Creating Safe Spaces for Black Queer Youth in Schools: You Don’t Have to Do It All, But You Should Do Something

Call it luck, divine intervention, and/or the role of insightful parenting, but it was abundantly clear early in life that most of my talents were in the academic realm (linguistic-verbal intelligence). I grew up in Indiana, a state where basketball is king. While I indeed grew up around sports, asking me to make a free throw or throw a football was like asking a fish to climb a tree. It felt like an absurd request. Ask my father. My kinetic/physical intelligence was virtually nonexistent.

On the other hand, school was my sport. Others may have watched Sportscenter. I watched CNN and loved debating what was on the news. However, there were ample times when my vocality led to conflicts with teachers, especially when I advocated for equity issues. A teacher once told me, “I had a too high pitch of a voice to be taken seriously,” and that “I always have something to say.”  Adult me now knows this was veiled racism and homophobia, but luckily, teenage innocence protected me from the vitriol and hatred of adults. If I were a villain, this would likely be my origin story. 

On the contrary, I see teachers as real-world heroes. In fiction, superheroes wear capes. In reality, superheroes are likely teachers who protect and shepherd students through tumultuous times. Thus, as I got older, this sense of belonging as a student transformed into a fiery passion to carve out equitable spaces as a teacher/professor. I learned that if education were to be equitable for Black queer kids, Black queer teachers were crucial. Nothing can be for us, without us. 

“It’s not enough to sympathize—teachers must actively challenge systems that perpetuate harm.”

Thus, I majored in English Education with the desire to be a high school English teacher but transitioned to higher education after discovering the beauty and freedom of teaching at the collegiate level. Regardless of the class, topic, or level, one thing has always been true- there were very few occasions where I, a neurodivergent, Black queer student, felt embraced and protected in the classroom. 

As a Black queer teacher with over 10+ years of teaching across various cultures, including in the Midwest, East Coast, Appalachia, and at an HBCU in the South,  I wanted to provide a road map/examples of how teachers of all sorts can intentionally create spaces where Black queer students thrive. 

What can teachers do?

As a note, it is impossible to do everything, but it is essential to do something. Moreover, it would be an unfeasible task for an individual to tackle the structural issues of racism and homophobia alone. Therefore, I strongly advocate one shift from their perspective from the perception of absolute change to applauding and acknowledging marginal improvements; something does not need to be perfect in order to help students. In fact, in many instances, the desire to do differently communicates safety to students. 

 Changes can be observed in three key areas: expectations & class culture, curriculum/instruction & conflict resolution. 

1. Model the behavior: class expectations & culture: As evidenced by Columbia University, the teacher plays an integral role in establishing a class culture and outlining what types of conversations are allowed. Safety for Black queer kids can be communicated in multiple ways.

   First, if allowed, introduce yourself with your name and pronouns, and invite others to do the same. Creating an environment of respect begins with acknowledging each other's identities openly, including your own.  Next if possible, decorate your space with visible symbols of allyship—a pronoun button, a pride flag, or a poster celebrating an LGBTQ+ artist or film. These simple actions show solidarity and create a welcoming atmosphere. At bare minimum, it could invite discourse and discussion amongst students.

   But we do not live in a utopia, so we know some of these things are not allowed and harm will happen. Kids are going to be kids. Teenagers will be teenagers. Thus,
   teachers must proactively establish a zero-tolerance policy for bullying from day one, involving students in setting expectations and defining consequences. This approach fosters a culture of accountability and makes it clear that bullying will not be tolerated. Issues that arise are not against your rules, instead, bullying is against the code of conduct and rules that were co-created with student input.

   Similarly, teachers must take an unwavering public stand against bullying, especially when Black queer students are targeted. Intervention is essential. When a student uses a slur or derogatory comment, teachers must step in decisively: "That language is unacceptable, and discrimination is not tolerated here." Addressing the harm and enforcing consequences sends a clear message. Again, this could also be accomplished by asking students “if you are harmed, what type of support would you prefer to see from me?”

2. Diversify curriculum & instruction: While related,  curriculum outlines the content, skills, and learning goals students are expected to achieve. Instruction is the how—the methods and strategies teachers use to deliver the curriculum, engage students, and assess learning. In essence, the curriculum defines what is taught, while instruction focuses on how it is taught. There are opportunities in both areas.

   As evidenced by The Trevor Project, Human Rights Campaign integrating queer identities across subjects—whether in history, literature, or beyond—supports students throughout their development. This study published in 2021 provides insight. There are ample ways to infuse diversity into curriculum regardless of age and subject. In elementary math, teachers can use word problems featuring diverse family structures, including same-gender and nonbinary parents, to normalize diverse identities.

   In middle school social studies, civil rights lessons should include LGBTQ+ rights and intersectionality, highlighting figures like Bayard Rustin to show the interconnectedness of social justice movements.

   Curriculum is often determined and approved by other parties, like city councils or local education departments so it is not always possible to change what is being taught. A focus on instruction analyzes how things are being taught. For example, something as simple as rejecting “boys and girls” groups can have impact.

3. Embrace Alternative Measures to conflict resolution: For a variety of factors including bullying, and harassment, Black queer kids are systematically funneled into the school-to-prison pipeline, a process that criminalizes and marginalizes them through biased discipline, over-policing, and harsh zero-tolerance policies. The intersection of racism and homophobia frequently frames Black queer kids as disruptive or troublesome, even if their behaviors mirror White straight peers.

   These punitive measures—suspensions, expulsions, and referrals to law enforcement—strip Black queer youth of their educational opportunities and push them toward incarceration, resulting in a laundry list of long term issues.

   Therefore,  to combat this injustice, schools must adopt restorative justice as a core approach to conflict resolution. Restorative justice prioritizes understanding, accountability, and the repair of harm rather than punitive responses. It also provides a space where Black queer students are heard and validated, rather than punished and excluded. By addressing conflicts at their root and fostering genuine community connections, restorative justice can dismantle the exclusionary practices that fuel the school-to-prison pipeline and keep Black queer kids in school, engaged, and thriving.

To create safe and empowering spaces for Black queer youth, educators must be intentional and proactive in pursuing equity. It's not enough to sympathize—teachers must actively challenge systems that perpetuate harm. I know this because I have been on both sides- a student who desperately needed a safe space and a professor who is always fighting for that space.