In the spring of 2025, a striking pattern emerged from federal school-based health surveys: the share of ninth-grade girls who described themselves as lesbian or bisexual had fallen dramatically in just four years. According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, highlighted by The Washington Post, that figure dropped from roughly 30 percent in 2021 to about 17 percent in 2025. The share of ninth-grade girls identifying specifically as bisexual was cut nearly in half, tumbling from 26 percent to 13 percent. For boys, the picture was entirely different: the percentage identifying as gay or bisexual has remained largely unchanged over the past decade, holding steady through the same cultural and political upheavals that seemed to touch young women so deeply. The numbers are more than just statistics. They reflect the inner lives of real teenagers—girls navigating friendship circles, social media feeds, family conversations, and school hallways, trying to make sense of who they are, who they love, and what labels feel true. The suddenness of the shift has left researchers, parents, and commentators searching for explanations, partly because the decline is so visible among younger teens while older teenagers have not followed the same path.
The context behind these numbers makes the story more complicated. The Post noted that the share of high school girls identifying as lesbian or bisexual spiked sharply after the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted normal life, before beginning a downward slide. During 2021, when many schools were still in remote or hybrid learning, young people spent enormous amounts of time online, isolated from the everyday social rhythms of classrooms and extracurriculars. Some researchers suspect that pandemic-era loneliness and digital connection may have encouraged more fluid exploration of identity, or perhaps prompted more cautious reporting on surveys as young people returned to in-person environments where labels carry social weight. What is especially puzzling is that older teenage girls have not experienced the same dramatic drop. Their rates have stayed relatively steady and remain higher than before the pandemic. That suggests something particular is happening with the youngest high school students, not a uniform reversal across all age groups. A ninth grader in 2025 was in sixth grade when the world shut down, and her sense of identity has been shaped by a very different sequence of experiences than that of a junior or senior. The age-specific nature of the trend hints at a generational story still in progress—one that cannot be reduced to simple political headlines or a single cause.
Jean Twenge, a psychology professor at San Diego State University who has long studied generational shifts in attitudes and identity, published her own analysis of the 2025 data on her Substack, Generation Tech. She pointed out that the downward trend began while former President Joe Biden was still in office. That detail is significant because it undercuts the tempting assumption that a change in presidential administrations caused the shift. If the decline were tied to the White House, or to a particular set of government policies, the timing would likely line up with the transition from one president to the next. Instead, the turning point arrived earlier, during a time of intense debates over gender and sexuality in schools, book bans, bathroom laws, and social media controversies. Twenge’s observation does not solve the puzzle, but it narrows the range of possible explanations. It also reminds us that cultural change rarely follows a simple election calendar. Teenagers do not suddenly adjust their sense of identity because a new president took the oath of office. Their attitudes are shaped by TikTok videos, classroom discussions, friendships, family dynamics, and countless small interactions that are almost impossible to measure in a survey. The fact that researchers are struggling to explain the trend is not a sign of failure; it is a sign of how deeply complicated human identity remains.
Naturally, the findings have sparked political reactions. Terry Schilling, president of the American Principles Project, a conservative advocacy group, wrote on X: “Amazing what happens when you cut the Department of Education and USAID.” His comment suggests that dismantling federal agencies helped produce the decline in young girls identifying as lesbian or bisexual. But the available data does not support that interpretation, at least not in any direct way. The Post noted that the data also does not explain why such a political transition would affect certain age groups differently. If cutting federal programs changed the cultural climate, why would ninth-grade girls be affected so much more than older high school girls? Why would boys remain entirely unchanged? Political commentators often reach for clear, satisfying narratives, but the real world is messier. The Department of Education and USAID do not directly control how a fourteen-year-old girl feels about her sexuality, and their funding cuts came too recently to account for a trend that began earlier. Still, the political reaction reflects a broader desire to see the numbers as evidence for one worldview or another. For some, the decline is reassuring proof that a cultural wave is receding. For others, it is a reminder that identity trends are always in motioncars moving through changing weather. The danger comes when we embrace a single explanation before the evidence is complete.
One voice urging caution belongs to Walt Heyer, a man who detransitioned roughly forty years ago after living as a woman for eight years. Heyer, the author of several books including Trans Life Survivors, told Fox News Digital that it is premature to celebrate the report as proof of a lasting downward shift. “Better to be skeptical and conduct more studies before we put this study in the win column,” he said. His perspective carries weight because he has lived through the pain of a gender journey that ultimately did not bring the peace he hoped for. Heyer’s warning is not about denying the data; it is about resisting the urge to build a firm conclusion from a single snapshot. Four years is a short period in the long arc of human behavior and self-understanding. What looks like a reversal today could be a fluctuation tomorrow, or a lasting change that only becomes clear with more time. Heyer’s life story reminds us that behind every percentage point are individuals who struggle, question, transition, detransition, and search for authenticity in a world full of competing messages. His skepticism is not an attack on any particular group; it is a plea for humility. Before anyone declares victory—or defeat—they should wait and watch the next several years of data, listen to the experiences of young people, and allow the complexity of human identity to speak for itself.
In the end, these numbers invite more questions than answers. They are a reminder that sexual identity is not static, especially during the teenage years, when self-discovery is a normal and often messy process. The fall in ninth-grade girls identifying as lesbian or bisexual could reflect a genuine cultural shift, a change in how young people interpret survey questions, or a mix of both. It could be tied to social media, to the end of pandemic isolation, to changing school policies, or to broader conversations about gender and sexuality that are still unfolding. It could also be a sign that younger teenagers are more cautious about claiming labels at a time when those labels feel politicized, even as their underlying feelings remain just as varied. What matters most is that we approach these findings with care and compassion. The data represents real young people who deserve to be understood, not used as trophies in a culture war. Parents, educators, researchers, and policymakers should pay attention, but they should also remain humble. The healthy thing to do is to keep studying, keep listening, and keep asking open-ended questions. Whether the trend continues, reverses, or evolves, the ultimate goal should be to create a world where every young person can explore who they are without fear, pressure, or premature judgment—and where the conversations we have about them are grounded in evidence, patience, and basic kindness.
