Abstract
This paper examines what is permissible sexual progress in English primary schools by exploring the possibilities – but also the limitations – of the introduction of familial sexualities. In recent years, Stonewall (a prominent and politically mainstream Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Trans charity) have increasingly utilised ‘the family’ as a ‘child-friendly’ topic to encourage primary educators to broach same-sex relationships by incorporating their ‘inclusive’ range of Different Families resources into lessons. This strategic manoeuvre emerges in a socio-political and spatiotemporal context dominated by neoliberal sexual politics and follows ‘moral panics’ surrounding queer progressive politics inspired initiatives, most notably No Outsiders (2006–2009) which previously unsettled institutionalised discourses of ‘childhood (sexual) innocence’ in pursuing radical, but arguably necessary approaches for disrupting and undoing heteronormativity. In spite of this, Stonewall’s Different Families, Same Love initiative is now the dominant approach for introducing lesbian and gay sexualities in English primary schools; yet, little is known about how primary-aged children respond to this intervention. Focusing on a leading exponent of Stonewall’s initiative, I explore 4–9 year olds dis/engagements with gay and lesbian sexualities when introduced in a familial context. Reflecting on mixed ethnographic and focus group data, I question not only which gay and lesbian sexualities ‘progress’ in contemporary English primary schools, but also how well. To this end, recommendations are made for improving families’ curricula without losing sight of the limits of this approach.
Introduction
The repeal of Section 28 of the 1988 Local Government Act in England and Wales in 2003 and Scotland in 2000 has been widely celebrated as a turning point for ‘sexualities equality’ and inclusion in schools (DePalma and Atkinson, 2008). Section 28 prohibited UK Local Authorities from ‘promoting’ homosexuality as a ‘pretended family relationship’ (S.2A(1) Local Government Act 1986) and this created a climate of fear and uncertainly which hung over schools for decades (Epstein, 2000; Epstein and Johnson, 1998). The fact that legislation, such as the Adoption and Children Act 2002, Equalities Act 2010, and Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013 now supports schools in introducing children to same-sex families could be taken as a sign of sexual progress. Indeed, Stonewall’s Different Families, Same Love initiative, which utilises a diverse understanding of ‘family’ to introduce children to the idea of ‘2 mums’ and ‘2 dads’ is now widespread in English primary schools. While such developments are promising, it would be inappropriate to equate the introduction of same-sex families with progress just because this was once prevented as this overlooks the effectiveness of this approach and the broader socio-political and spatiotemporal context in which such contested initiatives emerge.
In bringing this to the fore, this paper extends a previous study (Hall, 2020a) scrutinising post-Section 28 ‘gender and sexualities education’ 1 for older primary school children by uniquely examining younger children’s mixed reactions to Stonewall’s dominant approach for introducing lesbian and gay sexualities at the outset of English primary education. Stonewall – a prominent and politically mainstream national Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Trans 2 charity – launched Different Families (as it will now be known) in 2011 following ‘moral panics’ in 2008 surrounding the progressive left project No Outsiders (DePalma and Atkinson, 2009a) with Stonewall favouring the introduction of familial sexualities as a more ‘child-friendly’ approach. While this has popular appeal, in this paper I question what is permissible (sexual) progress in English primary schools by exploring the possibilities – but also the limitations – of using ‘family’ to present lesbian and gay sexualities as ‘just like’ heterosexual counterparts.
