You may have missed it, but MPs have just passed a law which will save thousands of LGBT+ kids’ lives

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I remember my first crush. We must have been no older than eight years old. I didn't of course realise that it was a "crush" per se, although in hindsight it did have a definite sexual flavour. I found everything about him intoxicatingly fascinating – his eyes, his freckles, his trousers – and strategised with considerable vigour (and ultimately some success) to spend as much time with him as possible.

I saw myself as being infinitely more accomplished at maths than he, and as such offered to sit next to him and help him with his times tables. I remember I once even lent him my favourite pen. My (albeit rather one-sided) relationship with him is one of my most vivid memories from primary school.

It wasn't until much later, at secondary school, that the notion of homosexuality (a slightly medical-sounding word I think, but it'll have to do for now) was presented to me, albeit in incredibly narrow terms.

In a rapid-fire PSHE lesson, the teacher – who had just outlined in some detail to a room full of boys that we "all wanked", to much blushing and awkward laughter – segued into the topic of sexuality.

He explained that statistically three of us were gay (to much laughter) but it was important that we were aware of the ramifications, were we to tell a teacher.

He explained that any teacher we told would be obliged to share that information with other teachers, because gay people are "more likely to commit suicide", and it was unfair to burden one teacher with that knowledge, if down the line, that person did indeed kill themselves.

This was the first time I'd heard about gay people, and to me at the time, staring down the barrel of my sexuality – which was proving pretty unavoidable in a same-sex school – it didn't sound great.

I'm almost 30 now, so of course my story is now a little dated, but talking to my cousin earlier today who is about half my age, I was quite disappointed to discover that education around LGBT+ people – their existence, let alone around relationships or sex – is still often woefully inadequate, if not wholly absent, even at secondary level.

We have in recent weeks seen the amplification of the view that children should not be learning about LGBT+ people, let alone LGBT+ relationships. In some quarters the discourse has reached lows that for many echo the days of Clause 28.

The "No Outsiders" programme, the brain-child of the ever-inspiring, indomitably positive and admirably tireless Andrew Moffat (MBE, incidentally), was the subject of these protests.

Widely misreported as being a sex education programme, it is in fact more a celebration of diversity, within the framework of the Equality Act. "No one is the same, but everyone is equal" is their motto, and this of course extends well beyond sexuality into matters of race, disability – indeed, everything under the Equality Act.

You could be forgiven for assuming that this was an uncontroversial premise, especially in a world where pupils could well come from a family with same-sex parents, or where fellow pupils might be gender-nonconforming – not to mention from a variety of cultures and religions.

The programme has proved, however, incredibly divisive in some quarters, with protests taking place outside Parkfield Community school in Birmingham, and protestors even enlisting the help of children to protest – some of whom allegedly are not even pupils at the school.

All of this notwithstanding though, there has arguably been an even more powerful positive impact of the furore, with more and more people – LGBT+ and allies – becoming more proactive in voicing their support for more inclusive education, and coming to the support of Moffat and teachers like him.

Imagine then my unbridled joy when, glued as I was to the Brexit melodrama last night, John Bercow – albeit in very hurried terms – announced the result of the vote on the update to the RSE (Relationships and Sex Education) guidance; the first update to this guidance since the turn of the millennium. The update had passed with an absolute landslide, with only 21 MPs voting against.

Scrutinisation of those who abstained from the vote does leave some further questions – yes I'm looking at you Chuka Umunna – but still, with 538 MPs voting in favour, the success of this motion was secured.

If it passes through the Lords, all secondary schools will, from next year, be required to teach pupils about sexual orientation and gender identity, and all primary schools will be required to teach about families – which, crucially, can include LGBT+ families.

The passing of these regulations and their move to the Lords mark a crucial step in the journey towards true equality of access to education around relationships and sexuality. LGBT+ children and young people (in particular trans young people) are at considerably higher risk of poor mental health and bullying at school.

The impact of growing up LGBT+, and potentially not having access to education around this, can have dire, even fatal, consequences. From my own experience, growing up in a conservative religious household, with no television (and for a long time no internet), my parents found it very easy to avoid "exposing" me to the fact that LGBT+ people exist, to use a term Andrea Leadsom recently adopted to describe providing inclusive RSE.

I struggled for a long time with what were to me profoundly confusing feelings, for a long time subconsciously and then increasingly, more consciously, all the while having no reference point; no knowledge that gay people even existed.

I was the only one in the whole world, from my perspective. When I did eventually get access to the internet, it did provide me with an education – of sorts – in the broad spectrum of sexuality.

There were limitations to what I could learn from pornography though, and everything I did learn revolved entirely around sex. I remained for much longer completely oblivious to the idea that men could have loving relationships with each other.

I cannot begin to imagine the profound difference it would have had on my life to have been exposed to the notion of same-sex relationships when I was younger. Opponents to the idea of LGBT+-inclusive RSE often suggest that we risk "confusing" young people, but I can assure you, it's far more confusing being LGBT+ and not having had any education about it.

Something I think worth mentioning that is often overlooked in discussions around LGBT+-inclusive education, is the impact it has on non-LGBT+ pupils, who, after all, make up the majority of any school population.

The majority of people are not LGBT+, and the majority always get the final say. The majority always win. We need them – without them our rights would never have been won, and without their continued support our rights can always be threatened.

If a pupil, of whatever age, has been given an LGBT+-inclusive education, they are surely much less likely to bully the pupil with two mums, the child who starts coming in to school wearing a dress, or indeed later on the young person who comes out as being LGBT+. This bullying, and the attitude of non-LGBT+ people, is a big part of what fuels the risks around mental health and suicide faced by LGBT+ people – taking proactive measures to curb it with inclusive education is surely of immense value.

The journey towards truly inclusive education did not end yesterday, by any means. It is still not completely clear whether or not parents will have the ability to opt their children out of RSE at primary school, and it is vital that parents are not given this option.

The assumption that parents know best is dangerous. If my school had made that assumption when I came out, my life could have turned out very differently. If they had outed me to my parents, if they had refused to offer me any support, I think it's quite likely that I wouldn't be here today.

In reality, they arranged an intensive counselling programme for me, and did everything they could to support me – I couldn't have asked for more. Almost of my problems around my sexuality have arisen as a result of my immediate family, the people who I grew up trusting the most.

If a child grows up in an environment where their parents tell them being LGBT+ is wrong – for religious or other reasons – the child is very likely to believe them unquestioningly, I know I did.

In some faith communities, this is how young people can become willing and compliant victims of abuses such as conversion therapy, in an effort to somehow "correct" themselves, and earn the love of their parents – and often their equally-trusted faith leader.

These children can be incredibly isolated and vulnerable, and the state surely has a duty towards them to help them better understand their fundamental nature.

Their parents may choose to impart on them homophobic, biphobic or transphobic views; but in their sexuality and gender identity, these children have no choice, and schools can offer a safe place in which to begin to learn more about themselves, and their fellow pupils.