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Jess's avatar

Wild how some Christian schools actively erase LGBTQIA+ humans yet others celebrate the diversity of their students. It’s almost like there are many different interpretations of the Bible which makes it kind of, uh, flawed?? My daughter desperately wanted to go to a Catholic high school, I had some reservations but had been assured by others that it’s an amazing school. Not long after sending in her application form, they posted this on their Facebook page:

“This month we are celebrating Pride Month, starting with a message about its origins:

Pride Month is celebrated each June to make more people aware of and celebrate LGBTQ+ pride. There has been recordings of gay marriages since 10000 BC in places such as Mesopotamia (which is in present day Iraq, Iran, Turkey, Syria and Kuwait).

Pride Month has been celebrated in June since 1969 when a police raid on a queer bar in Manhatten lead to rioting in the streets of New York.

We are all lucky to study and work in an inclusive community here at *********. Be who you are, and be the best version of yourself!

Happy Pride Month”

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Steve Attwood's avatar

For some seven years during my work as an educator for the NZ AIDS Foundation, I presented sexual health and sexuality inclusiveness workshops to a great many schools and, sometimes, also their staff. I was surprised, but pleased, to find that some of the schools booking my presentations were religious special character schools. It was great being allowed into these schools, the presentations were challenging to the recipients and I was often challenged in return, but in general they were very well received by staff, the female students and some of the boys.

"Why only some of the boys?" you ask. What I found in special character schools amongst the boys was an almost universal sense of privilege; some sort of inherited, class-based right to power and the right to wield that power without criticism; dismissal of the feelings, experience and humanity of those perceived to be of "lower class" or "less importance" than them; an almost complete lack of empathy, especially where expressing empathy might require them to examine their own comfortable position or their own roles in causing harm to others; and a strong underlying culture and practice of what we now acknowledge as "toxic masculinity," in which all things queer were seen as an absolute affront to, even an attack on, their sense of self and the man they were, or were growing to become.

These were the boys who went on to be leaders: in their schools, in their communities, in their churches, in our politics. To be fair, I found these same attitudes amongst the boys in state schools as well except that, in state schools, their attitudes were far more likely to be challenged and there were greater opportunities for others outside of this 'boys own club' culture to be seen and valued.

I have not worked in this field for some years, but maintain close contact with those who still labour to effect change. From what they tell me, change has been small and inconsistently applied.

All of this was summed up in perhaps my proudest, yet most sad, experiences to come from my work in these schools.

One day, a young man walked into my office and asked to make a donation to NZAF. It was a fairly large sum of money (his first week's wages at his first job, as it turned out).

At his special character school this boy had been a high performer. Dux of the school, captain of the seniors' cricket and rugby teams, a prefect, a very good looking boy by anyone's standards who was much admired, and who seemed to have the world being served to him on a platter.

When there was sexist or anti gay chatter in the changing rooms, he joined in, hell he led it! He had girlfriends; he boasted of his sexual conquests and was believed and admired for them. And yet . . . he was a chameleon (his word). His sexual conquests were a fiction; his apparent self belief and assured position and future, fragile.

Fragile to the point that at the time I visited his school and spoke to his age group, he was planning his suicide. I walked into his life, knowing none of this, and sat in front of his age group as an openly gay man and shared my life story; talked about inclusivity, respect, empathy et el.

It was the first time anyone had modelled acceptance, had shown that a complete and fulfilling life could be lived as a gay person. It saved his life.

He left school to go to tech (to everyone's surprise as they had mapped out a university career for him) and studied automotive engineering. He got an apprenticeship as a mechanic. That's where his first week's wages came from. It was his way of saying thankyou. because that boy was gay, he'd known it for a long time, but had hidden it oh so successfully, almost to his cost.

I celebrate this story, but I am also saddened by it, because, even now, there are too many young people out there who neither see nor hear these messages of inclusivity. And, in special character schools, their chances of seeing and hearing these messages seem to me to be far too remote, if Bethlehem College is typical, which I suspect it is.

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