Section 28 wasn’t even the hardest thing about being a gay teacher in a Catholic school

Margaret Thatcher’s legislation prohibiting the ‘promotion’ of homosexuality in schools cast a long shadow over the teaching profession – but, as part of our occasional series for LGBT History Month, Graham Ward-Tipping reveals how he found ways to make clear it’s ok to be gay

When I first told someone that I was gay – on Monday 29 May, 1988 – I remember it being a bright May morning. Section 28 had become law the previous Wednesday. The two events are not unconnected.

The person I told was a chaplain at my university, and we had spent the weekend at a religious retreat. Saying out loud “I think I am gay” for the first time was terrifying, but came as a relief.

The chaplain was kind and reassuring. It would be some time before I came out to the rest of the world; I had yet to appreciate that coming out is an ongoing, life-long process. But as we walked around the courtyard and chatted, I knew I would be OK.

Today, I have been a teacher of mathematics for more than 30 years, 28 of them at the same Catholic school in Nottingham. I love teaching there, and I am an “out and proud” member of staff. I have been a head of house, led charity fundraising activities, taken part in liturgies, and been on retreats. My Christian faith is an active part of my life.

While I have been out to my colleagues since I joined the school – with many of them helping to celebrate my wedding in 2015 – it was only recently that I was explicit about my sexuality with the pupils.

Though it was repealed in England and Wales more than 20 years ago, Section 28 has cast a long shadow over the classroom. This piece of Thatcher-era local government legislation that had sought to prevent the “promotion” of homosexuality in schools did exactly that, almost entirely through self-censoring. Throughout much of my career, I had to be careful to avoid letting students know I was gay.

I have spent years deflecting questions about a wife and children (“none of your business”), and referred only to “my partner”, while colleagues talked openly about their husband or wife and children. My evasions, of course, said everything – though perhaps my trickiest moment came when a sixth-former noticed I was still wearing glitter from a party the night before.

When I got married, I was advised by a superior that I could say I was married, but to end the conversation at that point.

Each time I heard homophobic language directed at students, I had to decide how to respond. If I said something, would it open me up to further comments or questions? Would I be the only teacher to challenge it? Or should I, like my colleagues, turn a deaf ear?

Recently, I met a former student, now working in education, who recalled how, in 2003, I had talked about the repeal of Section 28. I have no recollection of this – but she insisted it has been an important moment for her classmate. Somehow, I had offered a glimpse of hope.

A couple of years ago, a sixth-former told me that the red ribbon I would wear on 1 December each year, to mark World Aids Day, was noticed, and that it gave them hope. It was that conversation that led me to contact the charity Just Like Us in 2022 and set up a school group for LGBT+ young people and allies.

It hasn’t been easy. Section 28 still casts its shadow and seeks to impose its silence. I was told by one member of the school leadership team to be careful about my “promotion” of LGBT+ identities through the group. At that moment, my head and my heart were taken straight back to 1988.

Last June, the Diocese of Nottingham issued guidance that bans the “celebration of Pride” in Catholic schools, and places restrictions on the remit of LGBT+ groups for pupils. Section 28 has found a new outlet.

Over the decades since, something has changed – the pupils themselves. They are confident about sharing their identities. Despite teachers’ reluctance to talk about themselves openly, they know there are LGBT+ staff.

It is because of my pupils that I am now less afraid to be myself at school, to mention my husband, to support those LGBT+ young people facing difficulties or discrimination. But still I catch myself hesitating.

It brings me joy to see LGBT+ students flourish beyond their school years. I only wish I could have done more for them while I was their teacher.

Graham Ward-Tipping is a teacher