FAGGOT!  Pooftah!  Fairy!'  They kept yelling it at me, as I left the school yard.  When some stones flew in my direction – one hit my head – I started to run.  Earlier that week I had received an anonymous death threat by E-mail on the school's computer system, which said someone would bring a gun to class and shoot me.  I guess my enemies were extra mad because I took a copy of it to the head-mistress."

    Three years after his ordeal at Claremont College – a state school in
the outer suburbs of Hobart – Chris Jones, 21, still smarts from the pain
and humiliation.  For Jones the harassment began after he confessed to his
gay sexual persuasion.  "I'd been living with it in my head for years; it
reached the point where I needed to tell a couple of close friends."  But
the consequences of his admission were dire:  "Most of my friends deserted
me once word got out:  they found that if they continued to socialise with
me, they got abused as well."

    Jones is not alone.  For the thousands of gay and lesbian high school
students across Australia, the decision to broadcast their sexual
persuasion is fraught with the risk of a violent reaction.  Others –
already "recognised" by their school-mates for being different – can
suffer a living hell. 

    Sydney's Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, increasing gay visibility in the
media, TV shows such as 'Will and Grace' may create a misleading image of
sunny tolerance for Australia's homosexual young people.  But being a gay
or lesbian teenager is no picnic, particularly in rural and outer-suburban
areas, where the gay community is less visible and few support services
exist.

    That black cloud of prejudice may soon be at least partly lifted after
last week's launch of a rural youth network – Outlink – for gay and lesbian youth, including support services and a new anti-homophobia education kit for teachers, due to be released next month.  

Meanwhile in urban areas, gay teens are coming out of the closet as never
before, with the first baby steps being taken to form support groups
within schools.   "Just about every recent study indicates the most traumatic and severe prejudice encountered in society happens in schools," says Rodney Croome, who has been employed by the Human Rights Commission to set up the Outlink network.

    "Schools are the crucibles of homophobia, and the scars left on
vulnerable students can last a lifetime." 
Only education, Croome insists, can break the matrix of anti-gay bigotry:
"Young people have to be taught that homophobia is uncool, in the same way
racism is uncool." 

    Anyone who doubts that homophobia is a real problem in schools should
speak to school counsellors.
    The stories are depressingly familiar: daily assaults of teasing,
bumps and shoves in the corridor, being spat on, steely-eyed glares, which
often graduate to kicks, punches, beatings, even death threats.  A recent
study by the Australian National University described homophobia in our
schools as "endemic, extensive and savage".

    Darryl Murray, a coordinator with Family Planning in Queensland
insists that "we have hit only the tip of the iceberg." 
The reason being that most gay and lesbian teens are far too ashamed or
seared to seek help.

    Surveys both here and in the US suggest the suicide rate for young
gays and lesbians is about three times greater than for their heterosexual
peers.

    Combine that with the landmark results of a survey of 1200 rural
school children in Victoria, Tasmania and Queensland – which revealed 11
per cent of students did not classify themselves as heterosexual – and you
have a possible epidemic of discrimination.

    When the survey's coordinator, Dr Lynne Hillier of La Trobe
University, tried to excavate the issues behind those statistics, she
struck a deep slab of resistance.  "Most gay and lesbian kids were too
terrified to speak out," she says.  "One young boy yelled that gay foetuses should be aborted."

    Croome, 33, who has been fighting for gay and lesbian rights for most
of his adult life – he was instrumental in the decriminalisation of
homosexual acts in Tasmania in 1997 – says the 11 per cent figure
"translates into hundreds of thousands of youngsters, many of whom endure
terrible levels of cruelty daily".  About 70 per cent of gay bashings,
Croome adds, occur at school.
    So why do these young thugs do it? 
"Because they can," sighs Croome.
    "Teachers will correctly chastise a student for calling someone a
'wog' or 'chink'; but to yell out 'queer' or 'leso' is still okay in many
schools."