In considering permissible progress, I follow Monk (2011) in unravelling the politics of progress surrounding supposed ‘inclusion’ of sexual minorities – particularly through legal recognition of same-sex couples and their families – in a world that is now supposedly ‘won’ (Weeks, 2007; see Browne and Bakshi, 2013). In doing so, I draw on Monk’s notion of speakability as constituted through the Foucauldian concept of ‘conditions of possibility’ (discursive frameworks of knowledge grounded in and made possible by a particular historical epoch; Foucault, 1980) to ‘reveal the conditionality of what, on the surface, appears to be an inclusive progressive politics’ (Monk, 2011: 201; italics in original). This approach is couched within a broader understanding of the sexual politics of neoliberalism (Bell and Binnie, 2000; Duggan, 2003; Stychin, 2003) – ‘a politics that does not contest dominant heteronormative assumptions and institutions but upholds and sustains them’ (Duggan, 2003: 50) – and what Duggan hails as homonormativity: ‘acceptance of the most assimilated, gender-appropriate, politically mainstream’ (2003: 44). Foregrounding speakability and neoliberal sexual politics in the socio-political context of English primary schools, this paper complements another study (Hall, 2020b) by linking the active socio-political work these schools undertake with the state’s mobilisation of schools as socio-political institutions in taking an outward looking perspective that ‘thinks through education’ (Thiem, 2009) to provide a critical analysis of Stonewall’s Different Families approach.
Before situating Stonewall’s initiative in a broader socio-political and spatiotemporal context, I outline the research project from which this study emerges.
The formation, implementation and reception of gender and sexualities education in English primary schools
Data presented in this paper emerge from an 18-month study in two English primary schools which are considered by Stonewall to be leading exponents of their primary ‘School Champions’ programme (see Hall, 2020a). In this paper, I focus on data from Weirwold (pseudonym), which is a co-educational, maintained community primary school located in a socially and ethnically diverse part of Greater London, UK. Community primary schools are the largest of five types of state-maintained schools which – at the time of research – account for 87% of all English primary schools (NFER, 2014). Maintained schools are funded by central government via their local authorities and are required to teach the National Curriculum. At the time of research, the school had one form entry with approximately 250 pupils on roll (ages 4–11), which – according to Ofsted 3 – makes it an average-sized primary school.
Fieldwork relating to Weirwold primary school took place between February 2012 and May 2013 and consisted of ethnographic research (including four weeks of classroom observations with detailed field notes taken during lessons and a field diary used for subsequent reflections), 11 semi-structured interviews with senior school management, teachers and Stonewall representatives, and 19 year-group-based focus groups with 92 children aged 5–11. Consent forms for focus groups were issued to every child in school and informed consent was gained from guardian(s) and children themselves (written and verbal). Typically, 3–7 consent forms were returned per class so every child wishing to participate were invited to do so. The sample reflected children of various parental viewpoints and backgrounds. Textual, visual and critical discourse analysis of government legislation and guidance (including Parliamentary discourse); Stonewall resources and publications; school lesson plans and schemes of work; and children’s classroom-based work completed the methodology. All data were thematically coded and analysed in NVivo.
This paper presents data generated through all these methods, but particularly from 11 year-group-based focus groups with 51 children aged 4–9 which took place in resource areas towards the end of each school visit (see Table 1). This allowed children to reflect on Different Families lessons and it allowed me to produce tailored focus group schedules, which included a hypothetical different families game as a participatory ‘child-centred’ method (see Hemming, 2008). This interactive game involved children making fictitious families from a range of playing cards and stimulated discussion (and non-verbal interaction) around intelligible and unintelligible families.
Schedule of school visits and focus groups.
Situating Stonewall’s Different Families approach in a socio-political and spatiotemporal context
In the context of Section 28, recognising same-sex families in English primary schools may well be taken as a sign of sexual ‘progress’. This infamous and highly contested legislation followed two incidents in a London Education Authority in the late 1980s: a primary school headteacher who had taught pupils that the love between Romeo and Juliet could be known as heterosexual (the implication being that heterosexuality was not ‘natural’ and that there are other possibilities), and the availability of the book Jenny Lives with Eric and Martin (Bösche and Hansen, 1983) in a teacher’s resource centre (Epstein and Johnson, 1998). The latter, more renowned incident is understood to have inspired the controversial wording of the act (Epstein, 2000). The book depicted a young girl raised by same-sex parents in a series of family-album style photographs. What was particularly troubling about these photographs was the ordinary, everyday depiction of same-sex family life which was regarded by many as a threat to idealised (heterosexual) nuclear families (Stacey, 1991). The fact that this book could have made its way into schools fuelled a ‘moral panic’ that eventually culminated in legislative disavowal of ‘alternative families’ (Epstein and Johnson, 1998).
