A friend writes, "I'm coordinating a safe-space training at [an
urban public university]. One participant stated that she felt she
was a strong ally, but her religious beliefs dictate that
homosexuality is a sin. What should I do? Can I deny her a
safe-space sticker, or ask her not to advise students on religious
issues?"
This is a hard question.
It's hard partly because of its legal implications. Georgia
Tech, another state school, recently lost a lawsuit because its
safe-space program distributed literature uniformly criticizing
traditional interpretations of the Bible. Not surprisingly, a
federal judge ruled that this practice violated the First Amendment
by favoring particular religious viewpoints. (Georgia Tech has kept
its safe-space program but dropped the religious literature.)
Legal matters aside, the question raises difficult policy
issues. What counts as "safe"?
Safe-space programs generally involve a school-sponsored
diversity training focusing on LGBT issues. Upon completing it,
participants receive a sticker to display on their office doors
announcing their "ally" status.
Given how often religion is used as a weapon, I can understand
why many LGBT students would not feel "safe" while being judged as
sinners. We should never underestimate the potential damage done by
telling youth, at a delicate stage in identity formation, that
acting on their deep longings could lead to eternal separation from
God.
In contemplating my friend's question, I mainly thought of those
vulnerable students, and how best to protect them. I also thought
of my friend John.
John is a faculty member at a small private liberal arts
college. He is an evangelical Christian who believes that
homosexual conduct conflicts with God's plan as revealed in the
bible. And yet John defies easy stereotypes. He supports civil
marriage equality, decries the various ways religion is used to
harm LGBT people, and avoids "heteronormative language" (his words)
in his classroom.
While he believes that homosexual conduct (not to mention plenty
of heterosexual and non-sexual conduct) is sinful, he also believes
that all humans-himself included-have an imperfect grasp of God's
will, and that we should generally strive to respect other people's
life choices and give them wide latitude in forging their own
paths. John and his wife have welcomed me in their home, and during
grace before the meal, his wife asked for God's blessing on me, my
partner Mark, and our relationship. (For the record, I did not take
the latter to imply approval for every aspect of our
relationship.)
In light of all I know about John and his loving treatment of
LGBT persons, I can think of few spaces "safer" than his office.
Any program that would disqualify him draws the circle of "safe
spaces" too narrowly.
Moreover, there are good strategic reasons for wanting to make
the circle of self-proclaimed allies as inclusive as possible,
consistent with the well-being of LGBT students. We need people
like John to make their presence known.
Yet I am not suggesting that we draw the circle so broadly as to
rob "safe space" of any real meaning. Any student in any campus
office-stickered or not-should expect to be treated with respect
and professionalism. Presumably, the safe-space sticker denotes
venues that substantially exceed that bare minimum (as John's
office would).
So how does one draw the circle broadly enough to include John
and other conservative religious allies while excluding those who
might rant about gays burning in hell?
As with any policy question involving human beings, there's no
perfect formula here (just as there are no perfect people). To some
extent, the desired group will be somewhat self-selecting. Those
interested in condemning LGBT people to hell generally don't attend
voluntary pro-gay diversity trainings.
Yet there are also steps one can take to tailor the circle. My
recommendation would be to include, among various other elements of
a pledge taken by safe-space training participants, something along
the following lines:
"I understand that my own values and beliefs may differ from
those of students who seek me out for a 'safe space,' and will
refer students to appropriate resources given their particular
values, beliefs, interests and desires."
The idea here is that students who wish to retreat to a
"narrower" circle will be assisted in doing so. Note that religious
people offer such assistance all the time. Think, for example, of
the Christian who helpfully directs a student to the Buddhist
Student Center, despite her personal conviction that eternal
salvation is through Christ alone.
On this approach, students who want pro-gay religious literature
can receive it and evaluate it for themselves. At the same time,
those who want the advice of fellow conservative evangelicals, for
example, or fellow Orthodox Jews, can receive it and evaluate it
for themselves.
Admittedly, my recommendation would allow conservative religious
students to request and receive-in a designated "safe
space"-literature of a sort that's often deeply damaging to LGBT
people. But the approach is preferable to the alternatives: a
public university's (illegally) favoring particular religious
viewpoints, on the one hand, or its becoming silent on religious
issues-the Georgia Tech solution-on the other.
Universities are places for free exchange of ideas. As long as
that's done in a compassionate manner that respects student
autonomy, it should never be considered "unsafe."