Queer, Emo, and in Public School? I Could Never

By: Olivia McHaney

While I never formally came out to everyone in my life during high school, a “soft launch” of my queerness began in eighth grade when my parents discovered my contributions to some extreme MLM emo-band fanfiction. Feeling like I could partake in my school’s queer affiliation organization without major retribution from my peers or my parents, I joined my freshman year. 

While I found solace in the company of friends and the teacher advisor to the club, what followed could only be described as homophobic. The policies implemented and actions taken by my school’s administration explicitly targeted the experiences and expressions of queer students. The student handbook explicitly prohibited dyed hair that wasn’t a “natural color” and wearing all black. While not explicitly naming queer students as the targets of this rule, almost every queer youth I knew experienced a coming-of-age type gay awakening that heavily favored involvement with alternative subcultures; in other words, pretty much every gay was emo and pretty much every emo was gay. Regardless of how many students petitioned or took issue with these policies, administration refused to reform them. Enforcement of dress code rules was inequitable across rule and group; people were rarely punished for having ripped jeans (masculine presenting students in particular), while I was stopped at my high school graduation and not allowed to walk until I removed my nose stud. Banning alternative expressions was an explicit move by the administration to suppress student’s expressions of queer culture, which traditionally strays from what is considered “normie.” 

Beyond subtle attacks on queerness, explicit oppression of queer students was common. During the spring play my junior year, students were required to remove lines that hinted at a female-identifying character being interested in a same-sex relationship; the same play celebrated the life and love of heterosexual couples. Around the same time, the LGBTQ+ club (for which I was the secretary) was told that we needed to change our name to SAGA, acronym for “Straight and Gay Alliance.” While allyship and acceptance may have been what we wanted, being told by administration to change our name to have “straight” as the first word made it clear that they were uninterested in queer students having a secure space to gather as a community, and wanted to prioritize the notion that heterosexual students must always be included. 

Being queer in this setting was emotionally exhausting, and there is so much that must change in regards to how these institutions support their queer students. Public schools should be safe places for young people to explore and discover who they are. Despite the challenging experiences, there is a distinct and powerful bond between queer students in these settings — that is what I hold onto from my youth, and is a large part of what motivates me to advocate for students everywhere.