The ‘symbolic effect’ of Section 28 created a climate of fear and uncertainly which hung over schools for decades (Epstein, 2000). This deterred teachers from discussing sexual diversity – and especially same-sex families – for fear of ‘promoting’ homosexuality while for others it endorsed homophobia (Epstein and Johnson, 1998). Section 28 was repealed in England in 2003, but its symbolic action was profound, not least for contemporary government legislation and guidance (Ellis, 2007; Hall, 2020a; Monk, 2011). As Johnson and Vanderbeck (2014) have shown, a compromise with religious groups in the form of new statutory sex education guidance had to be reached to get a repeal of Section 28 through the House of Lords. This guidance, which remains unchanged to date, exemplifies the state’s mobilisation of schools as socio-political institutions through requiring them to reaffirm the importance of (heterosexual) marriage and traditional family life – in fact stating how ‘there should be no direct promotion of sexual orientation’ – in teaching about ‘the significance of marriage and stable relationships as key building blocks of community and society’ (§1.21 DfEE 0116/2000). This stance was strengthened in an amendment to the Education Act 1996 which states that when sex education is provided pupils must ‘learn the nature of marriage and its importance for family life and the bringing up of children’ while at the same time be ‘protected from teaching and materials which are inappropriate having regard to the age and the religious and cultural background of the pupils concerned’ (S.403(1A) Education Act 1996, as amended by S.148(4) Learning and Skills Act 2000).
This negotiated framework for sex education ensures the continuation of religious interests in governing knowledge about (homo)sexuality in schools through preserving the prestige of (heterosexual) marriage and traditional family life, and regulating ‘dangerous’ (homo)sexual knowledge (Epstein, 1999; Johnson and Vanderbeck, 2014). While the Adoption and Children Act 2002 and Civil Partnership Act 2004/Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013 may now require UK schools to also recognise same-sex families and marriage, this does little more than compound a prevailing discourse on the desirability of monogamous childrearing nuclear relationships. Duggan (2003) and Stychin (2003) situate this apparent ‘sexual progress’ in the context of neoliberal economic and cultural globalisation, which deeply affects legal and political developments. Both show how neoliberal sexual equality politics – premised on governing sexuality within a climate of liberalisation – has undemocratically dominated US, UK and increasingly global gay political discourse since the 1990s by promoting – amongst other things – monogamous marriage as an unproblematic way for sexual minorities to receive citizenship rights and be ‘included’ in civil society. In this context, marriage is viewed as ‘a strategy for privatizing gay politics and culture for the new neoliberal world order’ (Duggan, 2003: 62) which advances – under the guise of progress for the gay and lesbian community – nothing more than the unmarked interests of prosperous white men. So, even though English primary schools may now play an active socio-political role in introducing same-sex marriage and families, an apparent achievement in the context of Section 28 this only serves to forward vested interests of a homonormative neoliberal elite and privilege those willing and able to conform to heteronormative ideals.
