Why LGBTQIA+ education matters more than you think
In February, LGBTQ+ History Month gives us opportunity to reflect on the history of LGBTQIA+ rights in the UK, and how they have shaped our culture. This year’s theme is on Section 28: a controversial law introduced in 1988 which banned local authorities from “promoting” or publishing anything about homosexuality.
Poppy, Community Engagement & Impact Manager at our sister company Zellis, and a member of our LGBTQIA+ network Moore Visibility, speaks candidly on its impact on the queer community.
Researching Section 28
Section 28 is something I’d heard mentioned over the years, but I’d never taken the time to really understand its impact until now. As I dug deeper, I realised just how recent, damaging and far reaching it was – and how much it still shapes conversations about identity, visibility and acceptance today. This article is my attempt to make sense of what I learned: the history, the human cost, the progress we’ve made, and why open, honest dialogue about LGBTQIA+ lives continues to matter just as much now as it did then.
What is Section 28
Section 28 was an amendment to the Local Government Act in 1988 which prohibited “promotion of homosexuality” in schools and local authorities. Even reading that wording now feels vague and incongruous; I’d question whether a school would ever be “promoting” any kind of sexuality. But its wider social implications were crystal clear. This law was a damning insult to the LGBTQIA+ community.
The impact of silence
In practice, the lack of social dialogue around homosexuality left many people – especially young people in education – without role models, literature, or support. The law validated homophobic attitudes under the false pretence that children needed “protecting” from gay ideology.
I know some people still hold views like these, but it still feels ludicrous to me that such dangerous rhetoric was ever written into law.
What we should have been focused on was protecting the gay community from the alienation, isolation and prejudice fuelled by these heteronormative beliefs. The human impact was colossal. In schools and communities, people experienced a lack of representation, care, affirmation, and basic education. And where there is no education, misinformation and stigma breed.
Resistance and the fight for visibility
It is comforting that Section 28 wasn’t met with silence. Campaigners openly criticised the amendment, raising concerns about how it could affect access to resources, accommodation, employment and housing rights, and even hinder efforts to fight the AIDS epidemic.
Around 20,000 people protested in a march, and many celebrities used their platforms to oppose the clause. Campaigners wanted the LGBTQIA+ community to know they were not alone. Visibility mattered – and symbols like the Pride flag became crucial in restoring dignity to those pushed aside.
The repeal and its aftermath
After years of campaigning, Section 28 was finally repealed in 2003 – a turning point in attitudes towards LGBTQIA+ identities, lifestyles and families. But trust couldn’t return overnight. The pain caused by the legislation lingered.
Those who lived or grew up during that time often found their childhoods, relationships and even their sense of self shaped by a lack of support and acceptance. It highlights just how important open, honest conversations about LGBTQIA+ identities truly are.
Where we are now
Researching Section 28 for me was a little unsettling. Having grown up in a world surrounded by role models and allies of all genders and sexualities, I have never had any fear of being who I am – and it troubled me to read that within my own lifetime a law like Section 28 could exist.
Thankfully, we’ve come much further in recent years. The tireless efforts of campaigners and activists mean that generations growing up now will hopefully have a better experience. Schools can speak openly; people can see themselves represented in books and media; workplaces are more willing to challenge discrimination and adopt inclusive practices – the very things Section 28 tried to prevent.
Why remembering matters
What strikes me is how vulnerable we all are to shifting cultural norms, how quickly misinformation spreads, and how easy it is to blame a particular group of people. We still hear echoes of the same debates about what should or shouldn’t be taught in schools – the same flawed arguments that led to Section 28 in the first place.
Remembering Section 28 and its consequences matters because it shows just how quickly rights can be undermined.
Closing reflections
I often think: would I still be the person I am today if I had grown up under Section 28? Would I feel as comfortable being open about my identity, or would I have hidden parts of myself? Has the work done to reverse its impact created a world that truly embraces me – one where I can feel accepted, have a sense of belonging, and thrive?
I’m not just grateful to those who came before me; I feel a duty to carry on their legacy. To recognise history, to learn from it, and to ensure that no young person ever has to grow up hiding who they are.
