Historians draw parallels between 'Don't Say Gay' legislation and Florida's purge of gay teachers decades ago
SARASOTA, Fla. – The Florida legislation titled "Parental Rights in Education" (HB 1557) – dubbed by critics the "Don’t Say Gay" bill – is one of the most controversial bills from this year's legislative session, drawing in many concerns from opposing lawmakers.
In a March 7 meeting, Florida Sen. Tina Polsky, a Democrat, questioned a sponsor of the bill why, of all the difficult topics in the classroom, it specifically prohibits gender identity and sexual orientation.
“We know there are social inputs into how people act and what they decide to do,” responded Sen. Dennis Baxley, a Republican. “So, yeah, that’s part of our concern for the well-being of our children.”
The bill, passed on March 8, restricts speech in public school classrooms on sexual orientation and gender identity, sparked by one lawmaker's concern that children were being "trendy" in coming out as gay.
In recent tweets, Gov. Ron DeSantis’ press secretary, Christina Pushaw, took it a step further. She called the bill an “anti-grooming” measure, referring to the practice of building an emotional connection with a child with the goal of abusing or exploiting them.
The messages veer from what the bill’s Republican supporters had been hammering: House Bill 1557, titled “Parental Rights in Education,” was about empowering parents, giving them control over when and how their children learn about sexuality and gender.
Those who have studied the history of the state’s treatment of LGBTQ Floridians argue the message it sends – and some of the language used to defend the bill – harken back to another, darker time in Florida’s history.
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They say the false idea that exposing children to LGBTQ themes is a form of indoctrination, or that gay and transgender adults are out to recruit children into their ranks, is baked into Florida’s history. It dates back to a legislative purge of gay and lesbian teachers in the 1950s and ‘60s.
“What has been a constant in conservative ideology for most of the 20th century … is that there’s this scapegoating of education – public schools specifically, and teachers – as sites of indoctrination,” said Stacy Braukman, who published a book in 2012 on the Florida Legislative Investigation Committee’s work to out teachers and students.
“I wrote in the acknowledgments that I hope that when my nieces grew up, whatever they read in this book would seem completely foreign to them.
“It turns out I just could not have been any more wrong.”
‘Don’t Say Gay’
In a legislative session defined by culture wars, this one has drawn nationwide condemnation.
High school students across Florida staged walkouts last week to protest the measure, and celebrities from Ariana Grande to Disney executive Bob Chapek have spoken out against the bill. Democratic lawmakers and LGBTQ advocates coined it the “Don’t Say Gay” bill in what has become a far-reaching messaging campaign.
Supporters say that takes away from the bill’s true intent to empower parents with more control over their child’s education. They implore critics to read the bill text, which prohibits “classroom instruction by school personnel or third parties on sexual orientation or gender identity” in Kindergarten through third grade or in a way that is “not age-appropriate or developmentally appropriate” for students in other grades. It doesn’t, bill proponents say, forbid student-led discussion of such issues.
Casting the bill that way is part of a long tradition of undermining teachers’ authority to keep certain information from students, said Karen Graves, who worked for 30 years as an education professor at Ohio’s Denison University.
That took an extreme turn with the Legislative Investigation Committee, also known as the Johns Committee, said Graves, who also wrote a book on Florida’s teacher purge.
The Legislature established the group in the 1950s amid the Cold War to investigate communism but it soon became an arm of state-sanctioned homophobia.
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Led by then-Sen. Charley Johns, the committee first sought to tie the NAACP to the Communist Party in what historians believe was an effort to stall racial integration. The NAACP refused to turn over its membership rolls, leading to a legal battle that rose to the U.S. Supreme Court, which sided with the civil rights organization.
Amid a national wave of homophobia, committee members turned their attention to rooting out homosexuality in universities and schools. Members surveilled houses and gay bars. They pulled students and teachers from class to interrogate them, pressuring them to out themselves or others.
Educators and students stonewalled investigators, while others would cooperate to lessen the severity of looming punishment. Some were still figuring out their own sexuality, and rarely did they have an attorney present, Graves said.
The committee’s nine years of work culminated in the 1964 report, “Homosexuality and Citizenship in Florida.” The Purple Pamphlet, as it became known for the color of its cover, included an exhaustive description of what the committee believed gay life looked like and why Floridians should be concerned.
“The plain fact of the matter is that a great many homosexuals have an insatiable appetite for sexual activities,” the pamphlet reads, “and find special gratification in the recruitment to their ranks of youth.”
That marked the beginning of the end for the Johns Committee. The pamphlet included photos of gay men that many at the time considered pornographic, and some started to question whether this was an appropriate use of state resources.
“A lot of the sentiment went underground for a while,” Graves said. “And then it found its moment to resurface.”
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That moment came in the 1970s, when Florida citrus industry spokeswoman Anita Bryant organized opposition to a Dade County ordinance that prohibited discrimination based on sexual orientation. Part of Bryant’s message was that gay people must recruit new members to survive, posing a danger to children.
She called it the Save Our Children campaign.
“It’s straight out of this playbook to demonize, pathologize these people, and deem them a threat to children,” said Gillian Frank, a historian and co-host of the Sexing History podcast. “It's a really long and dirty history in Florida.”
‘They want total acceptance’
When asked about their comments in the context of Florida history, both Baxley, who sponsored the Senate version of the bill, and DeSantis spokeswoman Pushaw sought to shift the conversation back to parents’ rights.
Baxley said he doesn’t see a connection. The point of the bill, he said in an interview Friday, is to “refocus on working with parents to help kids learn basic skills they will use all their life, rather than use class time and instructional material to guide a social movement of tolerance isn’t enough.”
“They want total acceptance,” he said of the bill’s opponents, “and everybody’s value system is going to have trouble adapting to that.”
Pushaw said it was wrong to assume she was referring to LGBTQ people when she referenced groomers in her tweets.
“The fact is that groomers can be any sexual orientation; many are straight,” she said in an email. “It’s completely inappropriate for adults – of any sexual orientation or gender identity – to instruct four- to nine-year-olds about sexuality and gender theory in school.”
Still, LGBTQ advocates and historians were quick to point out that tying homosexuality to pedophilia is an attack rooted in history.
“There it is in less than 140 characters: the 70-plus years of anti-gay propaganda, condensed into a tweet,” Frank said.
By the time the Johns Committee disbanded, about 200 teachers and students were fired or expelled for their sexuality. One lawmaker has tried to address the blight in Florida history.
For four years, Rep. Evan Jenne, a Democrat, proposed lawmakers apologize to those whose lives were upended by the committee’s work.
The resolution has failed every year.
Contributing: James Call