We Are The Wind: A Love Letter to LGBTQ+ Educators and Leaders
Written by Andre Zarate (The Z Factor, LLC & House of Legends) and Caroline Hill (228Accelerator)
This piece is written for all the LGBTQ+ educators and educator leaders, centering Black and Brown queer educators, doing the work - publicly, behind the scenes, and on ourselves.
A few months ago, I silently sat through a conversation about how “Don’t Say Gay” bills are “not that bad.” While I spoke up about my opinion, I was too tired to explain why that statement was inaccurate. I was exhausted by having to continue to try to justify my existence. Then just a couple of weeks later, I was asked by a different person this question:
“As an educator, do you support the “Don’t Say Gay” Bills in schools?”
When I responded with a firm “No.,” one of my friends lectured me on how young children do not need to know about the existence of LGBTQ+ people and that it’s too complicated to discuss reproduction.
One week later, I received a video that was mocking how LGBTQ+ teachers share their identities with their students, with the underlying message of the content being that sharing about one’s self in this way has no place in the classroom. Within the same post, LGBTQ+ teachers were referred to as the “rainbow cult” and were told by the poster and commenters that we do not need to share our identities with our students, especially in the form of decorations and school curricula.
The pile-up of this kind of comments and content amongst people in my circles is very concerning to me. And it messaged this one thing:
People out there do not want us to take up space. They prefer that we hide. They prefer that we stay invisible.
Because here is the thing: due to white supremacy and the heteropatriarchy, cis-gendered, heterosexual people do not need to think about where they stand in our society. Their world is pre-programmed into our systems and our schools. They can casually talk about their “husband” and “wife” without hesitation or second thought. They can read texts that reflect their experiences of families with traditional heterosexual couples and know that who they are is normalized.
But here is the damn truth: LGBTQ+ people exist.
LGBTQ+ youth and students exist in our classrooms. We deserve love, care, representation, and a feeling of belonging in our schools, our society, and our world. The more we don’t show our students that LGBTQ+ people exist, the less they feel like they belong and the more scared they will feel to be seen.
There seems to be this pervasive energy and belief that being LGBTQ+ is only associated with sex and a fixation some people believe that identifying as such is only about who they are sleeping with. At the same time, there is the fear that if we bring up LGBTQ+ issues in our schools, it will “force” students to think or become queer.
Here’s the truth: we can’t.
For my entire academic career, I was in a school system that pushed heteronormative values on me, told me I was not worthy, and said I had no place in society. It did not work. I’m still queer.
And queerness is about so much more than who chooses to sleep with - its definitions as expansive and have been discussed by queer scholars of color for generations. I have leaned on and learned from so many, and even done my “coming back home” process by looking at my ancestors through queer Filipinx scholarship. It is through this work that I have been able to formulate my own definition of queerness:
“ ‘Queer’ as not being about who you are having sex with - that can be a dimension of it - but queer as about being the self that is at odds with everything around it and has to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live.” - bell hooks
…and one specifically from a queer Filipinx theologian and scholar:
“As a contested site of nation and selfhood, the Filipinx-American Body is bakla; it is an unstable body that thrives beyond the binaries of unreal/real, in/out, and image/nation. What this unruly body proclaims is a commitment to impossibility and an accompanying openness to hope that intimates the abundance of possibility.” - Michael Sepidoza Campos
…and another one:
“Queerness and queers are awash in the flow of the everyday - where norm and queer are not easily indexed or separable, but are constantly colliding, clashing, intersecting, and reconstituting.” - Martin Manalansan
Through the combination of definitions and discussions, “queer” can encompass the idea about who a person is attracted to; however, through expansive, non-linear, non-Westernized, decolonized, and fluid definition: queerness can also be about a person who continues to be in flux, live outside of binaries, and has a personal commitment to uncertainty and openness. How we think and live has a sense of fluidity and liberation.
This also means another thing: as LGBTQ+ people, we cannot be lumped into just one category, we cannot be generalized into one experience - because we are not a monolith.
Our experiences are different. And they deserve to be seen and heard.
Some of us had very supportive beginnings; some of us had ones that grew; some of us had non-existent ones. Some of us are living fully in our power. Some of us are getting there and are continuing in our journey. Some of us are figuring it out.
