Being Open about LGBTQ+ Identities in the Classroom Creates Positive Learning Environments

Being Open about LGBTQ+ Identities in the Classroom Creates Positive Learning Environments

Three LGBTQ+ professors share their experiences “queering the classroom” in ways that students embrace

Photo by simarik/iStock

Teachers play a unique role in the world—not only creating spaces to learn, but also helping students think critically, grow, and feel seen. Keenly aware how important it is to create welcoming learning environments, three Boston University health science professors embarked on an experiment.

Sophie Godley, Jesse Moreira-Bouchard, and Shelly DeBiasse, who all identify in the LGBTQ+ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer) community, made an intentional effort to be open and authentic about their identities and have inclusive dialogue in the classroom relating to queerness—then studied the impact on their students. The results of their research, published in Advances in Physiology Education, showed the majority of students had an overwhelmingly positive experience to what the professors called, “queering the classroom.” The study includes 86 students who voluntarily participated in a survey at the end of semester-long courses about their experiences. Some participants identified as members of the LGBTQ+ community and some did not. 

Considering that LGBTQ+ college students have reported feeling silenced and disillusioned in academia—especially queer students in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM)—the study authors say it’s crucial that queer students feel that they belong. They add that a sense of belonging can contribute to degree completion. 

“Queer approaches to curricula and the classroom may help improve awareness and ultimately improve the lives of LGBTQ+ students in those classes,” they write in the paper. To reflect on their personal experiences and teaching practices, these three experts share what queering the classroom means to them and why it’s important for students and faculty to be seen and heard, not only during Pride Month, but all the time.

I came out as gay when I was 19 years old—a first-year in college. I lost a lot when I first came out and was told repeatedly that being gay meant I would never have a family or children, or a real “home.” So, for me, being my authentic self in the classroom—talking about my wife, my son, my home, my family, my pets, my full, vibrant life—is incredibly important. I want students to know that not only can they be themselves and be OK, they can also thrive. Yes it’s a bit cheesy, but I am trying to speak back in time to my 19-year-old self who was lost and scared, and could have really used a voracious example of thriving queer authenticity.

One of my favorite moments in the classroom that has happened a few different times over the years is when a student will tell me they come from a two-mom family and how much they appreciate me talking about my family, so they see themselves represented.

The motivations for this study included a wide range of hypotheses, including pushing back at the notion that instructors’ true authentic selves have no place in the classroom. We want to resist the idea that showing up as us, as our true selves, is inappropriate or unnecessary. It is necessary for us as teachers—and as author and Columbia University professor Bettina Love says, “coconspirators” with our students—to be ourselves and be real with our students. I think all of us on the team were not surprised, as much as affirmed to hear that our authenticity matters and supports students. It was a surprise to hear how much of a difference it makes for students across all identities.

We need increased scholarship on effective pedagogy in health sciences so that we can continue to provide our students with an excellent classroom experience that prepares them to become excellent health professionals.

Queering my classroom means I show up as myself every day to teach. I dress in a way that feels authentic to my queer gender identity, I share my pronouns with my students, I talk about my life, my husband, something fun we might be doing on the weekend. It means showing the students that you can be queer and a professional. That being a real, genuine human is not at all incompatible or mutually exclusive from being perceived as an expert. Students often tell me they feel seen, like I know them as people and not just numbers, and that they enjoy the comfort my classroom provides for learning. 

Students, like any person, want to be included in their environment. All anyone wants is for others to accept them, regardless of what identity they may hold. Student sense of belonging is a very strong predictor of persistence and retention, and LGBTQ+ students are at higher risk of dropping out of STEM than their cisgender/heterosexual peers. We wanted to demonstrate with this study that it doesn’t take content revision of your entire course to foster space for diverse thought or inclusive sentiments—you simply have to be intentional and authentic with your students. I hope this research encourages academia to engage LGBTQ+ faculty more authentically and begins to reshape cultural expectations of professionalism, from concealing our identities being the norm to expressing them more openly being the norm.

Our data suggest whether or not students resonated with my queer identity as the instructor, they still felt like I was a genuine person who cared, allowed them to be comfortable. Nonetheless, a small percentage of students reported feeling a liberal bias in the room. This was unsurprising to me, since LGBTQ+ topics have been highly politicized. If a student grew up surrounded by less accepting values, then such radical authenticity might very well make them uncomfortable. It’s worth noting, though, that it’s okay to be uncomfortable and have your views challenged. When you engage with and interrogate your views in the context of new experiences, you tend to grow. So, hopefully these experiences were an impetus for students who had less experience understanding LGBTQ+ people. In the future, more research is needed to identify specific practices that are high-impact and which yield the greatest net effect on student engagement and retention—and, moreover, must be done in more regions than the northeast.

My view of queering the classroom involves looking to, giving space to, and amplifying views from the margins. Traditional pedagogy in most universities in the United States centers on knowledge that has been gathered, created, and expounded by white, cisgender (mostly male identified), heterosexual individuals. In the context of our study, queering the classroom also means embodying my authentic self, and making sure that my teaching included voices from the margins, including diverse racial and ethnic representation and contributions from individuals who identify outside of the gender binary.

My motivation for developing and implementing this study was to gather information from a diverse group of students regarding their thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in response to queer faculty intentionally being authentic in the classroom. Our work demonstrated that students of all identities embraced our inclusive pedagogy. It is always wonderful to have students of all identities thank me for my intentionality in terms of creating an inclusive classroom. Unfortunately, there are some students for whom this approach is new and uncomfortable—particularly those who have not been exposed to this content. As our data showed, there was some pushback from some students in the study. This feedback is helpful to remind faculty who want to create inclusive classrooms to be mindful and implement strategies to ensure that all students’ viewpoints are considered. 

There can be no greater disservice to all members of the classroom community than to have some student voices stifled while other voices pervade the space. I firmly believe that college is a time when we all have an opportunity to learn so much about the world we live in. To deny the opportunity for any student to learn about other perspectives, in my opinion, is tragic. My hope is that the results of our study can inform faculty and administration of the need to support faculty authenticity and safety in the classroom. Whether it is race, gender, sexuality, ability, body size, and myriad other marginalized identities, having faculty who hold those identities feel valued, safe, and comfortable living their identities in classroom spaces is important not only for student retention and success, but also for faculty retention and success. Administrators need to be aware of the additional emotional and, at times, physical work required to hold a marginalized identity in the academy. Support and understanding can go a long way.

Sophie Godley (SPH’17) teaches courses in public health, maternal and child health, and population health; Jesse Moreira-Bouchard (Sargent’18,’21) researches and teaches with a focus on LGBTQIA2S+ equity and inclusion in STEM and physiology education, as well as cardiovascular health risk in LGBTQIA2S+ communities; Michele A. “Shelly” DeBiasse (CAMED’16) has been a registered dietitian nutritionist for 35 years and their current research focus is on issues related to equity, diversity, inclusion, and social justice in healthcare and healthcare professions.

“Expert Take” is a research-led opinion page that provides commentaries from BU researchers on a variety of issues—local, national, or international—related to their work. Anyone interested in submitting a piece should contact thebrink@bu.edu. The Brink reserves the right to reject or edit submissions. The views expressed are solely those of the author and are not intended to represent the views of Boston University.