated with my freshman biology class, I took it upon myself to work with my anatomy teacher to make her sexual reproduction unit gender-neutral during my junior year. Implementing gender-neutral language replaced my stressful experiences from freshman year with a reinvigorated passion for biology. Using the tips from this guide, educators can incorporate gender-neutral language in any biology, anatomy, or sex-ed course. Educators can go a step further and view GLSEN’s other resources for supporting trans students.
By taking the initiative and making science classes more inclusive of trans students, educators lay the foundation for a better future for all.
Nate Fulmer is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
November 13, 2017
I was waiting in line at the gate in the Oakland airport to board a flight to Los Angeles, and out of nowhere I felt someone tapping my hip. It was a five- or six-year-old girl, accompanied by her father and brother, and she was anxious to fly home.
After she played a version of hide and seek with me, she whispered something into her brother's ear. She turned, looked at me, and asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?” I chuckled a bit, and her father pulled her aside. I told him, “It’s okay; she’s fine.” Then, I leaned over to the little girl and whispered back, “I’m a boy.” She giggled, gave me a high five, and went on to board the plane.
To tell that girl I was a boy required a long, complicated journey. Towards the end of my sophomore year, when I first came out as transgender, I identified as gender-neutral or androgynous. Basically, I wasn't a boy or a girl; I was simply genderless. Coming out felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. At first, everything was fine: My friends accepted me with open arms, and I began to socially transition.
My understanding of my identity continued to evolve after I first came out. Later, I thought, “I know for sure I’m a boy.” And then even later, “Maybe I don’t identify with any gender.” Finally, after months of wrestling with how to articulate who I truly was, I discovered that I identify as a trans, gender non-conforming boy. To me, this means that I am a boy, but my gender expression doesn’t align to traditional gender norms for boys.
But it is important for me to recognize how my gender identity is intertwined with other identities that are important to me, like my racial identity. I identify as Latinx and Black. As I’ve learned more about my identity, and after reading texts like Strong Families’ Femifesto, I’ve grown in my belief that the gender binary – the idea of “male” and “female” as the only two genders – is a system created by and for white people, not brown bois like me.
Since European colonization, white people have actively erased examples of Indigenous and other non-white cultures having various sexual orientations and non-binary gender identities and expressions. For example, Two-Spirit Indigenous folks, whose identity falls outside the gender binary, are hardly anywhere to be found in my school history textbooks or mainstream media, despite their important contributions to Indigenous culture.
White people have used the gender binary to force white-focused gender norms on people of color – one of the many ways that white people have controlled people of color. This means that no matter how hard I try to fit into the label of “boy” or “girl,” I will never be afforded the same status as a white person of that gender.
Although I identify as a trans, gender non-conforming boy, my identity is rooted in a racist and binary system that is not made for me. To truly feel liberated, I cannot be confined by the gender binary, which means I’m constantly pushing back against white gender norms. To support me in school, educators and my fellow students must fight all ways white supremacy shows up in our lives. Because only through dismantling white supremacy can we destroy systems like the gender binary.
Ezra Morales is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
October 27, 2017
For many GSAs and school communities, the topic of asexuality is either unseen, unheard, or not present. Whether or not you currently have any out asexual people in your GSA or school, celebrating asexual visibility is an important supportive act and may help asexual people discover, or come out about, their identities.
To begin in your support of asexual students, start by knowing these definitions:
Asexual: Someone who does not experience sexual attraction. (Defined by AVEN)
Aphobic/Acephobic: The discrimination against asexual or aromantic people.
Demisexual: Someone who only experiences sexual attraction after an emotional bond has been formed. This bond does not have to be romantic in nature. (Defined by AVEN)
Heteronormativity: The assumption that heterosexual identity is the norm, which plays out in interpersonal interactions and institutional privileges that further the marginalization of people who are not heterosexual, such as asexual, lesbian, gay, and bisexual people.
Here are some ways to deepen your practice in supporting asexual youth:
1. Remember that identity is multifaceted. A student's identity as asexual will be impacted by other identities they hold such as their race, sexual orientation, gender, ability, and/or class. All these various identities may affect the way that this person interacts with their asexual identity and how others may perceive their identity operating outside of heteronormativity. That being said, students may hold multiple identities such as being asexual and also lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, and/or trans.
2. Learn about the asexual identity spectrum. This will provide a foundation for learning about the nuances between asexual identities and establish a common language to speak about them. In doing your own research, you shift the burden of education away from the marginalized community and provide them the space of sharing their lived experiences instead of generalities or feeling like they are representing an entire identity.
3. Respect all types of relationships. There are nuances between asexual identities and relationships. Your students, including your asexual students, may be interested in romantic or non-romantic relationships, and that’s okay. Know that wherever they fall on the asexual spectrum, their relationships are valid, too.
