It has never been simple to be a young queer person in this country. Getting to know yourself in a culture that demonizes or ignores you is a herculean task, rife with the nagging, painful sense that you are too strange or weird or different to belong.
Over the past two years, that already-difficult experience has collided with a wave of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation that has attacked queer and trans youth in genuinely unprecedented ways. New laws in states like Texas, Florida, and Arkansas require teachers to out students to their parents; limit students’ ability to use the pronouns and restrooms that align with their gender identity; and remove LGBTQ+ history from classroom curricula, library books, and school computers. This has led to an environment that high school students describe as deeply isolating, confusing, and unsafe.
However, affirming spaces persist, including school Gender Sexuality Alliances, or GSAs. (Once largely known as Gay Straight Alliances, the change represents a shift away from binaristic gender systems and young people’s understanding of themselves as “gay” or “straight.”)
According to the GSA Network, there are more than 4,000 GSAs in high schools across the United States, from the rolling green farmland of rural Michigan to the colorful, dense streets of San Francisco. The first GSA emerged as a radical collective led by queer students of color at a high school in Washington Heights, New York in 1972, three years after a 17-year-old Sylvia Rivera helped lead the Stonewall Uprising a few subway stops away. As Anya Ventura writes in a history of GSAs for The Nation, “from its start, the gay liberation movement was also a youth movement — and one of the primary places from which it spread was high school.”
Today, a new generation of youth activists are taking on that mantle to defend their right to safety, bodily autonomy, and self-discovery. While in-class instruction time has been heavily legislated — in Florida, for example, teachers cannot discuss any queer-related topics in their curriculum — Gender Sexuality Alliances are still going strong in many places. Young activists have used them to create a third space where solidarity and advocacy continue to thrive in otherwise hostile environments.
Below, Them spoke to four students about how new anti-LGBTQ+ laws have changed their in-school experiences. They described a transition from meetings focused on community-building to politicization and advocacy, as well as the painful experience of being repeatedly attacked by teachers, parents, and school board members. All maintained a shared belief that due to increasing attacks, GSAs are essential spaces where young people can remember that they are not strange or wrong — the world around them is.
The coronavirus pandemic started my freshman year, so we didn’t have a GSA until my sophomore year. That’s where I found my first community of queer people, especially since I live in Texas. Queer and trans people are not sparse here, but it is difficult to be out. The GSA is the one space where I can be my true, authentic queer self and learn from other people about their experiences.
For example, in Texas, Homecoming is a really big deal. So during that time of year, members of the GSA like to crown Homecoming jesters and our very own court of members in our club. We make crowns. It’s a way for us to engage with our Texan culture without all of the homophobia.
With all of the anti-trans legislation that has been proposed, if you were to say your pronouns or your name, it can get you into danger. It’s dangerous to have a Pride flag or anything resembling queerness. That can bring physical danger or ostracization. There’s this fear of having to always look over your shoulder if someone finds out that you use a different name — for example, an administrator who could contact your parents and out you based on new laws. The fear is not with my peers; it’s mainly with the adults. There’s an underlying sense of dread: “If I tell someone my name, will they still like me or will they spread it around?” Texas has a high population of trans people. There are a lot of us here, but we’re not represented. When I realized that, I joined the GSA, and it’s now my main goal to have a space for everyone, because there are a lot of kids who aren’t out to their parents. These laws and daily experiences have made it more important to have a supportive and secure community at school because people can’t do that in our town.
I live in a very small, rural Appalachian area. When the GSA first popped up a few years ago, I was super excited. There were a lot of older members at that point. They taught us about our rights, how to handle being discriminated against, and how we could advocate for ourselves as students. That was really inspirational to me, so I took on that role when they left.
In our community, a lot of people don’t want to talk about queerness. They don’t want to say anything. It’s assumed that unless a teacher tells you they’re accepting, then they’re not.
With everything going on in the country, as lawmakers are trying to take our rights away, we have to be vocal. When anti-LGBTQ+ policies and laws were introduced in our state and by our school board, we couldn’t just watch it. We were lucky because nothing here passed. It was adults and parents of students that disagreed with us and were pointing to states that wouldn’t let trans kids use the bathroom, and we had to say, “No, this is why that’s wrong.”
When I was freshman, I didn’t know we had a GSA for a long time. I’m trans, and I was terrified. A teacher actually had to come and tell me that it existed. I would advise looking into your community and seeing if there are any GSAs around you, and if there isn’t, start one. Nine times out of ten, you can.
I had a teacher who is part of the LGBTQ+ community and was a really big support to a lot of the students at my school. That inspired me to join the GSA and made me feel like I had a safe space since there was a teacher there. I had a lot of friends who were in the club and they all said that I should join. I love the support we receive from our staff members and teachers. A lot of students who are LGBTQ+ don’t have that safe space at school, and it’s important to have a place where you know you’ll be seen and heard.
I live in a kind of conservative area of California, where we’re attacked by our school district and school board a lot. It’s so disheartening to see adults who are against what we’re doing in the GSA. Our school board had an entire meeting about whether they should ban GSAs in the school district entirely; it just broke me. It’s so disheartening. It was started by allegations that GSAs were “grooming” kids by board members, and then a lot of the parents at school got involved. It kept escalating into something that it shouldn’t have.
We all watched the board meeting and decided we would be stronger as a GSA. We sought out support from our school's admin so that we would have backing from people with more power. We're still trying to get support from our district. The issue has died down, but it’s still being contested in board meetings. The outlook on GSAs from parents in the district is not very good. It just breaks my heart.
For other kids, I would say get involved in GSAs and find people who understand you as soon as possible. It’s so important to have that community and people who support you. If people don’t support you, then you don’t need them in your life.
I joined the GSA to help create a space where people could be themselves because I didn’t have that my freshman year. It’s nice to know that students have a safe place to go at school because a lot of people aren’t safe at home. One of the main policies we’re fighting in Katy is that if a student asks to go by different pronouns, the teacher has to notify their parents.
A lot of queer youth have very unaccepting parents and some of them would be put in physical danger if this policy was enforced. Kids have been beaten for mere suspicion of being queer — and then if you get a confirmation from the teacher, you can’t even imagine what that might result in.
Last year, we were doing fun activities, just normal bonding stuff. This year, we have a much more important role to fill as Katy is cracking down on resources for queer students. It’s turning from an after school club to a pillar of support. People know they can come to our meetings and be their true, authentic selves, at least for now. Once they enforce these policies, we won’t be able to have people introduce themselves with their pronouns in front of a staff member if they’re not cis, whether they’re allied or not, because the teacher has a legal obligation to tell the parent. We’re focused on education and providing the support that our community really needs right now.
These replies have been edited and condensed for clarity.
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