Can I Be Myself Here? LGBTQ+ Teachers in Church of England Schools

Abstract

Set against the current societal and religious contexts that Church of England schools find themselves positioned in, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, Queer, Plus (LGBTQ+) teachers must navigate the contested space between their embodied identity and expectations of others. Whilst this research focuses specifically on Church of England schools in England, broader questions of belonging, purpose, and pedagogy are argued to transcend geographical and denominational boundaries. In this series of six interviews with teachers at different career stages who work, or have worked, in Church of England secondary and primary schools, we explore their lived experience of balancing their queer identity against the professional standards of teaching and the views of the school community. Five LGBTQ+ teachers and one ally were interviewed—all but one of whom hold or held senior leadership positions. Key foci for the researchers were discussions around the often-unacknowledged pressure and responsibility that teachers might feel for being a role model for the LGBTQ+ community, with particular nuances due to the Church school context, and, in particular, if the teachers felt that the school environment enabled them to be their authentic selves. An overarching concern was the extent to which LGBTQ+ teachers felt that they were able to thrive in these communities. One consideration for the authors was a hope that key messages could be shared with Diocesan Education Leaders that might enable future generations of LGBTQ+ teachers to feel that they were being appropriately supported and enabled.

1. Introduction

1.1. Context

Church of England (C of E) schools were established to provide education rooted in Christian values, especially for disadvantaged children, long before state education existed (The National Society n.d.). Over time, they became part of the national education system when in 1944, Section 15 of the Education Act (known as the Butler Act) formally brought C of E schools into the state education system, categorising them as either Voluntary Aided or Voluntary Controlled schools (The Education Act 1944).

There are approximately 4630 C of E schools in England, all supported by their local Diocesan Boards of Education. Together, they educate around one million pupils across the country (The Church of England n.d.). There are 1620 Voluntary Controlled (VC) schools, which are overseen by the local authority while retaining their Church of England identity. In these schools, the local authority manages staffing and admissions, while religious education follows the local syllabus and worship reflects Anglican traditions, with church governors forming a minority on the governing body. There are also 1492 Voluntary Aided (VA) schools, mostly primary, where the Church contributes to capital costs in exchange for greater control (The Church of England n.d.). In these schools, church governors hold a majority, appoint staff, manage admissions, and shape the religious education and worship in line with Anglican traditions. Twenty-four Church schools now operate as Foundation Schools, where governors manage staffing and admissions while maintaining a minority of Church representation. Many dioceses offer affiliation programmes that allow schools to formally connect with the Church school community and benefit from its support and shared values (The Church of England n.d.). While all faith schools are linked to a religious tradition, C of E schools are generally more community-focused and inclusive, often not requiring faith-based criteria for admission. In fact, more than half of C of E schools have no faith requirement at all, aiming to serve the whole community rather than just those who share the faith (Clarke 2017).

Set against the current societal and religious contexts that C of E schools find themselves positioned in, LGBTQ+ teachers must navigate the liminal space between their embodied identity and expectations of others. Cutler (2022, p. 1) highlights that moving into school and becoming a teacher involves more than technical practices; it is ‘a dynamic interplay between a teacher’s identity, their sense of agency, and their school context.’ One aspect of this way of being that is highlighted in the research is the idea of authenticity. In the context of this research, authenticity refers to the ability to express one’s identity without fear of reprisal, marginalisation, or self-censorship. It is closely linked to psychological safety, professional integrity, and relational trust within the school community (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021). Freire’s (1996) notion of liberation through education supports the idea that authenticity is not merely personal but political—an act of resistance against oppressive norms.

In this series of six interviews with teachers at different career stages who work, or have worked, in C of E secondary and primary schools, we explore their lived experience of balancing their queer identity against the professional standards of teaching and the views of the school community.

It is important to clarify that we are not trying to homogenise all LGBTQ+ teachers or create a reductionist narrative that suggests that they will all have similar experiences in their lives or their work environments (Lee 2019). The connecting factor for our participants was their chosen profession, and yet, even there, there was divergence, as secondary and primary teachers participated, ranging from an Early Career Teacher (ECT) to a retired Head, this is in addition to the many complex factors of age, gender, and experience that also need to be factored in (Lee 2019).

This diversity of experience among LGBTQ+ teachers underscores the importance of resisting reductive narratives, especially as we consider how their professional and personal lives are shaped not only by local contexts but also by transnational forces. The developments in the UK cannot be separated from the structural oppression of the LGBTQ+ community in the United States, which persists through a combination of legal gaps, discriminatory policies, and social stigma (Center for American Progress 2025). While some federal protections exist, many states have introduced laws targeting LGBTQ+ individuals, particularly transgender youth, restricting access to healthcare, education, and public spaces (American Civil Liberties Union 2025). The International Bar Association (2024) report highlights growing concerns over the erosion of LGBTQ+ rights in several Western countries, particularly the UK, which has seen a sharp decline in its human rights ranking due to setbacks in gender legal equality, asylum protections, and rising transphobic hate crimes. A statement from The International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, and Intersex Association (ILGA) World (2024) highlights a deeply concerning global trend: the rise in anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric, legislation, and violence, often fuelled by right-wing populism and conservative ideologies. This backlash is not occurring in isolation; it is part of a broader pattern where gains in human rights are being challenged by movements that frame diversity and inclusion as threats to traditional values or national identity (The International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, and Intersex Association (ILGA) World 2024).

This next section will firstly consider the theoretical lens for this research, before engaging in a discussion around five key themes identified in the literature, namely Workplace Climate and Culture, Identity and Disclosure, Discrimination, Intersectionality, and Policy and Practice.

Freirean Critical Pedagogy as a Theoretical Lens

Critical Pedagogy (CP) is argued to have been developed from Critical Theory, which has its origins in the early 1920s and can be seen as an umbrella term for a movement that stemmed from the influences of Kant, Hegel, and Marx (D. Rasmussen 2012). CP’s educational approach was developed by Paulo Freire (McLaren 1999; Giroux 2010), introduced in the late 1960s in his book Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Freire 1996). This approach seeks to contest dominant thinking and practices about education, specifically thinking about negotiating and transforming the relationship among classroom teachings, the production of knowledge, the institutional structures of the school, and the social and material relations of the wider community and society (Breunig 2016, p. 978).

The writings of Freire on education, social transformation, freedom, and hope (Freire 1994, 1996, 1998) have influenced many generations of readers, educators, and academics (Giroux 2010; Kohan 2019).

CP seeks to expose and challenge considerations of power dynamics and relationships in the classroom, schools, and society (McLaren 1999; Breunig 2016), resonating with educators determined to challenge inequalities in education policy on a range of issues, including class, ability/disability, racism, sexism, and homophobia (McLaren 1999). The critical aspect of CP concerns the practice of enabling all those involved in education to analyse critically key concepts such as the nature of knowledge, power, society, and oppression. Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Freire 1996) shines a light on the ways in which the teachers interviewed navigate the tension between the perception of boundaries in their schools and their acts of dialogic resistance, empowering them to embody a praxis that reimagines inclusion as liberation.

In terms of our article/research, we see LGBTQ+ teachers as an oppressed group as contextualised by Freire, a group that is often silenced, marginalised, or even, out of fear, self-silenced (Ferfolja 2010; Lee 2019).

1.2. Oppression

Oppression can take many forms. At one end of the continuum, there are the overt manifestations of oppression that Freire (1996) challenged in Brazil, where whole sections of society were marginalised and excluded from education. At the other end of the continuum, oppression can take a more subtle form, including conscious or unconscious ignorance (Freire 1996), shaped, or even constrained, by ‘social, political, economic, and cultural dynamics and norms’ (Breunig 2016, p. 979). Consequently, it could be argued that schools, teachers, and pupils might engage consciously or unconsciously in oppressive behaviour (Breunig 2016) towards LGBTQ+ teachers. Freire (2007, p. 3) argued that an ‘awakening to oppression’ was part of the role and duty of the educator: ‘As progressive educators, we have the ethical responsibility to reveal situations of oppression.’ In practice, this suggests that school leaders, educators, and teachers should seek to deliberately engage and explore such issues, not only with their students, but also with their wider workforce.

