Just before it became clear how serious the COVID-19 pandemic would become two years ago, Brigham Young University was in the news for their policies concerning LGBTQ+ students, seemingly allowing them more freedoms to express themselves, then backtracking on those supposed changes. Understandably, that story quickly got lost in the coverage of how COVID-19 was affecting higher education, but such stories come up almost every year. Christian colleges have had a variety of responses to the presence of LGBTQ+ students on their campuses over the years, but that reality was brought into clear focus after the Obergefell v. Hodges decision in 2015. Before this decision, many Christian colleges largely took the don’t ask, don’t tell approach, where they had policies in place that forbade same-sex relationships, but many of those colleges also knew they had a population who were involved in same-sex relationships and rarely did anything about that situation. The Christian college I attended in the 1980s certainly took that approach, as one of my friends slowly became more and more open about his sexual orientation until the school finally expelled him. If he would have remained even partly closeted—not worked in a gay bar, for example—he would have graduated without a problem. There are and were extremes, of course, who receive media attention, schools such as Bob Jones University or Pensacola Christian College, but many Christian colleges have allowed LGBTQ+ students to attend their schools without any overt policing, as long as the students were quiet about their relationships.
After the Obergefell decision, the Christian college community has had a significant disagreement about LGBTQ+ students on their campuses. Two colleges (Goshen College and Eastern Mennonite University, both Mennonite schools) who were moving toward acceptance of same-sex relationships, in general, left the Coalition for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU) in 2015 to avoid having a contentious argument that could have split the CCCU and forced Christian colleges to take a much clearer stance on same-sex relationships on campus. Other schools shifted to clarifying their policies, often making it clear to the sponsoring denominations where they stand. Union University, a Baptist college in Jackson, TN—who left the CCCU while it was debating how to handle Goshen College and Eastern Mennonite University’s growing acceptance of same-sex relationships on campus—writes in their latest student handbook, “The promotion, advocacy, defense or ongoing practice of a homosexual lifestyle (including same-sex dating behaviors) is also contrary to our community values. Homosexual behaviors, even in the context of a marriage, remain outside Union’s community values.” One can see a difference in the pre-Obergefell handbook from 2009-10, which omits “even in the context of a marriage,” stating instead “including same-sex dating behaviors.” It’s clear they’re trying to avoid the argument now-married same-sex couples would make, in that their marriage is legal in the eyes of the state. Baylor University, a college with Baptist heritage in Waco, TX, makes this declaration in their “Statement on Human Sexuality”: “Christian churches across the ages and around the world have affirmed purity in singleness and fidelity in marriage between a man and a woman as the biblical norm. Temptations to deviate from this norm include both heterosexual sex outside of marriage and homosexual behavior. It is thus expected that Baylor students will not participate in advocacy groups which promote understandings of sexuality that are contrary to biblical teaching.” Baylor pointedly includes phrasing about “advocacy groups,” as a campus LGBTQ+ group submitted a request for official university recognition. Azusa Pacific University, a college in Azusa, California, with a Wesleyan Holiness heritage, made news when they supposedly condoned same-sex dating (but not sex or marriage) in September 2018, only to clarify later that they were changing their wording, not their intention, all while trying to acknowledge their LGBTQ+ students and make them feel less isolated. Their struggle is the reality for most, if not all, Christian colleges, no matter how they deal with the presence of LGBTQ+ students.
The school where I taught for nineteen years, Lee University, has been in the news this fall for recent changes in the student handbook and for suspending a transgender student. The school says the student was suspended for alleged profanity and bullying via TikTok, while the student says it’s because he is trans. Campus Pride, a nonprofit that works to create a safer college environment for LGBTQ+ students, releases a list of the worst campuses for LGBTQ+ youth, and my former employer is on that list.
There have been and will continue to be LGBTQ+ students who attend Christian colleges and universities, despite the schools’ stances; thus, those faculty who wish to be truly open and affirming must find ways to welcome LGBTQ+ students, while keeping their jobs. I was a faculty member at such a Christian college that struggled with this reality, but I was one who sought to be an ally to those students and to help move the school to full inclusion and acceptance. My main regret in leaving that job is that I’m no longer there for those students to have a safe space. For those faculty who wish to create such a space while working in an environment where they feel they cannot speak freely, often upon the threat of losing their jobs, I have a few suggestions.