Butler (2002) warns that emulation of a normative and idealised heterosexual nuclear family will always fail. As Youdell (2011) explains, ‘representing gay life as “just like” heterosexual life constitutes heterosexual life as the ideal [and] risks disavowing lives that do not look like this idealized hetero-monogamous nuclear family’ (67). In other words, collusion reinforces (hetero)norms and – as Ryan-Flood (2009) adds – ignores the role of sexuality in LGBTQ+ families with same-sex marriage and families privileged at the expense of other, increasingly marginal sexualities. 4 Such scepticism is shared amongst other scholars who, like Youdell (2011), question whether popular gay and lesbian children’s literature (e.g. And Tango Makes Three (Richardson and Parnell, 2005); King and King (De Hann and Nijiland, 2002); King and King and Family (De Hann and Nijiland, 2004)) may be contributing to heteronormativity (processes and practices through which heterosexuality is normalised; see Warner, 1993) by exclusively depicting lesbian and gay characters in legally and culturally sanctioned monogamous nuclear relationships (see DePalma and Atkinson, 2009a). Focusing on the couple and the family over the individual, and holding this up as a model of acceptability is believed to reinforce the patriarchal and heterosexist institution of marriage and the perceived superiority of heteronormative, child-centred family relationships (also see Donovan, 2008).
Recognition of ‘alternative families’ gained momentum in Britain after condemnation of ‘pretended family relationships’ in Section 28. Weeks et al. (2001) refer to this as a classic example of a ‘reverse discourse’ and this can be clearly seen in relation to Stonewall’s (2014) endeavours – an organisation founded in 1989 in response to Section 28. Stonewall campaigned for same-sex adoption and civil partnerships/same-sex marriage with subsequent legislation informing Stonewall’s primary school work. As Stonewall’s Senior Education Officer recalled in 2012: [W]e didn’t have our education campaign when we were lobbying for Civil Partnerships [so] having that in place does give an awful lot of gravitas to the work we do now around Different Families. Now we have legal recognition for same-sex couples we can talk in primary schools about the fact that some children are brought up by parents who are in Civil Partnerships. (Interview with Stonewall’s Senior Education Officer, May 2012)
While this policy context is significant, the emergence of Stonewall’s Different Families initiative also needs to be situated in a wider context of ‘moral panics’ surrounding progressive left projects. As Stonewall’s Senior Education Officer explains, the Different Families approach also came as a response to radical initiatives which, in unsettling institutionalised discourses of childhood (sexual) innocence, ‘haven’t gone so well’: We spent about a year risk assessing the dangers of doing work in primary schools [because] other organisations have attempted to do other initiatives, some of which have gone well, some of which haven’t gone so well. We spent a long time just thinking about what we want to talk about, what don’t we want to talk about, how do we want to message it, how don’t we want to message it. We then spent some time thinking about the kind of resources we wanted to make once we realised that it was really about Different Families. [O]ur main concern was to make sure that it is done in the most age appropriate and sensitive way and that’s why we’ve done it in a way that could never be seen as offensive to everyone. (Interview with Stonewall’s Senior Education Officer, May 2012)
In this context, not being ‘offensive’ and taking a more ‘sensitive’ and ‘age-appropriate’ approach can be taken as adopting what Nixon (2009) – building on Silverstein and Picano (1993) and Rofes (2000) – calls ‘vanilla strategies’: highly sanitised representations of safe and approved sexual practice and fantasy that are deemed acceptable in the teaching profession (see also Hall, 2020b). The acceptability of these strategies, which are both popular and plain, is premised on Western constructions of childhood (sexual) innocence and child development – discourses which are spatialised in English primary schools as ‘cultural greenhouses’ (Hall, 2015, 2020a; Renold, 2005). Stonewall’s sociospatial reference to ‘the dangers of doing work in primary schools’ bring these dominant, yet contested understandings of children as vulnerable and naïve to the fore, and emphasise how schools are not purified spaces that nurture ‘innocent’ children, but concentrated sites of contestation around issues of power and identity (DePalma and Atkinson, 2009a; Epstein and Johnson, 1998; Hall, 2015). Indeed, they are key arenas for the production and regulation of sexual discourses, practices and identities (also see Renold, 2005). The No Outsiders project exposed these deep-rooted processes and assumptions about children’s competence that encourage ‘vanilla strategies’ in English primary schools by testing the limits of speakability and permissible progress (Monk, 2011).