4. Approach asexuality with an open mind and avoid misappropriation. Use resources such Information for Educators, provided by AVEN, and Ace Inclusivity by the Safe Zone Project to learn more about asexuality. Put in the effort to learn the correct terms and to use them in appropriate ways. It’s fine to have questions, but be open-minded and receptive while listening to those who decide to share, and again, be sure to start by doing your own research.
5. Promote asexual visibility. Celebrate Asexual Visibility Week every October! Also continue throughout the year by including asexual identities, experiences, icons, and history in topics talked about with your students.
6. Protect asexual students who’ve received aphobic harassment. Validate student experiences of harassment that are shared with you. Check the anti-bullying policies for your school and see how they can help you to intervene on behalf of your asexual students.
7. Affirm their experiences as asexual people. Listen to how people identify and affirm experiences that are shared with you, rather than questioning them. Use terms that students use to describe themselves, their feelings, and their relationships.
8. Include asexual-inclusive sex-ed curricula and consent information. Consent should be at the foundation of any topic regarding relationships, and asexual relationships should be included in these discussions. Sexual health educators should teach that not everyone is sexually active and also discuss the asexual spectrum with their students .
9. Don’t affirm asexuality for the wrong reasons (e.g., “Well, now no one has to worry about you getting pregnant or getting STIs anymore!”) Affirming should look like listening and validating what students share with you about their identity and experiences.
10. Understand what allyship looks like. If you yourself are not asexual, you hold a perspective that may prevent you from fully grasping the unique and abstract concepts that impact the daily experiences of members of the asexual community. This is a practice and not a destination. Continue to defer to people in the asexual community; learn from them sharing, and advocate for their visibility and integration whether they’re present or not.
When implementing these asexual-inclusive practices, understand that as educators and GSA advisors, you should provide education and conversations around asexual identity. If you have out asexual GSA members, be sure to create space for them to share and lead the conversation should they choose to. You can invite them to educate others with their own experiences and challenge misconceptions and stereotypes about asexual people.
As the adults in school, you can support your students by continuing to learn about all of the identities and experiences that they have. To keep learning about asexual people and identities, follow these links:
AVEN (Asexual Visibility and Education Network)
October 17, 2017
Unfortunately, movies and TV often perpetuate the idea that Latinx people are “uneducated” and “dirty.” Recently, even the President insinuated that Puerto Ricans are lazy, after natural disasters left their land devastated, and he called the mayor of San Juan “nasty.”
I am a queer Latina. Since a young age, my mother has worked to combat negative ideas about my culture, always enforcing the idea that my culture is rich and beautiful and that Latinx people are bright, smart, and changing the world. Although I didn’t grow up learning Spanish and have never been to Mexico, she taught me about my culture by giving me books. I have over 40 children’s books by Latinx authors – books that changed my life.
When I was 6, my mom donated a book called Too Many Tamales by Gary Soto to my school. My teacher read it to the whole class, and afterwards, all the students wanted to learn to make tamales. That was the first time I saw other students wanting to learn about my culture. This was so important to students of color like me because it taught my classmates that other cultures are valid and important, where mainstream media often failed.
But the importance of these books is about so much more. At my small Montessori school, every year my teacher would have a week dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., when we would listen to his “I Had a Dream” speech on a tape recorder. I remember my friend Ama waiting ever year for that week because she would see people who looked like her in our curriculum. She would beam with pride and happiness to learn about Dr. King.
In other words, reading literature about one’s own culture can be gratifying, and it can open a world of possibilities. The book Sonia Sotomayor: A Judge in the Bronx by Jonah Winter taught me that I can be and do anything, and that my ethnicity, gender, and sexuality cannot and will not hold me back. I now have dreams of being a biomedical engineer, all because my mom gave me books to show me that my Latinx heritage is bright and strong. The world is at our fingertips as long as we are shown how we can achieve our goals and dreams.
I call on educators, especially elementary educators, to include books and lessons about diverse cultures in their curriculum. GLSEN’s resources for supporting LGBTQ Latinx students are a great place to start. Books about diverse cultures can open young minds – about their peers’ rich backgrounds, and about their own bright futures.
Soli Guzman is a member of GLSEN’s National Student Council.
For educators looking to include Latinx literature in their curriculum, Soli recommends these books:
- Sonia Sotomayor: A Judge Grows in the Bronx by Jonah Winter
- Too Many Tamales by Gary Soto
- Chatos and the Party Animals by Gary Soto
- Chato’s Kitchen by Gary Soto
- Esparanza Rising by Pam Muñoz Ryan
- Si Somos Latinos by Alma Flor Ada and F. Isabel Campoy
- Side by Side/ Lado a Lado by Monica Brown