When the Drama Club Is Not Enough presents the work of two young activists who have been at the forefront of the successful Safe Schools Program for Gay and Lesbian Students in Massachusetts, a model for states and school districts nationwide. They give concrete, hard-won, and often inspiring lessons on integrating gay and lesbian issues to create powerful change for school communities.
The book discusses the previously undiscussable--gay and lesbian identity and self-esteem at the middle and elementary school level, and gay and lesbian issues in school sports. It tells the story of a high school junior who, at the end of one of Jeff Perrotti's workshops on school sports, raised his hand and said he was a football captain and wanted to come out and needed help, and uses this dramatic narrative of personal courage to show step-by-step how gay and lesbian issues can be a catalyst for transformation of schools.
The authors speak directly to those who want to change school climate--parents, teachers, administrators, and students concerned about harassment and safety. They offer seasoned and often humorous advice on dealing with controversy--even if it occurs in the context of a school presentation on sexual orientation attended by angry and disruptive parents. When the Drama Club Is Not Enough includes chapters on 'Getting Started' and 'Race and Gender' and sections on school policies and students' legal rights in order to ensure safe schools.
When the Drama Club is Not Enough
Lessons from the Safe Schools Program for Gay and Lesbian StudentsBy Jeff PerrottiBeacon Press
Copyright © 2002 Jeff Perrotti
All right reserved.ISBN: 9780807031315
Chapter One
Three Schools
The experiences of three Massachusetts schools highlight three lessonswe have learned about creating support for gay, lesbian, and bisexualstudents: the power of student activism, the ability of one personto make a difference, and the importance of community building.In one rural school, a gay/straight alliance (GSA) fought to havea rainbow flag displayed. In one urban school an openly gay guidancecounselor inspired others with his courage and leadership. And in asuburban school, community members, teachers, and students ralliedto counter opposition to classroom presentations.
Mahar Regional Junior Senior High School
If you were to venture into the small town of Orange, Massachusetts,you would see the requisite New England village green surroundedby a small business community. The economic difficulties of thisformerly industrial town are evident in a handful of closed storefronts.Most of the people who live in Orange and the surroundingtowns are White.
Ralph C. Mahar Regional High School, known by most simply as"Mahar," is just outside the center of Orange. The school is proud ofits deep links to the community. The superintendent graduated fromthe local high school and has worked for the school district for overforty years. It is not unusual for young people to stay in the area afterthey graduate from high school or to come back after they attendcollege.
Before 1993, most people in Orange would have thought that discussionsabout sexual orientation were not relevant to their lives.Some might have recognized that there were gay or lesbian adults intheir midst, but the subject wasn't generally discussed. One womanrecalls that the teachers at her Catholic school would not allow studentsto go to a nearby gift shop because it was owned by two gaymen.
Today it would be difficult to live in Orange and not be aware thatgay, lesbian, and bisexual people are part of the community. Outsidethe school's main entrance, a rainbow flag symbolizing diversity andgay pride flies alongside the U.S. and Massachusetts flags. Inside theschool a bulletin board for Save Our Schools, the gay/straight alliance,prominently displays the club's logo along with educational informationand notices of upcoming events.
In the early 1990s, Rebecca Silver, a Mahar student and memberof the statewide student advisory council to the Massachusetts Boardof Education, heard about gay/straight alliances. Through Rebecca,Mahar's principal, Frank Zak, learned of the new state-supportedsafe schools initiatives. He acknowledges that his reaction to her requestto form a GSA was mixed. While he calmly told Rebecca thatshe would need to find an advisor for the club, internally he wasthinking "damn state." Despite his initial reticence, which he nowlaughs at, he says it was hard to be against the group because hisphilosophy is that all students should feel wanted. Any concerns hehad about the group faded when he read the report from the educationcommittee of the Governor's Commission on Gay and LesbianYouth. The information about the high suicide and violence risksfaced by gay and lesbian students hit home.
Rebecca and the other students who formed the GSA were fortunateto find an exceptional advisor. Polly Bixby, an openly lesbianphysical education teacher, has been key to the club's success. Shegrew up in Orange, graduated from Mahar in 1958, and returnedright after college to teach there. Her family is well respected in thecommunity, her daughter is an elementary school teacher, and herpartner, Karen, also teaches at Mahar. Over the years, Polly has beenincreasingly open regarding her sexual orientation. Having been thetarget of homophobic actions from community members and students,she consistently champions the rights of students and teachersto be open about their lives.
