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If my conservative parents can accept me as queer, why can't the Anglican church?

The atmosphere at school was, funnily enough, largely one of love and inclusion, but it stood starkly at odds with the words I heard spoken – how could I at once be loved and reviled?

Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Writer Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen. Source: Jessica Bialkowsk

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In recent weeks, , signed by 34 Anglican school heads, has made its way around the internet. In the letter, the principals request that religious exemptions in the Sex Discrimination Act be protected – a rule that currently allows these schools to discriminate on the grounds of ‘religious freedoms’, and puts LGBTIQ+ students and teachers in the firing line.

One of the signatories of the letter was Tara Anglican School for Girls, the school I attended from 1999 to 2006. Many of my former fellow students expressed dismay and surprise that our alma mater could put its name to such a blatantly discriminatory cause – but to me, it was no surprise at all.

I came out as queer in 2016, a decade after I finished studying at Tara. During my time there, I remember ‘lesbian’ was often bandied about by students as an insult, and we were discouraged from bringing girls as dates to the formal. We had queer teachers, but they didn’t speak of their relationships, and I remember very few openly queer fellow students. The atmosphere over the road at our brother school, King’s – also a signatory of the letter – was palpably worse. Anecdotally, I know of so many boys who only felt comfortable expressing their sexualities long after they had left the danger of the school grounds, where this natural fact could be weaponised against them.
The atmosphere at school was, funnily enough, largely one of love and inclusion, but it stood starkly at odds with the words I heard spoken – how could I at once be loved and reviled?
We were taught to love our neighbours, but I remember expressly being told by a school chaplain that I was going to hell because I wasn’t Christian. The atmosphere at school was, funnily enough, largely one of love and inclusion, but it stood starkly at odds with the words I heard spoken – how could I at once be loved and reviled?

Is it really a surprise that a letter such as this exists, when the Anglican diocese proudly last year? The institutionalised hatred of and violence against LGBTIQ+ people has historically had at least some roots in organised religion, and it’s desperately sad that this message is still being sent by the bodies that purport to nurture, support and promote growing young minds. The Archbishop has defended the letter, saying that it’s been misinterpreted as homophobic and that the schools are simply seeking a ‘positive right for religious freedom so [they] can teach within their beliefs and ethos’ – but if those beliefs directly oppress the LGBTIQ+ community, or give opportunity to, then why should this right exist at the expense of those people?

I think about my parents – not Anglicans, but conservative Vietnamese migrants who once said they’d disown me if I was gay, and now are proud of their queer daughter and vocally voted in support of marriage equality last year. If they could come around – if they could extend their love for me to true acceptance of people like me – then why can’t the Anglican church, and the heads of these schools? Do we want the blood of queer children on our hands? Do we want these children to hate themselves, repress themselves, hurt themselves, because they hear that the people in charge of their schools don’t care for them either? Do we want to drive quality teachers out of the education system just because of who they go home to at night?
It’s incredibly comforting and encouraging to see the tide turning among those I grew up around
The one heartening thing about the letter has been seeing the support from my former classmates online. I’ve been pleasantly surprised to see myself proven wrong about what I assumed would be the conservative hive mind of my suburban upbringing – people I never would have thought would stand up against such injustice, including parents of peers, have been loudly voicing their disgust and disappointment. I’ve seen comments on petitions – which have signatories in the thousands – from people who identify as Christian, denouncing the move as the opposite of what their values stand for. It’s incredibly comforting and encouraging to see the tide turning among those I grew up around – it makes me believe that although the heads of these institutions may still have their views backwards, this kind of bigotry is being less and less tolerated on a whole.

While some signatories, such as Barker College, have apologised for their part in the letter, Tara’s headmistress has stood by the school’s decision to sign, though has said the purpose of the letter “”. As a former student who is now openly queer, I am saddened that my suspicions at school were right – that I could never have been myself without feeling that it was wrong. It’s time for religious schools to realise that following an old book by the letter is less important than fostering a truly inclusive environment for all students and teachers, not only regardless of but because of who they are. It would have made a hell of a difference to me.

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5 min read
Published 7 November 2018 1:15pm
By Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen


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