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My voice trembled, and my heart pounded as I stood before the class of about 30 college students on the first day of English Composition 101.
"I didn't get to read many LGBTQ+ authors growing up," I said. Then, taking a deep breath, I took the plunge: "As a queer person myself, I believe we need to see ourselves represented in books."
When I taught 18-year-old college freshmen, it felt like jumping off a cliff every time I came out to a new class — usually on the first day. I loved introducing the students to the acclaimed queer authors who helped me feel comfortable in my own skin when I was a teenager.
The authors' names — Michael Cunningham, Virginia Woolf, Dorothy Allison, and Alice Walker — are still sacred to me today.
But now, I'm no longer coming out to my students and still prioritizing their education.
It was the early 2000s, and in many ways, it was a more welcoming environment for LGBTQ+ teachers.
Still, when I taught college in New York state, queer teachers' freedom was new and fragile. Colleges and universities have always tended to be more open for queer teachers than K-12 schools, but I was still scared to come out as an untenured teacher working with teens — many of whom were religious. There was always fear that I'd be punished for announcing who I am.
Thankfully, coming out was almost always positive. Students smiled or seemed immediately more relaxed. Only one or two tensed up or looked away, seeming uncomfortable. No one ever got up and left the room.
After coming out each semester, I'd move on with my lesson, feeling vulnerable, relieved, and lighter.
These days, I'm more comfortable in my skin as a queer person, so I don't feel the need to make a formal declaration at work anymore. The fear of retaliation takes too much out of me.
But I still ensure my space is queer-friendly.
Currently, I'm a school librarian serving elementary and middle school. Even among the youngest of students, I regularly encounter kids identifying as queer or trans. Some students even have LGBTQ+ parents. So, I still need to create a welcoming environment.
My storytime and research lessons emphasize the acceptance of gender diversity. The stories also depict that love can take many shapes and forms. These lessons are also important for students with nontraditional family structures — such as those raised by a single parent or living with grandparents.
We read cute, silly, and wise picture books such as "Worm Love Worm" by J. J. Austrian and Mike Curato, where the characters are gender-neutral. In June, I showcase books like "Pride: The Story of Harvey Milk and the Gay Pride Flag" by Rob Sanders and Steven Salerno. Throughout the month, I proudly showcase my progress pride flag in the middle school library and happily explain the symbolism of all the colors and patterns.
Queer people are woven into the fabric of my teaching, but I've just chosen not to share who I am anymore to protect my own mental health.
In 2022, the Trevor Project found that 45% of LGBTQ+ youth considered suicide in the last year. I feel responsible as an educator to help students grow and thrive — and not feel invisible or ashamed.
This September, I will proudly display a copy of my favorite gender-expansive book, "Teo's Tutu" by Maryann Jacob Macia. And when a student asks me what the book is about, I'll say, "It's about learning to be happy in your own skin."
I'll invite the students to reflect and connect. "What does being comfortable in your own skin mean to you?"
When I started teaching, it felt great to say, "I am queer," out loud. But these days, I celebrate my queerness in my personal life and conserve my energy while I'm at school.
