I am a 23-year-old lesbian high school English teacher, and I am exactly the stereotype you think I am.
It feels in many ways full circle, like I’m carrying the torch of queer English teachers past. Kids sit in my room at lunch, invite me to watch their sports games and ask me to advise their clubs. I am a safe teacher for many of them, and I love every moment of it.
This spring, I had a student ask if they could do a “promposal” in my classroom during my prep hour.
I was baffled.
This student was not only well-liked by other teachers, but had made it abundantly clear she did not like me. She took any and every opportunity to question me, my authority and my assignments. I didn’t blame her for those questions, or the rudeness with which she asked them, because I was just like her. A brilliant student, top of her class, who always thought she knew better than her teacher.
I could’ve said no, that I was too busy ― which would’ve been true ― but I didn’t.
The day of the promposal my student was giddy, and full of nervous energy. She’d made a beautiful sign with inside jokes, bought candy and flowers, and asked me to play a favorite song. We turned off the lights, and waited for her friends to bring in her future prom date.
As we waited, I realized I had no idea who she was asking.
As the student entered the room, I struggled to keep my composure, holding back tears.
She was asking a girl, who of course said yes.
I was always going to be exactly who I am
After they left my room, I cried. She didn’t ask me because I had a free period the hour she wanted to do this, but because she felt safe in my room. She saw the small details that told her I’d be safe — the rainbow pins, lesbian stickers and “you are all welcome here” posters.
Even though I’d been warned by former mentor teachers to hide my identity, told to cover up my tattoos and keep my hair its natural color, I’ve never hidden my identity as a lesbian from my students. They know I have a girlfriend and go to Pride parades.
The choice to be open about my sexuality was not a difficult one ― I was always going to be exactly who I am ― but it was a scary one.
I did clinical experiences at schools where I was treated differently by my mentor teachers because of my identity, and even asked to leave. I taught in some rural schools where I was more cautious due to the conversations I’d overhear. There are states where I’d be fired at the mere mention of the word “gay” or “queer.”
And yet I prepared to risk discomfort, or worse. I would rather be fired than my students not feel safe in my classroom ― or not know that my room is a safe place to ask your girlfriend to prom.
I will always be a safe haven for my students
This June will be my fourth Pride out as queer. I love the parties and the celebration, but it’s important to remember that the first Pride was a riot.
Pride is necessary because there are people who cannot safely be themselves in their professions, communities or homes. As much as I’d like to just exist as I am, with no need to fight, my existence is resistance.
My identity will always be a problem for some people, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But I can, and will always be, a safe haven for each of my students, regardless of how they feel about me.
As long as I am needed, I will be a lesbian English teacher. I’ll be the stereotype you imagine, and the safe place you need.
Bella Bakeman is a metro Detroit high school English teacher, and a former Free Press intern. Submit a letter to the editor at freep.com/letters, and we may publish it in print or online.
This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: I thought my student disliked me. I was wrong ― she trusted me. | Opinion
Reporting by Bella Bakeman, Op-ed contributor / Detroit Free Press
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By Bella Bakeman, Op-ed contributor | USA TODAY Network