Critical examination of childhood and developmental discourses – as these inform the parameters of ‘schooling sexualities’ (Epstein and Johnson, 1998) – are the basis of Monk’s (2011) exploration of the politics of progress surrounding ‘anti-homophobic bullying’: an increasingly utilised means for gender and sexualities education in English primary schools (see Hall, 2015, 2020a). As Monk has shown, the imagined liberal subjects of anti-homophobic bullying discourse invoke problematic models of child development that implicitly rest on heteronormative assumptions about the child’s sexual future. This is no truer than for use of relationships as an indicator of ‘successful adulthood’ in associated psychological reasoning which posits the inability to form ‘stable’ adult relationships (note statutory guidance on sex education following repeal of Section 28) as a disorder. For Monk (2011), this: coheres with the widespread political support for the Civil Partnership Act 2004 (CPA) [which] was frequently premised, often explicitly, on the view that it would enable and support lesbian and gays to establish stable relationships. Indeed, some Conservative politicians […] explicitly linked their support for the CPA with expressions of regret that the attitudes underlying their earlier support of Section 28 may have prompted promiscuity amongst gay men. (2011: 192) the disciplinary, normalising function of liberal law reform may constrain us by acting to limit the variety of ways of living – of styles of life – which sexual dissidents historically have developed. [L]egal recognition may limit our ability to recognise that we can construct our lives so as to defy the categorises which law traditionally has sought to impose upon us. (2003: 4)
In effect, the seductive language of liberalism and rights (Stychin, 2003) together with the perceived inappropriateness of No Outsiders as an ‘ideologically extreme’ (Duggan, 2003) left project galvanised Stonewall’s seemingly more appropriate, ‘child-friendly’ approach. While this ‘vanilla strategy’ (Nixon, 2009) may have wide appeal by being less threatening, it undermines queer progressive politics and more radical interventions premised on disrupting heteronormativity (DePalma and Atkinson, 2009a) – the condition in which homophobia is produced (Ellis, 2007). Yet, despite the importance of radical (queer) initiatives even Stonewall’s ‘vanilla strategies’ are regarded by some as contentious in the fraught, cultural microcosm of the English primary school as recent protests at a UK Birmingham primary school demonstrate (Parveen, 2019).
Despite numerous interventions in English primary schools, Stonewall’s Different Families initiative is now the dominant approach for introducing gay and lesbian sexualities. This permissible progress has been achieved through lobbying for and then mobilising neoliberal government policy to inform and legitimise what – in the context of the English primary school – can count as ‘age-appropriate’. The suitability of Stonewall’s approach has since been sanctioned by Ofsted (2012) following lobbying to include whether ‘pupils have had any lessons about different types of families’ (3) as a key consideration in inspection guidance relating to schools’ actions towards preventing and challenging homophobic bullying. This endorsement is significant given Ofsted’s influence in schools in England and as Stonewall’s Senior Education Officer revealed in a 2012 interview: ‘we’ve been lobbying and working with Ofsted for many years on this [so] we’re delighted that they’ve made sure that this is included’.
