What Happens When “Gender Propaganda” Rhetoric Undermines Child Abuse Prevention: Lessons From Italy’s New Sex Ed Bill
I waited with my sister Marta outside her elementary school in Bologna last month, leaning against a graffiti-marked wall while kids streamed out after the final bell. She crumpled a printed copy of Italy’s new sex education bill in one hand, and held her 10-year-old daughter’s backpack in the other, a half-eaten cornetto sticking out of the side pocket. The school had just called an emergency staff meeting that morning to walk through the bill’s new rules, and she hadn’t had time to throw the printout away.
“They’re calling any lesson that mentions gender identity beyond biological sex ‘gender propaganda,’” she said, brushing a crumb off her blouse. “And they’re lumping it in with grooming and child abuse. So if I teach that 10-minute lesson I do once a semester about body boundaries for trans kids, the school can lose all its national funding. I’m basically labeled a groomer for talking about keeping kids safe.”
Two years ago, she told me, an 11-year-old trans girl in her class stayed back after that lesson. The girl hadn’t told anyone that her mom’s boyfriend had been touching her inappropriately for six months, because she thought no one would believe her when she tried to talk about her body and how she felt. After that short lesson about all bodies being worthy of respect, she trusted Marta enough to say something. The man was arrested, and the girl moved in with her grandmother, where she’s safe now. That lesson saved her, and now that lesson is categorized as harmful alongside actual child abuse.
Marta’s daughter ran over a minute later, holding up a pink rock covered in glitter she’d painted in art class, and we walked to the gelato cart around the corner. While she ate strawberry gelato and chased a pigeon around the fountain, Marta told me how the conflation at the heart of the bill isn’t just bad for trans kids—it’s bad for every kid. The bill’s drafters claim they’re protecting children from indoctrination, but the real effect is that teachers are scared to teach any content about bodies, boundaries, or abuse prevention at all. I’ve seen the same rhetoric play out in the U.S., where I live now, and the end result is always the same: basic safety education gets thrown out with the political fight.
A recent survey of Italian primary school teachers released after the bill was proposed found that 62% of respondents are planning to cut back all sex and relationship education content this year, not just content about gender, because they don’t want to risk being reported and losing funding. That means millions of kids aren’t getting the basic lessons that let them name abuse and ask for help. The conflation works exactly against the goal of protecting kids from harm—it just creates more space for abusers to operate.
What’s been interesting to watch is how teachers and parents are adapting in small, practical ways, no grand protests, just small changes to keep kids safe. Marta and three other 4th grade teachers got together a week after the meeting and rewrote their curriculum outline to be as clear and explicit as possible, with no jargon, and they send a one-page copy home to every parent at the start of the term. The outline has three short bullet points: 1) We teach kids the correct names for all body parts, to help them tell a trusted adult if something is wrong. 2) We teach kids they can say no to any unwanted touch, even from a family member or teacher. 3) We teach kids that all kids, no matter what their gender is or what their body looks like, have the right to feel safe at school. It’s simple, it’s transparent, and it takes any argument about “hidden propaganda” off the table before it starts. That’s a concrete step any teacher in this position can take, it takes an hour to write, and it disarms most concerned parents right away.
For parents, if your school has pulled back on abuse prevention because of this kind of political fight, there are small, low-friction things you can do at home that don’t require awkward, hour-long talks. You can add a 5-minute casual check-in to your routine every three months, when you’re driving to soccer practice or stirring pasta for dinner. Just say: “Hey, remember, any touch that makes you feel weird or uncomfortable is okay to say no to, even if it’s a relative or a coach. If someone asks you to keep a secret that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me anything, and I won’t be mad, I won’t blame you.” It’s short, it’s not awkward, and it reinforces the message schools should be teaching. If your kid asks a question about gender, you don’t need a perfect, expert answer. Just say: “That’s a really good question. Some people feel like their gender doesn’t match the body they were born with, and that’s okay. All people deserve to be safe and respected.” That’s enough. If you want to go a step further, round up three or four other parents and ask your principal to let a local child protection organization lead a free annual boundary safety workshop at the school. Most of these organizations do it for free, so there’s no funding excuse for turning you down.
Last week, Marta texted me an update. One parent pulled their kid out of her class after she sent the curriculum outline home, calling it “indecent.” But three other parents emailed her to say they were glad she was still teaching the lessons, because their own kid had told them about an uncomfortable touch from a family friend after a similar lesson a couple of years back. The bill is still making its way through parliament, and no one knows what the final rules will look like, or how strictly they’ll be enforced.
Marta is still going to send the outline home. She’s still going to do her 10-minute lesson once a semester. She still stays back after class to let kids talk to her if they need to. It’s not a grand win. It’s just small, daily work, keeping kids safe one conversation at a time. And that’s enough for now.
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