Intersex people have been around for as long as humans have, yet they’ve been shrouded in secrecy and ignorance for much of our history.
The truth is that these traits are perfectly natural and far more common than many people realise. Up to 1.7 percent of the world population is born intersex, a figure roughly equivalent to the number of redheads.
Nowadays, growing numbers of intersex people are casting aside the historical stigma and proudly embracing their identity as members of the community. Here’s a breakdown on what it means to be born outside the gender binary.
What is intersex?
Intersex people are born with a particular set of sex characteristics — such as chromosomes, genitalia, reproductive anatomy and hormones — that don’t fit neatly into typical binary categories of male or female.
Some of these traits are visible while others are not. Some are obvious at birth, some become apparent during puberty or later in life, and some are never discovered at all. Most traits are random, although some do run in families.
These biological variances occur naturally in humans and there are over 40 medical terms under the intersex umbrella for the different ways sex anatomy might develop.
That means there is no one way to “look” intersex. An intersex person may have female chromosomes but ambiguous to male-appearing genitals, or male chromosomes but ambiguous to female-appearing genitals.
They could have what’s called “true gonadal intersex”, which means they have both ovarian and testicular organs, or they could have a complex or undetermined form of sexual development that doesn’t fit neatly into any of these categories.
As the Intersex Society of North America wrote over 20 years ago: “Nature doesn’t decide where the category of ‘male’ ends and the category of ‘intersex’ begins, or where the category of ‘intersex’ ends and the category of ‘female’ begins. Humans decide.”
How common are intersex people?
According to campaigners, annually around one in 2,000 live births have these characteristics, and one in 200 of these babies are born with visibly variant genitalia which don’t fit typical binary definitions of male or female.
This amounts to roughly 1.7 per cent of the world population, which makes intersex people about as common as those with red hair.
But the true figure is hard to ascertain since most intersex people don’t have characteristics that are externally visible. Others have their genitalia altered at birth, so some may never know they are a part of this community.
Between 1930 and 1960, various forms of genital reconstructive surgery were pioneered by doctors whose understanding of these conditions was relatively primitive, and whose main motivation was to make the child’s appearance more “typical” of the gender binary.
These invasive procedures include clitoroplasty, vaginoplasty, phalloplasty and gonadectomy, and they are frequently performed on intersex babies to this day.
While some are done to reduce the likelihood of future problems, surgical intervention is usually only necessary in the rare case that an infant is unable to urinate. Often it is the surgeries themselves that cause health issues.
Many adults are left with scarring, incontinence or loss of sexual feeling, while the removal of testes and ovaries results in involuntary sterilisation which may require lifelong hormone replacement therapy.
The community has long called for an end to these operations, pointing out that they have high complication rates and can lead to painful physical and psychological problems in later life.
It looks like we could be on the cusp of a watershed moment for intersex rights as a growing number of medical bodies opt not to perform the procedures, but there is still a long way to go.
Is intersex is different from transgender?
Yes! The two terms are often confused but they are not the same and shouldn’t be used interchangeably.
The key difference is that a trans person has a gender identity that differs from the one they were assigned at birth, whereas an intersex person was born with physical variations to their sexual or reproductive anatomy which mean they don’t fit typical definitions of “male” or “female”.
Intersex people can have any sexual orientation or gender identity. Both intersex and transgender people can identify as men, women, gender-fluid, non-binary, or in a multitude of different ways.
How can I be an ally to intersex people?
For starters, don’t reinforce the belief that they need to be fixed. Instead of pushing “normalising” surgeries, parents and doctors should give intersex children the autonomy to decide when they’re older.
“The most important thing would be to advocate for people to make their own choices about their bodies. The person having that intervention has to have some agency in the decision,” said Dr Arlene Baratz of the Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome-Disorder of Sex Development Support Group, speaking to Health.
Be careful about the terminology you use when referring to intersex people. Historically the term “hermaphrodite” was often used, but many intersex people now find this word insulting and an inaccurate description of intersex bodies.
And finally, don’t ask invasive questions about their bodies – you wouldn’t normally strike up a conversation about a person’s genitals, and intersex people are no different!
In Georgia in the early 2010s, what was available to me as a LGBTQ person during my high school sex education class was… inadequate, to say the least. Now, my heart weighs heavy as GOP-led state governments are making LGBTQ* sex education even more inaccessible in public schools across the country.
The latest wave of anti-LGBTQ legislation comes only two years after Arizona lawmakers retracted their efforts to ban HIV/AIDS curriculum that “promotes a homosexual lifestyle” after facing massive public outlash and a lawsuit. However, this state’s legislature has made a second attempt in the spring of 2021, now framing the issue as a parents’ rights issue–stating that parents must provide consent for their child to participate in discussions about gender identity, sexual orientation, or HIV/AIDS in sex education classes. Parents must even sign off on teaching historical material, including the 1969 Stonewall Riots and the gay rights movement.
Following Arizona’s lead, Tennessee and Missouri lawmakers are drafting similar measures which would require parents to be notified before instruction on sexual orientation or gender identity (but would exclude historical references). Idaho legislation, which has already passed the House and now awaits Senate action, also requires notifications and opt-ins, including for discussion of sexual orientation outside of sex education classes.