First, admit the subject exists. I was on a road trip with four students to hear a speaker a couple of hours away. The two LGBTQ+ students were out to me and the others in the car. I asked them how they knew they could talk to me, given that faculty members can’t lay out where they stand on LGBTQ+ issues in class. Both of them said simply that I didn’t deny that LGBTQ+ people existed, that I mentioned such people in class when relevant and without any judgment. I spoke about any issues related to LGBTQ+ people or concerns with the same respect and presentation as I did any other people or issues. That alone made me stand out on a campus where other faculty either avoided the subject altogether or made disparaging comments whenever the subject came up (or they brought it up to disparage it).
Related to that idea, bring other voices into the classroom conversations. There are LGBTQ+ people or events in our disciplines you can include, even if only in passing, in ways that let LGBTQ+ students see themselves reflected. Faculty often talk about the biographies of great thinkers in each of our disciplines, whether that’s Albert Einstein or Marie Curie; William Shakespeare or Sylvia Plath; B.F. Skinner or Lauren Slater. You should do the same when talking about those thinkers who were or are (if still living) LGBTQ+, mentioning their sexual orientation or gender identity just as you would when talking about Shakespeare’s marriage to Anne Hathaway or Einstein’s marriages and relationships. Thus, when faculty talk about James Baldwin or Tennessee Williams or Edna St. Vincent Millay or Sally Ride or Alan Turing or Alexander the Great or Bayard Rustin, they should talk about their relationships just as you do for so many other people in our disciplines. And when faculty talk about the Civil Rights era, they should include the Stonewall Riots, just as they should include Queer Theory when teaching literary theory, just as they should talk about the science behind sexual orientation and gender identity. Not only do our cishet students need to know the breadth and depth of their discipline and all of the important people and ideas in them, our LGBTQ+ students need to see that people like them have contributed to that discipline. Doing so will help them feel welcome in your classes and in your discipline.
There are other ways to help them feel welcome. While faculty often cannot ask about preferred pronouns at our institutions, they can help students declare their identities in other ways. I had students pick up a slip of paper when they walk in on the first day of class (sometimes I used an information sheet they’ve downloaded from our course management system, but the principle is the same) where they could write their name as it appears on the roll, but also their preferred name. For cishet students, this approach gives them the chance to tell faculty if they go by a middle name or nickname. For students who are more gender fluid, they can tell faculty the name they want them to use when addressing them in class, giving them the opportunity to use whatever name they identify with without having to correct the professor when they call their dead/birth name from the roll. This technique helps avoid their having to come out in some way in the class, and it shows them I’m aware that some students choose to go by other names for a wide variety of reasons. Faculty can also avoid binary pronouns in our classrooms, especially when referring to God. Since I attended a church that avoids gender-specific language in our worship services, I was overwhelmed by the masculinity of the language when I taught at Lee, so I cannot imagine what it is like for LGBTQ+ students. Thus, whenever I would talk God in class, I avoided any pronoun usage whatsoever. When I talked about students, whether singular or plural, I used they to avoid the he-she binary.
If faculty can create welcome spaces in our classes and let students know you are a person they can talk to, they’re then more likely to come to your offices to have more honest conversations. Those conversations also happen on trips off-campus, whether study abroad or club trips of various sorts or taking students to hear speakers in the area or whatever fits with each of our disciplines. Those out-of-class discussions are where I’ve been able to truly support our LGBTQ+ students, whether that’s simply telling them that they are loved, exactly as they are, helping them negotiate their time at our university, or even talking with them about family strife that occurs when their parents don’t accept them for who they are. Sometimes, neither I nor the students were even aware we were talking about sexual orientation or gender identity, as they were just beginning to think about themselves in that way, but couldn’t articulate it, even to themselves. We were talking about course material or their stress levels, and the conversation slowly shifted to how to be who they wanted to be. Because they knew they could talk about issues that are controversial on a Christian college, because they knew that I would work to make all students welcome in class, and because they knew they could be honest with me and with themselves in front of me, we both ended up discovering something about them that day.
You can connect LGBTQ+ students to resources to help them where you cannot. Many of our LGBTQ+ students have been or are currently seeing a counselor to help them live in a space that doesn’t recognize them for who they are. I often suggested that students visit our counseling center, which is (or at least was when I was there) both affirming and anonymous. Not all on-campus facilities are, though, at Christian colleges, so faculty need to be aware if their counseling center is a safe space or not. If not, having resources available that are located off-campus can be helpful, as students don’t have to find such resources on their own, a task that overwhelms many twenty-year-olds. Similarly, you can put current students in touch with alumni who are willing to discuss their experiences. I can never know what it’s like to be an LGBTQ+ student at a Christian college, but I know a number of people who do know, and they know what it’s like to have been a student at the school where I taught. I ask them if they’re comfortable talking to current students, then introduce the two, so the alumni can help them in ways I can’t. More and more LGBTQ+ Christian college alumni are forming associations to both pressure administration to treat LGBTQ+ students better and to support current students. Knowing that such an association exists already helps current students; putting students in touch with that association can help them even more.