In effect, approving this particular approach consolidates Stonewall’s Different Families initiative as the way to introduce gay and lesbian sexualities in the increasingly desexualised cultural arena of the English primary school. Stonewall, which acts ‘metonymically for the civilised, gay citizen’ (Stychin, 2003: 40), becomes emblematic of Duggan’s (2003) claim that: no longer representative of a broad-based progressive movement, many of the dominant national lesbian and gay civil rights organisations have become the lobbying, legal, and public relations firms for an increasingly narrow gay, moneyed elite. [T]he push for gay marriage […] has replaced the array of political, cultural, and economic issues that galvanized the national groups as they first emerged from a progressive social movements context several decades earlier. (2003: 45)
‘Loads of people have two mums and two dads’: Reconstituted families and the intelligibility of same-sex parents
Sociological and geographical literature on families recognise how this is not a homogenous or monolithic institution, but increasingly diverse with children raised in a variety of family forms and often in more than one household (see Stacey, 1991; Valentine, 2008). As such, the enduring power of ‘the family’ (often narrowly regarded as conventional, heterosexual nuclear families) has been problematised for the way this conceals a complex and diverse array of family forms which include lone-parents, cohabiting partners (with or without children), queer family arrangements and reconstituted families (step-parent families) (Gillis, 1996). According to these commentators, it is time we abandoned the idol of ‘the family’ and begin validating a greater variety of families. This does not entail replacing family, but rather recognising alternative families or – as Weeks et al. (2001) prefer – ‘families of choice’. While talk of family may appear to be at odds with queer critiques of hetero-patriarchal life, Valentine (2008) and others stress how family – defined in the broadest sense – remains a form of relationship that most people strive for and are attached to. Indeed, as Goss (1997) argues: The appropriation of the term family is not an assimilationist strategy of finding respectability in general society. We are not degaying or delesbianizing ourselves by describing ourselves as family. In fact, we are Queering the notion of family and creating families reflective of our life choices. Our expanded pluralist uses of family are politically destructive of the ethic of traditional family values. (1997: 12)
Stonewall’s Different Families initiative can also be situated within this academic context. Stonewall’s resources aim to disrupt the idol of ‘the family’ by recognising a greater range of families, including those with ‘2 mums’ and ‘2 dads’. These families are depicted in resources alongside more ‘conventional’ family arrangements and Stonewall encourage primary educators to combine these resources with others when delivering a topic on families. In Weirwold primary school, the Different Families scheme of work was introduced in nursery and continued in subsequent years as part of themed topic weeks. This took various forms and was delivered in different ways in a range of lessons, although Stonewall’s Different Families posters were always the linchpin of this scheme of work (see
Annotated Different Families poster and children’s own family trees.Top to bottom: Stonewall's ‘Different Families, Same Love’ poster annotated in a Year 1 lesson and children’s own family trees (February 2013).Source: Weirwold primary school
Throughout these exchanges, children pluralise a notion of ‘the family’ beyond a singular, conventional heterosexual nuclear model. Children first recognise variance within heterosexual family arrangements, for instance children with grandparents or step-parents. This first disruption to the idealised, ‘imagined family’ (Gillis, 1996) opens up conceptual space in which ‘2 mums’ and ‘2 dads’ become intelligible. Recognising step-parents (reconstituted families) legitimises the possibility that some children have ‘2 mums’ or ‘2 dads’, as Salma points out and one child even made this relevant to his own situation as someone who is adopted: ‘Tom suddenly starts telling me about his family; that he has a brother and a sister. He then says that he has two mums and two dads and that he is adopted’ (Weirwold field notes (Year 3, February 2012)).
In this example, the oldest children (8–9 years old) volunteer to make fictitious same-sex families following initial creation of a conventional, heterosexual nuclear family. Hierarchical ordering aside, this group of children sanction these family arrangements – albeit through the logic of adoption – commenting how ‘it is possible’ and ‘ok’. Hayley even treats the potential gay relationship trivially by adding a humorous touch before Natasha adds how ‘it doesn’t matter if some people are gay’.
While responses in this section indicate an increasing level of awareness, they do not necessarily reveal how children feel about same-sex families/intimacy or how they might make sense of such families beyond adoption logic, which was often regarded as unfortunate in children’s informal classroom discussions (Weirwold field diary, 2012–13). Elsewhere, I conceptualise responses, such as ‘it doesn’t matter if some people are gay’ as performing ‘acceptance’. I note how children often cite liberal discourses of equality in ‘formal’ micro-institutional space (i.e. classroom and assembly hall), sometimes rehearsing in the liminal research space of the focus group to be a ‘good student’. Following Butler (1997), I distinguish this ‘performative self’ from a ‘performative subject’ – a ‘good peer’ – that simultaneously recuperates heteronormativity in ‘informal’ micro-institutional space (i.e. corridors, toilets and the playground) in order to achieve viable subjecthood (see Hall, 2020a).
