Continuing on with our series for LGBT History Month, it's critical to mention the effects of Section 28 on the health of the LGBT community.

Introduced in 1988, Section 28 prohibited local authorities from 'promoting homosexuality' or presenting same-sex relationships as a 'pretended family relationship'. It was framed by then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher as a measure about education and protecting children. She stated within her 1987 Conservative Party Conference speech, "Children who need to be taught to respect traditional moral values are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay. All of those children are being cheated of a sound start in life."

However, its real-world effect was far broader, creating a chilling climate of fear across schools, councils, libraries, youth services and health settings to talk about any issue linked to LGBT people.

This public institutional silence coincided with one of the most devastating public health emergencies in modern British history, the AIDS crisis. In the 1980s and early 1990s, HIV and AIDS disproportionately affected gay and bisexual men, alongside other marginalised groups. Accurate, accessible health information was not just important, it was lifesaving.

Yet Section 28 actively discouraged professionals from sharing clear information about sexuality, relationships and sexual health. Teachers were afraid to answer questions. Local authorities withdrew funding from LGBT organisations providing education and support.

LGBT organisations had to step in where the state had completely failed. Groups such as Terrence Higgins Trust played a critical role in providing education and advocacy, often in the face of hostility and underfunding. But grassroots resilience within the LGBT community, however remarkable, could not fully compensate for the harm caused by the institutional silence.

The result was confusion, misinformation and isolation at precisely the moment when clarity was most urgently needed, and this had profound mental health consequences. Shame, fear and internalised stigma flourished, while anxiety, depression and loneliness went unaddressed. At a time when an HIV diagnosis was widely perceived as a death sentence, many faced it alone, without reliable information or emotional support.

Section 28 did not just mirror societal prejudice, it amplified it. It embedded stigma into law, legitimised discrimination and discouraged early intervention and prevention. Although Section 28 was repealed in England and Wales in 2003, and later elsewhere in the UK, its legacy persists. Many LGBT adults today still consider the dark shadow it cast over their education, self-worth and willingness to seek help.

Thankfully, the world has moved on, and the 'inalienable right to be gay' is now an accepted right in the UK. However, for many LGBT people, Section 28 reinforced the idea that their identities were shameful or dangerous, something that could not even be named by their government. This must never be allowed to happen again.