FIVE years ago, I graduated from the same Scottish state secondary school where my mother still works as a teacher. Despite having since finished an undergraduate degree, in some ways it feels as if I’ve never left.

This sensation is never more acute than when I walk into the art department to meet her after work, and I am greeted by the same colourful little poster I have already spied several times since entering the school at reception: amateurish but cheerful calligraphy, proudly stating "this is an LGBT-friendly classroom".

In any other circumstance, this would make me smile. Sometimes, I admit, it still does. But I made this poster. I put it up. This is the case for all the other, identical posters, sticky-taped onto doors and pinned onto noticeboards across the school – as they have been for the past five years.

READ MORE: Education project for Scottish schools to combat 'anti-LGBT media narratives'

They are untouched and untampered with, which - given current discourse in media and politics around LGBT-inclusive education in UK schools - is not something I take for granted. But also, they are un-refreshed.

Did LGBT activism in Scottish schools really reach its zenith in 2019, when I spent one lunchtime fiddling with the photocopier and stayed late to stick up these posters? Is there really nothing more to be done?

You, like me, will likely find this hard to believe. I don’t claim to have had a terrible school experience - the 2010s were certainly a much better time to be a queer student than any decade prior. I’ve had conversations with gay Scottish men in their forties who winced when I told them I grew up in Aberdeenshire, and then visibly relaxed in relief when I told them things have changed.

The LGBT rainbow flag has been turned into a politically contentious symbol in some quarters

My friends and I resurrected the Gay-Straight Alliance (GSA) and spent Tuesday lunchtimes in a safe space, chatting with younger LGBT students and a sympathetic guidance counsellor. I wrote gay love stories for Higher English, gave assemblies on inclusion, and had enough teacher allies that I could display my posters in nearly every department. My struggles with queerness were mostly personal. In comparison with days gone by, my own school life was charmed.

But my experience does not account for everyone’s – not in Aberdeenshire, nor across Scotland.

Media reports said that between 2018 and 2019 – my final year of secondary school – 65 anti-LGBT hate crimes were reported to police across our local authority. This was a 54% increase from 2016/17. Consider this alongside LGBT Youth Scotland’s 2022 poll finding that only 17% of young people would feel confident reporting a hate crime to the police, and you’ll realise that these numbers are likely to be much higher.

READ MORE: Reports of trans hate crimes in Scotland triple amid 'cynical campaign'

While I personally managed to avoid homophobic abuse - likely due to the presence of my mother among the school’s staff - I did have an LGBT friend face false harassment accusations and, while attempting to address this, we had to convince a senior management member that being called homophobic slurs was a serious form of harassment itself.

I was one of the lucky ones. In 2022, 70% of LGBT Youth Scotland’s gay and lesbian survey participants reported experiencing bullying due to their sexual orientation in Scottish schools.

Anti-LGBT attitudes were prevalent beyond the individual level too. A local church once refused to host the awards ceremony for our school’s Youth Philanthropy Initiative, as one of the finalist pairs had chosen to raise awareness for LGBT Youth Scotland.

Before the Scottish Government brought in its reforms, our sex education curriculum was woefully non-inclusive, and though we did once watch Pride (2014) in Personal & Social Education, no teacher intervention came when upon viewing the singular kissing scene in the movie – a romantic moment shared between two men – a boy in the class shouted "ew". 

LGBT Youth Scotland staff at a Pride event (Image: LGBT Youth Scotland)

Incidents like these may seem small, but in 2022, LGBT Youth Scotland found that only 10% of survey participants rated the school experience for LGBT people as "good". It’s clear that our classrooms are not particularly LGBT-friendly, after all.

This is why I am so excited to hear that Just Like Us, the LGBT young people’s charity, is for the first time offering training in Scotland for its volunteer programme for LGBT young adults aged 18 to 25, giving them the skills to speak to young people in Scottish schools about growing up LGBT.

As students, my friends and I made our own community, and advocated for ourselves in turn – but this responsibility shouldn’t have been on our shoulders. If I’d had visits from an LGBT charity with young adult ambassadors, bringing positive, inclusive messaging into my school, I wouldn’t have felt so alone; nor would I have so keenly felt the responsibility of educating my peers – and, indeed, my teachers.

READ MORE: UK plummets down table of 'safe' LGBT countries as hate crime rises

During their school talks, Just Like Us ambassadors provide advice on allyship and advocacy, sharing their own stories to increase empathy and understanding while letting LGBT students know that a fulfilling, successful life is possible. Hundreds of Scottish students will be reassured, inspired, and supported by these visits – and as an ambassador myself, I cannot wait to contribute.

Things have changed since I left school five years ago. There are a few openly LGBT teachers now. I’ve heard from students a few years below me in the school that the GSA has managed to start up again post-pandemic, and my mum says that today’s LGBT students seem far more confident than me or my friends ever were. I hope that this is in part due to the groundwork my friends and I laid.

But there’s still a long road to inclusion which many Scottish schools have yet to travel – further than my colourful little posters can go. I hope that Just Like Us will take us there.