Seven participants argued that the campus environment displays the potential to empower students in learning, progressing and networking with friends in support of sexual minorities. This echoes Ghaziani’s (2015) argument on how society may contribute to the inclusion and protection of homosexual individuals in South Africa and abroad (cf. Reddy 2010). A gay participant in Munyuki and Vincent’s (2017:19) study among gay, lesbian and bisexual residency students on a largely residential South African campus noted that a positive experience of one’s campus may allow ‘you to establish your own values, it allows you to know yourself because it allows you to experience life’. Evans (2000) agrees that learning is enhanced when students feel validated and experience positive interactions with peers and the faculty, in and outside the classroom. Seven of the 20 participants noted that the university campus may be regarded as a safe space for gay and lesbian students, attributed from the findings of a university campus as a safe space if ally programmes that promote inclusivity of gay and lesbian students exist. Participants also indicated that people must be educated and sensitised about diversity and support for gay and lesbian students (cf. De Wet 2017; Grace 2006, 2015); this recalls De Wet et al. (2016), Kumashiro (2002) and Msibi’s (2015) call for education of ‘others’ (through overt support and affirmation) and education about ‘others’ (knowledge to heterosexually identified students and staff about homosexuality). According to Boostrom (1998), such programmes may contribute to improved academic performance. The education and sensitisation about gay and lesbian students’ issues may result in the development of inclusive policies and ‘nurturing practices’. Increased sensitisation and consciousness among students and staff about issues related to homosexuality may encourage the management of education institutions to amend their policies to protect homosexual students against discrimination (De Wet 2017; Macgillivray 2004). These initiatives may furthermore encourage university staff members and students, their families and friends to participate in training sessions to become so-called ‘safe spaces’ and/or ‘allies’ for potential victims (Evans 2000, 2002).

It was also of interest that, irrespective of their self-identified racial category, some participants argued that they were openly gay and lesbian on and off campus. This was attributed to, among others, the openmindedness of their families on a structural level and on an individual level, their own personalities, self-confidence and self-acceptance, which recalls the reference of Cass (1979) to ‘identity synthesis’ as an example of experiencing identity pride. Examples of this include Tshiamo, a self-identified coloured gay student, who argues that:

Bob, a self-identified white gay Faculty of Arts student, embraced particular stereotypes associated with his sexual orientation; he argues that ‘I have always seen myself as flamboyant and I think that’s what characterises my gay identity. I think the gay identity is oftentimes associated with flamboyance and outspokenness’. Three self-identified lesbian students, Ellen, Sally and Zack, irrespective of their race, also indicated that their sexuality is not only characterised by their attraction to other women but also manifests in their physical appearance and the activities they like to openly engage in. They felt free and liberated to express their sexuality and were therefore afforded an opportunity to make choices on how they live their personal lives, denoting an acceptance of their supposed ‘otherness’ rather than its subordination (Plummer 2015).

It should be acknowledged that one-to-one consultations with lecturers, psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers (Evans 2000; Nel, Rich & Joubert 2007) may contribute to support for gay and lesbian students. Eight participants thought that one-to-one consultations might be safe spaces, an evident belief supported by Evans (2002), Grace (2006) and Harper et al. (2007). These students noted that this requires that psychologists, psychiatrists and other mental health professionals based on the university campuses must understand the individual experiences of gay and lesbian students as well as the structural constraints presented by the campus culture (e.g. potential homophobia) (Francis 2017a; Jagessar & Msibi 2015). Six participants commented on the importance of one-to-one consultation for students’ health. Zintle, a lesbian law student, noted how this could contribute to reducing depression levels and, as Precious, a lesbian arts student argued, less inclination to suicidal tendencies on the part of the students. Such support, according to these students, could redress the exacerbation of increased levels of internalised homophobia and marginalisation (Evans 2002; Harper et al. 2007). Zintle stated the following in this regard:

Thus, support from these professionals may contribute to students’ higher levels of self-esteem and confidence (Grace 2006).

