"Safe Spaces: Making Schools and Communities Welcoming to LGBT Youth"

Growing up, one of my uncles had a "friend." I knew that they lived together and I didn't really think too much about it.

Then I learned that my uncle's friend got sick and passed away. That was that.

Then my uncle got sick. And passed away. That was that.

As a sixth grader, I didn't ask questions. I didn't even know what questions to ask.

Now I know that my uncle was gay and had died from AIDs.

I don't know much of the story of my uncle's experience and I certainly wonder about how "erased," "invisible," and "kept outside" of the curriculum (and society itself) he felt.

As a college student, I was finally exposed to LGBT issues. In the first weeks of my Western Lit seminar, we learned about Whitman - but in the "exploration-of-the-poet's-not-so-oblique-references-to romantic-relationships-between-men" sense (86). Then, I participated in the Emerging Leaders program where we learned about our own privileges (including my own heterosexuality). A short time after, I became a Resident Assistant and learned about "Words that Hurt." In this training session, we brainstormed all the words we know that have hurt us or have hurt others, consider why they might be hurtful, discussed intent vs. impact (which is similar to Patrick's story on 97-99), and prepared ourselves to create safe spaces for all of our residents. As a second-year RA, a friend and I hosted a Tunnel of Oppression event where we created a tunnel exhibit in one of the common areas with various sections exposing various injustices that people experience everyday - including biases against sexual orientation and gender identity. My hall council created quilts in memory of those who have died because of AIDs. In our practicum class, Dr. Cook and Dr. Johnson used Andrea Gibson's spoken word poetry (I think Swingset is one of my favorites - and is a good representation of what she speaks for) as a mentor text for our own poetry.

 I think all of this has prepared me to be an ally for LGBT youth in my classroom and beyond. I feel comfortable addressing students' use of "That's so gay" in a way that educates, rather than silences or shuns (and have had to do so many times - and I might even ratchet it up with a lesson like this one from GLSEN on the famous phrase "I was just kidding"). I came into teaching knowing that "LGBT students need advocacy and protection, not neutrality" (84). Vaccaro, August, and Kennedy's problem with saying nothing is the same as Armstrong and Wildman's problem with colorblindness - all it does is perpetuate the SCWAAMP status quo.

Instead, I'd like to take Megan Boler's affirmative action approach (90), starting first with visibility and normalization (94). As I plan for the Language Arts elective that I am teaching 2nd-4th quarters (I'm calling it Media Busters), my goal is to "teach students to critically examine all texts for bias, whether in the form of LGBT exclusion or negative stereotypes" where I can "encourage students to talk back to the curriculum, to look for assumptions, and . . . to examine what they see and hear (and what they don't see and hear)" (94). If I encounter problems with this, I know that Shor will back me up on the importance of this curricular choice.

I agree with Vaccaro, August, and Kennedy's assertion that "words are sticks and stones. And those sticks and stones can either build bridges or break bones" (95). In his spoken word poem, "To This Day," Shane Koyczan explains how much worse words hurt than literal broken bones. Not only as a lover of language and teacher of English, but as a human who cares about the world and its people, it pains me to see the way that words are used (consciously or unconsciously) as verbal assaults. Or how silence spreads our biased phobias.

As my favorite vlogbrothers explain, Human Sexuality is Complicated, and I am not aiming to have discussions about anatomy and reproductive processes or religious beliefs. I just want my students to have the eyes to recognize injustice, ears to hear injustice, mouths to ask the difficult questions (including the ones I never knew to ask about my uncle), and hands to create safe spaces for all.