Growing up in Alabama, the birthplace of the Civil Rights Movement, has its challenges. It is the place where Black people and other people of color were silenced just for existing in the same room as white people. Collective action, organizing, and using their voices was the only way any legislation passed protecting the rights of all races equally — and I take so much inspiration from this as a Black student advocate. Every protest, every sign, every word of support, and every action taken advanced the Civil Rights Movement. I hope to gather people, in the same way, to fight for the actively dwindling rights of LGBTQ+ people.
History shows us that when the whole world is against you, being heard is often the most affirming thing you can experience.
Fortunately for me, being a Black queer student in my school has been a joyous experience. My teachers respect my chosen name and pronouns, I’m able to wear pro-LGBTQ+ pins on my jean jacket, and there has never been an issue with my principal approving Gender-Sexuality Alliance (GSA) Club activities. I’ve witnessed the administration speak out against other students being homophobic, and they’ve made a conscious effort to be inclusive.
But don’t let my singular experience fool you: Alabama was home to the first Confederate capital and is known as a safe Republican state, which means it is sure to vote red in elections. Our Governor, Kay Ivey, has signed horrific, discriminatory bills into law, destroying the safety and autonomy of queer and transgender people. SB184 makes it a felony to provide gender-affirming care, and forces educators to inform potentially homophobic parents about their child’s sexuality and gender identity, despite the fact that it’s none of their business.
Gender-affirming care has a specific meaning for trans people, including things like calling people by affirmed names and using affirmed pronouns, or taking puberty blockers or undergoing hormone replacement therapy. Anti-trans activists don’t usually use the term “gender-affirming care,” but they are passing all sorts of laws limiting the kinds of healthcare trans people can seek. This is just another way of targeting queer people, ignoring the many ways people alter our bodies, or just have different kinds of bodies with different levels of hormones. After all, people choose to get breast reductions and augmentations. Some parents choose to circumcise their children. Some cisgender people just happen to have low levels of testosterone or estrogen.
By focusing exclusively on trans bodies, these extremist legislators are making it clear they’re hell-bent on erasing our entire existence.
In GLSEN’s 2021 National School Climate Survey, 68.8% of LGBTQ+ students reported feeling unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation, gender identity, and/or gender expression. The more I think about the students who lack the support I have in my environment, the more it enrages me to think legislators govern based on their personal prejudices and religious beliefs, ignoring the vast diversity of backgrounds and lived experiences in this country.
With over 452 anti-LGBTQ+ bills introduced in state legislatures across the country, we need a way to fight back. Thankfully, GLSEN’s Day of Silence is a national, student-led demonstration where LGBTQ+ students around the country take a vow of silence to protest the harmful effects of harassment and discrimination against LGBTQ+ people in schools. This year, we’re asking adults to take a vow of no silence: We’re calling on everyone who can safely speak up to do so on every platform, and in every space — online and offline — in defense of LGBTQ+ students, just like my teachers do all year round.
Day of Silence started in 1996 as a university class project on non-violent protesting. Now, it has expanded to reach thousands of students each year. Every April, students go through the school day without speaking, ending the day with rallies and events to share their experiences during the protest and bring attention to ways their schools and communities can become more inclusive.
Since being silent the entire school day can be unfeasible for some, my GSA opts to host a moment of silence — one second for every bill introduced — just before our “Breaking the Silence” rally. Making posters, spreading the word on social media, and even handing out information cards around your community are other ways to participate and show your support.
As a part of GLSEN’s National Student Council for two years, the It Get Better Project’s Youth Voices for one year, and president of my school’s GSA since 2020, I’ve developed a deep understanding of LGBTQ+ issues, organizing campaigns, and why participating in protests is important. Activism is what leads our strides toward full liberation, along with proper and comprehensive education on each bill and how it affects the targeted population.
My affirming experiences in all aspects of my life are proof that having safe people in your life whom you trust to speak up against prejudice helps queer kids lead a happier life. You can be the adult that makes space for queer kids in the classroom. Be the person that joins your LGBTQ+ friend in a protest. Be the friend that listens when your trans friend expresses their grievances about dysphoria or harmful legislation. Be conscious about who and what you’re supporting, whether it be by your vote or where your money goes.
I like to believe the oppressed population is closest to the solution, so the only way to hear their solutions is to listen to them. Queer kids are at the forefront of this fight, leading protests like the national March for Queer and Trans Youth Autonomy. This protest was held on International Transgender Day of Visibility as a way to bring awareness to the bills being introduced and fight back against them. We need adults to rise up and show up for LGBTQ+ youth at times like this, when we need it the most.
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