At a recent town-hall, Boston University President Melissa Gilliam said she wanted to be clear that the institution gave “unequivocal support” to its LGBTQIA community while explaining the university’s decision-making through a content-neutral signage policy. That explanation followed visible anger across campus when Pride flags began to disappear from street-facing windows and communal areas. Administrators framed removals as a neutral application of policy, but for many students, staff, and faculty the action felt like anything but neutral.
My perspective comes from long experience at BU as a member of the faculty and as a former college student who relied on campus symbols for safety. Flags and stickers are easy to dismiss as symbolic, especially in an era of corporate rainbow-washing, yet their presence inside classrooms and offices functions as more than décor. The removal of these emblems raises questions about free expression, campus climate, and the practical meaning of institutional support for LGBTQIA people.
Why visible symbols matter
Flags and other markers operate as immediate social signals: they tell a person entering a space, often in seconds, whether they are likely to be welcomed or judged. For many students, seeing a Pride flag or a LGBTQIA sticker is an early indicator that they can be open without fear. Even when broader society has made progress, not every young person can count on acceptance at home or in their communities. Thus, visual cues on campus often serve as the first step toward connection, counseling, and mentorship. Removing them can cut off those lifelines.
A personal history of refuge
When I started college, small emblems in residential halls and offices were an essential part of my own coming-out story. The presence of openly queer staff and faculty signaled possible allies; that mattered in ways that formal policy statements could not match. Later, as a graduate teaching fellow and eventually a senior lecturer, I initially hesitated to disclose my identity to students, fearing backlash or accusations of indoctrination. But remembering how much those early signs meant to me convinced me that being visible was a pedagogical choice: an explicit welcome to students who might otherwise hide.
Policy, neutrality, and unintended messages
Invoking a content-neutral signage rule to justify flag removal treats visual support as if it were interchangeable with any other sign, but context matters deeply. When administrators eliminate displays that affirm marginalized identities while allowing other kinds of expression, the action communicates a value judgment—intentional or not—about which identities are acceptable to be seen. Such decisions can chill speech and foster an environment where acknowledging LGBTQIA existence becomes framed as controversial rather than ordinary.
Free speech and institutional responsibility
There is a balance to strike between maintaining campus operations and protecting the rights of community members to express affiliation and solidarity. A blanket enforcement that disproportionately affects one group’s symbols undermines the university’s commitment to inclusion. If a university truly claims to support LGBTQIA people, it must demonstrate that claim through consistent practices that do not single out those visible affirmations for removal.
Classroom practice and educational stakes
As an instructor of first-year writing and research seminars, my role includes preparing students to be responsible writers who communicate with accuracy, sensitivity, and ethical clarity. That mission is incompatible with encouraging students to mask identities or withholding elements of my own background that model honesty in public discourse. When faculty visibly acknowledge their identities—through simple things like stickers, photographs, or a mention in a community-building slide—they help cultivate classrooms where students feel safe to ask questions, to risk being wrong, and to grow intellectually.
Pedagogy in practice
On the first day of class I invite students to share small personal facts; on my slide I include hobbies, a favorite color, and a photo of my partner and me exchanging vows in front of a rainbow collage. That combination of personal and public signals shows that identity and rigorous scholarship are not mutually exclusive. It also models the humaneness and honesty the university expects from its writers and thinkers.
What true support should look like
If leadership is serious about unequivocal support for LGBTQIA members, actions must follow words. Ceasing removal efforts is the minimum; deeper steps include resourcing student centers, investing in staff and faculty training, and embedding inclusion into operational choices so that visibility is not subject to arbitrary restriction. In the meantime, many teachers and staff will continue to create welcoming spaces in classrooms and offices so students receive an excellent education while feeling seen in their full humanity—with or without a flag in the window.
Heather Barrett, Ph.D. is a senior lecturer in the College of Arts & Sciences Writing Program at Boston University, where she teaches first-year writing and research seminars.