1.3. Social Transformation

CP is enmeshed with considerations about the values inherent in education (Giroux 2010). Educators should reflect on the extent to which schools encourage students, and potentially teachers, to be ready to challenge power structures or inequalities and how they create opportunities to engage with counter-narratives, to challenge injustice, and to advocate for all those who are disenfranchised or oppressed by the current regime. CP’s engagement with questions of politics and morality, in addition to critical thinking, should enable self-determination and civic engagement (Giroux 2010). For Freire, the ethical or moral aspect of education was crucial for achieving social transformation:

Without certain qualities or virtues, such as a generous loving heart, respect for others, tolerance, humility, a joyful disposition, love of life, openness to what is new, a disposition to welcome change, perseverance in the struggle, a refusal of determinism, a spirit of hope, and openness to justice, progressive pedagogical practice is not possible.

(Freire 1998, p. 108)

The role of emotions or the relational side of teaching is central to Freire’s (1996) vision for education.

1.3.1. Historical and Policy Context

The Equality Act 2010 is a key piece of legislation that offers crucial legal protection for the LGBTQ+ community in the UK by making it unlawful to discriminate based on sexual orientation or gender reassignment. Sexual orientation and gender reassignment are protected characteristics under this Act.

Trans individuals are specifically protected, and some exemptions (e.g., in single-sex services) remain contested. The implications of the Equality Act are that LGBTQ+ educators are entitled to protection from harassment, victimisation, and unfair dismissal based on sexual orientation or gender identity. This means that an educator has the right to be “out” at work without fear of legal reprisal. However, there are exemptions for religious institutions, whereby Schedule 9 of the Equality Act allows for limited exemptions where being of a particular sexual orientation or gender identity could be argued to conflict with religious doctrine. In practice, Church of England (C of E) schools must balance their Christian ethos and their obligations under the Equality Act.

It is mandatory to teach about Relationships and Sex Education (RSE) in schools (Department for Education (DfE) 2025). The statutory guidance requires schools to teach about different types of relationships, including LGBTQ+ relationships, in an age-appropriate way. It outlines how schools should consider pupils’ religious backgrounds and foster positive relationships with local faith communities to ensure respectful and inclusive teaching of religion and belief. In addition to this, all teaching must align with the Equality Act 2010, reflect the law on relationships, and, in schools with a religious character, may include faith-based perspectives and balanced discussion on sensitive topics.

In 2014, the Church of England published Valuing All God’s Children in response to research highlighting the need to address homophobic bullying in Church schools (Davies 2014). Following a rewrite in 2017 to reflect The Church of England’s Vision for Education, it was further updated in 2019 (Williams 2022). This document provides explicit guidance for addressing homophobic, biphobic, and transphobic (HBT) bullying within educational settings. It promotes the cultivation of inclusive environments that uphold the dignity and respect of all pupils and staff. It also acknowledges the importance of positive role models within C of E schools (The Church of England Education Office 2019). The concept of role modelling for LGBTQ+ teachers is multifaceted. While visibility can empower students and challenge heteronormative norms (Hardie 2012), it also places an emotional and moral burden on educators who may feel compelled to represent an entire community. This expectation can be both empowering and oppressive, particularly when institutional support is lacking (M. L. Rasmussen 2004). The tension between personal agency and communal responsibility reflects Freire’s (1996) idea of praxis—the merging of reflection and action for social transformation.

The Church of England has experienced significant internal conflict between progressive and conservative groups, particularly concerning issues of sexuality and inclusion (Cornwall 2022; Hunt 2024). Recent debates within the General Synod have resulted in pastoral guidance that recognises same-sex relationships (The Church of England n.d.); however, doctrinal prohibitions on same-sex marriage—especially for clergy—persist and remain contentious (Ozanne Foundation n.d.). These ongoing tensions have the potential to influence school culture and leadership (e.g., Kristie Higgs v Farmor’s School 2025).

In 2023, the Conservative Government issued guidance pertaining to Gender Questioning Children (Department for Education (DfE) 2023). The following year, the updated Relationships, Health and Sex Education (RHSE) (Department for Education (DfE) 2024) was also published in draft form. Concurrently, The Church of England (2024) published Flourishing for All. This is anti-bullying guidance, with Section B containing guidance for preventing and tackling homophobic, biphobic, and transphobic bullying in schools (The Church of England 2024). This was updated in the wake of the Supreme Court Judgement (National Society for Education 2025).

On 16 April 2025, the UK Supreme Court ruled in For Women Scotland Ltd. v The Scottish Ministers (2025) that references to “man”, “woman”, and “sex” in the Equality Act 2010 refer to biological sex, not the acquired gender of someone with a Gender Recognition Certificate. The Court held that this interpretation was necessary to ensure the Act’s provisions, such as protections related to pregnancy and single-sex services, remain coherent and workable, but affirmed that trans people still retain legal protections under the characteristic of gender reassignment. The Supreme Court ruling has caused significant concern and distress among trans and non-binary individuals, with the British Medical Association’s resident doctors strongly criticising the Supreme Court’s ruling that trans women are not legally women under the Equality Act, calling it scientifically unfounded and harmful to transgender people. They oppose the binary distinction between sex and gender, highlighting the ruling’s damaging impact (Cooke 2025). The Good Law Project (2025) warned that the Supreme Court ruling risks undermining trans rights and fostering discrimination, and, at the time of writing, plans to challenge it at the European Court of Human Rights for failing to consider trans individuals’ human rights.

1.3.2. Workplace Climate and Culture

Research suggests that, overwhelmingly, school cultures continue to present a heteronormative narrative (Lee 2019; Toledo and Maher 2021; Huertas-Abril and Palacios-Hidalgo 2022; Brett 2024; O Brien 2024; Jacinto et al. 2025), both in terms of implicit, or even explicit messages given to pupils as well as in expectations of staff, that is oppressive and marginalising for LGBTQ+ teachers. Examples of such marginalisation include reluctance by schools to celebrate or even acknowledge same-sex marriages or relationships (Ferfolja 2010; Lee 2019), effectively silencing or curating the genuine identity of LGBTQ+ teachers. This is not to suggest that there are no examples of schools wholeheartedly including their LGBTQ+ teachers; however, Lee (2019, p. 250) cautions that ‘the literature demonstrates overwhelmingly that LGBT teachers still take great care how, and to whom, they reveal their sexuality at work.’ Mizzi (2016) defines the behaviour leading to this situation as heteroprofessionalism, a framework that uses professionalism as a tool of marginalisation, particularly against LGBTQ+ educators. The privileged heterosexual identities and expressions manifest in expectations around disclosure, behaviour, and relational boundaries, often rendering LGBTQ+ identities as “other” or inappropriate. This concept builds on Røthing’s (2008) critique of homotolerance, where diversity is acknowledged but not fully integrated into the professional culture.

There are many possibilities for creating inclusive workplaces for both LGBTQ+ teachers and students, particularly when settings engage genuinely in discussions around diversity and equality (Hardie 2012). However, promoting equality and inclusion does not necessarily mean that the workplace becomes safe and accepting of LGBTQ+ teachers. Indeed, sustained professional development, with a focus on school culture, challenging heteronormative practices and prejudices, needs to be prioritised at all levels of the school community (Lundin 2016; O Brien 2024). Teachers need to feel safe at work, and having the support of not only the school leadership, but also colleagues, is a key determinant (O Brien 2024).

Røthing (2008) discusses how educational establishments that have an ‘antioppressive intention’ (p. 257) often choose to either teach ‘for ‘the other’ or about ‘the other’ (p. 257). The ‘other’ here is what Freire (1996) would class as the oppressed, that is, those who are in some way marginalised or unheard in society (Røthing 2008). Teaching for the other can be seen to encourage a recognition of diversity and individual needs amongst students, whilst teaching about the other, encourages a more tolerant mindset towards those who might be oppressed, which in turn can lead to increased empathy (Røthing 2008). She discusses how homotolerant schools, that is, where diversity is encouraged and yet heteronormativity is the dominant narrative, create a heterosexual privilege, implying that ‘homosexuals are in need of tolerance, that the heterosexual ‘we’ are in a privileged position that gives ‘us’ the right to tolerate’ (Røthing 2008, p. 262). Critical discussions around privilege need to expand to include perspectives around heterosexuality, alongside whiteness (Røthing 2008).

