Private Christian schools are exploiting local laws to raise money while expelling kids for the crime of being not straight
A
strange thing happened to Tristan at the end of eighth grade: He
received a Facebook message from someone he didn't know who seemed,
somehow, to understand him better than anyone. "The message was like,
'Hey, I'm pretty sure you're gay. I just wanted to let you know there's
some of us at this school. If you ever want to talk, let me know.'"
Tristan was shocked that the message referred to his homosexuality,
which he thought he'd thus far been keeping under wraps. In fact, he
didn't think he had a choice. As a student at a private Christian day
school in eastern Georgia, he knew coming out would spell trouble; as a
Christian who'd been taught that being gay was an abomination, he had
spent a long time not admitting his sexuality to himself. He tried
dating a girl as a cover-up, though that didn't end well. "We went to a
friend's house, and she tried to kiss me, and I pushed her away." He
then started proclaiming himself asexual. "I was like, 'If I can keep
telling people this, then they'll believe it, and then I'll believe
it.'" Finally, he gave in and began dating a boy from another school
whom he'd met at the supermarket; he thought his boyfriend was the only
person in the world who knew his secret. And yet, here was this
mysterious message from a stranger.
At first, it was very disconcerting. "I didn't respond, because it
really freaked me out," Tristan says. But then he got another message of
support from another person. And then another. And then another. When
Tristan realized they were all coming from older kids at his school
who'd learned that he was gay after his boyfriend had inadvertently
outed him, he stopped caring that other people knew about his sexual
orientation and instead found himself relieved to learn that he wasn't
alone. Up until then, he'd thought he was the only gay person in his
whole K-12 school.
Now a sweet-faced sophomore with big blue eyes and a wry sense of
humor, Tristan, who asks that we not use his real name, tells me this
over fried cheese and Buffalo wings at a Chili's 20 minutes from the
midsize Georgia town where he lives. He's here with two friends, a
junior who asks to go by Emily and a senior who lets me use his real
name, Jason, because he'll have graduated before anyone will read this.
Though there's a Chili's closer to their homes, they've requested to
meet here because if authorities at their school learned they were gay,
they would not just be punished, they would be expelled.
Many Christian schools in Georgia and across the nation have similar
policies, sometimes explicitly written into a pledge that students or
their parents must sign when they enroll. At certain schools, a student
need not even engage in acts of sexual "impurity"; simply identifying as
gay or acting in support of a gay friend can lead to dismissal. "The
Academy reserves the right, within its sole discretion, to refuse
admission of an applicant and/or to discontinue enrollment of a
student . . . participating in, promoting, supporting or condoning
pornography, sexual immorality, homosexual activity or bisexual
activity; or displaying an inability or resistance to support . . . the
qualities and characteristics required of a Biblically based and
Christ-like lifestyle," reads the "Academy/Home Partnering Agreement" at
Providence Christian in Lilburn, Georgia, a school with religious
underpinnings very similar to those at the school Tristan attends. "No
'immoral act' or 'identifying statements' concerning fornication,
adultery, homosexuality, lesbianism, bisexuality or pornography will be
tolerated," warns the Cherokee Christian Schools in Woodstock, Georgia.
"Such behavior will constitute grounds for expulsion."
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