I spent my early years in the warm island of Puerto Rico; we left that blissful and simple life a year after my father passed away. Subsequently, we moved to Florida where we started the next stage of our lives. My sister and I were in the same bilingual classroom, sharing it with students from first through fifth grade. However, recess included the entire school; we were collectively unleashed upon a field where we worked off our energy. It was during recess where I made a new friend, David.
David was kind and curious about me. He carefully navigated the little English I knew, and we became great friends. Recess became a refuge where I escaped the confines of that bilingual classroom. I looked forward to each recess to spend time with my new friend. As the end of that semester approached, I asked David what his plans were for Christmas. Unexpectedly, his face darkened. He responded with, “We are Jewish; we don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“Who doesn’t celebrate Christmas?”
His response put me in completely unfamiliar territory. I simply did not know what Jewish was, nor why they did not observe Christmas. To my knowledge, Puerto Ricans were predominantly Catholic. Christmas was simply a generic observed day, much like we treat weekend days differently. I didn’t imagine that there was such a thing as religion, or more subtly that others practiced something other than Catholicism.
I filed away the fact that David was somehow different from anything I had known before, but it didn’t prevent us from continuing to be friends. Each day, I looked forward to recess and our conversations. Then abruptly, David’s parents moved him to private school, and those moments ended. We met a handful of times after that, but it was never like the way we played in that field.
However, that one conversation with David led to a lifelong journey of curiosity. My family and I were always ‘others’. To fear or shun someone simply for being different was hypocritical and self-defeating. Specifically, everyone was different from us. I understood that he was different, but that difference didn’t nullify his kindness and his friendship. Just because something is unfamiliar doesn’t necessarily make it bad.
Knowing that David was Jewish didn’t compel me to convert to Judaism. Understanding that other realities exist didn’t diminish my own existence; it didn’t nullify my truth. It simply gave me greater perspective of my place in this world.
Why believe that talking about LGBTQ+ issues is ‘indoctrination’?
There’s much talk about LGBTQ+ issues, specifically the assertion that merely talking about it in school is paramount to indoctrination. In fact, there’s been legislation passed, such as the “Don’t Say Gay” bill in Florida. Why is this particular issue (sexual orientation and gender identity), the only one that is subject to indoctrination? For instance, David introduced me to Judaism when I was young. Couldn’t that be a form of indoctrination? Aren’t there many other topics that may qualify?
Many will claim that it’s a matter of what is ‘age appropriate’, but that doesn’t pass the sniff test. If fairy tales can depict heterosexual couples in an age-appropriate way, merely making them homosexual doesn’t nullify it. If a child of a particular age is ‘too young’ to understand physical attraction, that’s true whether the couple happens to be a man and a woman or two men. The genders of the couple are inconsequential.
If you are Christian heterosexual parent that supports the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, do you object more to a gay child, transgender child, or a Muslim child? If you object to your child converting to Islam, why not pass legislation to limit talking about religion in school, much like the above bill? Or perhaps, it’s that you can’t.
That said, I think that the motivation for this legislation is more nuanced than that. The beauty of it is that you can contemplate it in the safety of your own mind; you need not admit anything out loud to anyone.
You object to your child becoming inclusive
I have described being gay or transgender as similar to being dyslexic in some ways. You’re dyslexic independent of knowing such a condition exists. It’s not as if you magically exhibit symptoms the moment someone describes it to you; you have had it all along. Putting a name to the condition removes the stigma and allows you to make adjustments. Being gay or trans is the same. That’s what you’ve always been, even if you have never heard it described. Not talking about it, doesn’t make it go away.
The likelihood of child coming out as gay or transgender strictly because a teacher mentions gayness or gender identity at school is slim. The odds are that they would come out eventually; disallowing it from schools is merely delaying it. All you’d really be doing is to have them endure years of ridicule and alienation; you’d have them suffer.
Let’s say that your child is heterosexual, and no amount of talk about LGBTQ+ issues in school will change that. You know what it will change? They will have friends or family who are gay or trans, without judging them or distain for them. They will defend them when they’re bullied. Upon entering college, they won’t think anything of having a gay roommate. It’s about your kids believing there’s nothing wrong with being gay or transgender… because there isn’t. It’s not about their becoming part of the LGBTQ+ community; it’s about their being at ease with the community.
That’s the fear.
You don’t want to mar your child’s impression of you
We remember that moment when your parent said something with which you disagree; how we reacted was a function of when and where. Some simply nod in agreement, even when we don’t agree. Others cringe at the comment and push back. We discreetly apologize to our friends or significant other at the dinner table about that inappropriate comment. It may your grandparent’s use of the n-word or the phrase “The War of Northern Aggression.”
You now watch with unease as the world becomes more tolerant of the LGBTQ+ community. You become distressed when the US allows gay marriage, or when they allow gay service people in the military. Next, you wonder out loud why do gay people need their own parade. You rant about these issues because that’s how you feel, but then you turn your head to your child. You read the expression in their face, and wordlessly it screams of disappointment. It’s an acknowledgment that what seemed like merely difference of opinion is actually a chasm for which you can’t build a bridge.
You don’t fear your child being gay per se, what you really fear is their disgust as they hear you speaking such hateful drivel.
Furthermore, the world is changing; there is now legislation that protects this community. For your child to go into ‘The Real World’ while inheriting this bias is to put them at a disadvantage. It’d be like denying them algebra or extra-curricular activities. The more tolerant they are, the more successful they’ll become. Is your ego more important than their success?
There is a simple solution
The solution is that you re-evaluate your position of LGBTQ+ issues, that you look upon every person with your own eyes, not with the baggage from your community. It means that you look upon all of us by our humanity and refuse to bucketize us into categories. You acknowledge that who people are and who they love doesn’t make them any lesser. Furthermore, you develop the courage to admit that you were wrong. It is the realization that you too are a sinner, and henceforth you refuse to cast any more stones.
It’s not out of the scope of possibility. We had similar growing pains with integrated schools and the right to vote. It took decades for our country to grow accustomed to this level of equality. We learned; we evolved. It is time we cross this bridge and refuse to look back.
I said the solution was simple; I didn’t say that it was easy.