1.3.3. Identity and Disclosure

The challenges of navigating the complexities of professional and personal identities for LGBTQ+ teachers are well documented (Ferfolja 2010; Fahie 2016; O Brien 2024), with considerations around the choice of keeping their personal life separate from their professional life, or whether to be openly out in school. This can equally lead to added considerations about how or if they use their identity to challenge prevailing heteronormative practices and attitudes in school (O Brien 2024), or indeed take on the mantle and responsibility of the LGBTQ+ role model (M. L. Rasmussen 2004; Lee 2019).

1.3.4. To Be or Not to Be ‘Out’

Discussions of the advantages and disadvantages of being openly out in the school environment demonstrate that there persists to be many challenges for LGBTQ+ teachers who decide to be openly out in their workplace (O Brien 2024). As Gust (2007, p. 43) writes:

The choice of a teacher to be “out” in the classroom is perhaps unadvisable, possibly joyous, potentially disastrous, positively political, and just plain hard.

This is clearly a very personal and individual decision and determined by a myriad of contextual issues, such as school climate, ethos, and leadership and staff attitudes, which need to be considered carefully (Hardie 2012), as well as prevailing societal norms and expectations (Lundin 2016; O Brien 2024). Lundin’s (2016) research with Swedish teachers suggests that LGBTQ+ teachers regularly monitor their behaviour in schools, being particularly mindful when speaking about a partner, or sharing about social occasions. Evidence suggests that actively concealing aspects of one’s identity can lead to psychological distress, and, in particular, when trying to conform to perceived heteronormative behaviours, can lead to internalised homophobia and poor self-perception (O Brien 2024; Stones and Glazzard 2019).

Although not openly out while teaching, reflecting back on her time in school, Hardie (2012) discussed how she might have responded if directly asked by a student, stating that trust and confidentiality were paramount, alongside a positive and respectful student/teacher relationship. She reflected that with current awareness of the challenges that LGBTQ+ students face in schools, she would now personally choose to be discreet, rather than hiding her identity as she did in the past, emphasising the following:

A discreet, tactful approach such as sharing who my family includes gives queer students a signal that they can choose to acknowledge, while at the same time, because it is simply stated, it conveys that this is normal.

(Hardie 2012, p. 78)

Hardie (2012) proposes that there are five strategies that LGBTQ+ teachers use with relation to their identity: ‘These strategies, on a continuum, are passing, covering, being implicitly out and being explicitly out’ (p. 280). She stresses that ‘these strategies are not mutually exclusive’ (p. 280) and might be used concurrently. She describes passing as where information is shared that suggests that the person might be heterosexual, while covering is how subtle choices of language, such as non-gender-specific pronouns, conceal identifying information (Hardie 2012). Of all of these strategies, which Hardie (2012) claims to have used at different times, she cites being explicitly out as both potentially carrying the most risk, but also the most support: ‘Being out with their [her colleagues] endorsement gave me confidence to be true to myself’ (p. 280). The strategies outlined by Hardie (2012) reflect a negotiation between safety, visibility, and authenticity. The choice is often shaped by perceived risks, including discrimination, loss of respect, or career limitations (Fahie 2016; Stones and Glazzard 2019). These strategies are not static but fluid, influenced by school culture, leadership, and societal norms. Freire’s (1996) concept of conscientização—critical consciousness—offers a lens to understand how teachers resist or conform to these pressures.

However, some of the literature proposes that, conversely, LGBTQ+ teachers are empowered by how they choose to manage their own professional and personal identities (M. L. Rasmussen 2004; Ferfolja 2010). Lee (2019) states that ‘maintaining a silence is an act of considerable power because it troubles the presumption of heterosexuality by leaving identities unclear to others’ (p. 51). She states that the most obvious way that teachers exercise their own agency is through their choice of workplace (Lee 2019). This is not always the case, however. Hardie (2012), reflecting on her own teaching experience as a lesbian, stated that:

Sometimes silence can be a result of fear rather than choice, and therefore not empowering. In my case, I did not interpret silence as a powerful position to be in, because my silence was the way I kept myself safe, although I wanted to be out and proud.

(p. 278)

1.3.5. Pressure and Responsibility to Be a Role Model/Ambassador

Although, as already mentioned, LGBTQ+ teachers often face wide-ranging repercussions and risks if they come out in their workplace, there is an additional tension that is placed upon them. This relates to an often implicit, moral expectation that they need to take on the responsibility of being a role model for the LGBTQ+ community (M. L. Rasmussen 2004; Hardie 2012; Lee 2019). This expectation might be self-imposed or stem from their perceptions of what society, or the LGBTQ+ community, might expect. M. L. Rasmussen (2004) explains that narratives that encourage LGBTQ+ teachers to come out, to promote inclusive environments, can leave those who feel unable or unwilling to expose themselves in this way feeling that they are letting down their community and reneging on their moral responsibility as potential role models.

The decision is further complicated for LGBTQ+ teachers, mindful of the potential positive impact that having a role model can be both for LGBTQ+ students as well as potentially challenging stereotypes and promoting acceptance of heterosexual students (Hardie 2012). Hiding one’s sexuality can shield teachers from potential abuse, but it also limits students’ chances to learn from their unique perspectives (Hardie 2012). Hardie (2012) highlights the complexities inherent in the idea of being a role model, questioning what exactly is the role that the LGBTQ+ teacher is meant to be modelling? It would be erroneous and reductive to homogenise all LGBTQ+ teachers into an idealised representation of a LGBTQ+ teacher, potentially leading to unrealistic expectations and potential stereotyping (Hardie 2012). Hardie (2012) proposes that she believes that students are naturally drawn to teachers who embody something meaningful or unique to them, but in the case of the LGBTQ+ teacher, this might actually be specifically because they are providing representation for that student.

1.3.6. Discrimination

Recent research continues to document evidence of discrimination for LGBTQ+ teachers at all stages of their professional journey (Marrs and Staton 2016; Lee 2019), and a lack of a sense of safety in their workplace.

There is a concern by LGBTQ+ teachers that their promotion opportunities might be curtailed or impacted if they were out at school (Marrs and Staton 2016; Lee 2019). This often manifests in teachers being reluctant to actively promote themselves at work, which thus impacts their potential career advancement (Fahie 2016; Lineback et al. 2016; Lee 2019). O Brien (2024) discusses that these concerns are heightened in faith-based schools, where the added expectations of teachers associated with the religious ethos of the setting add further tensions and even concerns around potential dismissal. He states that ‘while the school ethos in faith-based schools should be respected, it should not be allowed to trump the legal rights of teachers as enshrined in the Equality Act’ (O Brien 2024, pp. 9–10).

1.3.7. Harassment

School institutions predominantly promote heteronormativity and perpetuate norms of gender, sexuality, masculinity, and femininity (Ferfolja 2010). Those seen as transgressing these norms can be subject to a range of social disciplinary punishments, in schools this often materialises in terms of verbal or even physical harassment and or discrimination (Ferfolja 2010), or even concerns about exposure in the media or potential loss of employment (Hardie 2012). Hardie (2012) discusses the considerations of personal risk for LGBTQ+ teachers. These might include homophobic comments or actions by staff, students, or parents. This is even more complicated if a teacher is not openly out, when questions of how to respond or address this might prove challenging for the teacher (Lundin 2016). Ferfolja (2010), however, proposes that although LGBTQ+ teachers might face harassment with ensuing negative consequences, this is not the full picture. The women in her research clearly demonstrated that ‘they were not passive victims of abuse but rather active agents who demonstrated power and agency to challenge the dominant heterosexual status quo’ (Ferfolja, 2010, p. 408).

1.4. Intersectionality

For LGBTQ+ teachers working in C of E schools, an intersectional lens is important to understand the complexities of their professional and personal experiences. These educators often navigate a delicate balance between their sexual or gender identity, their own beliefs, and the religious ethos of their institutions, which may implicitly or explicitly uphold heteronormative values (Fahie 2016). Intersectionality helps illuminate how these overlapping identities shape not just individual experiences of inclusion or exclusion, but also broader institutional cultures and policies (Hankivsky and Cormier 2011). It underscores the need for school leadership and policy-makers to move beyond surface-level diversity initiatives and engage with the deeper, structural dynamics that affect LGBTQ+ staff in C of E settings. As Agosto and Roland (2018) outlined in their review of research into intersectionality and leadership, there was a ‘reconceptualisation of leadership based on the experiences of marginalised groups, their voices, and the ways in which they lead’ (p. 266).

