How have restrictions on classroom conversations about race and gender affected teachers and students?

Two educators share their observations today.

Students ‘Know When We’re Afraid’

Valerie Peña-Hernandez is an equity-driven education consultant and former bilingual special educator:

Let me be clear: When we avoid conversations about race, identity, or love, we are not protecting students, we are abandoning them.

I’ve stood in classrooms where silence became a suffocating presence, where LGBTQ+ students whispered truths instead of speaking them. Students of color were disengaged, not because they didn’t care but because they didn’t feel safe enough to bring their whole selves into the space. We’re not neutral when we dodge these topics, we’re complicit in erasure.

In my years as a teacher and consultant, I’ve seen the transformation that happens when these stories are finally welcomed. I’ve seen students sit taller, speak louder, and show up more bravely. When we talked about systemic racism, my students didn’t just listen, they endured it. They led poetry slams, painted murals, and organized forums. They healed and they resisted. When we honored LGBTQ+ voices, students who had once hidden in the back of the room began to share with power. They taught me what it meant to be courageous.

These conversations aren’t “extras” or “nice to have,” they are humanity’s curriculum. They are how we teach empathy, justice, and community. I’ve worked with schools to develop structures and space for these dialogues and I always tell leaders that this is not about having the perfect words. It’s about creating a brave space over a safe space. It’s about showing up imperfectly but consistently.

Because here’s what I know for sure: Kids can sense authenticity. They know when we’re afraid and when we love them enough to fight for the truth. We cannot teach the whole child if we’re only willing to see parts of them. Full inclusion begins with full acknowledgment. Their stories, identities, and truths must belong in our curriculum—not just in June or on MLK Day, but every single day.

‘Students Can Feel the Omissions’

Craig Aarons-Martin is the CEO of CCM Education Group:

In my early days as a teacher in New Orleans and later as a principal in Boston, I taught my students to see their identity as a source of strength. But in recent years, legislation and policies aimed at limiting classroom discussion about LGBTQ+ identities and race have threatened that core belief—and our students are the ones paying the price.

What these restrictions don’t account for is that our students live in these intersections. When you tell a Black trans student that their existence can’t be discussed, you’re not just censoring curriculum—you’re denying their humanity.

When you scrub critical conversations about racism from the syllabus, you’re protecting adults, not children.

In the face of these restrictions, I’ve had to get creative—and bolder. As a school leader, I committed to fostering what I call “brave spaces,” not just safe ones. That meant embedding community agreements into morning meetings, coaching teachers on culturally affirming language, and bringing in family voices to reinforce that learning doesn’t stop when something gets hard.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Silence is not neutrality—it’s complicity. If we’re not explicitly affirming LGBTQ+ students and talking about the realities of race, we are implicitly upholding the systems that harm them.
   
2. Students can feel the omissions. They know when we dodge hard conversations. One of my scholars once said, “Mr. Martin, it’s like we’re invisible.” That broke me—and it changed me.
   
3. Culture-building is an act of resistance. Even if the law limits certain words, it can’t limit your tone, your affirmation, your questions. Students know who sees them.
   
4. Leadership must take a stand. I’ve had to go toe-to-toe with district officials, board members, and angry emails. But I always told my staff: “If they come for us, let them. We protect our kids first.”
   
5. Affirmation can’t be seasonal. Pride flags aren’t just for June. Black History isn’t just for February. Our work must be daily and embedded—not performative.
   

Censorship will never protect our children more than truth will. And as educators, our duty is not to comfort systems but to champion the students entrusted to us.

Thank you to Valerie and Craig for sharing their thoughts.

Today’s post highlighted answers to this question:

What ways, if any, have attempts at limiting discussion of LGBTQ+ issues and racism affected your teaching, and how have those restrictions impacted your students?

Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@educationweek.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.

You can also contact me on X at @Larryferlazzo or on Bluesky at @larryferlazzo.bsky.social .

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