Heteronormativity in Education Within a South Texas Borderland Region: A Qualitative Study

Statement of the Problem

In schools and other social institutions, heterosexuality and gender conformity are often assumed by default (Castro & Sujak, 2014; Kosciw et al., 2016). Therefore, due to the pervasiveness of predominately heteronormative culture, LGBTQ students often feel harassed and unsafe in schools (Castro & Sujak, 2014; Higa et al., 2014; Human Rights Campaign, 2013; Kane et al., 2013; Kosciw et al., 2016; Young-Jones et al., 2015). Some schools have adopted affirming policies and practices to support and mitigate the adverse effects of homophobia (harassment, discrimination, and victimization) frequently experienced by LGBTQ youth in school, their homes and communities, and society at large (Kosciw et al., 2016). Such policies and practices are referred to as affirming because they affirm and validate LGBTQ identities (Kosciw et al., 2016). Affirming policies and practices generally fall under four main categories, namely: Gay Straight/Gender and Sexuality Alliances/(GSA), inclusive curriculum, LGBTQ school visibility, and supportive school administrators (Kosciw et al., 2016). Moreover, the effects of unsafe schools are compounded for LGBTQ youth of color (Human Rights Campaign, 2018). Even fewer schools in predominately Latinx communities provide affirming policies and practices, leaving Latinx LGBTQ youth especially at risk (Human Rights Campaign, 2013).

While the progress recently made towards social and political equality for LGBTQ Americans is unprecedented, the deck is still stacked against our country’s LGBTQ youth who continue to feel unsafe in US Schools (Human Rights Campaign, 2018; Kane et al., 2013). The Human Rights Campaign’s (2018) most recent survey of 12,000 self-identified LGBTQ youth, ages 13 – 17, found: “only 13% of LGBTQ youth report [ed] hearing positive messages about being LGBTQ in school; only 27% of LGBTQ youth can “definitely” be themselves in school as an LGBTQ person; and only 26% of LGBTQ youth report [ed] they always feel safe in the classroom” (Human Rights Campaign, 2018, p. 8). While the aim of the Every Student Succeeds Act (2015–2016) is “to provide all children significant opportunity to receive a fair, equitable, and high-quality education, and to close educational achievement gaps” (SEC. 1001.), the reality is schools are experienced as unsafe by LGBTQ youth resulting in diminished school attendance, GPAs, graduation rates, and plans to pursue post-secondary education (Higa et al., 2014; Kosciw et al., 2016; Young-Jones et al., 2015).

Site and Participants Selection

Participants were recruited for the study at the August 2021 meeting of a regional advocacy organization that serves as a coalition of organizations that champion safe affirming spaces for LGBTQIA + persons living in the borderland region. One of the authors, a board member of the regional advocacy organization, has developed meaningful, trusting relationships with the members and organizations that comprise the coalition and drew upon their rapport to recruit ideal participants for the study. Having the participants’ trust assisted the authors in establishing a deep and relevant connection allowing participants to “tell their stories.”

The eight participants selected represent the broad spectrum of the queer community. When asked to self-identify, the participants responses included: gay; bisexual, queer, nonbinary, two-spirit, genderfluid, and grey-asexual; genderfluid (trans) pansexual; transgender lesbian queer/nonbinary; and queer, trans-masc, non-binary. All eight self-identified at Latino/a/x and were between the ages of 31–42. All attended public schools in the Rio Grande valley with a broad range of types including Montessori, magnet, and traditional. Some mentioned having attended regional university. Participants also attended school in all four counties comprising the borderland region. Participants high school graduation dates ranged from 1997 – 2008. Lastly, all participants are involved in regional advocacy organization or in one of the organizations that comprises the coalition and for the purpose of this study are considered community leaders and advocates.

Data Analysis Procedures

The Coding Manual for Qualitative Researchers (Saldana, 2016) was used to design and inform the coding process. Coding is heuristic, the purpose being to discover significant phrases in the data that make meaning of the participants lived experiences (Saldana, 2016). As such the data collected was coded for patterns: “repetitive or consistent occurrences of data that appear more than twice” (Saldana, 2016, p. 5). Coded data that look alike and feel alike were then categorized together to form categories of patterns with shared characteristics (Saldana, 2016). Coding is cyclical and the data collected was coded a minimum of three times to allow for the collection to generate meaningful categories and themes (Saldana, 2016).