Enabling Flourishing

The Flourishing for All guidance from The National Society for Education (2025) supports C of E schools in creating inclusive environments where every member of the school community is valued and respected, including those who identify as LGBTQ+. This is a supportive document as it provides clear strategies for addressing homophobic, biphobic, and transphobic bullying, and emphasises the Church’s commitment to ensuring that all, regardless of identity, can thrive in a school community rooted in dignity, compassion, and Christian values.

Discussions around teacher wellbeing have had an increasingly high profile over recent years (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021). It is challenging to find agreement on a definition of teacher wellbeing (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021), with discussions around dimensions of hedonism and eudaimonism (e.g., see Hong et al. 2024), as well as cognitive and affective considerations (Dreer 2023). For the purposes of this article in our discussions of wellbeing, we are considering the concept of flourishing (The National Society for Education 2025) as discussed in the C of E report, which describes: ‘Flourishing requires every member of a school community to be valued as having inherent worth, especially the most vulnerable’ (The National Society for Education 2025, p. 8).

Specific considerations of teacher wellbeing, for those identifying as LGBTQ+, highlight the psychological and wellbeing challenges faced in attempting to navigate professional and private lives in the heteronormative education area (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021). A profession that is already considered to be one of the most stressful (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021), brings a new level of challenge for those navigating their identity in a public sphere. Comparatively little research exists that focuses specifically on LGBTQ+ teacher wellbeing as opposed to student wellbeing, but those that do, cite self-acceptance as a core determining factor (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021).

It is clear that there are wellbeing concerns for LGBTQ+ teachers, regardless of whether they have chosen to be out or to camouflage their identity (O Brien 2024). Participants in research carried out by O Brien (2024) all cited issues of wellbeing as a dominant feature, particularly in relation to the anxiety induced by trying to conceal aspects of their identity, using words like ‘isolating’, ‘lonely’, and ‘horrendous’ to describe how this made them feel (p. 8). Guijarro-Ojeda et al. (2021) concur, reporting that their participants experienced being in a ‘state of constant alarm’ (p. 21) in relation to perceived threat of exposure. This is echoed by Hong et al. (2024), who found that participants reported concealing aspects of their identity to protect themselves from potential ‘shame, job loss, and physical harm’ (p. 764). Stones and Glazzard (2019) discuss the loss of agency that occurs when teachers feel unable to disclose their sexuality in school, and O Brien (2024) suggests that this is particularly challenging in faith schools. Whilst O Brien’s (2024) research relates to Catholic schools, it could be inferred that similar considerations might be felt for teachers in C of E schools, where teachers are expected to uphold or represent the religious ethos of their workplace.

Three key themes emerged from O Brien’s (2024) research as significant to ensure LGBTQ+ teacher wellbeing: school context, leadership, and continuing professional development (CPD). School context, ethos, and acceptance were seen as the most significant factors (O Brien 2024), findings echoed by Hong et al. (2024), who found that misalignment of teachers’ identities with school or societal expectations negatively impacted on wellbeing. Both Guijarro-Ojeda et al.’s (2021) and Hong et al.’s (2024) research cited positive school relationships with students, colleagues, parents, and communities as crucial to teacher wellbeing. The importance of effective CPD was seen as essential for inclusive school communities (Llewellyn 2024; O Brien 2024; van Leent 2017; Marston 2015), but was often conspicuous for its absence (van Leent 2017). O Brien’s (2024) findings highlighted that effective leadership was fundamental for inclusive schools, which was matched with the importance of colleagues’ attitudes towards LGBTQ+ issues, and more generally, inclusion. His research concluded that ‘school-wide professional learning was seen as central to becoming a truly inclusive school, whereby teachers are equipped with the skills and knowledge to combat discrimination in all its forms’ (p. 393). His participants all discussed the availability of positive CPD but insisted that such training should be compulsory (O Brien 2024). Fundamentally, in order for LGBTQ+ teachers to flourish, it is crucial that their workplaces ‘affirm who they are as teachers and individuals’ (Hong et al. 2024, p. 778).

1.5. Research Rationale and Aims

The aim of this research was to explore the lived experience of LGBTQ+ teachers in balancing their queer identity against the professional standards of teaching and the views of the school community. Our key foci were discussions around the often-unacknowledged pressure and responsibility that teachers might feel for being a role model for the LGBTQ+ community, with particular nuances due to the Church school context, and, in particular, if the teachers feel that the school environment enables them to be their authentic selves. An overarching concern will be the extent to which LGBTQ+ teachers felt that they are able to thrive in these communities. One consideration for the authors is a hope that key messages might be shared with Diocesan Education Leaders that might enable future generations of LGBTQ+ teachers to feel that they are being appropriately supported and enabled.

1.5.1. Research Question

How do LGBTQ+ teachers in Church of England schools embody and navigate the implications of their queer identities?

1.5.2. Sub Question

How might this inform policy and practice in Church of England Diocese Education teams?

2. Materials and Methods

2.1. Researcher Positionality

When considering methodological approaches, it is crucial to acknowledge the researchers’ positionality as ‘allies’ to the LGBTQ+ community and how this conceptualisation of allyship may influence research processes (Savin-Baden and Major 2013; Wharton and Love 2025). This includes reflecting on interactions with participants, as well as recognising the power dynamics inherent in researcher–participant relationships. Identifying as both ‘allies’ and ‘outsiders’ within LGBTQ+ research necessitates a reflexive approach to positionality, particularly given the hierarchical nature of academia and the intersection of roles as lecturers studying student experiences (Wharton and Love 2025).

Allyship has been described as ‘a regrettably hierarchical relationship that holds between a privileged individual and an oppressed group’ (Lawford-Smith and Tuckwell 2024, p. 3), wherein the ally acknowledges inequality and works to dismantle hierarchical structures. The history of LGBTQ+ allyship can be traced back to events such as the Compton Cafeteria Riots (1966), where transgender women resisted police oppression, fostering solidarity across different marginalised groups (Levin 2019; Cumming-Potvin 2023). The researchers’ own engagement with LGBTQ+ allyship was shaped by the legacy of Section 28, which banned discussions of homosexuality in schools between 1988 and 2003. This policy reinforced the necessity for activism and educating trainee teachers on the consequences of political decisions on marginalised communities. Such considerations are increasingly relevant as cisnormativity persists within educational settings (Horton 2023) and as new governmental guidelines on trans and non-binary identities emerge (Department for Education (DfE) 2023).

Allyship, for the researchers, extends beyond recognition of inequality to active advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights and inclusion (Collier-Spruel and Ryan 2022). However, as researchers, we also occupy the position of ‘outsiders’—while both of us were teachers, we are no longer members of the community under study. Recognising historical positionality remains integral to ethical research (Dwyer and Buckle 2009).

Working with minority or marginalised groups is not new, yet researchers often face challenges when they do not share the same identity as participants (Levy 2013). The binary of insider/outsider is, however, an oversimplification of research dynamics. Hayfield and Huxley (2015) and Levy (2013) argue that such categorisation fails to capture the complexity of researcher–participant relationships. Levy (2013) highlights that viewing LGBTQ+ participants as a homogenous group is problematic, while Dwyer and Buckle (2009, p. 60) assert that ‘holding membership in a group does not denote complete sameness within that group. Likewise, not being a member of a group does not denote complete difference.’ This underscores the importance of acknowledging shared and differing experiences within research interactions.

Positionality also extends to researchers’ personal identities, including gender, sexual identity, education, and cultural background, as well as personal experiences with LGBTQ+ family members (Wharton and Love 2025). Ethical considerations play a vital role in ensuring transparency, necessitating that the researchers disclose their positionality to the participants (Levy 2013; Hayfield and Huxley 2015). Wagle and Cantaffa (2008, p. 136) stress that:

Rather than hide behind a false veil of neutrality and disembodiment, we name our identities in relation to our research participants as a means to challenge ourselves and others to define how research projects are necessarily embedded within researchers’ identities.