Eleven participants cited the significance of their classrooms as safe spaces; some noted that this context may become a safe space if lecturers and fellow students discourage the use of discriminative language during lectures, which might result in sexually diverse individuals feeling less judged by others (Francis 2019; Grace 2006; Kumashiro 2002; Msibi 2015). Three participants (Alan, Mario & Lungile) noted that a classroom as a safe space may be created through educating other students about the history, lives and the experiences of gay and lesbian people (Richardson 2008). According to Kumashiro (2002), this is referred to as ‘education about the others’, and ‘calls educators to bring visibility to ignored issues’ (Msibi 2015). Brown (2018:17) reaffirms this point by foregrounding the importance of providing a more ‘sophisticated understanding of the diverse identities that are converging within these spaces in order to create a safe and inclusive learning environment for all’. According to Ellen, a lesbian student in the Faculty of Education, an inclusive classroom is characterised by the acceptance of gay and lesbian students by including them in class discussions where they will not feel segregated. In doing so, these students may also feel free to express their views and ideas without any feeling of being judged. This acceptance may have positive impacts on students’ academic performance and they may feel free to contribute during class discussions and group assignments, supporting Francis’ (2013) use of Forum Theatre to expose students to creative and constructive methods of teaching and learning in a South African school (and university) setting. He argues that, notwithstanding some limitations of the approach, students could enact their agency to critically reflect on the principles associated with heteronormativity (Francis 2013; Msibi 2015; Rothmann & Simmonds 2015). This underscores Kumashiro’s (2002) and Msibi’s (2013) arguments that the non- or under-representation of sexual minorities in higher education curricula stifles attempts to critique and transform heteronormative pedagogies.

The topicality and importance of implementing such course content at the university level currently intersect with the varied reactions to proposed changes in primary and secondary schools’ gender and sexuality education curriculum.² The proposed changes envisage foci on an introduction of learners to the male and female genitalia (Grade 4); the ‘normality’ of masturbation (Grade 7); and identifying different forms of sexual orientation (Grade 8), among others (Nel & Slatter 2019:1). Those against the envisaged changes, including representatives of the Christian pressure group, Freedom of Religion South Africa (FOR SA), have indicated their disapproval of how the curriculum ‘normalises’³ homosexuality and uses particular persons, including HIV-treatment activist Zackie Achmat, athlete Caster Semenya and former Constitutional Court judge Edwin Cameron, as role models and heroes. They consider it problematic as some of these persons are HIV-positive and some identify as ‘LGBT’.⁴

Nel and Slatter (2019) note that Chris Klopper, President of the South African Education Union, described the potential changes as ‘grossly insensitive’⁵ and encouraged ‘boycotting’ these views notwithstanding, proponents of the changes applaud the curriculum’s emphasis on ‘permission, boundaries and respect’⁶ which are in keeping with the constitution (Nel & Slatter 2019:1). The Department of Basic Education (2019) critiqued what they considered to be ‘[F]alse reporting by some media organisations and fake news’ that led to the ‘unnecessary confusion and anxiety among parents in particular’ and encouraged parents and the general public to provide inputs and raise concerns on the matter directly to them (Etheridge 2019).⁷ Irrespective of the views on the matter, such reactions, particularly as it relates to sexual orientation for the purpose of the article, leave us pondering the importance and implications of the decision to include gender and sexuality course content in university curricula, and its role in critiquing cisgender approaches to the topic. It is worth quoting Francis (2019) in this regard. He notes that social scientists should engage debates:

Participants noted the desirability of having an openly gay/lesbian lecturer, attributing their reasons to the role that these lecturers play in inspiring students and their positive influence through autobiographical ‘life narratives’, as favoured by, among others, Grace (2006). This echoes the work of Griffin et al. (2007), Petrovic and Rosiek (2003) and Rothmann (2016, 2017) who assert that lecturers could use autobiographies in class as spaces for disclosing issues that have been historically ignored or denied by providing a ‘more nuanced, balanced and thick descriptive account of the experiences of sexual minorities’ (Rothmann & Simmonds 2015:8). However, participants commented on how the disclosure of their lecturer’s sexual orientation in an education context may harbour potential threats, such as anxiety over potential institutional homophobia, stigmatisation, fear of exclusion and verbal and physical threats (Rothmann 2016, 2017; Warren 2008). Sally, a lesbian student, commented on how heteronormativity inhibited the efforts on the part of her openly gay lecturer to provide help to gay and lesbian students. She continued:

Risks and fears faced by gay and lesbian students may be curtailed by specific organisations or programmes that decrease the rates of harassment and violence to create a university context, which is relatively safer and supportive where such students may reach their full potential (Consortium of Higher Education LGBT Resource Professionals 2016). Those participants who viewed affiliation with a communal student organisation group as important, echoed the precepts underlined by theorists and social scientists whose work echoes the principles of queer liberationists (Eide 2010), who are argued to be dedicated to ‘improving’ (Jagose 1996:30) situations for homosexuals. Therefore, having a visible community and participating in such groups emphasise an organised assertion ‘against heteronormative ideologies’ (Seidman 2003:65) and sexual, gender and social inequalities resulting from these ideologies. Twelve participants regarded it as necessary to have such designated venues that are mainly for gay and lesbian students on campus. They indicated that such a venue may create a platform where gay and lesbian people can be visible, recognised and given the attention they need in safety, and policies against discrimination that are specific and reflective of their lived experiences. Two students noted that gay and lesbian students (and their organisations or movements) require and deserve equal privileges as other societies on campus. Tshiamo, a gay student, commented that:

Six gay and nine lesbian participants commented on the importance of having lesbian and gay student organisations to support and potentially persuade campus management to restructure and enact policies advocating the rights of gay and lesbian students to encourage constructive change (cf. De Wet 2017); also that university management should collaborate with a gay and lesbian student organisation to know how students experience the campus climate and the steps that must be taken to address the needs, challenges and contributions of gay and lesbian students (cf. Rothmann & Simmonds 2015). Conversely, some noted a more negative view of communal safer spaces. Five participants noted that being part of a visible group is not necessarily significant. Participants referenced this insignificance to these groups being the ‘culprits’ or ‘cause’ for segregation and exacerbation of homophobia, as attested by Fox (2007). One participant noted that these groups, with some of their principles and ideologies, unconsciously uphold heteronormative precepts through their need for equality with heterosexual people, thus upholding the notions of assimilation which makes a case that gay and lesbian students deserve equal rights and acknowledgement (Milani & Wolff 2015; Robson 2002). Adopting a post-structuralist stance, proponents of queer theory critique this thought, referring to the fact that sexual minorities should not merely be assimilated into an uncritical acceptance of heteronormative principles and ideologies (Epprecht 2010).

All participants reported that they were unaware of the policies protecting gay and lesbian rights on campus as postulated in similar studies by Biaggio et al. (2003) and Grace (2015). The NWU’s Human Rights Policy (2016) and Diversity Statement (2006) are worth considering in this regard. The former was approved by the NWU Council in 2006 and reviewed and amended in 2012 (with only editorial changes), 2016 and is up for review in 2019. Guided by the democratic values of the constitution, that is, ‘human dignity, equality and freedom’, as part of its main objectives, the policy seeks to:

Although it is encouraging that this document foregrounds the importance of human rights, it is worth noting that observing the rights of persons based on their sexual identity is not mentioned explicitly in the policy. Considering, however, the overt emphasis on disability, gender and race: ‘The members of the North-West University Human Rights Committee will be representative of the university community and will be sensitive to race, gender and disability’ (NWU 2016:2). The NWU Diversity Statement, informed by the vision contained in the Education White Paper 3 (Department of Education 1997), echoes these sentiments as it seeks to:

In the absence of an unequivocal reference to sexual orientation in both of the above, we encourage management, as do the participants of the study, to restructure these policies and statements to include sexual orientation alongside references to gender and race, evident in arguments in the work of Donaldson (2015) and Munyuki and Vincent (2017) on similar debates. This may, according to the participants of the study, benefit those gay and lesbian students who are struggling with their sexual identity and those who wish to defend themselves against homophobia. Although some felt unthreatened on campus, they believed it was important to have policies that attended to and ‘dealt’ with the needs of gay and lesbian students and staff, as these policies create a platform for other students to come out of the closet (cf. Consortium of Higher Education LGBT Resource Professionals 2016). Note that the various participants underlined the importance and the positive nature of formal policies that protect the rights of gay and lesbian students. Mario, a gay natural sciences student, noted that the reason why some students decide to remain in the closet is ‘because they are not aware of the policies’ that protect them, an argument to which Barrett et al. (2007) attest. The student further argues: ‘[I]f the university says that it embraces diversity it (must) make sure that those diverse groups complete their education free from violence or discrimination of any kind’ (Mario, gay, Natural Sciences).