Despite these efforts by state legislatures, public support for LGBTQ youth continues to grow, and as LGBTQ youth mature into adulthood, they’ll need to have a sex education that prepares them for a healthy life. Because of the failures of my own high school education system, I had to bumble through life learning how to protect myself from self-study on the internet and through podcasts, TV, and friends. Even today, I meet LGBTQ adults who are still largely unaware of important aspects of queer sexual health. So, whether you’re young, old, a thoughtful person, or just a GOP state lawmaker, these are important topics to know.
PrEP, a drug that has prevented the transmission of HIV with a 99% efficacy, has been out on the market ever since I’ve been in high school. I had been sexually active for five years before discovering this once-a-day medication, which ensures that I stay HIV-free. Most individuals experience no side effects, and despite rumors of it being “too expensive,” it can be free with most insurances and because there are numerous cost assistance programs for the uninsured. And for those who have already been exposed to the virus, but aren’t on PrEP (also known by its brand names Truvada or Descovy), there’s an alternative (sort of like the Plan B of HIV), called PEP. PEP, when taken up to 72 hours after exposure can significantly lower the chances of HIV transmission. Thanks to increasingly effective treatments, so many people living with HIV have what’s known as an Undetectable=Untransmittable status. Their viral loads are so low, the CDC says there is “effectively no risk” of transmission when engaging in oral, anal, or vaginal sex.
2. STIs don’t make you dirty. Most are curable.
Upon moving to San Francisco, I contracted my first STI–gonorrhea. It was asymptomatic, and identified quickly. Because I was on my daily prescription for PrEP, I was seeking sexual health care at San Francisco AIDS Foundation’s sexual health clinic Magnet, and was therefore receiving regular testing. The treatment was quick and easy and seven days later, I could get back to hanky panky. The reality of contraction and treatment was far less painful than I had imagined. My high school education in Georgia had me believe that if I so much as undressed in front of another person, Sebastian and every critter from The Little Mermaid’s deep blue sea would be knapping at my pubes.
3. How to douche.
If you’re queer, I seriously hope that Sex Education was a part of your early pandemic Netlfix binge. If not, Season 2, Episode 6 is where my beloved characters deal with numerous dramas, one of them concerning the topic of anal douching. Heartthrob Rahim teaches us the mechanics to ensure shit doesn’t happen. In short, the sigmoid colon, where our bodies are designed to hold our poop, is located well above the rectum, which means that it lies farther inside our bodies than a penis, dildo, or fingers can reach during penetrative anal sex. For those of us that eat high fiber diets and evacuate regularly, douching may not be necessary. And for those of that do require cleaning, San Francisco AIDS Foundation’s anal douching safety tips are extremely helpful.
4. The HPV vaccine is for everyone.
The HPV vaccine, which prevents the transmission of the strain of the virus that develops cancer and genital warts, was originally recommended only for people with vaginas by the CDC. As scientific evidence grew, the CDC amended it’s guidelines to include everyone in their preteens through 26 years old, too. Adding to the confusion, my primary care doctor explained to my dad that the vaccine was specifically for sex between a man and a woman. His narrowly defined definition didn’t consider that men could pass it between each other and that those men could then pass it to others if either of them engaged in vaginal sex. This lack of clarity led my father to decline me getting the vaccine, since he assumed it was not for gay men. It wasn’t until I began visiting my college’s LGBTQ Center that I realized that the HPV vaccine is for everyone, regardless of sexual orientation, and chose to take the necessary precautions.
In What I Didn’t Learn In Sex Ed (Part 2), I’ll expand on these topics, adding four more, including, pleasure can come in multiple forms, how to give consent & how to say no, mental health is sexual health, and you get to decide what sex means to you.
Toronto-based Out Adventures is thrilled to announce a community partnership with Rainbow Railroad, the charitable organization that resettles LGBTQ+ people who face persecution based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and sex characteristics. The tour operator plans to donate $25,000 USD by the end of 2022.
There are over 80 million people around the world who are displaced right now – the highest number since World War II. Worse, the LGBTQ+ community is especially vulnerable to the systemic, state-enabled homophobia and transphobia that pervades many nations.
“For over 10 years we’ve made a point to support LGBTQ+ organizations in the places we visit and at home. But as we recover from the pandemic and borders open up, we want to extend this support” said Robert Sharp, Owner of Out Adventures. “Beginning immediately, we will donate $50 to Rainbow Railroad for every guest that travels on a scheduled Out Adventures tour. Every booking will contribute to their efforts to help innocent people live a safe life full of pride.”
“Rainbow Railroad’s work continues to be more vital than ever as the ongoing COVID-19 crisis puts LGBTQI people around the globe at even greater risk. So far in 2021, we have received more than 1,500 requests for help from individuals in over 90 countries,” explained Kimahli Powell, Rainbow Railroad’s Executive Director. “Thanks to the partnership with Out Adventures and their generous support, we will be able to help more people find safety.”
The partnership between Out Adventures and Rainbow Railroad kicks off during Pride month, and will continue into 2022 and beyond.