With Polly's support, the students received permission to makepresentations on antigay name-calling to all of the physical educationclasses. They asked students to stop using epithets such as "faggot,""lezzie," and "dyke." Many students reported that hearing the painthese taunts caused was an eye-opening experience. In a video aboutMahar's GSA, a student athlete who joined the GSA soon after itsformation talked about how he had been changed: "I was kind ofhomophobic before—now I'm different. I don't have just cause tofeel anger or resentment toward anyone who has a different sexualpreference. They're no different from anybody else.... I catch myselfsometimes saying, `Like hey man, stop that, you're queer,' or`How are you doing, fag?" because [those were] terms my friendsused.... [But] it's not acceptable."
In the spring of 1995, the Mahar GSA won a rainbow flag at thefirst statewide youth pride march in Boston. The group proposed tothe student council that the flag be flown in front of the school, andthe administration gave them permission to do so. Immediately, religiousgroups and members of the Veterans of Foreign Wars from outsideof Orange spoke out against the flag, and approximately 350 peoplesigned a petition in protest.
Some students also reacted negatively to the flag. The day it wasraised, a GSA member recalls hearing a crowd of students yelling,"We don't want the fag flag here!" Lucy Snow, a transgender youngperson, was in ninth grade and the only openly gay member of theGSA when the flag was raised. For weeks, she was harassed by studentswho associated her with both the GSA and the rainbow flag.Despite this, she is glad the flag went up. "It raised a lot of issues. Itmade people look at their own views and question them. A lot of thepeople in town who were opposed to the flag at first couldn't tell youwhy. I think a lot of them changed their views."
Students had a strong presence throughout this dispute. Theygathered support from teachers and parents, and they spoke publiclyabout why the flag belonged in front of their school. The tenor of thedebate is captured in the following statements taken from an AssociatedPress article:
"We feel that the flag should be flying because ... it encompasses everyone, including people who are bigoted," said Micah Silver, who will be a junior and vice-president of the student council next fall. "This flag says that people who have different opinions can voice them freely. It represents anyone of any beliefs, any religion, any sexuality, any color."
"It represents things that most of us don't believe in. It represents homosexuals," said Bill Fellows, a Korean War veteran. "Either they're going to have to climb back in the closet or be a little bit more low-key."
Mahar Superintendent Eileen Perkins said the flag was meant to demonstrate that the school wanted every student to feel safe, regardless of race, color, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.
The school committee held a public meeting to discuss whether theflag should be displayed; nearly two hundred community membersrepresenting all sides of the issue showed up. The students eloquentlytestified as to why the flag should fly. Frank Zaklater said thatthis was the moment in his career when he felt most proud of theschool's students. He respected those who stood up for their beliefsand presented well-researched information to a large group of adults.The school committee voted to keep the flag flying.
The school committee's vote was an important victory for theGSA, and the public debate strengthened the students' resolve tocontinue working to make their school and neighboring communitiessafer.
The Grover Cleveland School
The Grover Cleveland Middle School in Boston is housed in a plainbrick building that stands out among the two- and three-familyhouses that line the street. The inside of the school is freshly painted.Brightly colored murals decorate the walls. This school faces challengesthat are common in many large urban school districts. Despitethe new paint, the school's facilities and resources fall very shortof being up-to-date. School social workers are all too aware of theimpact of racism, sexism, and violence on students, most of whomare African American and Latino. Teachers can easily feel lost in thevast city bureaucracy. Given all the other pressing issues the schoolfaces, it is unlikely that the problem of homophobia would be widelyrecognized without the tenacity of Phil Robinson, a guidance counselor.
Phil's office is small; some houses have larger walk-in closets. Butno one could mistake this office for a closet. It is a celebration of Phil'sidentity as an African American gay man. There are posters for localevents that he has coordinated for years, such as the Bayard Rustinbreakfast honoring the African American gay, lesbian, and bisexualcommunity. There are others for local AIDS walks; Martin LutherKing's birthday; Parents, Family, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays(PFLAG); and poetry readings by African American poets. Some advertiseperformances by Phil, who is himself a poet. There is hardlya spot of uncovered wall space.
Phil has been out in his school for over a decade. Asked why hefeels it is important to make sure that middle school students knowsomeone who is gay, he reflects:
I always thought that school should be a haven where courage and truth are personified. So if I'm going to be there, I need to represent who I am. It's interesting—a lot of people say, "Do you feel comfortable having this stuff on the walls?" Well that stuff is me, so they're really saying, "Do I feel comfortable about myself?" And I do. And even more so, as I sense that people come into the room and see something that mirrors themselves in some way. Even though they may not say it, I see it on their faces.
As a guidance counselor, Phil says he often sees students who arenot in touch with their feelings and cannot imagine their own future.Although the reasons for this can be varied, ranging from societal inequalitiesto the difficulties of young adolescence, Phil seeks to be amodel, an adult whose everyday life is connected to the essence ofwho he is.