This may suggest that, without necessary policies, students are likely to feel unprotected against hate crimes or discrimination. It may further prevent them from reporting incidences of these crimes. It also became apparent that students considered the restructuring of policies to be inclusive of homosexual rights (particularly for those who have not disclosed their sexual orientation), as noted by Fox (2007), particularly in deciding about disclosing their identities. The construction of these spaces or policies potentially contributes to the affirmation of their identities and also challenges the system of ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ (Rich 2003). Likewise, Ratts et al. (2013) argue that the influence, which may arise from these spaces, may be used to benefit gay and lesbian students to positively improve the campus climate and regulate the university’s policies and their execution. Some participants highlighted the importance of an organised and visible group on campus, ‘especially if the group is a revolutionary movement to restructure or change policies to be inclusive’ and ‘there is a group … willing to voice out … and support you … [in] coming out of the closet’ (cf. Plummer 2015; Reddy 2010). This recalls Corrigan and Matthews’s (2003) belief that it would benefit homosexual communities to be more visible to further their shared political and socio-economic needs.

Sensitisation: Another theme centred on how safe spaces provide students and staff, irrespective of their sexual orientation, with education and understanding of sexuality (cf. Francis 2017; Kumashiro 2002; Msibi 2015; Payne & Smith 2011). Eleven students noted that safe spaces provide a platform for sensitisation, which might bring about an eradication of misconceptions and stereotypes of gay and lesbian students and may thus contribute to making the campus a ‘safer’ (Fox & Ore 2010) and more inclusive space (Macgillivray 2004) to eradicate homophobic bullying (Birkett, Koenig & Espelage 2009). One lesbian student argued that, through surveys or testimonials (Macgillivray 2004) monitoring students’ experiences on campus, campus management may be encouraged to restructure policies to protect sexual minorities against discrimination.

One of the key themes that emerged on the potential positive features of safe spaces came from the six participants who commented on the importance of safe spaces in creating a positive platform for gay and lesbian students, a thought commented on by Alvarez and Schneider (2008) and Evans (2002). Batso, Brenda, Dee, Santo, Thinus and Tshiamo regarded safe spaces as safe social networking and ‘fun’ places as the university climate may often not be favourable; a safe space therefore becomes a ‘safe haven’ and a comfortable context where they could securely express themselves. This is supported by Hind (2004). Participants cited the importance of having gay and lesbian friends for social support. While some singled out gay and lesbian friends as the most likely support, they noted that potential sources for social resilience may come from different people or allies (Biegel 2010; Francis 2017; Rothmann 2014), including heterosexual friends and lecturers.

Bringing people together, according to Fetner and Elafros (2015:574), is one aim of safe spaces, substantiated in the narratives of the participants. According to Plummer (2015), such spaces tend to question the existing orders by mobilising resources (also mentioned by one student), setting up new practices (such as annual surveys), tactics and strategies through activist performance (policies, according to findings from participants) to diffuse into varied cultures and potentially challenge and change the social order. Aligned with Plummer’s argument, Van den Berg (2016) asserts that it is a queer thinker’s task to interrogate existing unjust principles that uphold disciplinary structures of conformity and visions of heterosexuality, which intimidate and constrain people’s identities and life choices. Kumashiro’s (2002) ‘anti-oppressive education’ paradigm is also evident as he too advocates providing a context where one could critically educate and sensitise individuals about the heteronormative ‘othering’ of sexual minorities (cf. Francis 2017b; Msibi 2015).

Regardless of these efforts, it would be remiss if a focus is not placed on the potential implications of creating and/or providing safe spaces on this campus.