About Out Adventures Out Adventures is a global leader in small-group tours and cruises for the LGBTQ+ community. Since 2008 they have introduced travelers to over 100 countries and all seven continents. They are also dedicated to the communities they visit, support local business, and believe in purpose before profit. To learn more, visit www.outadventures.com.
About Rainbow Railroad Rainbow Railroad is an international non-profit organization that helps LGBTQI people seek safe haven from state-led violence and persecution in countries where homosexuality is criminalized. To date, the organization has moved over 1,000 people to safer countries and has advocated for the dismantling of homophobic and transphobic laws internationally. The organization was profiled on 60 Minutes in 2019, and was featured on Canada’s Drag Race in 2020. Rainbow Railroad is a registered Canadian charity and 501(c)(3) organization in the United States. To learn more, visit www.rainbowrailroad.org.
Survivor’s guilt and trauma from surviving the early days of the AIDS epidemic are oftentimes cited as the reasons why HIV long-term survivors experience depression and other mental health symptoms. Now, the experience of living through a second devastating pandemic–COVID-19–is compounding the anxiety, sense of loss, and social isolation faced by some long-term survivors.
“COVID-19 has really brought up a lot of memories of friends dying from AIDS,” said Vince Crisostomo, a long-term survivor and director of aging services at San Francisco AIDS Foundation. “The images of hospitals being overrun–they’re similar to the images we saw in the early years of the AIDS epidemic. The scale of how many people have died is really scary. You just think, ‘Will I make it? Will I survive?”
Activists are calling for additional support to address the evolving mental health care needs of a growing population aging with HIV. This need is specifically called out in the San Francisco Principles, a call for resources and treatment specifically addressing the unmet needs of long-term survivors published by a group of activists including Crisostomo, and a 2021 San Francisco budget request to fund mental health care services for long-term survivors.
The budget request, for $300,000, would fund mental health coordination efforts in order to decrease barriers to accessing culturally competent mental health services.
“We have suffered through isolation and loneliness, the expense of medications and health care visits, declining physical health, untreated substance use and mental health problems, and the damage done to us by early HIV medications. We have been virtually forgotten, shoved to the sidelines by AIDS researchers and service providers, and by physicians who have not been trained to treat the unique problems of surviving with HIV,” said long-time survivor and activist Hank Trout, in an article describing the Principles.
“Many long-term survivors who lived through the early years of AIDS didn’t know whether they were going to live this long,” said Angel Vazquez, health educator with aging services. “Now they’re still here–but have lost relationships, friends, and families. They need to be able to regain a sense of resilience in order to integrate again into the community after COVID-19.”
“You have to keep in mind that people who have been living with HIV for many years also often experience comorbidities from HIV or the early HIV drugs,” said Dusty Araujo, manager of aging services at SFAF. “These additional health problems can really affect someone’s mental health when experiencing yet another pandemic. Especially if they’re more isolated because of COVID-19 and don’t have strong support from family or other loved ones nearby.”
“COVID-19 has affected so many people, from the disabled, to the working class, to people who all of a sudden have found themselves job insecure,” said Michael Rouppet, an activist and long-term HIV survivor. “Everything devolved into chaos. I think COVID-19 really took the mask off and showed how vulnerable we really are–especially for people who are at risk of losing their housing and being evicted. Housing really is healthcare, and it is a component of mental health. Even though we have an eviction moratorium at the moment, what happens once rent becomes due? These issues are all inter-related. Many long-term survivors are experiencing the overlapping effects of COVID-19, housing insecurity, isolation, substance use, and mental health issues.”
Rouppet said that this is one reason why the San Francisco Principles specifically call out the need for on-demand, reasonably-priced (or free) access to mental health care for long-term survivors.
“There’s so much unmet need right now,” said Rouppet. “A lot of people are in crisis. We’re just not meeting the need, and we’re not moving quickly enough to meet the needs of an aging population of people living with HIV. Here I am in my 50s, and I’m looking 20 years ahead to how many of us will still be here that will need these types of services.”
A component of holistic care includes connection to community–one focus of the Elizabeth Taylor 50-Plus Network and aging services at SFAF. Although the group is not specifically a therapy or mental health group, services focus on building the resilience of the aging community.
“Our focus is really on socializing and making sure that people have a positive community they can connect with,” said Crisostomo. “Being happy with your life–because of your social connections–is so important to aging, and living longer. You have to stay connected and get involved, so you don’t become isolated.”
“When people are going through mental health issues and crisis, they might turn to drugs and alcohol,” said Rouppet. “But we need harm reduction resources, to lessen the risk of overdose. We need ways for people to get community support. The opposite of isolation is connection. And that has to be instrumental in getting people back connected to the community.”
GLAAD, the world’s largest lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) media advocacy organization, today revealed its second annual 20 Under 20 list, spotlighting twenty young LGBTQ people, ages 20 and under, who are accelerating acceptance of LGBTQ people while shaping the future of media and activism. GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 list is presented by Google, with Official Sponsors UGG® and Shutterfly.
GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 list launched this morning in Teen Vogue, featuring individual portraits of each honoree captured on the Google Pixel 5 by Mayan Toledano of Pixel’s Creator Labs. See the full list here.
