Why we leave, and how we stay

Navigating the teaching profession as queer educators in BC

By Christina Billingham (she/they), teacher, Chilliwack

In British Columbia, teaching is often framed as a calling—an act of service and care that shapes the next generation. But for many queer educators, staying in the profession is an act of resistance. While we bring passion and dedication to our classrooms, we also navigate systemic barriers, homophobia, transphobia, and the weight of politicized identities. For context, I am a queer person, I use she/they pronouns, and am of Cree-Métis descent. I want to speak to what I have witnessed in my time as a classroom teacher, a district SOGI lead, and now as the Inclusion, Diversity, Equity, and Accessibility (IDEA) Co-ordinator in the Chilliwack School District. In these roles, I have seen first-hand both the progress queer educators have made and the persistent challenges we face. Looking beyond the reasons we leave, we must also ask, “How do we stay?”

Why we leave

I think it is important to be honest. Many queer teachers experience both overt and covert discrimination, not only from those we might expect it from, but also from our colleagues, supervisors, and even those who claim to be allies.

As a BCTF facilitator, I have the privilege of traveling to different districts and meeting teachers who are deeply committed to equity and inclusion. Colleagues from every corner of the province have shared stories of hurt, harm, and resistance.

Sometimes the harm comes from those who publicly support equity initiatives: they still misgender us, exclude us from leadership opportunities, or subtly undermine our contributions. For trans and non-binary teachers in particular, systemic barriers—such as the lack of inclusive washrooms, administrative resistance to name and pronoun changes, and employment discrimination—create an environment where isolation and harm are commonplace.

“From what I have witnessed, teachers who stay often do so by becoming engaged in this work, transforming personal struggles into systemic change.”

The pushback against SOGI (sexual orientation and gender identity) resources in education in BC has placed many teachers under scrutiny. Social media harassment, school board protests, and co-ordinated attacks on queer educators make it clear that simply existing openly as a 2SLGBTQIA+ teacher is seen as a political act. Some teachers, particularly those in conservative districts, face pressure to remain closeted or to leave for their own safety. The need for constant advocacy wears down even the most committed educators.

Many queer teachers take on the role of supporting 2SLGBTQIA+ students, often unofficially, without additional resources or recognition. The emotional labour required to create safe spaces, counter misinformation, and defend inclusive policies contributes to burnout and, ultimately, attrition.

While the phrase “nothing about us, without us” is frequently invoked in equity work, in practice, queer teachers are not always involved in decision-making processes, professional development initiatives, and policy discussions. This leads to policies and practices that fail to reflect the lived realities of 2SLGBTQIA+ educators. Without our voices in the room, meaningful progress remains out of reach.

How we stay

Despite the systemic barriers, discrimination, and emotional toll, many queer educators choose to remain in the profession—not just for themselves, but for their students, their colleagues, and the future of public education. Staying is not an act of passive endurance but one of active resistance, strategy, and care. So, for those who brave the pitchforks, I offer this as an invitation to reflect, connect, and imagine new ways forward:

Build community

Finding allies—both within and beyond the profession—makes a critical difference. Groups like the BCTF’s 2SLGBTQIA+ Caucus, local GSAs and community Pride clubs, and intersectional advocacy groups provide spaces for queer teachers to connect, share experiences, and strategize for collective action.

Push for policy

If you can get in the room, and get a seat at the table, push for better policy. Strengthening and enforcing policies that explicitly protect queer educators is essential. This includes advocating for better implementation of SOGI policies, stronger union protections, and mandatory anti-discrimination training for all school and district staff. From what I have witnessed, teachers who stay often do so by becoming engaged in this work, transforming personal struggles into systemic change.

Be radical and take care

Radical self-care and boundaries are key ingredients for sustainability in this field. For queer teachers to remain in the profession, prioritizing mental health is non-negotiable. Seeking regular, affirming counselling, setting firm boundaries around emotional labour, and finding ways to disconnect from the toxicity of online and in-person attacks are crucial survival strategies.

Visibility is vital

While visibility is not always safe, many queer educators remain in teaching because they recognize the profound impact of representation. Seeing openly queer, trans, non-binary, and Two-Spirit teachers provides students with a roadmap for their own futures and counters narratives of shame and invisibility. The presence of queer educators in schools sends a powerful message to 2SLGBTQIA+ students—that they belong, that their identities are valued, and that they have a bright and sparkly future. Many queer youth experience isolation, bullying, and rejection, both at school and at home. When they see themselves reflected in teachers and people in positions of power, it fosters a sense of possibility and resilience. Representation not only affirms students’ identities but also helps create safer, more inclusive school environments where students feel seen and supported. This representation not only validates students, but other queer staff members, offering them a sense of solidarity and visibility in an often-isolating profession. Seeing colleagues who share their identities thrive in the field reinforces the belief that they, too, belong and have a future in education. It also fosters mentorship and mutual support, helping to counteract the burnout and alienation that many queer educators face.

Exit strategies, not failure

They reality is, sometimes the classroom is not safe for us. For those who do leave, shifting into advocacy, policy work, or teacher education can be a continuation of the fight rather than an admission of defeat. Many former educators become instrumental in shaping broader educational policies that improve conditions for future queer teachers and students. They can use their first-hand experience to advocate for stronger protections, push for inclusive curricula, and support the next generation of educators. Leaving the classroom does not mean abandoning the cause—it means finding new ways forward.

The future of queer teaching in BC

As we push for more equitable and just school environments, the conversation must shift from why we leave to how we create conditions that allow us to stay. Until queer teachers can exist without fear, and stifling oppression, the teaching profession will continue to lose educators whose presence is vital to the well-being of all students, in particular the queer, trans, non-binary, and Two-Spirit ones. If public education is truly about fostering inclusive, critical, and compassionate societies, then keeping queer teachers in classrooms is not just an act of resistance—it is an act of necessity.