‘The head will be too afraid to back us because of Section 28’.
‘But that was repealed over a decade ago.’
‘Aye, but…’
This was the first time Section 28/2A had been raised at my work and it was in conversation sparked by a parental complaint about one of my colleagues using the work of a gay poet with her Higher English class. That poet was Edwin Morgan, a man whose work was widely used in Scottish schools and who had not long completed his four-year tenure as the Scots Makar. But he was gay and that was enough for this parent to object to their child being exposed to his work, an experience shared by thousands of young people across the country, thanks to the legacy of long-gone Section 2A.
It was a couple more years before I experienced the impact of this legacy directly. I approached the same headteacher with the idea of some kind of LGBT+ inclusion work, seeking his views on how we might best achieve our aims. It wasn’t a completely new idea; there were some trailblazing colleagues doing great work in other schools which I learned more about thanks to the input of Jordan and Liam of TIE. I did not expect to be met with resistance and caution. The headteacher expressed concern that young people might be bullied for wearing a purple ribbon on Purple Friday (having previously stated the school did not have a homophobia problem), that parents in the ‘very Christian catchment area’ might strongly object to their children learning about LGBT+ people (which included me) and that, in his high-attaining school in an affluent area, his big concern was ‘the current underachievement of white boys.’
It was thanks to colleagues who were strong allies that he was persuaded to support our aims. I still reflect on that day and wonder if he realised how his expression of concern made me feel, how it affected my sense of dignity at work and inspired anxiety over how colleagues might actually perceive me, having previously felt accepted for who I was. Such issues around self-esteem and anxiety have raised their head frequently in my life and I’ve since discovered that is a common experience among LGBT+ people around my age and older. I hope and believe this will be different for young LGBT+ people going through schools where their identities are no longer taboo and who have positive role models in many industries, including entertainment and sports.
Such things were unthinkable under Section 2A. Even though it had a massive impact on me, I had never heard of it until the campaign to repeal it. By that time, I was around 16 and had come to terms with the fact I was gay but only felt able to tell one friend I knew I could trust because it was so shameful. I told her I couldn’t tell my parents and that I would find it easier to tell them I’d been charged with a horrible crime. It wasn’t that we were taught being gay was wrong; I just knew it wasn’t accepted. All through my Catholic schooling, the only time I remember a teacher even mentioning it was when an RE teacher corrected another pupil, telling him the bible didn’t actually say that being gay was a sin. I realise now that was very brave of him.
The real onslaught of negativity came from the media’s reports on the campaign against the repeal of section 2A. Not only had a millionaire bankrolled an unofficial referendum and campaign material spreading how disgusting and dangerous gay people were, representatives of the political wing of the church I used to belong to, and which had influence over my school, were platformed on TV, telling the masses how unnatural and what a threat to humanity I was. There’s no question that this campaign had a huge impact on my wellbeing and courage to be myself. Ultimately, it felt worth it as the negative campaign failed miserably and local authorities were no longer forbidden from suggesting that same-sex relationships might be equally valid. But many still felt anxious to raise the topic thanks to the lasting legacy.
That legacy has mostly been displaced in recent years, thanks to the Scottish Government policy on LGBT Inclusive Education. But there are still people in society so disgusted by our existence that they are going to great lengths to prevent children and young people learning to respect us, whether that be targeting individual teachers for harassment or creating professional looking literature undermining teacher professionalism and expertise of partner organisations. For the most part, they are losing but we must not be complacent. I personally know two excellent teachers, and active trade unionists, the profession has lost as a result of discrimination in the past year.
Now that policy backs us up, it should be easier to follow through in our practice and help to create a more inclusive society. But it still takes courage and willingness to face potential conflict. It takes solidarity from allies who need to actively help us to hold the line more than ever as far-right movements seek to divide us, including attempts to force LGB people to turn their backs on our trans and nonbinary siblings. The 47th US President has attempted to unilaterally impose this division, on a community with which he has no connection and of which he has no understanding, by executive order. He will fail, just as the campaign groups who seek to divide us here, reinvigorated by his actions, will continue to fail. They will fail because we will keep educating our young people to respect differences, celebrate diversity and be their authentic selves. We will not allow their identities to become unspeakable again.
By Damien Donnelly