Engaging in reflexivity is essential to mitigating biases and understanding the impact of research on both participants and researchers. This involves continuous examination of potential influences on data collection and analysis (McDonald 2013), reinforcing ethical research practices in LGBTQ+ studies.

2.2. Methods

The aim of the research was to capture and analyse data from a series of semi-structured interviews with teachers at different career stages in C of E schools. Participants who identified as LGBTQ+ and were working, or had worked, in C of E schools were invited using social media (Facebook, Instagram, and Bluesky) to contact us to participate in an online Teams interview. The topics of discussion were initiated by an invitation to describe their experience of being LGBTQ+ in this particular context.

The semi-structured interviews were facilitated by both researchers and enabled an interactive discussion between all the participants to take place. Flick (2018) highlights that group discussions elicit responses that are shaped through interaction among participants, making them more reflective of real-life conversations than those obtained through individual interviews. This method was chosen with the intention of capturing a shared perspective among participants and fostering an environment where individuals could engage in mutual dialogue and reflection on the topic (Mortari and Harcourt 2012). The online nature of the interviews also enabled us to draw from geographically distant participants (Tymms 2021). The participants were as in Figure 1:

2.3. Ethics

In line with ethical practice, all of the participants were assured of confidentiality, anonymity and the right to withdraw from the research at any point in time (University of Winchester 2015; British Education Research Association (BERA) 2024). We asked the participants to provide us with pseudonyms to ensure confidentiality. The study was conducted in accordance with the Declaration of Helsinki, and the protocol was approved by the Ethics Committee of the University of Winchester (UREC250403) on 27 June 2025.

Data was collected by means of a Teams online meeting with each participant at a suitable time. Although Teams (a password-protected platform) uses video and audio recordings, for the purpose of our research and to respect ethical considerations of anonymity, only the transcripts from these meetings were retained for analysis (University of Winchester 2015; British Education Research Association (BERA) 2024). The completed transcriptions were e-mailed to the relevant participants, who had the option to redact any section of the transcript that they preferred not to be part of the research. The use of recording equipment does raise ethical considerations, as such the participants were reminded of the voluntary, independent nature and anonymity of the research (Gill et al. 2008; British Education Research Association (BERA) 2024) and were reminded that their participation was able to be withdrawn at any point, with no risk of negative consequences The choice of audio recording was for accurate transcription of the dialogue (Gill et al. 2008). It was not anticipated that the interview questions would result in over-disclosure; however, if this were to be the case, we would remind them of the support available if they felt that would be beneficial.

Analysis of Data

Thematic analysis was used to explore themes emerging from the interviews, with audio recordings as advocated by Alsaawi (2014) to enable the creation of transcripts for analysis. Braun and Clarke (2006) advise an initial coding across the data. This coding for themes, along with the analysis of the data, informed the research results and discussion.

3. Results and Discussion

The findings from the results were grouped under three key themes. Theme 1 related to issues around personal identity, Theme 2 concerned the school environment, and in Theme 3, participants shared their general thoughts about employment in Church of England schools. There was also some data that sat outside of these key themes, including the data from Constance, which was discussed separately.

3.1. Theme 1 Personal Identity

Participants shared reflections on the choice of being out or not to members of the school community, the responsibility to be a role model, and how potentially age and/or leadership position impacted confidence around their LGBTQ+ identity.

3.1.1. Being out or Not

All of the participants, bar one, reported that they were at least partially open about their sexuality with the adults in the school—staff, governors, and parents. For these teachers, being out with all the adults linked to the school seemed like a natural choice:

I’m pretty open about who I am and everything with adults linked to the school, and I’ve never had any issues or any reason to feel uncomfortable or unhappy about anything to do with that side of things’.

(Jack)

Jack discussed deliberately using his partner’s pronouns when in conversation and inviting him to school events where parents would be present. Interestingly, Jack reflected that this was in his current role of leadership in the school, and mentioned that earlier in his career he had been more wary of mentioning this with parents, ‘maybe it just didn’t come into conversation in the same way in that context [large Muslim population], but I think, probably I know, that it might have been a bit more controversial possibly.’ Emma mentioned how she often pre-empted disclosure by mentioning her wife early on in the conversation. This came from a desire to avoid people feeling ‘awkward’ or ‘self-conscious’ if they made heteronormative assumptions. Although not explicitly out to the children, Emma deliberately shared events such as her marriage in the school newsletter, ‘just as I would for anybody else, no matter who they were getting married to … trying to just really normalise it.’ Hardie (2012) emphasises the importance of normalising and celebrating different expressions of marriage in the school community.

The literature suggests that the support of colleagues is key to feeling safe and having confidence in their identity at work (Hardie 2012; O Brien 2024), with positive relationships with colleagues, parents, and communities, as crucial to teacher wellbeing (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021; Hong et al. 2024). Steve also mentioned that he gained support through membership in a union LGBTQ+ group.

Reasons for choosing not to be out in the school community are primarily related to not being open with pupils. However, a number of the participants also shared that they had been less forthcoming about their sexuality with adults in the wider school community when they were working in predominantly Muslim communities, for fear that this would not be welcomed. One participant mentioned that memories of historical issues with LGBTQ+ teachers meant that she was still wary: ‘it’s probably internalised from that experience at that time … So I don’t know, I suppose I’ve always had that awareness in the back of my mind’ (Anna).

Anna shared how other factors sometimes forced the issue of whether to divulge information about one’s sexuality. She recounted the challenge of fertility treatment, which necessitated conversations with her head teacher at the time, which felt really awkward, and left her feeling that she was creating a problem.

Steve, a participant who had only recently moved to teaching in a Church of England school after a long time in non-denominational schools, admitted that he had entertained reservations about applying for a job in a Church school. He explained that throughout his teaching career until then, he had been out with both staff and pupils, but was ‘very worried about how I would feel about not being able to present my sexuality in whatever means to pupils and staff and how they would react about it’ if they were to find out. Steve added that in his secondary school, no member of staff is openly out. Interestingly, Steve mentioned that on an excursion, pupils asked him about his sexuality, and he told them, and now, gradually, he has told various groups of people about his sexuality. In his experience, he found that secondary pupils are quite open about it.

When discussing whether it was a deliberate choice not to be out with the children, most of the participants said that it was not. Sometimes this was due to ‘it not really coming up’ (Jack) in discussions with children, but also Bridget shared that she did not feel it was the right place to discuss her sexuality, stating, ‘I guess the question I would ask myself is always why am I telling them?’ This was echoed by Llewellyn’s (2024) research, where a participant discussed how early in their career, they felt that they should keep their private life private; however, in later years, they had become actively involved in promoting inclusion. Considerations around keeping one’s private life private are often represented in the literature base (Ferfolja 2010; Fahie 2016).

Bridget, who was the one participant who was deliberately not out in the school community, clarified that she had, however, made a decision to share her sexuality with a colleague in solidarity over parental pushback from their organisation of the school’s Diversity Week.

For some of the participants, decisions about sharing their identity caused significant anxiety (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021; O Brien 2024). Anna shared:

I’m not really worried about telling the children, but it’s still the parents. I still think, is that going to stand in the way of me making a positive relationship with these people? Is it going to put some barrier in there?

This frustrated her as she said that she would like to be more open, and indeed felt that things are different with children now, and that they seem ‘much more open-minded, there is no longer any taboo.’ This sentiment was echoed by Jack, who felt that in the last five years he had noticed a change in pupils. He said that previously, he would have been careful not to divulge too much information if asked if he was married, for fear that parents might find this inappropriate. Lee (2019, p. 250) cautions that ‘the literature demonstrates overwhelmingly that LGBT teachers still take great care how, and to whom, they reveal their sexuality at work.’ Jack said that he ‘was torn’ as he felt that he was ‘in a position where [he] had a responsibility to be open’ (M. L. Rasmussen 2004; Hardie 2012; Lee 2019)—this sub-theme of responsibility is explored later in more detail—but he shared that he was uneasy, and felt that he should be braver. As we discussed this, Jack stated that he hoped that ‘I might be a little bit braver now if someone was to ask.’ He said that because of the work his school had done around equalities and stereotypes, his hope would be that there would not be ‘that assumption that I would have a wife, you know. But I don’t know that for sure.’ Research suggests that, overwhelmingly, school cultures continue to present a heteronormative narrative (Brett 2024; O Brien 2024; Jacinto et al. 2025). Steve also alluded to this anxiety, stating that although the school seems supportive, hosts an LGBTQ+ club for students, and was supportive of him leading LGBTQ+ assemblies where he would share his personal experience, nevertheless, ‘There’s still always that reservation about revealing my sexuality to certain people, particularly visitors.’ This hesitation is often seen in the literature. Lundin (2016) states that LGBTQ+ teachers spoke of needing to be mindful about what they shared.

