For most of junior year, 16-year-old Ace Roman’s mornings have started inside the “FIT Closet” — a wardrobe in the parking lot of Skyline High School.
Roman, who identifies as non-binary, would try on men’s pants, women’s skirts, and everything in between, experimenting with whatever felt best that day. Roman’s friends would do the same, with many pulling on clothing they never would have felt comfortable wearing at home.
The FIT Closet, which stands for Fashion in Transition, was designed by students at the school’s gay straight alliance club and Oakland nonprofit Youth Together. It was created to help students explore their gender identity in a safe, comfortable space — but across the country, a record number of bills targeting LGBTQ+ youth has put programs like the FIT Closet at risk. There have been bills banning trans girls from competing in women’s sports at schools, prohibiting students from using bathrooms that don’t match their biological gender, and restricting discussion or education about gender and sexuality, among others.
And according to young people and their advocates, the impact of those bills on youth — even in Democrat-controlled safe havens like California — have been immense.
“If I had to hide who I am, and act like someone I’m not, who would I even be?” said Roman.
During the first three months of this year, legislators have introduced 574 bills around the country, including two in California, that target gender identity and sexuality, according to suicide prevention organization The Trevor Project. That’s more than double the number for all of last year.
Legislation introduced by Bill Essayli (R-Riverside) in February would require schools to alert parents if a student identifies as their non-biological gender. Another bill, introduced by Rep. Doug LaMalfa (R-Richvale) in mid-March, would require parental permission for students to change their pronouns at school. The bills are non-starters in the Golden State, where Gov. Gavin Newsom and a strong Democratic majority have made LGBTQ+ rights a priority.
Proponents of these bills say that involving parents early will lead to better outcomes for their children. But both young people and LGBTQ+ advocates say the proposals will make things worse for trans and non-binary students (those whose gender identity differs from their biological gender at birth, or those who don’t identify exclusively as male or female) and will lead to an uptick in mental health issues, violence, and homelessness across the state.
“In a perfect world, safe spaces would exist at home, too,” said Samantha Silva Gomez, a program coordinator at Youth Together. “But there’s a reason people take time to come out. They know their parents best, and sometimes, their homes might not be safe.”
Today, only one-third of trans and non-binary youth say their home is a gender-affirming place, according to Trevor Project data. Jonah DeChants, a senior research scientist at the organization, said that means a bill like Essayli’s would strip young people of some of the only safe spaces they might have had: the classroom.
“This puts a target on LGBTQ young people’s backs,” said DeChants. “This, for a group of young people who — even in the best of circumstances — report poorer mental health and higher suicide risk than their straight and cis-gender peers.”
Late last year, The Trevor Project found that 44% of LGBTQ+ youth had seriously considered suicide, a number that rose to 54% when isolating for just trans and non-binary youth. On top of that, 86% of trans and non-binary youth said such laws have negatively impacted their mental health. And in the months since that survey, the number of bills targeting that population has soared.
Kelly Ferguson, director of development at Rainbow Community Center, a Concord-based nonprofit that offers counseling, clinical needs, training and social programs for LGBTQ+ youth and seniors, said the legislation could contribute to increased violence and homelessness among LGBTQ+ youth.
“Students’ safety is at stake,” said Maren Shahade, a 17-year-old from Martinez and a volunteer at Rainbow. “Respecting LGBTQ youth and allowing them to have their own voice should not be this difficult.”
Over the past few years, the classroom has increasingly been brought to politicians’ pulpits. Late last year, Florida prohibited discussion of sexuality or gender identity in the classroom. Wyoming, South Dakota, and nearly 20 other states have banned trans youth from participating in school sports. And earlier this week, Arkansas became the fourth state to ban trans students from using the bathroom of their choice.
Those politics have bled into families, too. Recent studies show that people are switching their positions on educational issues to better align to their political party. As a result, families are swerving to either side of a widening educational rift — with students caught in the middle.
“We have this false sense of security about the Bay Area,” said Ferguson. “It might be different than Tennessee or Texas, but right now, there’s still a lot of danger. There’s still a lot of violence. And there are still ways that laws can be introduced and passed if there’s not enough attention paid to it.”
Researchers from UCLA and UC Riverside found that growing political conflict has trickled down to California students. Of 150 principals surveyed across the state, 80% reported their students had made hostile or demeaning remarks to LGBTQ+ classmates.
Still, schools can be one of the most powerful channels for suicide prevention. Classrooms with “affirming” environments, such as those with gay-straight alliance clubs, reported lower attempted suicide rates among LGBTQ+ students, the Trevor Project found.
“School is a place to explore who you are,” said one Skyline student, who has come out at school — but not yet at home — and preferred to remain anonymous. The student hasn’t yet told their parents that they identify as non-binary, as “there’s a fear that your family won’t love you for who you really are, and a fear that you’ll lose that warm place at home where you can just be yourself.”
Adrienne Keel, the director of programs at the LGBTQ Youth Space in San Jose, used to coordinate a support group for young people at the city’s Independence High School. For years, Keel said, students would tell her that the group was not just the only reason they came to school — it was the only reason they got out of bed that morning.
“Having a safe adult at school is everything,” said Keel. “If young people do not have confidential spaces where they can talk about how they’re feeling, that has devastating impacts.”