Ultimately, what faculty want to help LGBTQ+ students do at Christian institutions is to help them realize they can be their full selves: both Christian and LGBTQ+. It’s rather obvious that, when they’re enrolled at our colleges and universities, they can be Christian, but cannot be open about their sexual orientation or gender identity. What’s less obvious, though, is that they can often be openly LGBTQ+ in spaces away from our campuses, but it is more difficult there for them to be openly Christian. Students who have moved from my school to public institutions for graduate school have told me they struggle with this lack, especially; they welcome the chance to be open about a part of their selves they have kept hidden, but they then have to hide or lessen a part they have always been free to express. Those who hope to be allies can help provide spaces where they can be clearly both, whether that’s through helping them find open and affirming churches or simply talking with them over lunch about their faith, their identity, or just how their day is going. Faculty can act out what should be the core of their faith and accept them for all of who they are and help them feel whole for at least some part of their day or week or life.
I would guess that most faculty at most universities see my suggestions at basic, but those who teach at Christian universities know that our students often don’t encounter faculty willing to address issues of sexual orientation and gender identity outside of condemnation. Those who wish to be allies at a Christian college need to find ways to let LGBTQ+ students know you stand with them, that you will support them as they try to manage the complicated process of finding who they are in an environment that wants to limit (or that condemns) a significant part of their identity. I cannot imagine what they go through on a daily basis; I only know that they need faculty and staff members’ help. You might be the only help they have.
The school where I taught for nineteen years, Lee University, has been in the news this fall for recent changes in the student handbook and for suspending a transgender student. The school says the student was suspended for alleged profanity and bullying via TikTok, while the student says it’s because he is trans. Campus Pride, a nonprofit that works to create a safer college environment for LGBTQ+ students, releases a list of the worst campuses for LGBTQ+ youth, and my former employer is on that list.
There have been and will continue to be LGBTQ+ students who attend Christian colleges and universities, despite the schools’ stances; thus, those faculty who wish to be truly open and affirming must find ways to welcome LGBTQ+ students, while keeping their jobs. I was a faculty member at such a Christian college that struggled with this reality, but I was one who sought to be an ally to those students and to help move the school to full inclusion and acceptance. My main regret in leaving that job is that I’m no longer there for those students to have a safe space. For those faculty who wish to create such a space while working in an environment where they feel they cannot speak freely, often upon the threat of losing their jobs, I have a few suggestions.
First, admit the subject exists. I was on a road trip with four students to hear a speaker a couple of hours away. The two LGBTQ+ students were out to me and the others in the car. I asked them how they knew they could talk to me, given that faculty members can’t lay out where they stand on LGBTQ+ issues in class. Both of them said simply that I didn’t deny that LGBTQ+ people existed, that I mentioned such people in class when relevant and without any judgment. I spoke about any issues related to LGBTQ+ people or concerns with the same respect and presentation as I did any other people or issues. That alone made me stand out on a campus where other faculty either avoided the subject altogether or made disparaging comments whenever the subject came up (or they brought it up to disparage it).
Related to that idea, bring other voices into the classroom conversations. There are LGBTQ+ people or events in our disciplines you can include, even if only in passing, in ways that let LGBTQ+ students see themselves reflected. Faculty often talk about the biographies of great thinkers in each of our disciplines, whether that’s Albert Einstein or Marie Curie; William Shakespeare or Sylvia Plath; B.F. Skinner or Lauren Slater. You should do the same when talking about those thinkers who were or are (if still living) LGBTQ+, mentioning their sexual orientation or gender identity just as you would when talking about Shakespeare’s marriage to Anne Hathaway or Einstein’s marriages and relationships. Thus, when faculty talk about James Baldwin or Tennessee Williams or Edna St. Vincent Millay or Sally Ride or Alan Turing or Alexander the Great or Bayard Rustin, they should talk about their relationships just as you do for so many other people in our disciplines. And when faculty talk about the Civil Rights era, they should include the Stonewall Riots, just as they should include Queer Theory when teaching literary theory, just as they should talk about the science behind sexual orientation and gender identity. Not only do our cishet students need to know the breadth and depth of their discipline and all of the important people and ideas in them, our LGBTQ+ students need to see that people like them have contributed to that discipline. Doing so will help them feel welcome in your classes and in your discipline.