While liberal acceptance of same-sex families with adopted children is performed by some children, as demonstrated in this section, elsewhere and on other occasions children felt compelled to reinstate heteronormativity. In the next section, I demonstrate how heteronormativity was more often recuperated in response to the subversion of the conventional, heterosexual nuclear family.
Recuperating heteronormativity by heterosexualising the relationship between ‘2 mums’ and ‘2 dads’
In this example, Lucy suggests that the two dads could be gay and continues to endorse this possibility – despite Salam’s insistence that a ‘man and a man can’t have a baby’ – by suggesting that adoption (just one route to parenthood) is possible. However, in response to persistent acts of repudiation, Lucy – like others – eventually succumbs to masculine authority by undermining the integrity of ‘gay dads’ conceding that they deceived a woman into having a baby. This deference to masculine authority, which can also be simultaneously read as feminised avoidance of confrontation, occurs again later in the focus group when Lucy concedes that lesbian parents ‘tricked’ men into having babies.
In both instances, dominant biological/heteronormative constructions of ‘family’ founded on deep rooted connections between sex, relationships, conception and reproduction prevail over the legitimacy of same-sex adoption or other routes to parenthood, as more acutely conveyed in Week et al.’s (2001) conceptions of ‘families of choice’. While children’s awareness of reconstituted families may have made the idea of ‘2 mums’ and ‘2 dads’ intelligible, data presented in this section highlight the importance of broaching the role of sexuality in LGBTQ+ families and endorsing the distinctiveness of how same-sex families are formed since children clearly lack this knowledge and understandably revert to heteronormative reproduction (Carlile and Paechter, 2018; Ryan-Flood, 2009; Taylor, 2009; Weeks et al., 2001). Yet, in the context of the English primary school where heterosexuality has an invisible, taken-for-granted presence, any talk of same-sex sexuality would be at odds with the supposed desexualised nature of schooling (also see DePalma and Atkinson, 2009a; Hall, 2015, 2020a; Renold, 2005). As Taylor (2009) fears, homonormative family forms may well be incorporated into this taken-for-granted invisibility with schools mistakenly thinking that mere representation of same-sex families is enough.
Such exchanges simultaneously illuminate the fragility of the acceptability of same-sex families in the face of the normative heterosexual model with normatively imagined heterosexual nuclear families erasing, discrediting or undermining lesbian and gay sexualities when introduced in a familial context. This could well be intensified in the social space of the primary school where some (heterosexual) families are more visible in – for example – the playground and as a result of school policies and everyday institutional practice which may – even inadvertently – uphold normative heterosexuality (Carlile and Paechter, 2018; Hall, 2020a; Ryan-Flood, 2009). This includes the circulation and re-enforcement of (hetero)norms in everyday institutional language and the designation of children’s primary parent in official school records, which tends to normalise school engagement with a mum (Carlile and Paechter, 2018). This is in addition to intensified heteronormative sex education following the repeal of Section 28 (again illustrating the state’s mobilisation of schools as socio-political sites; see Thiem, 2009) and children’s own investments in reinstating normative (hetero)gender/sexuality in school corridors, playgrounds and toilets (Hall, 2020a). This often gives rise to a cultural arena saturated with heteronormative discourses and practices (also see DePalma and Atkinson, 2009a; Renold, 2005). As such, perhaps it should not be surprising that families with opposite-sex parents are regarded as ‘correct’ and ‘the best’ and making most sense. 11
