This Pride month, as revelers hit the streets to celebrate LGBTQ history, Republican state legislatures are hard at work trying to erase it. And it’s not just epochal events like the Stonewall riots, or towering figures like Harvey Milk, that could be wiped from classroom instruction. In public schools in Tennessee, Arkansas, and Montana, it may soon become illegal even to mention Bayard Rustin, the openly gay co-organizer of the 1963 March on Washington, or educate kids about the AIDS crisis.
In May, Tennessee became the first state to pass what queer-rights advocates have branded as “Don’t Say Gay” laws, which either forbid the teaching of LGBTQ history in K-12 schools outright or allow parents to choose whether their children participate in lessons that include it. Within days, Montana followed suit. Yet another bill in Arkansas awaits the signature of the state’s Republican governor. Similar bills have been considered in West Virginia, Iowa, and Missouri, and even more proposals are percolating through red-state legislatures.
Akin to bans on the teaching of critical race theory, these laws seek to preserve the myth that the story of America is one of inexorable progress and unblemished virtue, that we stand exceptional among nations as the gleaming embodiment of democracy; they also imply that a great number of us don’t matter. In particular, legislation forbidding the teaching of queer history aims to ossify what remains of society’s moral disapproval of LGBTQ people and endangers queer youth susceptible to suicide.
“It is a false representation of the past, one in which LGBTQ people are imagined never to have existed,” said Anthony Mora, associate professor of history and Latinx studies at the University of Michigan. “The hesitancy to open up questions about the failures of the past—of not living up to the goals of the republic—is less about the past than about not wanting to change the present, to hold in place the status quo and not allow for real moments of debate and change.”
Mora’s group, the Organization of American Historians, and the American Historical Association released a joint statement in May condemning the recent spate of “Don’t Say Gay” bills, which the organizations say perpetuate homophobia, distort the historical record, and deprive students—queer and not—of a complete education.
Politically, the bills reflect the resurgence of culture-war politics at the state level now that Republicans are out of power in Congress and the White House, and the religious right’s expanding moral panic over the advancement of LGBTQ rights. The laws in Tennessee and Montana, as with the bill in Arkansas, are in one sense narrow—designed, it seems, to invite legal challenges at a time when an overwhelmingly conservative Supreme Court is inclined to grant religious exemptions.
In form, these bills are akin to religious exemptions allowing businesses to refuse service to LGBTQ patrons, and raise questions similar to those that the Supreme Court declined to address earlier this month in Fulton v. Philadelphia, as it did three years ago in Masterpiece Cakeshop: Namely, where does “religious liberty” end and nondiscrimination begin? Unable to stop our culture’s embrace of queer people, the right’s best chances now stand with exempting itself from the new social order.
And yet, in the last several years, six other states—California, New Jersey, Colorado, Oregon, Illinois, and Nevada—have passed laws mandating the teaching of LGBTQ history.
“The unmistakable goal is to make it harder for schools to share true information about the contributions made by LGBTQ people so all students can better understand this aspect of human diversity.”
Vagueness and unintended consequences were the rationale Arizona Governor Doug Ducey, a Republican, gave in April for vetoing a “Don’t Say Gay” bill that would require parents to opt in rather than opt out (as they do in the state for sex education). Iowa considered a similar opt-in bill before its legislative session ended with the measure stuck in committee.
In Alabama and Texas, students must be taught in sex ed that being gay is “not a lifestyle acceptable to the general public.” In South Carolina, you can’t talk about gay relationships outside the context of disease transmission. Louisiana, Mississippi, and Oklahoma have similarly homophobic restrictions on public education on the books.
“The triumphs of the Black, women, and gay liberation movements are three of the most uplifting stories about American democracy of the last 50 years,” said Charles Kaiser, author of The Gay Metropolis, a preeminent account of gay life in America. “The idea that ignorant people now think the most important thing they can do is suppress stories that tell you the best things about America is just repellent on every level.”
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