“More than ever before, young LGBTQ people are changing the way the world sees and understands LGBTQ people, while leading the charge to create a safer, more inclusive and equal society for all,” said GLAAD President & CEO Sarah Kate Ellis. “Whether it’s driving LGBTQ visibility and representation in national politics, local activism, music, or Hollywood, the honorees on this year’s 20 Under 20 list are a testament to the power that young LGBTQ people have to create lasting cultural change.”
Full profiles of the 20 Under 20 honorees can be found at TeenVogue.com. This year’s honorees include:
Amiri Nash, he/him, 19. Amiri is an artist, activist, writer, and a DC Youth Poet Laureate who co-founded Sign of Justice, a project that creates signs in predominantly white neighborhoods to raise awareness about racial injustice and other social issues.
Andrea Alejandra Gonzales, they/she, 20. Andrea is a Mestiza queer activist and organizer, currently working as the Director of Operations for Youth Over Guns and an Instructor through New Yorkers Against Gun Violence Education Fund’s school program, ReACTION.
Andrew Adams, he/him, 20. Andrew is student and activist from Florida who successfully sued his school board for restricting him from using the men’s restroom because he is transgender, becoming the country’s first trial involving a transgender student’s equal access to restrooms.
Ashton Mota, he/him, 16. Ashton is a GenderCool Project Champion who is well known for being a public face for the “Yes on 3” movement in Massachusetts, which successfully upheld a law allowing people to use restrooms and public facilities that align with their gender identity.
Austin Houck, he/him, 20. Austin is the founder of Homoglobin, a nonprofit dedicated to advancing queer equality in healthcare and education, which was instrumental in helping to pass HB 916 in Virginia in 2020.
Cyn Gómez, they/them/elle, 18. Cyn is a LGBTQ and mental health activist who serves as a member of the Mental Health America’s Youth Leadership Council, an ambassador for the Tangible Movement, and a Commissioner on Homelessness for the City of Berkeley.
Darid Prom, any pronouns, 20. Darid is a queer immigrant who has worked with GLSEN, GLAAD, and multiple nonprofits to promote the liberation of LGBTQ people of color, and has testified in front of the House Committee on Oversight and Reform on the impact of anti-LGBTQ bills on LGBTQ youth.
Eli Bundy, they/them, 17. Eli is a trans and non-binary student and activist who led their school’s Gender and Sexuality Alliance in successfully striking down South Carolina’s “No Promo Homo” policy, the first time such state law has been abolished by a federal court on constitutional grounds.
Gia Parr, she/her, 17. Gia is a GenderCool Project Champion who uses her platform to educate the public about trans youth. In addition to guest starring in season 2 of Pose, she recently released a book titled, “A Kids Book About Being Transgender,” which helps start conversations between children, parents, and families about what it’s like to be a young trans person.
JoJo Siwa, she/her, 18. JoJo is a global popstar and one of the most influential teenagers in the world, with over 45 million social media followers across platforms. Earlier this year, JoJo came out as a member of the LGBTQ community and continues to use her platform to promote necessary messages of LGBTQ acceptance and equality.
Kaylyn Suji Ahn, she/they, 17. Kaylyn is a queer student and activist who organizes monthly projects in their community centered on social justice, advocacy, and community service. Kaylyn spearheaded a “March for Asian Lives” demonstration in Arlington Heights, Illinois to call for an end to anti-Asian hate following the horrific Atlanta shooting in March 2021.
Max Prestigiacomo, he/him, 19. Max is a student, community organizer, and politician who was elected to the Madison Common Council in April 2020, becoming the youngest elected official in the country and the youngest ever to sit on the Madison Common Council. He also became one of the first out LGBTQ candidates ever elected in Madison.
Molly Pinta, she/her, 15. Molly is a bisexual student and activist who founded a nonprofit called The Pinta Pride Project to increase LGBTQ awareness within suburban communities in Illinois. She also launched her town’s first-ever Pride celebration in 2019 and served as the Youth Grand Marshal of the 2019 Chicago Pride Parade.
mxmtoon, she/her, 20. mxmtoon is a bisexual artist, songwriter, actor, designer, and gamer with over 2.9 million social media followers. Well known for playing the ukulele and her unique bedroom pop anthems, including her hit single prom dress, mxmtoon’s music has been streamed over 500 million times across platforms.
Onyx (E. Smith), they/them, 19. Onyx is a Black, queer, non-binary activist who founded the Central Texas GSA Coalition to enhance the impact of GSAs in the Austin, Texas area. They also created a project called Q+ EDU, an interactive virtual experience designed to connect, inform, and empower LGBTQ and allied students, parents, and educators.
Soleil Wheeler a.k.a Ewok, he/him, 15. Ewok is a professional Fortnite player who is part of the FaZe Clan, and recently signed an exclusive streaming deal with Twitch, where he has over 346,000 followers. On National Coming Out Day in 2020, Ewok publicly disclosed that he is transgender and bisexual, becoming the first transgender man in the T1 esports organization.
Stella Keating, she/her, 16. Stella is a GenderCool Project Champion and aspiring politician who made history by becoming the first transgender teen to testify in front of the U.S. Senate when she spoke during a hearing on the Equality Act in March 2021.
