Sometimes the World Gets a Little Bit Better...
Some of us remember Clause 28 - a repressive, bigoted bit of legislation that had only one design: to denigrate gay people. Gay people at the time weren't doing anything much to bother society, except dying in their droves of a terrifying new disease - but apparently, for the promoters of this barbarous piece of legislation, even dying a death of such suffering that, in any other group, it would have led to near-instant tabloid beatification, wasn't enough to atone for the sin of being alive in the first place.
The spite drips from every syllable of the drafting - and you have to understand this was a law, so no word was used lightly or inconsiderately - policy officials and legislators will have weighed each syllable for its meaning before pronouncing that local authorities 'shall not intentionally promote homosexuality', or 'the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship', in their schools - which pretty much meant all schools. Very few schools fell outside of local authority control at the time.
And what prompted Mrs Thatcher's government to wage war on school children? A book. A book titled 'Jenny lives with Eric and Martin' - a kiddies book about a little girl growing up with same-sex parents. Growing up being an act of subversion, unless you have the 'right' parents.
This wasn't just about homophobia - this, and other legislation, sought to make teaching safe sex to gay teenagers illegal - at a time when not understanding how to have safe sex killed. There were no antiretrovirals - you contracted HIV and you died. And the people who pushed this legislation were just fine with that. The only good gay teenager, was a dead gay teenager. And, if they weren't dead, they'd better be 'converted'. These are kids in school uniform. When you listen to the apologists for this suite of legislation - remember that. Clause 28 was aimed at schools.
Now, forty years later, there is another book. This book is titled 'My Daddies'.
This book is also about a little girl who lives with her same-sex parents - written and illustrated by same-sex parents - and today the publication of this book is being celebrated by the media, and the government has apologised for Clause 28. But, although this little girl's family is no longer an abomination in the sight of the law, she will still face prejudice because she doesn't have the 'right' parents. The same vindictive minds who supported Clause 28 still think that same-sex families, both fictional and real, constitute a 'pretended family relationship' - and her family will still struggle to be accepted by people who place their piety above their humanity.
It's too little, too late, for children like Jenny, and parents like Eric and Martin, but today Eric and Martin might be married, and Jenny's family is no longer a pretence in the sight of the law. Today Jenny would be 45, and that's worth remembering too. A generation unnecessarily blighted and lives unnecessarily lost. That is the legacy of Clause 28.
Hopefully, the next step is to end the real pretence of 'conversion therapy' - and if that happens, the world - or at least this little corner of it - will have crept that bit further forward. It's sobering that repression always seems to take great leaps, but progress must fight for every hard-won step. But the rainbow isn't just about PRIDE, it's also about hope. And hope, as Dr King might have said, is a powerful thing.
The spite drips from every syllable of the drafting - and you have to understand this was a law, so no word was used lightly or inconsiderately - policy officials and legislators will have weighed each syllable for its meaning before pronouncing that local authorities 'shall not intentionally promote homosexuality', or 'the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship', in their schools - which pretty much meant all schools. Very few schools fell outside of local authority control at the time.
And what prompted Mrs Thatcher's government to wage war on school children? A book. A book titled 'Jenny lives with Eric and Martin' - a kiddies book about a little girl growing up with same-sex parents. Growing up being an act of subversion, unless you have the 'right' parents.
This wasn't just about homophobia - this, and other legislation, sought to make teaching safe sex to gay teenagers illegal - at a time when not understanding how to have safe sex killed. There were no antiretrovirals - you contracted HIV and you died. And the people who pushed this legislation were just fine with that. The only good gay teenager, was a dead gay teenager. And, if they weren't dead, they'd better be 'converted'. These are kids in school uniform. When you listen to the apologists for this suite of legislation - remember that. Clause 28 was aimed at schools.
Now, forty years later, there is another book. This book is titled 'My Daddies'.
This book is also about a little girl who lives with her same-sex parents - written and illustrated by same-sex parents - and today the publication of this book is being celebrated by the media, and the government has apologised for Clause 28. But, although this little girl's family is no longer an abomination in the sight of the law, she will still face prejudice because she doesn't have the 'right' parents. The same vindictive minds who supported Clause 28 still think that same-sex families, both fictional and real, constitute a 'pretended family relationship' - and her family will still struggle to be accepted by people who place their piety above their humanity.
It's too little, too late, for children like Jenny, and parents like Eric and Martin, but today Eric and Martin might be married, and Jenny's family is no longer a pretence in the sight of the law. Today Jenny would be 45, and that's worth remembering too. A generation unnecessarily blighted and lives unnecessarily lost. That is the legacy of Clause 28.
Hopefully, the next step is to end the real pretence of 'conversion therapy' - and if that happens, the world - or at least this little corner of it - will have crept that bit further forward. It's sobering that repression always seems to take great leaps, but progress must fight for every hard-won step. But the rainbow isn't just about PRIDE, it's also about hope. And hope, as Dr King might have said, is a powerful thing.