The ability of institutional heteronormativity and dominant biological/heteronormative constructions of family to preclude the intelligibility of different families can also be clearly seen in the final example when the popular, but highly criticised book And Tango Makes Three (Richardson and Parnell, 2005) is read to Reception children (4–5 years old) during a school assembly. This ‘true story’ of two male penguins that rear an abandoned chick in a New York zoo typifies many ‘child friendly’ books endorsed by Stonewall as befitting for a primary school context. However, as the second child’s response to this story indicates, institutional heteronormativity and dominant biological/heteronormative constructions of family give rise to mis-readings of stories that emulate a normatively imagined heterosexual nuclear family: As Chris reads the story, he points out how lots of different families are going to the zoo to see animals that all have different families of their own (repeated throughout) and Chris notes how Roy and Silo are both boys. When Chris has finished reading the story, he reiterates how lovely it was because the two penguins did not think they could have a family. Chris then asks the children what they enjoyed about the story and one child replies ‘the chick’ before a second child states ‘the chick and the mummy’. Chris reminds the children that in this story the chick did not have a mummy. (Field notes, November 2012)
Conclusion
I began this paper by noting how – in the context of Section 28 – recognising different families in English primary schools may well be taken as a sign of ‘progress’. As Epstein (2000) and others have shown, the symbolic effect of Section 28 was profound and knowledge of same-sex families – at least until recently – had been erased from educational spaces. While ‘vanilla strategies’ (Nixon, 2009) can still be important in ‘thinking through education’ beyond the sector (Thiem, 2009), simply introducing Different Families without prior government-sanctioning of the distinctiveness of how same-sex families are formed can restrict children’s understandings of ‘family’ beyond biological/heteronormative constructs. This might implicate a reliance on the state to activate schools to think through matters around the reproduction of social norms via the curriculum and everyday school activities. This would also go some way to countering institutional heteronormativity which pervades the everyday spaces of schooling (Hall, 2020a). That said, schools are not merely a container of prevailing socio-political understandings and processes, as stressed earlier and have an active role in their contested (re)production. This means that schools should also reflect upon and challenge how normative (hetero)gender/sexuality permeates school cultures and undermines equalities initiatives (see Dellenty, 2019).
As stressed throughout, sexual progress in English primary schools is also not merely about improving families’ curricula, which has limits as an approach (Butler, 2002; Youdell, 2011). As outlined at the outset, it is crucial to always ask which sexualities are ‘progressing’ in and beyond English primary schools. Stonewall’s Different Families initiative has become the dominant approach for introducing primary-aged children to lesbian and gay sexualities; yet, as I have shown, this approach emerges within a specific socio-political and spatiotemporal context where vested interests in monogamous nuclear relationships – stemming from problematic neoliberal sexual politics – prevail and where ‘child friendly’ is very much defined by what is supposedly not ‘child friendly’: namely, queer progressive politics inspired initiatives (i.e. No Outsiders). Yet, as many scholars argue, approaches informed by queer praxis, which move beyond liberal ideals of equalities and ‘inclusion’, are necessary to systematically disrupt and undo heteronormativity (DePalma and Atkinson, 2009b; Ellis, 2007; Hall, 2020a). As such, this paper argues for adjustments to families’ curricula in English primary schools alongside seizing opportunities for queer educational praxis (also see Hall, 2020b). This would include queering normative (hetero)gender/sexuality in everyday institutional practice and curricula as well as incorporating discussions of same-sex intimacies beyond talk of Different Families.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
This study emerges from ESRC Open Competition doctoral research overseen by Elizabeth Gagen and David Atkinson. Their guidance and support were essential to the successful completion of this research. I would also like to thank Jason Lim and Nick McGlynn for insightful comments on a first draft and Kath Browne for being a sounding board and encouraging this submission. This paper was further refined following generous comments from two peer-reviewers who I would to thank for engaging so closely with this work. Finally, I must thank all who participated in this research, not least the children who I miss and enjoyed working with so much. I will forever be grateful to the school’s deputy headteacher who unconditionally supported this study and kindly invited me to stay with his family during and beyond the research.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was supported by the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) as part of Open Competition doctoral funding.