    Homophobia is the last bastion, of acceptable prejudice, insists
Croome, which is why anti-racism kits are compulsory in high schools, and
anti-homophobia kits are not. 
Translation:  one form of prejudice is more acceptable than another.
(Contrary to their image as the "redneck" states, Tasmania and Queensland
are the most advanced inanti-homophobia strategies in
schools, and Tasmania is the only state where anti-homophobia kits in
schools are mandatory.)

    Not so, NSW.  "[NSW Minister for Education John] Aquilina has enacted
a hierarchy of hate," fumes Chris Puplick of the NSW
Anti-Discrimination Board. 

 "He has sent out a clear public message that while racism will no longer
be tolerated, you can get away with homophobia.  Aquilina has let the young people of NSW down."
    The standard response from the NSW Government – that it opposes all
forms of school violence – sidesteps the problem of emotional bullying,
says Puplick.
    And the issue of anti-homophobia education in Catholic schools is
thrown into the "too-hard" basket.
    "That's a cop-out," snaps Puplick.  "Many Catholic schools have
recognised that anti-gay bullying is a problem and have introduced very
sound education policies."

    Zero tolerance of anti-homosexual harassment is the only means to stem
the emotional and physical violence, insists Puplick. 
"There aren't too many instances of racist killings in schools, but we
know of many gay-hate murders committed by schoolboys." 
(Packs of young men from one inner-city Sydney school, report police,
regularly bash gays and lesbians.)

    "Anti-homophobia kits in schools are not about sex education; they're
about teaching tolerance," says Daniel Witthaus, 23, a youth worker in
Geelong, who himself suffered severe anti-gay prejudice in high school. 
"Bullying has been associated with mental health problems later in life –
anxiety and depression – as well as diminished academic achievement.  If
someone in the desk behind you keeps spitting 'dirty fag', 'dirty fag'
it's very hard to concentrate."

    Steeling yourself against name-calling and turning up for school each
day can be an exhausting trial, says Belinda Fuller, a sexuality liaison
officer in Canberra who, as a high school student in the outer suburbs of
Perth, was beaten up on the school bus – and had garbage tossed over her.
    "It's common for gay kids to withdraw, to become recluses, which
deepens their isolation and helplessness," she says.
    Murray says the drop-out rate of gay and lesbian students can be high.

"Out of fear of bullying, they keep taking days off, transfer to another
school, or leave altogether," he says.
    Lonely gay and lesbian children – ashamed of their treatment in the
school room ­ rarely find solace at home.  Kim Parsons, 15, is luckier
than most, enjoying a strong, open relationship with her parents.  "My
offence in the eyes of the bogans [the redneeks] was to go out with
another girl in school," says Kim, who describes herself as bisexual.
"The abuse got so bad I had to transfer to another school."  (She has
since returned to her school, Ogilvie, in Hobart.)

    Articulate beyond her years, Kim – partly as a form of therapy –
decided to do her social science project on public perceptions of young
gays and lesbians.  "Harassment is designed to make you feel inferior and
insecure," says Kim.  "It succeeds for a time, but you have to be true to
yourself."
    Invisibility can be the biggest stumbling block in schools, says
Croome. 
"It's easy to demonise homosexuality if you don't know a gay man or
lesbian. 
It's a lot harder for the bigots when someone such as [former
international footballer] Ian Roberts comes out of the closet and breaks
the stereotypes."

    The old charge – that teaching anti-homophobia "recruits" more young
gay people – is an insult to commonsense, says Murray. 
"Could anyone seriously believe teaching tolerance is going to switch
someone's sexual identity" he asks incredulously.
    As Croome presses for mandatory anti-homophobia kits in schools
nationwide, he is often asked, what's the rush?
    To that question he responds, "Tell that to the young man who is
beaten up each day on the school bus; tell that to the young woman who is
on the verge of suicide.
    "The sooner these policies are introduced," says Croome, "the sooner
we can reduce violence in our schools."