A particularly poignant response to this discussion about anxiety came from Bridget, who had chosen not to share her sexuality with anyone at school. She related how the school had a Rock your Rainbows day at school, and arriving at school wearing her rainbow Choose Love T-shirt felt very scary for her. She reflected on her surprise at feeling this way as she said she had never experienced such a response before, ‘It’s taken a long time, to be comfortable with myself and who I am, and yet I was so anxious.’ Research suggests that for some teachers, concealment of their LGBTQ+ identity, although offering a sense of protection from discrimination, can lead to significant mental health issues (Stones and Glazzard 2019; Hong et al. 2024). Guijarro-Ojeda et al. (2021) highlight that self-acceptance is a key determinant of wellbeing for LGBTQ+ teachers.

The decision to be openly LGBTQ+ within a school setting reflects Freire’s (1996) concept of conscientização—a development of critical consciousness that enables people to recognise and challenge oppressive norms. Teachers who share this enact a form of praxis whereby they merge reflection and action to disrupt heteronormative expectations and create inclusive educational spaces. Jack’s use of his partner’s pronouns and Emma’s deliberate pre-emptive disclosures exemplify a subtle way of reauthoring the school culture and normalising queer identities through everyday interactions. In contrast, the reticence experienced by others, where there was a perception that there may be religious or cultural sensitivities, highlighted the enduring fear of dominant ideologies and the internalised fears these engendered. Anna and Bridget explained how they monitored self-disclosure to preserve relationships and avoid controversy. Freire (1996) insisted that educational spaces should be rooted in liberation, not adaptation to oppressive environments. There are instances of a gradual move towards greater openness, often spurred on by supportive colleagues, but also examples given where people felt constrained by anxieties around the reaction of parents. Bridget’s emotional response to wearing a rainbow-themed T-shirt during a school event speaks to the psychological toll of silence, reinforcing Guijarro-Ojeda et al.’s (2021) assertion that self-acceptance is vital to LGBTQ+ teacher wellbeing.

3.1.2. Responsibility to Be a Role Model

One of the significant findings from the literature was this pressure, often self-imposed, to take on responsibility as a role model for LGBTQ+ (M. L. Rasmussen 2004; Hardie 2012; Lee 2019). All the participants agreed that they felt this responsibility, some also mentioned deliberately trying to redress the overwhelming heteronormative narrative (Jack). Anna mentioned that she knew she shared this responsibility with other openly out members of staff, but felt conflicted as she did not yet feel comfortable to be open with the pupils, leaving her feeling that she was being disingenuous: ‘It shouldn’t be a problem and I fully believe it shouldn’t, and I’m being something that I’m not, I don’t feel like I’m being true to myself and I’d like to be. But I’m not yet there.’ M. L. Rasmussen (2004) explains that this pressure can leave teachers feeling that they are letting down their community. The idea that educators might feel a self-imposed pressure to act as a role model embodies Freire’s (1996) concept of praxis as a reflection and action leading to social transformation. Jack and Anna saw this role as a response to dominant heteronormative narratives, even though Anna’s discomfort highlights how institutional cultures can stifle authenticity (being able to be yourself).

Emma shared how this responsibility was also imposed from outside the school community and shared how she was often approached by the diocese, other head teachers, and the local authority to answer questions related to LGBTQ+. She said that she often felt a bit of a fraud speaking on behalf of the whole community: ‘I can only talk about my own very limited experience.’ Hardie (2012) warns that there can be a danger of homogenising all LGBTQ+ experiences. Emma added that:

I think if you are in a minority group and maybe when you are a head teacher or somebody in leadership from that community, you feel that is your responsibility because if you don’t do it, who will? And I know there will be other people, but you can’t really say no sometimes. Well, I don’t feel I can.

Emma did add, however, that she also felt it was a privilege in a way to support other head teachers who were, in turn, trying to support their staff.

Steve gave an illustration of the power of being a role model to pupils, sharing a card that a student had written to him to thank him for his support over the past two years, helping them become a confident and giving them the best chance at success, adding that Steve had shown them the importance of resilience ‘given who we are’ and said they hoped to carry this attitude through life. Steve remarked that this sort of feedback was why he knew it was important to be that role model in Church schools. The Church of England document Valuing all God’s Children (The Church of England Education Office 2019) specifically highlights the importance of positive role models in C of E schools.

Freire (1996) argues that true liberation requires the freedom to be oneself without fear or compromise. Steve’s account of a student’s gratitude shows how this freedom can be transformative; in his C of E school, visible queer representation is an act of radical possibility.

3.1.3. Career Confidence

All of the participants, bar Bridget, were in positions of leadership in their schools. Each of them discussed the role that age and positions of authority played in the confidence they felt around their LGBTQ+ identity. Jack, for example, felt that it was not necessarily his leadership position that made the difference for him; it was more about his own general confidence levels in himself. Emma partially supported this view, saying that she was sure her confidence in her own identity played a large role, but said that she also felt that being a leader was significant, as, rightly or wrongly, people do not question as much the direction that you decide to take the school. She added that ‘I think maybe, as a newer teacher or a younger person, you have that worry about being judged or questioned or not accepted.’ Emma added that when she joined her current school, where she is Assistant Head, she immediately felt she could be open in a way that she could not in previous schools. Guijarro-Ojeda et al.’s (2021) research found that LGBTQ+ teachers in UK schools found it challenging to be out in the early years of their careers, compared to European counterparts. Anna supported this view, adding that as a NQT, she had felt the need to fit in.

Interestingly, Steve felt that as a younger teacher he had been more forthright in presenting his sexuality to students in the secondary sector, but now feels that this is less important, stating that ‘I think people are beginning to understand that it’s not important anymore to present your sexuality. It’s more about being a happy, confident individual.’ He added that he felt that his confidence now was because he was secure in knowing that if there was any pushback, he had the support of a strong union behind him, which was not the case when he was a younger teacher.

Where age and leadership roles emerged as key factors in shaping LGBTQ+ teachers’ confidence in expressing their identities, this chimes with Freire’s (1996) view that empowerment can be personal and structural. Freire’s (1996) idea that oppression can be internalised through social conditioning, with early career teachers limiting themselves to avoid controversy, linking to Guijarro-Ojeda et al.’s (2021) findings.

3.2. Theme 2 School Environment

Here, the participants discussed how inclusive and or welcoming the school was to the LGBTQ+ community and related issues, the role that Christian values played, and particular challenges that they attributed to C of E schools.

3.2.1. Inclusive Schools

All of the participants, bar Bridget, felt that their Church schools were inclusive and welcoming settings for adults or children in the LGBTQ+ community. This inclusive environment came from both the adults in the community and the children. Emma remarked that when 6-year-old pupils asked if she had married a man or a woman, they were completely unphased when she replied it was a woman. Such findings are welcome as literature shows that cisnormativity persists within educational settings (Horton 2023; O Brien 2024) and such openness can help normalise LGBTQ+ identities within the school community (Hardie 2012). Emma shared that all of the school community, including children, responded positively and naturally to her same-sex marriage. Children at her school are described as open and accepting, often responding to discussions about same-sex relationships with curiosity and ease. Anna’s experience echoed that of Emma, but added that in her view, having an executive head who is also part of the LGBTQ+ community is very fortunate, as she knows she has his support. However, she stressed that all other staff members, governors, and the wider church community to which the school is linked are all incredibly supportive and inclusive: ‘We’ve got just the most wonderful, welcoming, open minded vicar and his wife and they’re absolutely brilliant. They definitely set the tone with an open minded and broad view of things, that is just about love and understanding and acceptance of each other.’ Jack also supported this view, stating that he could not think of any issues that he has faced, that he has ‘never felt particularly judged or, you know, made to feel uncomfortable about who I am. You know, in terms of being part of a church school’. Jack mentioned that the inclusive nature of his school has been noticed by others outside the school. In particular, he mentioned a visiting college tutor and how they were really impressed and amazed at the children’s ability to utilise language and to talk in such an inclusive way from that [trans] perspective.’