Trauma Responses Transformed into Coping Strategies

A second emergent them was participants transforming trauma responses into coping strategies. Interestingly, when participants were asked to describe how they confronted experiences of homophobia, the activities and mechanism emerging from their journals can be ctrauma response. A 2020 article in Psychology Today categorizes trauma response into four main types, namely, Flight, Fight, Fawn, and Freeze. “Flight includes running or fleeing the situation, fight is to become aggressive, and freeze is to literally become incapable of moving or making a choice. The fawn response involves immediately moving to try to please a person to avoid any conflict (Gaba, 2020). How participants confronted homophobia can be categorized into one of these four main types of trauma response.

The most prevalent trauma response type was to freeze. This trauma response type was employed by all participants to maintain safety and survival. According to Reynolds (2020), “resistance to suffering and oppression is always present as persons always act to guard their dignity and move towards safety” (p. 347). Walker (2014) states “the freeze response, also known as the camouflage response, often triggers a survivor into hiding, isolating and avoiding human contact” (p. 117). Participants provided examples demonstrating how they disassociated, isolated, and concealed themselves and parts of their identity to fit in and navigate homophobic and traumatic environments. “I kept it to myself and suppressed my feelings” … “when it comes to being gay, it helps to mute the colors.” … “I needed to hide who I was in unhappy relationships. Better to be unhappy, than to be outed I guess.” … “"I managed to hide my more feminine voice and mannerisms and act in a more typical manner expected for a boy my age.” … “it was clear that certain parts of my personality had to be hidden if I wanted to have any semblance of peace or at least be lower on the list of preferred targets.” … “I felt I had to hold back on my true self.” As indicated in their responses, participants learned early on to conceal and suppress key aspects of their identity to survive and get ahead. As stated by Gair (2004), “Many hide. When we hide, even in situations without a realistic risk of harm, we associate the need to hide with being wrong or bad. This is especially true if we are hiding from our own family, friends, and the very communities in which we reside” (p. 46). For gender and sexually diverse persons, hiding becomes a way of life and living authentically or being “known” can in fact be retraumatizing (Gair, 2004). A continuous pattern of hiding can also have the long-term effect of interfering with the development of intimate and committed relationships (Gair, 2004).

The second heavily reported trauma response type was flight. Walker, 2014 describes flight types “like machines with the switch stuck in the ‘on’ position. They are obsessively and compulsively driven by the unconscious belief that perfection will make them safe and loveable. They rush to achieve. They rush as much in thought [obsession] as they do in action [compulsion]” (p. 114). As stated by participants: “I kept a schedule that in retrospect was bordering on manic” … “I guess you can say I turned myself into being a busybody.” … “I kept busy. I lived in the band hall, and I lived, ate, and breathed marching band. If I couldn’t be queer, I could be the best damn drummer the school had ever seen. I made first chair as a freshman, and squad leader as a sophomore.” … “I used me hiding in the closet as a way to throw myself into everything else I was doing.” … “Not that this made any sense, but I coped by staying so busy I didn’t have time to realize I couldn’t just be me.” As illustrated by the participants’ quotes, we all avoided homophobia by simply being too busy to deal with it. We invested all our time and energy into “the need to overcompensate with other ‘right’ acts.”

The third most prevalent trauma response type was fawn. Walker (2014), states “fawn types seek safety by merging with the wishes, needs and demands of others. They act as if they believe that the price of admission to any relationship is the forfeiture of all their needs, rights, preferences, and boundaries” (p. 122). Participants reported examples of becoming people pleasers, lacking identity, and having little to no boundaries in relationships. One participant mentioned: “If I wanted to please my teachers, I would try to sit at the front of class and answer all of the questions asked, as correctly as possible, to get on their good side and get kept on their radar as a ‘good student’.” Another stated they had “a really hard time saying “no” to fellow classmates, and basically made [themselves] completely available to anyone and everyone, for fear of being ostracized”. The fawn trauma response type is the one we carried the most over into adulthood. I, “repressed my queer identity and I made up for it in other ways that I thought would be pleasing to others. To this day, I am a people pleaser at work. I may be the smartest most capable person on the team, but I always feel like I must make up for being queer and so I have to work harder than everyone else and prove to everyone that I deserve to be there.” And another participant currently working in education stated “administrators will overlook your defects as long as you are useful to them.” Homophobia has made it so that our value and self-worth is often tied to our utility for others.

The last response type, fight, was not as prevalent but did make an appearance in a few of the written responses. Walker (2014) states fight types are unconsciously driven by the belief that power and control can create safety, assuage abandonment and secure love” (p. 109). Some participants reported internalized homophobia and how they in turn abused others to remove the spotlight and appear less queer themselves. “There were … times where I made fun of other gay and queer kids when I was in junior high just to cover up my own queerness and try to fit in.” … “when I started to make friends and be accepted by others and start to fit in, I sometimes made fun of other people. Part of this was because some of my friends were “mean girls” and I wanted to fit in with them and keep them as my friends. Other times it was because of my own insecurities. One of my biggest regrets is allowing homophobia to make me act, at times, cruel to other people.”