Trevor Wilkinson, he/him, 18. Trevor is an openly gay student from Texas who, after being suspended from his high school for wearing nail polish, successfully influenced his school administration to adopt a gender-neutral dress code policy following the launch of a petition signed by over 400,000 supporters.
Ve’ondre Mitchell, she/her, 17. Ve’ondre is a Black and Latinx transgender social media star who uses her platform to amplify conversations about trans inclusion and representation to her more than 3.6 million followers across TikTok and Instagram. In 2021, she was nominated for the first-ever “TikTok Queer Advocate of the Year” award at the 32nd Annual GLAAD Media Awards.
Yasmin Finney, she/they, 17. Yasmin is a rising Black British trans actress who rose to prominence on TikTok with videos sharing her experience as a Black trans woman. She is set to star as the lead role in Orion Pictures’ coming-of-age film What If?, directed by Billy Porter, as well as in Netflix’s upcoming series Heartstopper.
“As a GLAAD board member, I’m so inspired by these 20 individuals who are creating a safer and more inclusive world for LGBTQ+ people,” said Adrienne Hayes, Vice President of Marketing at Google and Co-Global Executive Sponsor of PRIDE at Google. “Across Google, we’re constantly striving to make our products and platforms more inclusive for everyone and I am so proud that Google Pixel could play a role in celebrating these honorees.”
The honorees on GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 list were selected by an internal committee at GLAAD, specializing in LGBTQ entertainment, media, and activism. Honorees were chosen based on the following criteria: 1) The honoree works to positively affect marginalized communities, particularly LGBTQ people; 2) The honoree has been featured in or a part of broad regional or national news media stories, public media campaigns, or other public media initiatives; 3) The honoree enhances representation for LGBTQ people through media advocacy; 4) The honoree utilizes an intersectional approach to LGBTQ advocacy.
GLAAD launched its inaugural 20 Under 20 list in June 2020, featuring model Aaron Philip, rapper Kidd Kenn, actors Ian Alexander, Joshua Rush, Josie Totah, and Logan Rozos, activists X González, Jazz Jennings, Jamie Margolin, and Sarah Rose Huckman, among others. Check out last year’s list here.
GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 honorees gain access to a network of resources made available by the largest LGBTQ media advocacy organization in the world. 20 Under 20 honorees will receive the opportunity to participate in an exclusive live-stream media training hosted by the GLAAD Media Institute. Throughout the year, GLAAD will also help give greater visibility to the 20 Under 20 honorees in the media, including opportunities such as helping to secure media placements, elevating projects on social media, and connecting honorees with unique industry resources for achieving their future goals.
Russian organic grocer VkusVill has pulled its promotional material featuring an LGBT family and replaced it with an apology less than a week after posting it.
Social media users reportedly swarmed VkusVill’s and the same-sex family’s accounts with death threats after their story ran Wednesday as part of a series spotlighting the retail chain’s regular customers. By Sunday, the advertising article’s URL contained a contrite message signed by VkusVill’s founder Andrei Krivenko and senior executives.
“We consider this publication to be our mistake, which was the result of individual employees’ unprofessionalism,” VkusVill wrote in the apology.
It takes a strong Black person to date a white person.
For better or for worse, romantic relationships are a minefield of opportunities to explore Black/white dynamics in America. It works well when the white partner is able to reduce the harm they create and learn from their partner, but it can also be traumatizing for the Black partner to relive life-alienating societal patterns in one of their most intimate relationships.
When a white man is fascinated with my last name, I don’t expect them to know that it reminds me of how my family history has been ill-kept. In fact, the average African American has a quarter of European ancestry, largely introduced through generations of systemic rape under chattel slavery for 400 years.
When a white man may playfully call me a “boy,” I am certain they wouldn’t know that my mom taught me to never let a white person call me that. “Boy” is among the many words that white people have historically used to demonstrate their superiority over Blacks.
When I arrive at a white man’s house or apartment for a date and they keep me waiting on their stoop, I also don’t expect them to know that I’m constantly wondering if their white neighbors think I’m trying to break in. When white people call the police on Black people for waiting outside their actual homes, I must consider these possibilities.
Many white people aren’t maliciously trying to harm their Black partners, but as Robin Di’Angelo taught us in her New York Times bestselling book, White Fragility, white people have many racial blindspots. At the same time, not acknowledging the impact of a race-related conflict could feel excustory, leaving the white person to miss a valuable opportunity to understand and meet the needs of their partner. This could also lead to the Black person feeling resentful. “I didn’t intend to create harm,” has become carte blanche for so many white people to leave the impacts of their words and actions unexamined.
In my experience, many white men – gay or straight – aren’t used to being challenged as much as women and BIPOC folkx are challenged. This may lead to defensiveness. Reluctant to take accountability for his actions, I once had a partner tell me that it was “unusual” and that I was being “petty” for identifying an interaction in which I felt hurt by their actions.
In my own dating, many times a white man has told me, “I think you misunderstood” or “That’s not what I meant,” when I’ve called them out on something that may have been slightly offensive. I’m able to identify the quick dismissal of accountability, and it’s not pretty. To be fair, none of us like the mirror to be held up to our face, especially when we’re feeling really insecure with what others may label us (e.g. racist, bigot, insensitive), but it’s necessary for us to move towards trust and learning, and also deeper intimacy in our relationships.