These stories contrast with the literature suggesting that LGBTQ+ teachers often face challenges in religious school settings (O Brien 2024). The participants’ experiences challenge assumptions that faith-based schools are inherently unwelcoming to LGBTQ+ individuals.

Interestingly, Anna shared that when she talks openly to the children about LGBTQ+ relationships, it actually benefits her too:

I feel like it helps me in my own sexuality, in myself, to feel valued because I can talk openly with children about all these other people and that everyone’s working it out in their own way…., it’s not a big thing.

Some of the participants talked about the ways that they actively encouraged inclusion in their schools, which ranged from the provision of reading books with same-sex relationships, displays around the school for Pride, No Outsiders (Moffat 2024) and assemblies focusing on equalities, including in terms of LGBTQ+ and LGBT History Month. Participants also shared how their Personal, Social, Health Education (PSHE) lessons included discussions on every different type of family from a diversity perspective. Ensuring curriculum content is developed to reflect and normalise inclusive practice is seen as a fundamental approach to ensuring inclusive practice (Llewellyn 2024; Marston 2015; van Leent 2017).

Jack shared that this can be controversial for some families, but that they ‘try not to shy away from that, without driving a wedge and making it a big thing.’ But he admitted that this can be a difficult balance sometimes.

Conversely, Bridget, who had completed her final placement in a Church of England school, had not had such a positive experience. She shared how the school had had a Diversity Week, which focused on LGBTQ+, but that there had been a lot of resistance from the parents, some of whom removed the children from lessons where inclusive books were being shared, or even from school for the duration of the week. Some of this push back, Bridget attributed to less-than-ideal communication with the parents, but this left her feeling uncertain that she would look for a job at a Church school in the future. Lundin (2016) and O Brien (2024) caution that promoting equality and inclusion does not necessarily mean that the workplace becomes safe and accepting of LGBTQ+ teachers. Bridget did add, however, that she admired the school for their attempt to be inclusive with this Diversity Week and reflected on how important she would have found this herself as a child: ‘That would have been massive for me.’ Hardie (2012) stresses the importance of representation for LGBTQ+ pupils in school.

In almost all of the interviews, C of E schools were described as inclusive and affirming, linking to Freire’s (1996) idea that an educational space can be humanising. By fostering dialogue, schools can support Freire’s (1996) vision that oppressive systems can be transformed through relational and participatory practices. For Bridget, however, the school’s attempt at inclusion—though met with resistance—can be seen as a form of praxis, the very kind of transformative action Freire (1996) champions.

3.2.2. Christian Values

The role that the Christian values of the school played in creating an inclusive environment was mentioned by three of the participants. Emma mentioned how supportive her diocese was and said that the school specifically uses their Christian values of love, grace, and respect to address prejudice and promote inclusion. She also referenced the Church of England’s Valuing All God’s Children (The Church of England Education Office 2019) document as particularly helpful in communicating inclusive values to parents and children. This document was also mentioned by Anna, who said that her school takes quotes from it to illustrate key messages about love and acceptance, and understanding. Emma added that the document is particularly helpful when talking to families about relationships and sex education guidance. Anna shared that her school’s Christian values were celebrating, nurturing, welcoming, and listening, and how she felt this embraced the school’s inclusive stance of accepting and listening to everyone’s diverse stories. Steve echoed the message about values, saying that his secondary school has a family feel, which he puts down to the head’s leadership and her embodiment of the school’s family Christian ethos. The values-based ethos described by Steve is deeply relational. Freire’s (1996) vision of education as a practice of freedom is evident in the responses above: when school values prioritise love, understanding, and acceptance of difference, they become mechanisms for transformation. When Church schools’ values are enacted through inclusive practice, C of E schools can move beyond tolerance to liberatory inclusion.

3.2.3. Specific Challenges of Church of England Schools

Participants did, however, allude to some specific challenges with working in Church schools. In the primary school, this mainly was the previously mentioned occasional resistance from parents to inclusive literature or lessons, whether that was PSHE curriculum content or specific content, e.g., for LGBT History Month (Bridget, Jack, and Anna). Anna also shared that some parents had questioned why they were looking at a drag queen, feeling this was inappropriate, but she said that what made a difference for her was knowing the leadership of the school, but also the church community was absolutely backing the school. O Brien’s (2024) research found that the support of school leadership, alongside colleagues, is a key determinant of teachers feeling safe at work. Emma shared that she had one family who removed their child from the school because of their inclusive approach, but there was no confrontation, and she felt that you have to accept that ‘for some people they can’t deal with it.’

In the secondary sector, Steve mentioned that he would feel uncomfortable in a Church school displaying Pride flags or similar images. He mentioned that ‘I always feel I’m treading a very fine line between you know, Church of England policy. But you know, I’m very scared of authority and I always feel that I’m going to get told off if I push it a little bit too far.’ This was in direct contrast with how he had been in previous non-denominational school settings. One recollection of Steve’s was of his first day at the Church school and a whole school assembly where the head teacher celebrated marriages that had happened over the summer— ‘And of course, they were all heterosexual marriages.’ Steve felt very uncomfortable, and even now, two years later, was not sure if they would include images from his marriage if he got married in the future. Reluctance by schools to celebrate or even acknowledge same-sex marriages or relationships marginalises staff (Ferfolja 2010; Lee 2019), effectively silencing or curating the genuine identity of LGBTQ+ teachers, whilst also continuing to present heteronormativity as the acceptable narrative (Røthing 2008).

3.3. Theme 3 Working in Church of England Schools

In Theme 3, participants shared their general thoughts about employment in C of E schools, in terms of the ability to flourish, be promoted, and how attractive these settings might be to prospective teachers from the LGBTQ+ community.

Anna discussed the prominence of the vision and values of their school, which is displayed for visitors and prospective members of staff to see. She reflected on the fact that their inclusive stance might not be evident on their website or interview paperwork, which might make ECTs like Bridget wary of applying. Jack, who is the Executive Head at the Trust Anna works at, shared that as a result of her interview, Anna had talked to him and the Trust about making this more explicit and changing current terminology to be more deliberately welcoming to those in the LGBTQ+ community. Emma shared that she was unsure if there was anything specific on the paperwork that goes to prospective candidates, but that their website and the inclusive environment would be evident when people visited the school. She reflected that ‘We don’t do anything [more]. Maybe we should put something in our adverts then if we might be potentially missing out on LGBTQ+ applicants.’

Steve shared that after two decades of working in non-denominational schools, he had had reservations about applying to a Church school, and his concerns about potentially not being able to be out with staff and pupils. When asked if he would in the future consider working at another Church school, Steve stated that ‘if all schools were like my school, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. But I think to myself, you know, if I got married in the summer to my partner, would my head put my picture up on that board?’ He said that he would definitely consider Church schools again, but would leave if he then felt at all uncomfortable. Steve’s response demonstrates a link to Freire’s (1996) concept of a culture of silence where authority and dominant norms inhibit authentic expression.

The literature shows that being open about LGBTQ+ identities can impede promotion chances for teachers (Marrs and Staton 2016; Lee 2019; Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021). However, four of the five participants were in promoted roles, and none felt that this had been an issue for them.

A key message that was expressed by Anna, Jack, and Emma was about the importance of this research and how much they were looking forward to reading the outcome and the potential impact they thought this would have for the LGBTQ+ teacher community. Anna was also disappointed to hear that often student teachers from this community voice concerns about working in Church schools, and hoped that this research might encourage them to apply.