School Administrators Offer No Support and are Often Sources of Homophobia

Emerging as a second significant theme: school administrators offered no support to address experiences of homophobia and were often the sources of homophobia. Reponses in general to the associated journal prompt were short, direct and to the point. As participants put it: “I’ve been met with passive aggressive and dismissive principals.” … “The principals and assistant principals were completely useless to me.” … “They were the guardians of the status quo, who did next to nothing to protect students from bullies” … “If a student, presumably queer decided to defend themselves, they were punished just the same as their bullies.” Furthermore, participants described overtly homophobic school administrators. One stated teachers and school personal “only policed [queer students] differently because they got their cues from our school administrators. They sent queer couples who were holding hands to lunch detention or ISS [in school suspension]. I’d see them turn a blind eye to straight couples, but queer couples didn’t get the same lenience.” One participant and current educator laments how this archetype of homophobic school administrator is still prevalent today: “My current principal, … is the living embodiment of Toxic Masculinity. The man’s ego is so fragile and warped that he aligns himself with Yes-men and women and will make anyone he deems a threat an outsider. A number of people have reported hearing him speak negatively about gay people on our campus.”

Trauma

According to Gair (2004), “most lesbian and gay people are traumatized by being raised in a society that denigrates and devalues their sexual orientation” (p. 46). They add: “when individuals are raised and live-in communities and cultures that shame and despise their sexual orientations, continuous traumas can occur” (Gair, 2004, p. 46; Singh, 2017). And “although support systems for people with same sex attractions and/or questioning have been available since the 1980s, the stigmatization around sexuality remains powerful and pervasive” (Gair, 2004, p. 46). Moreover, authors point out the effects of trauma are compounded when persons face multiple oppressions such as being a gender and sexual diverse person and Latinx (Schmitz & Charak, 2020; Singh, 2017). Various studies have demonstrated that childhood trauma, including experiences of homophobia, is associated with a higher risk of anxiety and depressive disorders in adulthood and more importantly comorbidity of such disorders (Gair, 2004; Heim et al., 2008; Hovens et al., 2010; Lorenzi et al., 2015; Schmitz & Charak, 2020; Ventriglio et al., 2021). Homophobia experienced in schools is certainly traumatic and “trauma is most devastating when it comes from persons or events surrounding those persons [educators] who are the primary source of our safe boundary formation, our primary caregivers” (Scaer as cited in Gair, 2004, p. 46).

Traumatic experiences faced by gender and sexually diverse people are further exacerbated because “unlike members of other marginalized groups whose parents are also in their group, our core selves do not fit our families’ or society’s teachings, and are devalued, entirely unmirrored, and invisible. This fosters such a deep and intense shame, and traumatizes the self” (Gair, 2004, p. 46). The silver lining however is that “certain combinations of identities may be sources of strength for LGBT people of color and may actually be supportive in times of stress.” (Singh, 2017, p. 114). This is perhaps the case in this study, as participants (Latinx community leaders and advocates) displayed a great degree of trauma resiliency. It is probable, that Latinx experiences within the borderland region and informed by intergenerational trauma played a role in triggering participants trauma resiliency.

Intergenerational trauma

Intergenerational trauma is the idea that second and third generations inherit the post traumatic symptoms of their traumatized parents and grandparents (Gone, 2014; Jacobs, 2011; Waldram, 2014). Intergenerational trauma “describes the experiences of communities and ethnic groups exposed to large scale or repeated traumatic events and accompanying stresses” (Crawford, 2014). Studies done with Holocaust survivors indicate second-generation children of survivors experience nightmares, guilt, depression, fear of death, sadness and the perseverance of intrusive images (Jacobs, 2011). Oftentimes older generations transmit trauma onto younger generations through obsessive storytelling coupled with deep emotional silence. Older generations continuously and graphically tell the stories of trauma so future generations may never forget (Jacobs, 2011). Therefore, how second and third generations exist, survive, and thrive in the world is in direct defiance to the experiences of violence and annihilation encountered by the first generation (Crawford, 2014; Gone, 2014; Jacobs, 2011; Waldram, 2014). The root of intergenerational trauma for the Latinx community can be traced to the colonization of our indigenous ancestors, and ongoing discrimination (Saldivar, 2016). This very response to trauma is imbued into the South Texas borderland region.

