Queer voices in the curriculum

By Noel Galon de Leon

Every story we place in the hands of children is a choice about the world we want them to see and imagine. But beyond the colorful pages and familiar characters is a deeper question: Who gets to be represented? Whose voices are heard? And whose experiences are still missing from the books we share with young readers? The stories children encounter are more than just words on a page. They shape how they understand themselves, others, and the world around them. When certain identities, families, cultures, and experiences are left out of our classrooms, libraries, and bookshelves, we need to ask what messages we are passing on and whose stories deserve to be told.

Queer narratives are stories that explore the lives, identities, experiences, struggles, dreams, and journeys of people within the LGBTQIA+ community. These are not simply stories about gender or sexuality. They are stories about family, love, friendship, self-discovery, acceptance, and the search for belonging. A queer narrative is not merely about placing a queer character in a story. It is about recognizing the full humanity of a person.

In the Philippine context, it is important to understand that experiences beyond traditional ideas of gender have long existed within our culture. The presence of the babaylan, diverse gender expressions, and communities with their own understandings of identity existed even before colonial perspectives shaped many of our social structures. Yet many of these experiences have been erased, silenced, or pushed to the margins of our histories and literature.

This is why queer books matter. They are not just reading materials. They are mirrors and windows. They serve as mirrors because they allow young readers to see themselves reflected in stories. They serve as windows because they help others understand lives and experiences different from their own.

As we continue to decolonize our libraries and bookshelves, we must ask: Where are the stories of our queer brothers and sisters from different regions of the Philippines? It is not enough to rely only on narratives from other countries. We need books rooted in our own communities, stories written in our own languages, and experiences that reflect the realities of our people.

We need more queer narratives in Filipino, Hiligaynon, Cebuano, Waray, Ilokano, and other languages across the country. Representation is not only about having a character included in a story. It is about recognizing that every community has stories worthy of being read, preserved, and shared.

In our education curriculum, literature has always been valued as a way to understand society, culture, and identity. However, discussions on gender and sexual diversity remain limited. Gender is often discussed only within narrow frameworks, while the broader experiences of people continue to receive little attention.

The conversation on gender in education remains insufficient. When we avoid these discussions, we create silence. And within that silence, many young people grow up without seeing themselves reflected in the texts they encounter. Many students learn about history, science, and literature, yet they are not always given opportunities to understand the diversity of human experiences.

The inclusion of queer narratives in the curriculum is not about teaching a specific identity. It is about expanding understanding, developing empathy, and recognizing that the world is made up of many different stories. Education is not only preparation for a career. It is preparation to become more humane.

So what must we do?

First, schools and institutions must examine the books and learning materials they provide. It is not enough to have only a few texts representing LGBTQIA+ experiences. These stories must become part of a wider collection of knowledge and perspectives.

Second, we must support writers, illustrators, educators, and researchers who create queer narratives rooted in the Philippine experience. We must listen to stories that have long existed on the margins.

Third, we must teach readers not to fear stories that are different from their own. Reading is not only about finding stories that reflect ourselves. It is also about learning to listen to and understand the lives of others.

To educators, you are the bridge between stories and the next generation of readers. To writers, continue creating the narratives that many have been waiting to see. To librarians and cultural workers, continue building spaces where every story has a place.

Because in the end, the question is not only whether we are ready to read queer narratives. The more important question is whether we are ready to recognize the people who have long been waiting to be seen in our stories.

A single book can become a child’s first moment of realization: “There is a place for me here.” And perhaps that is the true power of education and literature: not only to provide knowledge, but to create a world where more people can finally say that they belong.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and professor at the University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in the Division of Professional Education and at UP High School in Iloilo. He is also the Secretary of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.