When I first decided I wanted to teach, there were a number of things that I worried about. Would I be able to pass the Praxis exams? Would I enjoy being in a stuffy environment filled to the brim with kids for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week? Would the kids want me to be their teacher? In the end, though, the thing that continued to keep me up at night (and still does) is concern over being The Queer Teacher.

In a state like Tennessee, where being queer, and especially openly queer, is a heavy risk, accepting a job with the state paying your checks only exacerbates that risk. There is always the chance that a parent will find out that you’re queer and proceed to go on a rampage from the administrators’ offices all the way up to bothering the governor about you. There is always the chance that the administrators themselves won’t be supportive of you as a member of their staff, that they’ll find out your truth and decide then and there that they need to do everything in their power to ensure your contract isn’t renewed. It’s risky, all over.

The thing, in the end, that helped me push past that fear and anxiety, though, was thinking about the younger versions of myself that would be sitting in those classrooms. The queer kids that desperately need an adult ally, that need to see someone above the age of 18 successfully living as a queer person in a state country that doesn’t want you around. It had always mattered, for me as a student, when teachers had “safe space” stickers up on their classroom doors, when they made a point to hide rainbows in their classroom decor. These little silent, sneaky indicators that they were safe adults for those of us that hadn’t had a lot of those around, especially in the public school environment, made all the difference in the world.

Which brings me to the point of this bit of writing: how can you, as an educator, a parent, or community member, help queer kids feel safe to exist in school? The first, and perhaps easiest, method is to make space for kids to share what pronouns and names they want to use with you. It’s easy to take this step, but it makes a world of difference when kids aren’t being misgendered and their identities are being respected. For teachers, this can be as simple as putting this on your Getting To Know You questionnaire at the beginning of the semester. For parents and community members, this can mean asking people (not just kids!) what their pronouns are when you first meet them or sharing your own first.

Next, supporting queer youth means giving them a space to exist within the overall queer community. In schools, this often comes about via Gender and Sexuality Alliance clubs (GSAs). As a teacher, the biggest thing you can do to help kids in these clubs is to ensure that the club exists. Often, students struggle to find a teacher who is willing to serve as the staff sponsor for such things, fearing repercussions/backlash themselves for tying themselves to the club visibly. So, with that being said, step one is making sure the club has the space to exist and the support from you as a staff member to exist in the first place. For parents and community members, the best thing you can do is to loudly and proudly support the existence of clubs and organizations in schools that support LGBTQIA+ students. Your voices need to be louder than the voices of those who want to disparage clubs of this nature.

Last, but most assuredly not least, you need to vote. Protecting queer youth in your community and schools has to start with ensuring that politics aren’t denying them the right to exist. Vote against policies that criminalize a queer existence, vote for politicians that represent your community and represent your community well. When you see people speaking negatively about queer folks’ lives and choices, use your own mouth to correct, educate, and rebut as often as you can!