I Choose Hope

Progress and retreat. That has been my experience in America in the last couple of years as I lived as a married gay man. 

 It has been a whiplash of an experience. 

Take the last two months. Two weeks after Pete Buttigieg surged in Iowa, the Iowa legislature tried to drastically limit LGBTQ topics in schools. Virginia became the 20th state to ban “conversion therapy,” while Arizona and South Carolina promote homophobia in sex education. Meanwhile, our president held an "Evangelicals for Trump" fundraising event at a notoriously anti-LGBTQ church in Ohio.  And we’re already seeing discrimination toward LGBTQ people with the Coronavirus, as some state legislators seeking to exclude us in “family” definitions.

 Whiplash indeed. I look at my husband each day and feel lucky to be married; my marriage is a source of stability in the midst of this back and forth. I vocally oppose legislators who want to deny us the right to love or provide love to an innocent child who needs it. I vehemently oppose our VP's wife who teaches in a school where I would not have been allowed to attend. I protest efforts to fire someone on the basis of who they are. 

 But, increasingly, I feel a need to work for something as well – not just oppose atrocious policies. I want to do my part to ensure no LGBTQ person feels excluded, ashamed, or hidden. I want to ensure people who don’t belong to our community recognize the humanity of LGBTQ people and understand the sanctity of our civil rights. These aspirations seem simple, but whiplash of the last few months shows they may be difficult to achieve. 

 Last fall, I reached out to one of my LGBTQ heroes, Kevin Jennings, now CEO of Lambda Legal, and asked advice on how I could make a difference. I wanted something more tangible than political campaigns, which are undoubtedly important but often feel removed from the day-to-day. Kevin connected me to a new organization, Hope in a Box. It was only matter of days before I started working with its young founder, Joe English (now my friend).

 Hope in a Box has a simple, yet audacious, vision: ensure every student feels welcome, safe and included at school, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity. The mission is to help rural schools combat prejudice against LGBTQ youth by representing LGBTQ people, stories, and history in school libraries and curricula. 

 I think back to when I was in school. I knew I was different. But I couldn't express how. I probably knew, but went through denial. Of course, back then, there were few, if any, role models I could look to for courage or guidance. There were few books to read with an LGBTQ character or even passing reference. I did a lot of pretending. I had to take deep breaths daily, hoping not to be called the F-word—or worse. 

 Today, despite wider awareness and acceptance, LGBTQ people are still rarely represented positively in schools—if at all. According to a 2017 study, 85% of LGBTQ students report being bullied or threatened because of their identity, and only 13% heard positive messaging about LGBTQ identity in their schools. One in three LGBTQ kids skips at least one day of school per month because of the bullying they experience in class.

 That. Is. Staggering.

 I was honored when Joe asked me to help him propel Hope in a Box to a national stage and asked me to serve as the inaugural Board Chair. We hope to donate (even more) literature featuring LGBTQ protagonists and themes, build curricula around these materials, and coach educators on LGBTQ curricula. After all, LGBTQ curricula is all of our curricula. 

 No one in this country should have to hide who they are. But that is not the reality. Certainly, that is not wishful thinking, and that is where choosing hope comes in. I hope every young person gets to read books by LGBTQ authors and see themselves in them. I hope every young person gets to learn about LGBTQ history because it is our collective history. I hope that one day, no student ever has to pretend. We all know that this stifles their full potential.

 While many schools are currently closed across the United States, I have a simple ask beyond their healthy openings.  Wouldn’t it be great if when young people return to their classrooms, they do so knowing that they fully belong and are represented in the curricula.  You can help by working with us to donate more boxes of hope to rural schools from coast to coast.  So please join us. Your gift can truly provide more young people and their teachers with hope.