The link between education and social change is part of Phil'sworldview. Born in New York City, Phil attended Emerson College inBoston. He is the first member of his family to go to college. He becamepresident of the Black Student Union there While at Emerson,Phil came out. He felt bolstered and inspired by the works of LangstonHughes, James Baldwin, and Walt Whitman. These writers were"people I had heard were gay, but no one ever talked about that inschool, although in reading them I saw that their gayness was verymuch a part of their writing." As an educator, Phil wants to makesure that young people are aware of such role models.
Phil has experienced very little overt homophobia at his school. Hehas to go back quite a few years to recall an incident:
When I first started working at the school I realized that being out comes with a price to pay. I heard one kid call me gay and I said, "Did you call me gay?" He was silent. And then I said, "Because if you did, it's no problem that you called me gay. I just want to let you know that I am. And it's no problem for me. Now obviously it must be a problem for you because you called me a name thinking you were offending me. And it is offensive if you think you can call someone that and it will cause that person hurt. You need to understand that people are going to say to you, "Listen, it's none of your business," or "Why should it be a problem for you?" The student was quiet.
Within the Boston public schools Phil is known as a resource regardinggay and lesbian students; one student who was harassed forbeing gay was transferred to the Grover Cleveland School simply becausePhil was there. It became apparent to Phil that being a visibleresource was not enough. He convinced the school administration tooffer an in-service workshop on gay, lesbian, and bisexual issues forthe entire faculty. In the spring of 2000 an antiviolence day includedworkshops for students on respecting gay, lesbian, and bisexualpeople.
To reach more students, Phil teamed up with a community healthcenter and developed a suicide prevention curriculum that integratesmaterial about gay, lesbian, and bisexual students. Phil knew thatgay, lesbian, and bisexual youth were at increased risk for suicideand was disturbed that his students saw few images of proud, self-confidentgay, lesbian, or bisexual young people. The more hethoughtabout this, the more he wondered how many students werethinking, "There is no need for me to be here because I don't fit in."
The classroom lessons that address these issues help students talkabout situations in which they might feel a level of despair so greatthat they might want to hurt themselves. They consider what it mightmean if a friend says "I wish I hadn't been born," or "I feel like runningaway."
Phil tries to help students recognize that being isolated for any reasondoes not warrant suicide. Lists of resources are distributed to thestudents, including counseling centers and support groups for gay,lesbian, and bisexual youth. Students leave these sessions knowingthat they can find the support they need and talk about these subjectswith Phil.
Natick High School
Natick High School is nestled in a mostly White suburban residentialneighborhood bordered by trees and a sprawling cemetery. Theschool is festooned with a blue and white balloon archway over themain entrance and a big blue banner declaring "Natick Cares." Since1997, Natick students have learned about the harmful effect of antigayharassment through the efforts of teachers, students, and communitymembers. Progress has occurred despite considerable controversy.
Teachers Marie Caradonna and Beth Grady have been active asschool and community organizers. Each has different reasons fortaking on these roles. Marie, an English teacher, becomes sad whenshe recalls a former student who committed suicide a few years ago.When she taught this student, she thought he might be strugglingwith his sexual orientation. Hearing that he had committed suicide,she wondered whether she and the school could have done more tosupport him. Before his death she had already attempted to incorporatepositive messages regarding gay and lesbian people into herclasses. News of this student's suicide made Marie resolve to domore. As a straight woman she feels a responsibility to address theseissues, knowing that it is sometimes harder for her gay or lesbian colleaguesto do so.
Beth Grady graduated from Natick High School in 1971 and hastaught physical education there for more than twenty years Beth recallsthat during the 1980s she was harassed by students who calledher "dyke" and "lesbian." For years she feared being out at schooland wondered whether being out would have a negative impact becauseshe fits the stereotype of the lesbian physical education teacher.At the same time, she wanted to let students know that it is okay to begay. Her compromise, she says with a laugh, is that she's not out buther car is. Her car has a rainbow sticker affixed to the rear bumper.
Marie and Beth joined with other teachers to form a safe schoolstask force dedicated to addressing the needs of gay, lesbian, and bisexualstudents. Students heard about this group and before too longa charismatic eleventh-grader and her friends had started a GSA.The task force convinced the principal to allow a mandatory facultyworkshop on gay, lesbian, and bisexual students, during which thefounder of the GSA impressed those present with her account ofwhat it was like to be a lesbian student.
The group of teachers and the GSA decided that the next step wasto educate students about the need to create a safer school environment.In preparation, they met with school representatives, the MassachusettsDepartment of Education, and people from communityorganizations—including a regional youth group for gay, lesbian, bisexual,and transgender youth. They planned to have a large assemblyto be followed by smaller workshops in individual classrooms. Thegoal was to give everyone a shared reference point and also to offerstudents the opportunity for small group discussions. Kevin Jennings,the executive director of the national Gay, Lesbian, andStraight Education Network (GLSEN), was to be the speaker for theassembly.
