Teaching math at her alma mater in Florida, Katie Wood wants to leave Lennard High School better than how she found it. But under Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis’ administration, Wood’s future as an out trans woman at the school hangs in the balance.
“I can’t even call myself Ms. Wood,” the 3rd-year educator said, noting that her gendered title is one of several things she is barred from using solely due to her being a transgender person. “In many ways, I’m being forced to be back in the closet.”
As of last December, Wood is one of three educators in the state challenging Florida from enacting a portion of House Bill 1069 that would require teachers to use names, genders and pronouns based on their legal sex at birth. HB 1069 is an expansion of House Bill 1557 or Parental Rights in Education, more known by its critics as the infamous “Don’t Say Gay” bill that spearheaded its copy-cat bills across the country, seeking to censor LGBTQ issues and discussions in schools.
Florida spearheaded “Don’t Say Gay” back in 2022, and part of the unprecedented, alarming number of anti-LGBTQ legislation last year was a slew of other states following lead to pass copy-cat bills. Alabama, Arkansas, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky and North Carolina became states with similar laws.
As of last Thursday, a separate settlement around “Don’t Say Gay” between civil rights attorneys and Florida education officials concluded that students and teachers can discuss gender and sexuality if it is not part of any curriculum.
Because LGBTQ activists in Florida have fought against “Don’t Say Gay” for nearly two years, the settlement is considered a win for those who were barred from being out about their genders and sexualities. Meanwhile, as the law is technically still in place, Gov. DeSantis sees this as a win for parents, too.
Wood, along with two other trans and nonbinary educators in their lawsuit against the expansion of “Don’t Say Gay” are fighting for their ability to show up as their full selves while teaching.
“I would have never let [being trans] prevent me from being a teacher because teaching means that much to me, but also my identity and who I am mean just as much to me,” Wood tells Reckon, adding that she wouldn’t be as happy of a person as she is now had she not come out. “I wouldn’t know how to love myself as much as I do. But the actuality of the math that I’m teaching my students—that doesn’t change whatsoever.”
Meanwhile, regardless of gender and sexuality, some courses are at risk under different circumstances.
The Stop WOKE Act and the stop of diverse courses
Based in Orange County, Francis is a 47-year-old nonbinary teacher at a Montessori High School, teaching AP Psychology while being an adjunct professor at the University of South Florida for the Global and Multicultural and Perspectives in Education course.
Because of the “Stop WOKE Act,” which has been taking control of curriculum revolving race and gender, Francis, who requested to be referred to only by their last name, might not be teaching their course at USF next semester.
Known as the Stop the Wrongs to Our Kids and Employees Act, also signed by Gov. DeSantis in 2022, the law aims to regulate how schools in Florida incorporate race and gender into curricula. On Mar. 4, a three-judge panel of the 11th circuit appeals court in Atlanta deemed Gov. DeSantis’ law as “the greatest first amendment sin,” and they upheld a lower court’s ruling that Stop WOKE Act violates the constitutional rights to freedom of speech and expression for employers.
Currently, Gov. DeSantis is reviewing all options to appeal the decision, potentially putting Francis’ course in jeopardy.
“I prepare social science teachers on an undergrad level where we talk about how to have a culturally responsive classroom, and I could not teach that course without going into the history and all the issues surrounding education,” they told Reckon, explaining that multicultural and global topics can be considered identity politics—a term used in the law.
Francis notes a kink in the law: “identity politics” is not operationally defined, which only puts the future of their course deeper into uncertainty.
The DeSantis administration and its efforts to curb not only LGBTQ people but also educational courses at large, according to Francis, is “a fallacy and a fluke—something that is politicized and weaponized.”
They believe that, in the same way LGBTQ+ adults and queer kids need to see themselves represented not only in the explicit curriculum, but also implicit curriculum is “absolutely crucial.” While explicit curriculum refers to the designed structure of a curriculum, implicit ones derive from the human discussions and engagement that come out of the explicit structure.
Above all, as someone who was bullied, felt very lonely and was not learning well as a young student, Francis harkens back to what matters most to them as a nonbinary teacher.
“It all goes back to cultivating a safe space and a sense of belonging, and that directly correlates to learning.”
Why it matters to see LGBTQ staff members in school
GLSEN, a major LGBTQ rights organization advocating for education and students, describes inclusion and visibility of queer and trans teachers and educators as beneficial for everyone. Additionally, it displays for students more ways to empathize with diverse groups of communities.
Wood believes leaders set culture, and when legislators and governors pass anti-trans laws, it sets the culture for young people saying that there is something inherently wrong with trans and gender-nonconforming people to the point that the government needs to step in and control them.
“[Florida] is setting a culture—along with other states—that we are alien, that we don’t deserve the same rights as other people, and we don’t deserve to be loved and cared for,” said Wood.
She adds that her state is setting a culture where young people view trans people as being unable to access many things, that they can’t express their preferred names or pronouns, they can’t use the bathrooms they feel comfortable in—a culture Wood calls, the, “I can’t... I can’t... I can’t...”
Based in Osceola County, Jaime Jara is a straight and cisgender activist, educator and mother to a young trans girl. At the end of 2022, she and her daughter Dempsey appeared in the most recent season of HBO Max’s “We’re Here,” a show about three drag queens taking on drag children in towns where the fight for LGBTQ justice is strenuous.
She tells Reckon that she believes Florida set a precedent for other states by being the focal point of discriminatory legislation against the trans community. Jara has since continued her advocacy for trans youth in Florida, even winning a GLAAD award last year with Dempsey.
Jara adds that it is crucial for individuals to voice opposition against these damaging bills in Florida, because they aim to further isolate “an already vulnerable group, demonize transgender individuals, and instill fear to suppress their identities.”
For LGBTQ educators and administrators in Florida or elsewhere facing similar legislation, Jara’s message is to “remain steadfast. These laws aim to intimidate us into compliance.”
Wood shares similar sentiments, holding onto what matters to her the most.
“What centers me is my students; I show up to work to teach my kids because they’re all I got,” she said, adding one last [piece of] advice for other LGBTQ teachers in Florida. “It sucks that it has to be up to us, but we got to stand up and we got to have our voices heard.”