I came out to my family in 2012, when I was 12 years old. The members of my immediate family have been great allies, but despite their support, they didn’t know what to teach me about my sexuality. They had no idea what to do; neither, it seems, did my school.
The sex ed I received in school didn’t prepare me for sex. I didn’t know how to say no, how to deal with certain feelings, or even how to recognize the harm in pornography. I didn’t know where to turn to for advice, and no one told me where to go.
That’s not unusual. According to the Guttmacher Institute, only 39 states and the District of Columbia mandate sex education and/or HIV education, with most of them not requiing the program to be medically accurate. Only nine states require that discussion of LGBTQ+ identities be inclusive and affirming.
And at least six states still have laws prohibiting the portrayal of LGBTQ+ identities in a positive light in classrooms; for example, Alabama law states that classes must emphasize that queerness is “not a lifestyle acceptable to the general public.”
When I was in school, sex education included a quick lesson that highlighted abstinence and demonized any sexual activity. “The best way to not get pregnant is to not have sex,” was the motto of my academic sex education. The only “resource” I had to learn about same-sex dating and activity was pornography.
To put it bluntly: The sex ed I received in school didn’t prepare me for sex. I didn’t know how to say no, how to deal with certain feelings, or even how to recognize the harm in pornography. I didn’t know where to turn to for advice, and no one told me where to go.
In a 2019 survey, the LGBTQ+ education nonprofit GLSEN found that only 8.2% of students said they received LGBTQ+-inclusive sex education. I envy that 8.2%, because I felt abnormal when I was in class. My perfectly natural desire to have sex, and with someone of the same sex, made me feel like a walking sin.
Moreover, the sex ed taught in school didn’t teach my friends to be an ally to LGBTQ+ people, or for me to learn what I needed to be an ally to myself. So that 8.2% needs to keep growing.
Having LGBTQ+-inclusive education would help everyone. LGBTQ+ teens, in part due to discrimination and social stigmitization they face at school, are three times more likely to attempt suicide. Many face additional health barriers and have a higher chance of contracting sexually transmitted infections.
A true LGBTQ+-inclusive approach should discuss how one’s identity develops early in life, dispel common stereotypes about different identities and teach others how to be a proper ally of LGBTQ+ people by learning about how to respect the different sexual and gender identities of their peers.
And pushing for an inclusive sex ed model would not only benefit LGBTQ+ teens, but also straight and cisgender teens, too, as abstinence-only and anti-LGBTQ+ sex ed laws are often intertwined. All students need to learn about protection, consent, and relationships in a way that doesn’t stoke shame or embarrassment.
And most parents agree. According to the Human Rights Campaign, 85% of parents surveyed supported the discussion of sexual orientation as part of sex education in high school, and 78% felt this should also be done in middle school.
So what’s the holdup? While many states are making progress on implementing LGBTQ+-inclusive programs, other states continue to pass laws against it. Instead of educating the masses, they made educators do the opposite.
As for those parents who worry that LGBTQ+ education will “turn my kids gay,” let me just say that regular sex education didn’t turn me straight, so, I assure you, the inverse won’t happen.
Queer people deserve healthy relationships and a chance to learn as early as they can. It’s time for all schools to provide LGBTQ+-inclusive education.
This column was produced for The Progressive magazine and distributed by Tribune News Service.