For the participants in this study (Latinx GSD community leaders and advocates), experiences and first-hand knowledge of intergenerational trauma likely primed trauma response to homophobia. Although the participants journal responses did not specifically address intergenerational trauma, the idea became apparent to researchers after viewing Disney’s 60^th animated feature, Encanto (Bush et al., 2021). This prompted additional member-check-ins with participants to verify the role intergenerational trauma likely contributed to their experiences and responses to homophobia, although they were not consciously aware of this during their childhood or at the time of their journaling.

A major theme in the movie is how Abuela’s response to trauma (losing her home and husband as a young, new mother to three) was to survive and protect. Thereafter the trauma, every magical gift and purpose bestowed upon “the family” was to secure safety, protect the family and extended community, and earn the miracle of survival. The movie can be viewed as an archetype of intergenerational trauma in Latinx families. We survive hardship and injustice. Older generations gave up everything and persevered seemingly insurmountable obstacles to secure better lives and opportunities for the generations yet to come. Younger generations are in turn tasked with preserving and passing on the “miracle”. Surely if Abuela/o/x survived everything they encountered, we could survive experiences of homophobia.

The participants’ journal responses indicated survival training, induced by intergenerational trauma, kicked in. When faced with homophobia we accepted our trauma responses as gifts and tooled them into a means for survival. Much like Isabela and Luisa (the movies third generation characters), we took on the roles of perfectionist (flight) and the strong one (fawn) to ensure we not only survived and succeeded, but that we made our families proud and paid back retribution for the transgression of being queer at the risk of tarnishing the “miracles” we pass on in Latinx families. Hence, by first experiencing the world as a Latinx person, it is likely we knew first-hand how to survive trauma; survival is a skill we have seen modeled for generations within families living within borderlands.

The findings of this study align with what is indicated in the literature and highlight the need for educators in the borderland region to support an ever-growing population of Latinx LGBTQ youth, who are at-risk of not attaining key educational milestones and achievements. In reality, public schools are doing a poor job of addressing the social, emotional, political, and, by extension, educational needs of LGBTQ students.

While achievement, is generally the primary goal of schools, we, as educators, cannot forget students have social and emotional needs beyond grades and scholastic performance. If the primary social-emotional needs of students are not being met, how can we hope to impact achievement and attainment? LGBTQ youth continue to “score [] significantly higher on the scale of depressive symptomology” (Almeida et al., 2009, p. 1001), and report higher ideation of suicide and self-harm than their non-LGBTQ peers. “Perceived discrimination is a likely contributor to emotional distress among LGBT [Q] youth” (Almeida et al., 2009, p. 1001). Growing up in a stigmatizing, heterosexist society leads to an increase in substance use and psychological distress among people who identify as LGBT [Q]” (Heck et al., 2013, p. 81). Therefore, improving school climate through affirming policies and practices serves more than just improving student performance, such policies and practices may be crucial to saving student lives. Examining school climate over the first decade of the new millennium indicates “climates of U.S. middle and high schools are generally unsupportive and unsafe [homophobic]” (Kosciw et al., 2012, p. 10) and the percentage of LGBTQ students reporting homophobia (harassment or assault and hearing biased language) remained generally stable throughout the decade. Our study indicates reducing trauma and improving school administrator support are two high needs for Latinx GDSY in the borderland region. Study participants reported school administrators in the borderland region were often the cause of homophobia and the resulting trauma.

Implications for Practice

The most disheartening finding was that homophobia is so deeply entrenched in our borderland region schools, as systems and tools of oppression often are. This is in line with the studies in the literature indicating homophobia continues to be pervasive in U.S. schools (Almeida et al., 2009; Higa et al., 2014; Human Rights Campaign, 2013; Kane et al., 2013; Kite & Bryant-Lees, 2016; Kosciw et al., 2016). As stated by a participant: there wasn’t “a horrific or climactic homophobic event in [our lives] like we often see in the movies. Rather it was a million little instances of being erased and regulated into obscurity that resulted in shame that [we] carry and cope with to this day. And what we asked for most, what we needed most was teacher and admin support.” Noddings (2012, 2013) and the Ethics of Care, hold a perspective in which ethics is relational and situated. How teachers relate to and care for students is informed by establishing relationships and understanding students’ unique experiences and storied lives (Noddings, 2012, 2013). Mandating educators act affirmingly is not enough, educators require professional development to understand, assess, and meet the unique needs of students on a broad spectrum of gender and sexual diversity (Noddings, 2012, 2013). Teachers and educational leaders require professional development on affirming policies and practices (Castro & Sujak, 2014; Higa et al., 2014; Human Rights Campaign, 2013; Kane et al., 2013; Kosciw et al., 2016; Young-Jones et al., 2015).

