I had a school visit cancelled this week.

No, not because of the novel coronavirus. The school would not allow me to speak to its middle school students — middle school students — about A High Five for Glenn Burke, my new middle grade novel. The school would not allow me to speak to the kids about any LGBTQ themes.

In preparation for my visit, the school was working with a local bookseller. A pre-order form was sent out to families so that students could purchase books. Some parents – lunatic parents, the school’s words, not mine — learned about A High Five for Glenn Burke and complained to the school.

No, these parents did not read the book. Nor did they want their children reading the book. Nor did they want their children or any children at the school being exposed to LGBTQ themes.

The principal didn’t stand up to the parents. The principal didn’t stand up for her students. The principal didn’t stand up for her community. The principal let the bully parents dictate policy. The principal let the bullies win.

The school is in Long Island, New York. It’s a Catholic school – an accepting and progressive Catholic school, the school’s words again, not mine. The school knows and acknowledges it has LGBTQ students. The school claims to support all of its students.

But saying you’re accepting and progressive, and saying you support all your students is one thing. Being accepting and progressive, and actually supporting all your students is another.

When you erase LGBTQ books and eliminate access to them, you are not being accepting and progressive. You are not supporting all your students. When you erase LGBTQ lives and stories, you are not being accepting and progressive. You are not supporting all your students. You are engaging in censorship, and worse, you are abandoning your moral responsibility. You have not just allowed the bullies to win, you have allied with the bullies. You have become the very thing you said you were against.

I had a school visit cancelled this week.

For months now, I’ve been discussing this insidious form of censorship and erasure with K.A. Holt, the author of the middle grade novel Redwood and Ponytail. She’s also had schools cancel her appearances when cowardly administrators have failed to stand up to the loud bullies in the community, when cowardly administrators have pledged fealty to the bully parents. Kari Anne has helped me find the language to speak on this issue.

Educators, administrators, school boards, and parents talk a lot about kindness and empathy. They talk about how to teach it and model it. But too often, when it comes to our LGBTQ students, it’s just talk.

That’s not acceptable. Because lives are at stake. Children’s lives are at stake.

When books are kept from kids because of close-minded and fear-driven adults, and when individuals are erased because of close-minded and fear-driven adults, what we’re really teaching and modeling is that people without empathy prevail, and that kindness only matters when it’s shown to certain people and defined by a loud few.

Trust me, our LGBTQ kids hear this message loud and clear. And when that message comes from the adults they trust, it moves beyond bullying to cruelty.

When A High Five for Glenn Burke came out in February, Pernille Ripp, an educator and the creator of the Global Read Aloud, wrote a beautiful review. But in that review, it’s almost as if she knew some schools would try to erase this book and LGBTQ kids:

So I write this post to not just highlight the incredible masterpiece that is Phil Bildner’s new book, but for us, the adults, in the lives of these children to understand just how much it matters for our kids to be seen. How much they hope to be represented in our libraries, in our classrooms, in our curriculum, in our teaching staff. That some kids don’t get to be accepted at home so they hope that school is the place where they will be. That some kids face hatred before they come into our rooms and hope that with us they will be accepted for whoever they are, wherever they are on their journey. And they hope but it doesn’t always happen and soon they learn to hide that part of themselves, because it is safer to live half-hidden than be known for all that they are.

I had a school visit cancelled this week.

We had a signed contract in place for more than six months. The opening paragraph – the opening line — of the signed contract reads:

“WHEREAS, the Sponsor is familiar with the Author and the work of the Author and requests that the Author personally visit the Sponsor to enhance the opportunities for its students…”

In terms of the presentations, the signed contract reads:

“The focus of the presentations shall be the Author’s process, the Author’s books, the Author’s life, and other related topics.”

The school knew I was openly gay. The school knew about my books. The school knew about A High Five for Glenn Burke and that I’d be talking about it with the middle schoolers. The school visited my website, read my social media posts, and watched my videos. The school knew what I shared at my author appearances.

The school acknowledged and admitted they were breaching the terms of the signed contract. The school paid me not to show up. They paid me not to speak to the students.

They paid me to go away, to erase me.

It’s scary for schools to stand up to the bully parents. The bully parents are loud and say hateful things. They’re driven by fear and ignorance. And standing up isn’t just scary, it’s often risky. Sometimes jobs and livelihoods are on the line.

But when a school allows the ugly and loud voices to be valued over its own students, the school fails its students. When the interests of the misinformed and fear-driven bully parents outweigh the life-changing and often life-saving needs of its students, their experiences, and their existence, the school has failed.

This week, this school taught its LGBTQ students that their stories are not valid, right, or appropriate. They taught its students with LGBTQ family members and LGBTQ friends that the stories of their loved ones are not valid, right, or appropriate. This week, this school taught all its students that LGBTQ lives are not worth as much. Their lives and their stories are worth less. As a child, when you internalize the message that your story – your existence – is worth less, you begin to believe and understand you are worthless.

My heart aches for the LGBTQ kids at this school.

My heart aches for all the kids at this school.

My heart aches for the cowards who accept erasure as an answer.