I truly believe white people when they say they don’t mean to create harm, too.
Navigating sexual desire can also be fraught with problematic statements, too. It’s like the time one white partner tried to assign a monetary value to my butt. He thought it was cute when he didn’t think about it. And also, I’ve written before about comparing Black bodies to chocolate in a sexual way seems innocuous to many white people, yet it objectifies us. After all, nobody asks chocolate if it wants to be eaten. They just eat it. And chocolate is so replaceable. You might think you want chocolate today, but tomorrow you may have decided that pie is better. It’s this kind of thinking that leads white partners to become fascinated with images such as BBC. It’s also this kind of thinking that leads white partners to believe they automatically have the right to touch or play with their partner’s hair, which for so many Black people is more than just hair, it’s a sign of Black pride.
And when a white man that I have only been on one or two dates with doesn’t respond to my text or puts me through the typical non-sense games that plague any person who’s actively dating, I bet they don’t consider that this might trigger my own insecurities around my self-worth and value — insecurities that are perpetuated by a world that hypnotizes us to devalue Black beauty. “Do they not like me because I am Black?” is a question I’m sure every Black person has asked themselves in some context at some point in their lives.
Why would they know these things? It’s not their fault that the world is organized in a way that these experiences are not visible for them. Sometimes it’s possible to be guilty and innocent at the same time; the innocence creates the guilt. Absence of awareness, doesn’t erase the factors at play, however. But now the tides are turning, and it’s no longer “acceptable” to just “not know” about the factors at play.
These are just a few examples. There’s actually a whole realm of studies related to decolonizing our sex lives. I’m not sure if white folks realize that as with all things in our unequal society, dating is harder for Black lives, too. I’ve dated plenty to say that I’m not sure most white men can really hold space for the most tender parts of my Blackness.
For example, the lead up to the Derek Chauvin trial, the trial itself, and awaiting the verdict was an especially stressful time for me. It’s something I manage better now that I have been exposed to more and more injustice in the world, but still I haven’t become used to them. So many of my Black friends anticipated a not guilty verdict. We’re too familiar with these cases. It’s in these moments, where I know so much of the Black community is feeling a lot, that I think about my Black brothers and sisters out there that are partnered to white folks. I just hope their white partner is able to hold the space for them if they need it. Because while justice was somewhat delivered and Derek Chauvin was found guilty, the pain and suffering for the Black community will continue.
If you’re white, and partnered to a Black person, please consider this advice:
Set aside time with your partner to learn about each other’s implicit biases. Taking a free assessment such as one through Project Implicit may give couples really interesting data to start that conversation together.
Some relationship gurus call it contracting or developing personal user guides, but essentially the premise is the same: develop an understanding of each other’s perspectives and needs, perhaps with the help of a relationship counselor, to establish some norms and agreements for how you will navigate the sensitive parts of the relationship. You could also discuss preferred ways of resolving conflicts. Did you know about the Five Apology Languages?
Actively and continually engage in learning, using books such as White Fragility or Blindspot or a memoir by a Black author. Spice things up and maybe read to each other in bed, if your partner is willing. Attending Black history museums, art exhibits, and community and cultural events are also a meaningful way to learn together, as well.
These are some of my thoughts, but not the definitive experience of interracial dating. Share your thoughts and stories in the comments on social media when you share this article!
Coming out is undoubtedly part of the essence of contemporary queer culture. It represents a point in one’s journey to complete self-actualization where they fully accept themselves, their body, and also demand to occupy space in an insidiously cis-heternormative world.
This concept/journey has become such a treasured part of queerness, so much so that National Coming Out Day is celebrated every year on Oct. 11, not only to commemorate the 1979 National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights which demanded civil rights and legislation for LGBTQ people, but to also allow queer people to be visible, unabashedly live in their truths, and inspire others who may be fearful to do likewise.
On this day, millions of people around the world take to social media to pen heartfelt posts that usually include a picture of the individual (most probably displaying some iteration of a Pride flag) coupled with a paragraph about their journey “living in the closet” and how they’re elated to be free. By letting the world know that they aren’t afraid to fully be themselves, queer people are claiming space where their presence has intentionally been ignored.
Albeit the power of “coming out” has to accent personal self-autonomy and challenge the pervasive nature of gender and sexual conformity, it ultimately does what queer liberation exists in contrast to: Appeasing cis-heternormative culture, or quite simply, making cis-straight (to be loosely referred to as “straight” for the rest of this piece) people feel comfortable.
When LGBTQ people come out, they participate in a kind of performance that requires them to explain themselves to straight people. Queer people dig deep into their past experiences, which are often traumatic struggles, and in the process present what often translates into a chronology of why straight people should accept them, and more importantly, be “comfortable” with them. This is wrong.
Queerness should never center on straightness or straight feelings. By giving attention to straight people in queer journeys, we relegate undeserved power to straight people and allow for them to feel as if they need to be placated.
Contemporary coming out culture indirectly uplifts what we are so vehemently fighting against — practices that prioritize being straight over being queer. So, as we continue to come out, employers will feel as if they have the right to know of one’s queer identity and terminate their employment upon learning of it.