To prevent parents from thinking that the student workshopswere being conducted surreptitiously, a community meeting wasplanned. A panel of students, teachers, parents, administrators, andcommunity representatives was assembled to speak. The eveningwas widely advertised in local newspapers and in letters sent home toparents. When the planning group met an hour before the meeting,the tension was palpable. No one knew what to expect.
As people began drifting in, it became clear that a local religiousgroup that did not want homosexuality addressed in school had organizedthe majority of the two dozen people in attendance. Two of themen were ministers. Some attendees had children in the school, othersdid not.
Some parents who attended the meeting had concerns regardingwhat their children would be taught. Their questions ranged from"Will you be teaching them about gay sex?" to "Why is this beingdone in English class?" Some seemed at least partly satisfied withMarie's responses to these questions: "No, we won't be talking abouthow to have gay sex," and "I can't teach students Shakespeare ifthey're worried about their safety." Another group of parents askedquestions like "Who are you to tell us what values our childrenshould learn?" The most hostile participants spoke about the homosexualagenda and alleged links between pedophilia and homosexuality.
Dismissive of attempts to answer their questions, many of theseparents remained opposed to the events proposed for students, andsome asked that the whole program be canceled. Nevertheless, theprincipal, who the GSA did not always feel was in its corner, firmlystated that he would not cancel the event. The acrimonious meetingcontinued for hours past its scheduled ending time, but a turningpoint came when parents were invited to come hear Kevin Jenningsspeak and to be present on the day the smaller workshops occurred.Perhaps this helped some parents to realize that the school and presentersweren't trying to hide anything from them.
The following day, the local Catholic priest, who had not attendedthe meeting but had heard about it from parishioners, called to thankthe meeting facilitators. Church members told him that they had feltheard. The telephone call boosted the planning committee's spirits.
A few days later Kevin Jennings addressed the school. He gave apassionate speech, and the audience listened respectfully. One seniorapproached Marie during lunch and said he owed her an apology."I can tell you that going into that assembly the only thing Icould think of was `I cannot bear to spend two hours in a room witha fag,'" he admitted. "And I want to apologize. I never knew. I neverunderstood. I'm so sorry."
Some of the parents who attended the presentation were less impressed.They were angry that Kevin called on students to supportequality for gay and lesbian people, and they were offended that hechallenged students to make connections between those currentlyopposed to gay rights and bystanders in Nazi Germany. Despite someirate calls to the principal, the program proceeded with follow-upclassroom discussions. A presentation identical to the workshops forthe students was conducted for those parents who were concernedabout the content of the day.
The drama at Natick High School did not end there. The next yearthe school presented a similar set of workshops for all ninth gradersand transfer students who had not been at the initial presentations.As before, the task force determined that it was important to have acommunity meeting, and this one proved to be even more rancorousthan the first. Many of the same participants returned, this timeclaiming that they'd been misled by the first meeting. A ministersaid:
I would have liked someone to give a Judeo-Christian perspective. Or for someone to say that AIDS and STDs are killers. I would have loved for someone to say that there is a God who designed us with standards, and if you break those standards you are going to run into complications.... I am deeply concerned. I would ask that this program not continue.
Although not everyone was in agreement at this meeting, two notablethings happened. First, the administration sent a strong messagethat the program was not going to go away. Second, parentsopposed to the in-school workshops were invited to be part of a communitygroup that would address all forms of diversity. This was thegenesis of a group called Respect, Acceptance, and Diversity for All(RADFA).
After the meeting, several key people were asked to be part ofRADFA. The group's membership included representatives fromthe high school, the NAACP, religious institutions, city government,and the chamber of commerce. A mother of a gay student joined thegroup. Only one parent who had been a vocal opponent of the studentworkshops opted to participate. They became the core of RADFA,committed to dialogue regarding diversity in Natick. Steve Ridini, anorganizer of RADFA, was impressed with the conversations that occurredamong the members:
So many places people are just trying to push forward an agenda—they aren't listening. Here people were listening and engaged in dialogue, People shared some pretty amazing stories about what it was like to be a Black person in Natick. A gentleman who was Jewish talked about what it was like to live in Natick a good part of his life and still feel like an outsider because of the sound of his last name. A woman whose child is a Christian fundamentalist said, "My child was put up against a locker because she talks about her faith."
Some in the community believe that when Natick High Schoolhosted student workshops on gay and lesbian issues for a third year,the dialogue among RADFA members averted another round of contentiouspublic debate. It's also possible that everyone finally realizedthat the administration was not going to back down from its commitmentto addressing homophobia. In any case, having an organizationthat brought together people with a common goal of fighting oppressionstrengthened both the school and the community.
Continues...
Excerpted from When the Drama Club is Not Enoughby Jeff Perrotti Copyright © 2002 by Jeff Perrotti. Excerpted by permission.
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