I had one of those startling and shocking “overwhelmed parent” moments last week. The kind where you feel a sudden and all-encompassing crushing sense of helplessness. I literally put my head in my hands and sighed.
The reason? My teenage daughter told me that a kid at school had spotted her Pride bracelet from the parade we’d been to, the weekend before – pointed and shouted “Eww”. He then proceeded to quiz my little girl, incredulously, by the sounds of it, on why she supported LGBT+ rights.
Upon which – slightly flustered – she did something I’m achingly proud of: she took a spontaneous straw poll of tolerance in her classroom, asking each child around her whether or not they supported Pride (and all that it stands for).
Her passion at 13 impressed but didn’t surprise me. After all, just the week before, she came with me to The Independent’s annual protest at Pride 2025 – as the official publishing partner for Pride London, we march proudly and openly in the parade. She was by my side as we listened to impassioned speeches from those who have experienced LGBT+ targeted hate crime; as we confronted small and unwelcome pockets of prejudice on the streets; as we danced and cheered and clapped.
Our overt display of support couldn’t come at a more crucial time: this year, the UK dropped down the European rankings for LGBT+ rights to 22nd – we were once top. In April, we witnessed the clampdown on trans rights as the Supreme Court ruled on the “biological” definition of sex. It is entirely our duty, as parents and carers, to educate the next generation to keep fighting this fight for all our rights.
Now, here for the head-in-hands bit: my daughter dug around in her blazer pocket while telling me about what had happened in class, then produced a piece of bedraggled paper. On it, she’d written two columns – “For” and “Against”. In the “for” column were eight names, mostly girls. In the “against” column were 14 names, overwhelmingly boys.
The next lesson that day, she said, had been PSHE – Personal, Social, Health and Economic education (“sex ed”, to you and me). The teacher told them all of the different definitions that fall under the LGBT+ umbrella – from asexual to aromantic; lesbian, gay and bisexual to trans, intersex, queer and questioning.
At the end of the lesson, the original kid who’d shouted “Eww” turned to my child with an eye roll and said, “I bet you loved that lesson.” He meant it as an insult, of course.
Now, while this example is about LGBT+ rights – and I’m as offended and saddened as any other liberal parent that some kids are taught to stigmatise those with lives different to them – I can’t blame the teachers.
They seem to be doing a banging job of explaining the need for diversity and inclusivity in the curriculum (though a special exception goes to the teacher who told my daughter and the rest of year 7 that abortion meant “killing children” in last year’s science lesson). So, who’s really to blame? It can only be other parents.
Which is why I believe it entirely right that our schools take over responsibility for teaching our kids how to combat issues including misogyny and how to resist “incel” (”involuntary celibate”) culture under new school guidance, which was published on Tuesday – the rules will be mandatory from September 2026.
The vital guidance will be taught as part of the relationships, sex and health education (RSHE) framework and, according to the government, will specifically aim to help boys find positive role models to counter the increasing spread of sexist online content from so-called “manosphere” influencers like Andrew Tate.
Secondary schools will also be required to provide young people with greater awareness of AI, deepfakes, and the links between pornography and misogyny, but will also aim not to “stigmatise boys for being boys”.
It couldn’t come at a more pertinent time. The Department for Education (DfE) reports that misogynistic attitudes have reached “epidemic scale” among young people, with 54 per cent of those aged 11-19 saying they had witnessed misogynist comments.
My daughter is one of them. The kind of prejudice she witnessed about LGBT+ rights in her classroom is by no means an isolated example – these kinds of negative comments are also, far too often, aimed at girls.
We already know that research suggests some 22 per cent of primary school-aged girls have seen or been shown “rude images online”; and just last year, Ofsted reported a “scourge” of sexism in the classroom – upon which, Labour promised to tackle misogyny in UK classrooms as part of its pledge to halve violence against women and girls.
This guidance would go some way towards making this happen, in allowing teachers to “sensitively respond to topics that children might have seen online or heard from their friends”. Like anti-LGBT+ sentiment, I suppose.
And for those kids who are LGBT+, Tuesday’s guidance also includes requirements on helping children with their mental health, including working with mental health professionals to discuss suicide prevention “in an age-appropriate way”.
We can’t do this alone. There are far too few of us committed to teaching our kids to do the right thing, or brave enough to mention it at all. If watching Adolescence taught us anything, it’s that education starts within the home – this goes for tolerance and prejudice.
What we need to do is teach our kids to clap back against prejudice, wherever they see it. To counter hate with education, to protest against discrimination. But I’m not convinced that all other parents are doing a great job – that’s why it’s so vital that their teachers do.
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