Parents will demand to know of their children’s identity to “protect” them, which has more to do with managing their own appearances rather than caring for and empowering their queer children.
Friends and acquaintances will fight tooth and nail to decipher one’s queerness so they can gauge what this entails for their personal and religious beliefs, and ultimately whether the friendship should continue because they feel as if they may be courted by their queer friend (which mostly likely will never happen), thereby unsettling their perception of themselves.
Random strangers may also physically abuse and/or kill someone who reveals their sexual and/or gender identity on the basis of feeling as if they’ve been “lied” to or intentionally deceived.
So, if coming out is not the serve we think it is, then how to LGBTQ people live in their truth and show the world it’s okay to be queer? Well, the answer is simple: The culture surrounding gender and sexuality must change.
With regards to gender, we must get rid of both the “sex” and “gender” markers. Sex, in simple terms, refers to the genitals you were born with. Gender is the norms and behaviors that your parents and community around you project on you based on your sex.
Time and again, it has become clear that, sex and gender simply cannot exist in binaries (yes, there are people who are born with both a penis and vagina simultaneously, or even neither.) The culture we function under has prescribed behaviors to people with certain genitals and expectations to people who identify with either of the two genders. This should stop.
When it comes to health, medical professionals should be able to care for patients adequately and efficiently if they conceive of a person’s sexual organs as just being and not in relation to society’s faulty prescriptions. You might ask, what does this mean for science and research? Well, we can be inclusive in medical research by drawing on the experiences of all possible sex identities instead of just narrowing it down to just male/female. Intersex people exist too!
We should also abolish the notion of gender. When children are born, we should raise them as non-binary. Non-binary identity is the pinnacle of liberation because it rebels from the traditional boxes that confine identities. It allows people to be whoever they want, whenever, and on their own accord.
By encouraging children to socialize into nonbinary identity, we allow them to fully discover who they are and allow them to exist at any point in the identity spectrum without feeling the pressure to contort into a specific, one-dimensional mold of behavior. There is no one way to be anything. Identity is subjective and shifts and changes with time. Let children grow into themselves without being told from an early age that there’s a right and wrong way to be.
We should also set boundaries on how to have conversations about sexuality. Oftentimes, the people most interested in a person’s sexuality have no business knowing about it. Sexuality and sex is intimate, and therefore, people should respect that boundary. What someone does during intercourse and with whom they do it should be no one’s business. It should have no repercussions on one’s social capital. Quite frankly, with whom someone sleeps affects no one but themself and the sexual partners involved. You won’t die if your friend didn’t tell you they slept with someone who has the same genitals as them. Your company won’t go bankrupt if your employee doesn’t disclose that they’re transgender.
We should move past caring about representation and work towards actualizing our liberation. Representation is good; it is important to see yourself reflected in society. However, representation is not the end goal.
We should work to give poor queer people access to stable food, shelter and money. We should push for more queer-friendly mental health facilities. We should establish free universal healthcare that allows transgender individuals to medically transition at little to no cost. We should actively become anti-racist and create an environment where queer people of color never have to live under the shadow of racism.
Finally, we must stop worrying about straight people. The truth is, no matter how much we may try to create space for ourselves at a straight table, we’ll never be truly welcome. If we want to liberate ourselves we have to center ourselves, experiences and feelings. We have to fashion our own tables.
Appealing to straight people will never bring the acceptance and freedom we yearn so much for. If anything, it places us in an unending cycle where queerness is othered and never the norm enough for it to not matter.
So should queer people stop coming out? Not necessarily. However, it is imperative that we create a world where queerness is normal enough that we don’t need to come out.
Lebanon’s queer communities have few safe spaces left and have been among the hardest hit by the combined impacts of the 2020 Beirut blast, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the ongoing economic crisis, new Oxfam research warned today. The combination of crises has destroyed entire neighborhoods where queer people had found refuge over the last decade.
The report, “Queer Community in Crisis: Trauma, Inequality & Vulnerability,” is one of the first studies conducted in Lebanon to understand the impact of the multi-layered crises facing the LGBTQI community and their unique needs. Oxfam interviewed 101 individuals, civil society organizations and informal aid groups, an urban planner, and business owners in the areas affected by the blast. The research found 70% of those surveyed lost jobs in the past year, compared to an unemployment rate of 40% among the total workforce. Almost half said they had relied on family support and humanitarian aid to make ends meet.
The LGBTQI community in Lebanon is facing a housing crisis: 41% of LGBTQ individuals cannot pay their rent, and 58% reported that their homes were damaged in the blast. 35% were forced to relocate or change their living arrangements, 39% do not have a safe living space, and a further 11% had been forced back with their families where many said they faced abusive, unsafe or unaccepting environments. Others were forced to move to overcrowded houses where they faced physical and mental health problems from the Coronavirus.
Overall, nearly 73% of survey respondents said that their mental health has worsened to a large extent due to the three-layered crisis.
Nizar Aouad, Oxfam in Lebanon’s Gender Advisor, said the Beirut blast and the subsequent reconstruction efforts could have devastating structural and cultural repercussions for the queer community.