No matter where we are in the journey - we are who we are, it is one with the divine and one that is ever-changing, growing, and beautiful.
Love Letter to LGBTQ+ Teachers
As we close Pride Month and the school year for many of you, I am reminded of some words a mentor gave me in my second year of teaching.
They said to me:
“Dre, the children already know. They are looking at you, and you are sending the message about what queer people should be doing - do we need to hide or do we get to live out loud?”
It took me a couple more years in my journey to fully grasp this statement, but when I was ready, I surrendered and it changed the way I saw myself.
And it is this question that inspired this love letter to all LGBTQ+ Educators and Educational Leaders who are doing the work:
To the beautiful, brilliant, and deserving LGBTQ+ educator,
To all those who are partaking in this beautiful journey of self-expression, self-love, and self-actualization,
To all those who do the journey in public and to all those who just dream and imagine it in their beautiful mind.
To all those who want us to be represented through decorations in the classroom, through curriculum we teach, and through books we read,
To all those who are conflicted, scared, and hurt because the policies want to hide and erase us,
To all of us:
As queer people, we are told - both directly and indirectly,
That our bodies our gross,
The way we connect is unnatural
And the way we love is unnatural.
We are told to hide, to keep it in
And play invisible
Preferably if we can pretend to be something else.
Practice loving this encasement you are in.
You were put into this body for a reason.
Ask yourself, “What can I do in this body?”
“What did I do in another lifetime to deserve this beautiful body?”
Respect our body and ourselves,
See it for all the pleasure and beauty that it can give,
The beautiful love it can share,
All the amazing things it can do.
Have an appreciation for it.
You deserve to be all that you are no matter where you go,
no matter who you meet,
no matter who you teach,
no matter who you serve.
You deserve to share all of the joys,
all of your triumphs,
all of your love and care,
all of your beautiful journeys
You deserve to teach and read the books
That share our different, varied experiences,
That normalizes our existence,
That highlights our struggles,
But more importantly, exude and illuminate our joy.
You deserve to create classroom experiences that center inclusion,
That can center us,
That can build a community along the lines of difference.
That can encourage our babies to be brave,
To be open,
To be loving.
To take care of each other.
You deserve to show up as all of yourself. Take up space.
In the way you dress.
In the way you talk.
In the way you move.
In the way you advocate.
In the way you teach.
In the way you stand up for all of us.
Keep doing what you’re doing,
fighting the good fight,
And creating the good, necessary trouble.
Keep building coalitions and communities.
Keep taking up space and showing up as yourself,
Step into your power.
And if you’re not ready to share or if you feel all alone,
Remember that there is a whole lineage of ancestors,
who came before you
You are standing on their shoulders.
And queer people all over this country,
are supporting you in spirit.
We got your back.
And we love you.
You deserve to be here.
Thank you for teaching the next generation,
And the work you continue to do.
And the love and joy you continue to exude.
Our freedom is threatening. We are freer than those who came before us and need to continue the journey inward so that we continue to be the ones to create more freedom for others.
Before colonization, queer folks were the diviners, the healers, and the mediators between realms. In the American freedom movement, queer folks of color were the witnesses, the architects, and the builders of liberation movements.
As queer educators and allies, we stand with, at, and around the margins using our sight and perspectives to teach, heal, and unite.
We are needed now more than ever.
Being queer and standing in our queerness extends beyond our choice of life partner or the appearance of our bodies. Being queer and standing in queerness is to live into our calling to challenge lines, boundaries, and borders.
Like the wind, being queer is to be disrespectful of the ways we tend to separate, discriminate, and tolerate suffering. Like the wind, we refuse to be bound and limited by the expectations of others. Being queer is to create the new knowledge that heals us, connects, and holds all of us in the loving shade.
We are the wind.
Andre Zarate (he/them/siya) is an educator, leader, and edupreneur. He is the founder of The Z Factor, LLC and House of Legends, a dream space that centers the needs of LGBTQ+ youth of color. You can follow him on Twitter (@chasingdrdre) or Instagram (@andre.j.zarate). You can also e-mail him at andrezarate@thezfactorllc.com
Caroline Hill (she/her/hers) isthe founder of the 228Accelerator, which fuels the scaling of radical and transformative ideas in schools, organizations, and communities. You can follow her on Twitter at @228accelerator.
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