OPINION: The silence of queer sexual assault is deafening. We need to break it, together

Monday, 25 September 2023 14:18 GMT

A man casts a shadow as he walks along an alleyway in central London, Britain October 3, 2016. REUTERS/Stefan Wermuth

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* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.

The LGBTQ+ community must address sexual violence within its own ranks as well as from outside

Thomas Garrod-Pullar is director of MenAsWell, a Netherlands-based organisation for male victims of sexual violence

The LGBTQ+ community is a beacon of inclusivity: a social movement that is as diverse as the people in it, united by the systemic marginalisation that has othered us for centuries.

It’s a social movement that swiftly integrates new issues as they arise, to ensure the inclusivity and safety of its members. Yet there is one threshold we’ve struggled to breach: breaking the silence around sexual violence that disproportionately affects us.

To understand what sexual violence looks like within the community, we need only look at cases that trickle through the media.

In the UK, Reynhard Sinaga was convicted of the rapes of 136 men using GHB and Stephen Port killed four young men with the same drug, dumping their bodies in a local churchyard.

In the Netherlands, a man was found dead after a Grindr date on a boat in 2020, there was a gang that infected drugged men with HIV, and the former director of a prominent fashion collective has been accused by dozens of men of sexual assault.

The #MeToo movement was the moment of change, yet, it was not fully inclusive.

The LGBTQ+ community is one of the most vulnerable to sexual violence. Belgian data suggests that 80% of LGBTQ+ people will experience sexual violence in their lifetime. In the UK, 45% of gay and bi men experience it; and in the Netherlands, a quarter per year.

We’ve been taught for decades that gay sex is shameful and unsafe. Risk is inherent; we’re told. And sexual violence is just another risk. With the trauma of HIV lingering, we’ve also been taught since the 1990s to look after ourselves, and only ourselves. This means that a discussion on sexual responsibility has failed to develop alongside the narrative of sexual liberty. And LGBTQ+ victims of sexual assault feel additional shame as a result of ‘not looking after themselves’.

In the wake of a further #MeToo scandal in Holland, the government introduced a national commission on sexual violence and abusive behaviour, intended to change norms around sexual violence across society. This requires a discussion within our own community to achieve.

I’m optimistic that gay and bisexual men can become an example to their straight peers. Yet, there are barriers that continue to prevent gay and bi men from entering the conversation.

Despite a gender-mainstreamed approach within federal government - in which all gender identities are included in policy - municipalities are free to decide who sexual violence programmes should cover. For example, cities such as Amsterdam have chosen to focus their sexual violence programmes mainly on women and girls, despite their own data identifying LGBTQIA+ people at similar risk of sexual intimidation. 

There is also pushback from within the LGBTQ+ community: those who feel they fought for their freedom can sometimes deny the sexual responsibility they have towards sexual partners. At times, sexual liberty has dominated the discussion at the expense of responsibility.

But more shockingly, rainbow institutions – including “community leadership” organisations, can sometimes shy away from a topic they feel could “reflect badly” on the community. This has the effect of silencing victims, invalidating the trauma they experience, and allowing it to continue – all the while conditioning our community to accept violence against us.

Breaking the silence around sexual violence among LGBTQ+ is vital for us to develop a safe and sustainable community. It requires collective effort, inclusive policies and an understanding that we all have work to do.

We must begin to talk and amplify survivors’ voices, so that others can recognise their own experiences and seek support. We must believe queer survivors and listen to them, regardless of their gender identity. Without sexual safety, we cannot call our community a safe space.

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