2022 Mental Health Essay Contest Awardee: Honorable Mention

Don't Say Hope: Why Don't Say Gay Bills Are a National Mental Health Crisis

Leila, Ohio

Leila, 2022 NIH Mental Health Essay Contest awardee

On March 28th, 2022, I opened Instagram on my bus ride to school and was confronted with an image of Governor Ron DeSantis of Florida signing HB 1557–the Don’t Say Gay Bill–into law. I remember feeling my stomach drop and being pulled into a whirlwind of emotion. I couldn’t believe that so many people had approved of this bill that it actually was becoming law, and I was beyond angry that DeSantis and the other adults in power in Florida could be so insensitive and ignorant. But above all else, I felt a deep sense of heartache for Florida’s children.

Among other things, the Don’t Say Gay Bill prohibits the instruction of sexual orientation and gender identity in schools from grades K-3. While this bill primarily targets the first 4 years of school, it also states that the bill covers all discussion of LGBTQ topics that are not deemed age-appropriate. Therefore, this bill essentially has the potential to severely affect children’s mental health throughout all grades of school.

As someone who realized they were queer at a very young age, hearing about this bill being signed into law struck a chord with me. Throughout my childhood, LGBTQ topics were rarely ever discussed. When I started having feelings for other girls, I was about 9 years old. I felt genuinely disgusted at myself. I was anxious and scared about what liking girls would mean for my future. I knew what the words gay and lesbian meant, but I didn’t know that there were any other options. I knew that certain people weren’t straight, but I never thought that I could be one of “them.” Queerness was taboo in my childhood, and it took me years to become fully accepting of my own LGBTQ identity.

In 7th grade, I transferred into a Catholic school. I had become much more open about speaking about my experiences as a lesbian by that point, but my new school’s environment was very difficult for me to navigate. On the best days, the teachers at the school were silent about LGBTQ topics in the classroom. On the worst days, my classmates were outwardly homophobic and no administrative steps were taken to change their behavior. My newfound confidence in my identity as a queer person was met by rumors, judgment, and hate speech from my cishet peers, and I had little support from the school in that aspect of my life. My mental health dropped considerably after I started going there, and I began to experience depression for the first time in my life.

Eventually, I wrote an essay to my principal proposing that I start a Junior High Gay-Straight Alliance as a measure to build community and to take action against homophobia and transphobia in the school. I was immediately shot down and told that LGBTQ topics were not to be discussed in K-8 schools and that the school can’t sanction anything that’s centered on sex. To this day, I can’t remember a time when I felt as isolated and dismissed as I did at that moment. I was 13 years old. I wasn’t trying to indoctrinate anyone or introduce sexuality to young children. I was trying to carve a safe space for myself and other queer students in the oppressive landscape of a Catholic school.

When politicians spit phrases like “keeping our children safe” and “making sure education is age-appropriate,” I’m taken straight back to one of the darkest moments of my life. I was very lucky to have a small support system of family and friends at the school, but many children are not that fortunate. Even with the assets I had, I still found myself losing my sense of purpose and joy in school. My mental health spiraled further and further, and it undeniably would have been even more impacted had I not had my own support system.

The Don’t Say Gay Bill doesn’t just mean LGBTQ issues can’t be a part of formal education in schools. It means young queer students and children of LGBTQ parents are being taught that their identities are something to whisper about, to be ashamed of. It means straight and cisgender students aren’t being educated on how to respect other people. It doesn’t just mean “don’t say gay,” it means don’t say love and family can look many different ways. It means don’t say dignity for trans and gender non-conforming youth who simply want to be addressed correctly. It means don’t say hope for children like me, who couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.

At the end of the day, Florida’s Don’t Say Gay Bill is not simply a political tactic. It is a national mental health crisis. Since I started high school in an LGBTQ-accepting school where LGBTQ issues are discussed and anti-discrimination measures are taken, my depression has decreased significantly. I’m excited to go to school again, and I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders for the first time in years. I still have moments of depression and anxiety from time to time, but I’ve been able to develop healthy coping mechanisms with support from my community.

My experience is just one story, but it’s a story that has told itself over and over throughout the years. According to GLSEN’s 2019 National School Climate Survey, “access to an inclusive curriculum was related to greater feelings of school belonging, higher self-esteem, and lower depression among the LGBTQ students.” Queer children deserve to feel safe and heard for who they are and to have access to the same mental health support as their cishet peers. The first step in this direction is ensuring that school environments foster education about diversity. Legislative action needs to be taken in order to truly protect children in schools–not from some LGBTQ agenda, but from a never-ending loop of silence that fosters misinformation and anti-LGBTQ sentiment and breeds mental health issues in students.

NIH recognizes these talented essay winners for their thoughtfulness and creativity in addressing youth mental health. These essays are written in the students' own words, are unedited, and do not necessarily represent the views of NIH, HHS, or the federal government.


Page updated September 20, 2022