There are other ways to help them feel welcome. While faculty often cannot ask about preferred pronouns at our institutions, they can help students declare their identities in other ways. I had students pick up a slip of paper when they walk in on the first day of class (sometimes I used an information sheet they’ve downloaded from our course management system, but the principle is the same) where they could write their name as it appears on the roll, but also their preferred name. For cishet students, this approach gives them the chance to tell faculty if they go by a middle name or nickname. For students who are more gender fluid, they can tell faculty the name they want them to use when addressing them in class, giving them the opportunity to use whatever name they identify with without having to correct the professor when they call their dead/birth name from the roll. This technique helps avoid their having to come out in some way in the class, and it shows them I’m aware that some students choose to go by other names for a wide variety of reasons. Faculty can also avoid binary pronouns in our classrooms, especially when referring to God. Since I attended a church that avoids gender-specific language in our worship services, I was overwhelmed by the masculinity of the language when I taught at Lee, so I cannot imagine what it is like for LGBTQ+ students. Thus, whenever I would talk God in class, I avoided any pronoun usage whatsoever. When I talked about students, whether singular or plural, I used they to avoid the he-she binary.
If faculty can create welcome spaces in our classes and let students know you are a person they can talk to, they’re then more likely to come to your offices to have more honest conversations. Those conversations also happen on trips off-campus, whether study abroad or club trips of various sorts or taking students to hear speakers in the area or whatever fits with each of our disciplines. Those out-of-class discussions are where I’ve been able to truly support our LGBTQ+ students, whether that’s simply telling them that they are loved, exactly as they are, helping them negotiate their time at our university, or even talking with them about family strife that occurs when their parents don’t accept them for who they are. Sometimes, neither I nor the students were even aware we were talking about sexual orientation or gender identity, as they were just beginning to think about themselves in that way, but couldn’t articulate it, even to themselves. We were talking about course material or their stress levels, and the conversation slowly shifted to how to be who they wanted to be. Because they knew they could talk about issues that are controversial on a Christian college, because they knew that I would work to make all students welcome in class, and because they knew they could be honest with me and with themselves in front of me, we both ended up discovering something about them that day.
You can connect LGBTQ+ students to resources to help them where you cannot. Many of our LGBTQ+ students have been or are currently seeing a counselor to help them live in a space that doesn’t recognize them for who they are. I often suggested that students visit our counseling center, which is (or at least was when I was there) both affirming and anonymous. Not all on-campus facilities are, though, at Christian colleges, so faculty need to be aware if their counseling center is a safe space or not. If not, having resources available that are located off-campus can be helpful, as students don’t have to find such resources on their own, a task that overwhelms many twenty-year-olds. Similarly, you can put current students in touch with alumni who are willing to discuss their experiences. I can never know what it’s like to be an LGBTQ+ student at a Christian college, but I know a number of people who do know, and they know what it’s like to have been a student at the school where I taught. I ask them if they’re comfortable talking to current students, then introduce the two, so the alumni can help them in ways I can’t. More and more LGBTQ+ Christian college alumni are forming associations to both pressure administration to treat LGBTQ+ students better and to support current students. Knowing that such an association exists already helps current students; putting students in touch with that association can help them even more.
Ultimately, what faculty want to help LGBTQ+ students do at Christian institutions is to help them realize they can be their full selves: both Christian and LGBTQ+. It’s rather obvious that, when they’re enrolled at our colleges and universities, they can be Christian, but cannot be open about their sexual orientation or gender identity. What’s less obvious, though, is that they can often be openly LGBTQ+ in spaces away from our campuses, but it is more difficult there for them to be openly Christian. Students who have moved from my school to public institutions for graduate school have told me they struggle with this lack, especially; they welcome the chance to be open about a part of their selves they have kept hidden, but they then have to hide or lessen a part they have always been free to express. Those who hope to be allies can help provide spaces where they can be clearly both, whether that’s through helping them find open and affirming churches or simply talking with them over lunch about their faith, their identity, or just how their day is going. Faculty can act out what should be the core of their faith and accept them for all of who they are and help them feel whole for at least some part of their day or week or life.
I would guess that most faculty at most universities see my suggestions at basic, but those who teach at Christian universities know that our students often don’t encounter faculty willing to address issues of sexual orientation and gender identity outside of condemnation. Those who wish to be allies at a Christian college need to find ways to let LGBTQ+ students know you stand with them, that you will support them as they try to manage the complicated process of finding who they are in an environment that wants to limit (or that condemns) a significant part of their identity. I cannot imagine what they go through on a daily basis; I only know that they need faculty and staff members’ help. You might be the only help they have.