Herry Lawford

I came out at school because I was bored. Impending A Levels and the monotony of exam term in my last year at a small boarding school in northern England just wasn’t cutting the mustard at what numerous well-meaning middle agers were telling me was the prime of my life.

My confidant pulled off being simultaneously the most outrageously homophobic yet confusingly supportive person I have ever met. Once I’d told him, he willingly did the rest.

Summer fishing brought along the inevitable ‘do-you-want-my-rod-McConnel?’ jokes. I learned to describe exams as “difficult”, not “hard”, and a handful of girls decided I was now the best thing since Jack Wills started doing tweed. I’d got it good: school was almost over and I was the most confident I’d ever been – ever. And no-one was trying to nudge me back into the closet.

Or so I thought. “Are you sure?!” was a common refrain. I avoided stereotypes after I was told being gay didn’t mean I could “camp it up so much”. Others were “fine” as long as I didn’t “do any of that gay stuff”. This didn’t bother me. Nor did the ban on same-sex couples going to the Leavers’ Ball. I was sure homophobia was experienced by other people. It just wasn’t a thing in the 2010s, right?

Well, no. I realised afterwards I was the first to come out at the school – and unfortunately the last. There were rumours of someone in the 80s hanging himself after doing so but back then, I thought, it was hardly surprising.

I wonder if it’s so different now. Seven LGB pupils and recent leavers subsequently got in touch; only one was ‘out’ and the rest were not comfortable with who they were; I hadn’t spoken to three of them before. One, a young successful man, stays with his “girlfriend” to “maintain the illusion”. He also lives with depression.

One younger pupil, worried about their relationship with God, felt uncomfortable taking Communion. He feared, I assume wrongly, that his Housemaster would try to segregate him from other boarders in case he brandished his sexuality.

I was told more recently about something termed an ‘arousal test’. Although the boy ‘passed’ – he was too scared – he said that what few thoughts he had about ‘coming out’ were quickly banished. Though more confident later, he still could not speak to school staff, friends or parents about his sexuality.

One incident happened during a weekly ritual involving 10 to 15 boys ganging up on one person after lights-out – all in good fun, of course. One February night in Year 10 was particularly bad. The group pinned the target to his bed and poured a ready-prepared bag of vomit over him. Standard insults (they didn’t know he was gay) intensified during the procedure as they shouted “beat the homo”, “fucking fag” and “gay piece of shit”. He fell to the floor and they kicked him. That boy was me.

Cases like these are often simply classed as standard bullying, not specifically instances of homophobia. Consequently, a whole culture of anti-LGBT sentiment is going unchallenged: the constant “that’s so gay”, which remains unchecked and sometimes even used by teachers, the almost non-existence of LGBT discussions, and the assumption that everyone is heterosexual until proven otherwise are all examples of this pervasive, damaging culture.

LGBT friends predictably had similar experiences: there was no same-sex sex-ed and the few LGBT issues which were discussed in PSHE were irrelevant (my favourite: “What to do if a gay man approaches you in a bar?”). I remember one discussion on whether we “believe” in transitioning. There were no openly LGBT staff, and LGBT-relevant stories never featured in assemblies, a daily sacrosanct affair for moral instruction. LGBT people were not acknowledged, certainly never affirmatively. And yet the Office for National Statistics estimates as many as seven per cent of the population are LGBT.

With some variation, this is likely a standard school experience for most LGBT people. According to Stonewall, only one per cent of LGBT pupils do not hear comments like “that’s so gay” daily; nine in ten secondary school teachers say they hear the phrase frequently.

Fortunately, change is on the horizon for state schools. Bar UKIP, all the major parties have have outlined comprehensive manifesto commitments ade commitments to LGBT people. Political will is there.

But these policies only apply to maintained schools. Although the independent sector is exempt from many initiatives, they must adhere to standards requiring them to “encourage respect for other people, paying particular regard to the protected characteristics set out in the 2010 [Equalities] Act.” Independent schools’ inspectors are unclear on how this can be achieved.

I know some teachers in some schools work actively to combat anti-LGBT attitudes – and that is great. But it just isn’t enough: the current situation is evidently failing privately-educated LGBT+ pupils. This must change. Oxonian and Old Etonian Jamie Jackson gained national coverage and overwhelming support from over 50 former pupils with an open letter to his old headmaster expressing similar concerns. So many more people identify with the problem. To this end, a group working to improve attitudes in independent schools has been set up. We have some powerful proposals and will be discussing different approaches. Whoever and wherever you are, if you have an idea, want to get involved or put us in touch with open-minded teachers, get in touch at jafm4@cam.ac.uk.