Conferences Shouldn’t Be Dangerous: Rethinking How We Gather in 2025
When we talk about inclusive spaces, we often focus on what happens inside the room—diverse panels, closed captions, pronoun stickers. But what about the journey it takes to get there?
As a queer educator, parent, and organizer, I’ve had to wrestle with this question while planning the Teaching While Queer conference. What does it mean to gather joyfully in a world that legislates against our very existence? What does it mean to extend an invitation that might actually put someone in harm’s way?
Teaching While Queer has been intentional in our conference planning.
We specifically chose a virtual platform that prioritizes the safety and access needs of our presenters and attendees. Until it feels safer to convene in person on a large scale, we will continue to host a fully virtual conference. Our goal is not just inclusion in name, but active safeguarding of those most impacted by today’s political climate.
Let me put it plainly:
If this were the early 20th century, would you ask Black educators to travel to the Jim Crow South for your event?
If that question feels absurd, ask yourself why we’re not applying the same ethical lens today.
Right now, in 2025, we are asking queer and trans educators to cross into states where their rights are being stripped away. We’re asking disabled educators to navigate inaccessible airports and overpriced hotels. We’re asking people to make impossible choices between professional opportunity and personal safety.
We don’t get to claim we’re building inclusive spaces while making choices rooted in convenience over care.
Conference planning is a political act.
If your conference is hosted in a state that has passed anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, banned reproductive care, or criminalized trans healthcare, you are sending a message.
If your venue lacks accessible infrastructure or you don’t offer hybrid participation, that is also a message.
If your budget doesn't include stipends, childcare, or sliding-scale access, you’re defining who gets to show up and who doesn’t.
At Teaching While Queer, we’ve chosen a different path. We’re not just gathering—we’re building community on a foundation of care, safety, and resistance. That means meeting people where they are, not asking them to risk their wellbeing for visibility.
We invite others to join us in rethinking what conferences can be.
Ask yourself:
Is this location safe and affirming for all attendees?
Can we offer hybrid, remote, or asynchronous options?
Are we funding participation equitably?
Are we working with local communities or just parachuting in?
Access is not just about captions and ramps. It’s about geopolitical realities, trauma-informed decisions, and a commitment to doing better than “business as usual.”
So I’ll ask again:
Would you have asked Black educators to travel to the Jim Crow South?
If not, why ask queer and disabled educators to show up in places hostile to their existence?
Drop your thoughts in the comments:
What’s one accessibility or equity shift you want to see in conferences this year?
#TeachingWhileQueer #ConferenceEthics #QueerEducators #InclusiveDesign #AccessIsJustice #AcademicLeadership #QueerPedagogy #CommunityCare #VirtualConference