Based on the findings in the study, the following professional development topics should be considered and developed to meet the unique needs of Latinx GSDY in the borderland region:

• The broad spectrum of queer identities and how borderland region GSDY persons view themselves in the world (Hernandez & Fraynd, 2014; Hernandez & Kose, 2012; Hernandez & Marshall, 2017; Kosciw et al., 2016, 2017, 2018).

Ventriglio (2021) argues for “educational trainings on homophobia for secondary schools and universities” (p. 2). Additional findings from the study suggest trauma, Latinx intergenerational trauma, and trauma response types contributed to how gender and sexually diverse, Latinx participants experienced and confronted homophobia in the borderland region. Such experiences with homophobia are often included by authors into the “minority stress model” framework (Ventriglio, 2021). According to Meyer (1995), “minority stress derives from the conflict between being a minority and dominant social and cultural values, and may be based on homophobic experiences, harassment, maltreatment, discrimination, and victimization, all affecting individuals’ physical and mental health outcomes” (p. 2). Therefore, as recently as 2021, Ventriglio argues for studies that “contrast homophobia and [address] its impact on mental health, in particular political initiatives, educational trainings, and scientific research … with a specific focus on mental health needs of people target of homophobia” (p. 1).

While many resources, for professional development exist the rationale to reach out, find them, and use them does not (Almeida et al., 2009; Higa et al., 2014; Human Rights Campaign, 2013; Kane et al., 2013; Kite & Bryant-Lees, 2016; Kosciw et al., 2016, 2018). Conservative schools in conservative communities along the blue borderland region would rather erase the existence of queer students, teachers, and staff: sweep us under the rug so to speak (Cardenas, 2020; Martinez, 2018; Ramírez, 2017; Sealey, 2019). The borderland region ‘s education community has a need and obligation to speak truth and bring to light the reality of systemic homophobia and the resulting negative experiences for gender and sexually diverse youth (Cardenas, 2020; Martinez, 2018; Ramírez, 2017; Sealey, 2019).

Additionally, many of the resources out there are tailored to white, suburban experiences and the few resources exist for people of color are based upon urban and more liberal settings (Author 1 et al., 2021; Singh, 2017). Some resources may translate, but what we truly need are locally based and developed resources for gender and sexually diverse youth coming of age in predominately rural, socially conservative, Latinx communities (Author 1 et al., 2021).

Implications for Future Research

The study also found participants experienced homophobia as trauma and employed trauma responses as beneficial coping mechanisms to confront homophobia experienced in borderland region schools; the term transmutation was coined to do describe this ability. However, further research is necessary to investigate this phenomenon and uncover how trauma, and perhaps intergenerational trauma, along with trauma response types might be used by gender and sexually diverse persons to confront experiences with homophobia in ways that result in positive outcomes and build resiliency. More importantly, more research is needed to identify what and how transmutation was triggered? Future studies should question participants about how significant life events may have served as catalysts for transmutation and investigate how factors outside the school settling, such as family life and dynamics, influenced participants decisions and determinations to take something awful and rather than sit and suffer in it, transform it into something beautiful and meaningful for themselves and others? Intergenerational trauma may play in role in the transmutation process, but further research is warranted to establish such a connection.

More importantly, if we can identify how experiences with homophobia differ and the triggers for transmutation, can we replicate the transmutation process for other queer youth? The reality is we will not eradicate homophobia in our lifetimes (Almeida et al., 2009; Higa et al., 2014; Human Rights Campaign, 2013; Kane et al., 2013; Kite & Bryant-Lees, 2016; Kosciw et al., 2016, 2018), but perhaps we can learn and teach others enough about homophobia and its ill effects to mitigate the trauma. Perhaps queer youth be taught to recognize traumatic experiences and trauma responses, and then the process by which trauma responses can be used to enact powerful changes for themselves and in turn others? Ultimately the goal would be to develop a professional development series on trauma resiliency (Singh, 2017) for GSDY to implement and confront experiences of homophobia in the moment and not in retrospect.

Summary

It is unlikely homophobia will be eradicated within the near future, but by understanding regional experiences with homophobia, we can inform local educators and improve school experiences and tailor resources for GSDY. The goal of this research was to examine how Latinx GSDY experience and confront homophobia to inform leadership for professional development. The study finds educators and more importantly GSDY would be best served by professional development centering on the spectrum of queer identities present in the borderland region and how they view themselves in the world; how and where homophobia occurs; creating and sustaining affirming communities and spaces to meet the needs of Latinx GSDY; and developing school administrators to go beyond affirming and serve as antihomophobic leaders.