Overview:
Texas's Senate Bill 12, which bans public K-12 schools from authorizing student clubs based on sexual orientation or gender identity, has caused confusion and tension in schools across the state. The law, which went into effect on September 1, has led to the renaming of student clubs and a climate of fear among teachers and students. At Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts in Dallas, the fallout has been swift and unsettling, with students and faculty struggling to navigate the new regulations. The law has been criticized for its impact on diversity and inclusion in schools, with many fearing that it will have a chilling effect on the free expression of identity and ideas.
DALLAS — When lawmakers passed Texas’s Senate Bill 12 earlier this year, they framed it as a “Parental Bill of Rights.” The law, which went into effect September 1, bans public K-12 schools from authorizing student clubs based on sexual orientation or gender identity, effectively outlawing LGBTQ+ student groups such as Gay-Straight Alliances. Supporters argued it gave parents more control.
Dallas Parents and Students Brace Ahead of SB 12
Republicans insisted the measure would “empower parents” and not endanger children.
But Democrats warned the opposite. “The real monsters are not kids trying to figure out who
they are,” said Rep. Gene Wu, D-Houston. “The monsters are not the teachers who love,
encourage, and support them. They are not the books that provide them with some amount of
comfort.”
For schools like Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts
in Dallas, the fallout has been swift and unsettling.
Once home to a thriving Gay-Straight Alliance and later the BTW Proud Club, the campus is now navigating a void where community once thrived and clarity is in short supply.
To ensure protection from reprimand or retaliation, all sources interviewed for this story were
granted anonymity.
“There’s Just a Lot of Confusion”
“It says in our compliance training, ‘Always call the child by the name they want to be called.’ Then the first day of September hits, and we’re told to not use kids’ chosen names, and we can’t ask for pronouns,” a Booker T. teacher says. “There’s just a lot of confusion with teachers.”
That word, confusion, echoed throughout my reporting. As an alumna of Booker T., I
remembered its student groups as safe havens and a reflection of the school’s creative, inclusive
spirit.
When I began researching this story, I quickly discovered the changes stretched far beyond
LGBTQ+ organizations. The Black Student Union is now dubbed “The Movement.”
The Asian Student Union has become “The Lantern Society.”
Even recent Hispanic Heritage Month centered-events has been renamed “Culture Monday” and “Culture Friday.”
“The kids are upset. They’re like, can we just call the Black Student Union the Black Student Union, please?” the teacher said. “It makes it worse. We’re leaning into weird stereotypes, and students know it.”
A current student described the atmosphere as tense and unsteady. “Before, there were
spaces where you didn’t feel like you had to explain yourself,” they said. “Now it feels like
everyone’s on edge. Even saying you’re going to a club meeting feels risky.”
For faculty, the stakes feel personal. “This is a hill I will die on,” the teacher said. “You
want to come for my teaching certification because I use a kid’s pronouns? Cool. Come for me. I
will fight that. But not everybody feels that way. Younger teachers—they’re scared, they’re
confused.”
“Now it feels like
Booker t. washington student
everyone’s on edge. Even saying you’re going to a club meeting feels risky.”
That fear is reshaping Texas classrooms. Teachers describe weighing every conversation,
every book, every word against shifting state policies. “Every lesson everybody’s doing now is,
like, what can I even say? What conversation can I allow? What conversation do I need to shut
down?” the teacher said.
Booker T. Washington High School: Dallas’ Beacon of Creativity
The contradictions are especially stark at Booker T., a school with deep roots in Dallas
history. Founded as the city’s first African American high school, it later reopened as a
performing and visual arts magnet, celebrated for its diversity and creativity. “You can’t tell me
that the values of our school are to cultivate diversity and transform society, and then we can’t
have clubs where kids have a sense of belonging,” the teacher said. “Those things are in direct
contrast with each other.”
Students notice the disconnect too. “It feels like we’re being taught one thing about
embracing history and identity, but then being told we can’t actually live it out,” the student said.
For me, reporting this story as a former student was unsettling. Booker T. was a place that
prepared me not just academically but socially to engage with difference, to ask questions, to
grow. Now, as I watch the fallout of SB 12, I worry not only about the school’s future, but about
what these changes signal for Texas education as a whole.
“We call ourselves creative revolutionaries in this building, and I think that’s not as true
anymore,” the teacher reflected.
The “Guise of Compliance”
Another student pointed out that, despite the restrictions, their generation is unwilling to
back down. “Booker T. encourages us to be our complete and total selves and to not censor who
we are, and our art is hurting more than helping,” they said. “We strive for greatness, and being
great is being yourself. Times have changed, and it’s time to move up.”
As one teacher summarized: “We’re rewriting identity under the guise of compliance, and the kids can see right through it.”
In a state where identity is increasingly politicized, students, parents, and educators are left searching for clarity. What was once an environment that championed belonging has become one clouded by hesitation.
The confusion at Booker T. may be most visible, but its reverberations are being felt across Texas schools, and for many, the silence is deafening.