3.4. Outlier Data

Harding (2018) discusses that occasionally data collected will be outlier data to the main findings and themes, but that this data is still worth considering for the messages that it might give. As highlighted earlier, one respondent to our call for participants did not belong to the LGBTQ+ community. However, she was passionate in her role as an Ally and, in her role as a leader of a Church of England school, it was felt that her contribution could add an extra dimension to our considerations. Constance felt strongly that her role as an Ally meant advocating for the members of her school community and was keen to participate (Wharton and Love 2025). The inclusion of Constance, an LGBTQ+ ally, was a deliberate and ethically grounded decision aligned with both the principles of Critical Pedagogy and the methodological emphasis on diverse perspectives. While the primary focus of this research was on LGBTQ+ teachers, allies play a pivotal role in shaping inclusive school cultures. Constance’s positionality as a senior leader in a Church of England school offered unique insights into institutional responses to LGBTQ+ inclusion, the implementation of CPD, and the dynamics of allyship in practice. Her contribution reflects Freire’s (2007) notion of becoming cognisant of oppression, demonstrating how allies can become agents of transformation within educational settings. Moreover, her narrative illuminated the ripple effects of inclusive leadership (such as empowering staff to disclose their identities), which might otherwise remain undocumented. Including an ally thus enriched the data set by providing a complementary lens on the structural and relational conditions that enable or inhibit LGBTQ+ flourishing in Church schools.

Findings from Constance, an LGBTQ+ Ally

Constance attended local authority training for leaders in schools on LGBTQ+ inclusion, which immediately resonated with her. She admitted that initially she had not been aware of the challenge that LGBTQ+ teachers might face in C of E schools and said this ‘just threw me, completely challenged me.’ This was further strengthened due to an incident at her school, where a same-sex parent couple was being ostracised by the rest of the parent group. Constance’s response was unflinching:

I [was] absolutely not having any of that. That is the inclusion agenda right there. And I made it my absolute mission that they were absolute equals in the parenting community … I was recruited as an inclusive leader and I absolutely was … and I sort of felt it moving through the school.

This sudden realisation of the challenges faced by the LGBTQ+ community reflects what Freire (2007, p. 3) calls an ‘awakening to oppression.’ Freire discusses how educators have an ‘ethical responsibility to reveal [and address] situations of oppression’ (2007, p. 3).

Constance disseminated the CPD she had been given on inclusion to staff meetings, which had an immediate impact. She described how one of the staff came up to her and shared how powerful that had been for her as an individual, ‘she said, I’m bisexual and I have never ever been able to say that in front of anyone before, but I can now say it in front of this staff, because we’ve begun to unpick this.’

The importance of CPD around LGBTQ+ inclusion was a key thread throughout the literature (Marston 2015; van Leent 2017; Llewellyn 2024; O Brien 2024), and it is perhaps surprising that this was only mentioned once in our data, and only then by Constance, the ally. Certainly, staff development is a critical tool in enabling inclusive contexts. When thoughtfully implemented, training can foster a culture of empathy, reduce unconscious bias, and equip staff with the language and frameworks needed to support diverse colleagues. However, such initiatives must move beyond tokenism; policies that fail to account for the complex interplay of sexual identity with gender, religion, and other factors risk being superficial or exclusionary in practice (Hankivsky and Cormier 2011). They should be co-developed with LGBTQ+ educators, reflect the realities of working within faith-based institutions, and be embedded in broader commitments to equity and justice. Only then can inclusion policies become truly transformative rather than performative.

Constance clarified that the move towards a more inclusive environment had not been without issue, adding that sometimes there had been resistance about moving the school onto this new inclusive trajectory, which had surprised her. She suggested that this might have been due to the Christian foundation:

C of E schools very often have a very traditional history, that’s guided by Christian beliefs and values and traditions. There is a sense sometimes of fear about coming away from that, when sometimes things look like they might be challenging the beliefs.

However, Constance did reiterate the point made by the other participants about the sense of community and shared values that were part of being in a C of E school: ‘Those shared values come across very powerfully.’ Constance’s takeaway message for LGBT+ teachers concerned about working in a C of E school was to ensure that these conversations are had at interview: ‘You’ve got to talk to the teachers … because that will indicate to you the flexibility, the freedom, the inclusion.’ Specifically discussing ECTs, Constance advised a very direct approach: ‘I’d also say to them, ask outright. Just say... We’ve been talking at university about LGBTQ+, where would you say the school sits in that?’

It is perhaps significant that all bar one of our participants were in, or had been in, leadership roles in the Church schools they worked in. All of these participants declared that there were no obstacles or issues with embodying their LGBTQ+ identity in their school settings—both in terms of day-to-day practice as well as for promotions or career advancement. This was a different experience for the ECT, for whom this did not feel a safe place, an impression that came both from some parents and the school’s responses to them. This addition anxiety felt by ECTs echoes Guijarro-Ojeda et al.’s (2021) research.

A key response from research with LGBTQ+ teachers often centred around the impact on their wellbeing. Surprisingly, discussions of wellbeing only arose in our conversation with Bridget, again, suggesting that there are particular concerns that are experienced by recently qualified teachers (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021; Hong et al. 2024; O Brien 2024).

4. Conclusions

This research has illuminated the complex and deeply personal experiences of LGBTQ+ teachers working within Church of England schools. Through a thematic analysis of the teachers’ narratives, it is clear that while many educators felt supported to express their identities—particularly those in leadership roles—others, especially those at the start of their career, continue to navigate significant anxieties around disclosure, acceptance, and authenticity. The interplay between personal identity, institutional culture, and the expectation of the school community reveals progress and tensions. The data depicted a broadly positive picture of the experience of LGBTQ+ teachers in Church schools, which was in contrast to the literature that suggested potentially toxic heteronormative practices were still commonplace (Guijarro-Ojeda et al. 2021; O Brien 2024). It suggests that Church of England schools can be affirming spaces, countering negative stereotypes. The interviews highlight the importance of colleagues, leadership, visibility, and institutional support in fostering inclusive environments. Discussions with the participants suggested that only one of the many documents that the Church of England Education Office has produced to support schools around LGBTQ+ issues, namely Valuing All God’s Children (The Church of England Education Office 2019), is actually being used in schools—this seems something dioceses might want to address.

Freire’s concept of praxis (the merging of reflection and action) was evident throughout the teachers’ responses, where the individuals involved described subtle acts of resistance, advocacy, and transformation within their school communities. The role of Church of England school values, when enacted through inclusive practice, emerged as a force for humanising education and fostering a sense of belonging. However, the research also highlighted the need for clearer messaging, inclusive recruitment practices, and robust continuing professional development to ensure that LGBTQ+ teachers feel safe, valued, and empowered across all stages of their careers.

Ultimately, this small-scale research offers a hopeful yet critical lens on the evolving landscape of inclusion in Church of England schools. By listening to the voices of LGBTQ+ educators and allies, it calls on Diocesan leaders and policymakers to reflect, respond, and reimagine what it means to create truly inclusive schools in which every teacher can thrive and be themselves.

4.1. Limitations of This Research

Although the number of study participants was low (n = 6), the focus of the study was on generating an in-depth understanding of relevant issues, not generalisation (O Brien 2024). Additionally, all bar one of the participants hold or have held leadership roles in their schools. It would be interesting to carry out further research with additional ECTs or teachers in the early stages of their careers, to see how this might affect the findings.

4.2. Key Implications for Practice

• There is a call to action for schools and dioceses to better communicate their inclusivity to prospective staff and student teachers, whether this is through explicit content on their websites and/or interview documentation, or deliberate conversations on pre-visits and in the interview process.
• A key message for dioceses is the need to ensure that specific documentation, such as but not limited to Valuing All God’s Children, is well publicised to all school settings and stakeholders. In particular, Steve, our secondary participant, mentioned that he was not sure what documentation was there to support secondary C of E Schools.
• Diocesan CPD (Primary and Secondary), to support LGBTQ+ leadership, teachers, and wider stakeholders, both for general practice, but also more specifically for when schools might be faced with complaints/challenges from parents.
• Focus on relationships and belonging. The “family feel” described by Steve and the nurturing ethos shared by Anna reflect Freire’s (1996) belief that education is relational. C of E schools must prioritise belonging, not just for students but for their staff too, through leadership that listens and is able to enter into authentic dialogue.
• Church school values (e.g., love, grace, and respect) can become tools for liberation when enacted through inclusive policies and relational leadership. Freire (1996) calls for a move beyond symbolic gestures to transformative practice. A reconsideration of how schools use these values would support school cultures as spaces for dialogue.