Yesterday I joined AM1470’s Special Topic Hotline (Call‑In Program) from 5–6pm as one of the guests discussing the implementation of SOGI123 in schools. The entire program was conducted in Cantonese, which meant the conversation unfolded in the emotional language of our community — the language many of us use when we are most honest, most anxious, and most unguarded.

Several callers phoned in. Some were deeply agitated. A few directed personal attacks at me. Others questioned my ministry, my faith, or insisted that SOGI123 is a form of cultural colonization. Some parents expressed a desire to control what teachers should or should not teach about SOGI. And beneath many of the comments was a deeper fear: that their children might “learn” to become LGBTQ+ simply by being exposed to inclusive education.

Listening to these voices, I could feel how much fear and confusion sit beneath the surface of our community conversations.

What became clear, however, was that no amount of explanation would reach someone who had already decided not to listen. Beneath the arguments, the core concern was unmistakable — a discomfort with LGBTQ+ people themselves, and a belief that identity can be shaped or prevented by curriculum. But a child’s sexual orientation or gender identity is not something they “learn” from a teacher or a classroom discussion. It is not something parents can prevent or control. What parents can influence is whether their child grows up feeling ashamed or supported, hidden or honest, isolated or connected.

And of course, these anxieties are not limited to the Chinese community. They appear in many cultures, languages, and faith traditions. Fear of the unfamiliar — especially when it touches our children — is a deeply human reaction. But when fear hardens into rejection, when it becomes louder than empathy, it can cause real harm.

One moment from yesterday has stayed with me. If callers were willing to insult and attack me — someone who is not LGBTQ+ but simply hopes our community, our schools, and our next generation can be more inclusive and respectful — then we can only imagine the hostility that LGBTQ+ people themselves face. If this is how some respond to a pastor advocating for understanding, what happens when their own friends or family members come out? Would they feel safe? Would they dare to come out at all?

This is precisely why SOGI123 matters. It is not about encouraging anyone to “become” LGBTQ+. That is neither something I could encourage nor something anyone can manufacture. It is about creating a community where every child — every family — can live without shame, fear, or erasure. It is about teaching our young people how to coexist with dignity, even when we differ. It is about ensuring that no one is pushed to the margins simply because of who they are.

Parents absolutely have a role in their children’s education, but that role exists alongside the professional responsibility of educators and the legal obligations of schools. SOGI123 is not a separate “subject” that can be removed based on personal discomfort. It is a framework that helps schools ensure safety, respect, and inclusion for all students — including those who are LGBTQ+.

And at the end of the day, this is what SOGI is trying to teach:
that even though we are different, we can still respect one another;
that difference does not make one person more “normal” than another;
that our diversity is not a threat, but a reality of the world our children are already growing up in.

If you support this vision of a more inclusive community, I invite you to share this reflection with your friends — especially those who are LGBTQ+ or who have LGBTQ+ family members. They are not alone. They deserve to know that there are people in the Chinese community, and in every community, who stand with them, who see them, and who believe they belong.

And if anyone needs someone to talk to, they are welcome to reach out to me. Sometimes the first step toward healing is simply knowing that someone is willing to listen.