“The blast has been the final straw for LGBTQI people in Beirut. It destroyed whatever safe spaces were left in the city. The city’s reconstruction efforts will likely lead to gentrification, making the areas unaffordable to its current residents,” said Aouad. “Swathes of neighborhoods are set to become less accessible to queer individuals because of high rent and the destruction of already limited public spaces and venues that catered for them. We fear the loss of cultural diversity in Beirut.”
The discrimination and lack of social acceptance that queer people, especially transgender people, face in Lebanon correlate with fewer opportunities for them to make a living. Trans people who face systemic and longstanding barriers to formal education and employment are often forced to work in low-income jobs in the informal sector. Many of them are forced into sex work to make ends meet. During the pandemic, many informal businesses struggled to survive and demand for sex work services sharply decreased, making an already dire situation even worse.
One interviewee noted: “We don’t have safe spaces to exist. We are stifled from all angles. We can’t go out, we can’t work, and we can’t receive proper support.”
Queer refugees, who have been struggling for years under legal restrictions that bar them from the formal job market and limit their mobility, also found in this crisis another burden. The research shows a huge and pressing need to rebuild queer-friendly spaces and create new ones in Beirut. However the government of Lebanon has shown little interest doing so.
Oxfam calls on the government to prioritize the reconstruction of safe spaces for the queer community and offer basic assistance, including cash, shelter, and access to services, to those who are not included in current aid projects. Oxfam urges Lebanese authorities to decriminalize homosexuality and ensure all members of the community have equal rights.
“Queer people in Lebanon are systematically discriminated against and have been denied equal access to general healthcare and mental healthcare services for far too long. There must be a focus on the impact of the current crises on their mental and physical wellbeing, so that their opportunities to recover are equal to their cis-hetero counterparts,” said Aouad.
75% of survey respondents said that their mental health was negatively impacted to a large extent due to the three-layered crisis. 62% respondents reported increased exposure to violence in their current houses. 48% reported inability to access support systems. 39% reported not being able to access safe spaces. 46% reported great difficulties accessing general healthcare services.
On August 4, 2020, Lebanon was ravaged by a disastrous blast in Beirut’s port, resulting in over 200 deaths and 6500 injuries, and causing massive destruction over a 10 kilometers radius from the explosion site. The areas most severely affected by the Beirut Blast, particularly the neighborhoods of Mar Mikhael, Gemmayze, and Achrafieh, were known for their reputation as the most queer-friendly neighborhoods in Beirut.
Lebanon is facing its most precarious economic crisis since the end of the civil war in 1990. Since 2019, the Lebanese Lira has devalued by more than 85 percent and unemployment has reached a record high, leading to economic recession, high inflation, leading to, devastating social conditions.
Oxfam has been working in Lebanon since 1993. We provide humanitarian assistance to vulnerable people affected by conflict, and we promote economic development, promotion of good governance at a local and national level, and women’s rights through our work with partners. Oxfam also works with local partners to contribute to the protection and empowerment of marginalized women and men. Oxfam in Lebanon works on active citizenship and good governance, economic justice, and humanitarian programs.
To respond to the impact of the blast Oxfam is working with 11 partners to deliver emergency support including distribution of food parcels and the provision of emergency and temporary cash assistance, household rehabilitation, legal assistance and consultation, psycho-social support, and medication. The services are provided to families and individuals in the affected areas including women, girls, LGBTQI community members, people with disabilities, and migrant workers.
Britton Hamilton said, as a trans man, he wanted to become a police officer to help promote change from the inside.
He applied to the New Orleans Police Department in June 2020, and after several exams and a panel interview, he received a conditional job offer in December.
“It was like a dream job,” Hamilton said. “I want to be able to help the community and help people to view police officers differently than how they are feeling now.”
The offer was conditional on him passing a routine medical and psychological evaluation, during which he said the psychologist asked him questions about his transition.
On Jan. 26, he received an email from the police department rescinding the conditional offer “based on a psychological assessment” of his “emotional and behavioral” characteristics.
“It was super, super disappointing, because I prepared myself physically, emotionally for this job,” Hamilton said. “This is the foundation for me and my family.”
Britton Hamilton.Britton Hamilton
In May, Hamilton filed a federal complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission alleging hiring discrimination. His attorney, Chelsea Cusimano, said the EEOC has since opened an investigation.
The New Orleans Police Department issued a statement in May.
“The decision not to move forward with the applicant in question did not involve any discrimination against the individual as a member of a protected group,” the statement read in full.
The department declined additional comment.
Hamilton’s experience isn’t unique, said Julie Callahan, a former law enforcement officer in San Jose, California, and the founder of the Transgender Community of Police and Sheriffs, a peer support group for trans law enforcement officers. Trans people face disproportionate employment discrimination generally, and she said law enforcement, which she described as a relatively conservative field, is no exception.
TCOPS is trying to do its part by providing training and policy templates to departments in the hopes that this educational material can help address the biases and misinformation that lead to discrimination. But outside of that, it’s incredibly difficult for trans people to prove they’ve faced hiring discrimination. Even if they can, many can’t afford to take legal action.
Complicating matters is the historically fraught relationship between law enforcement and the LGBTQ community. This has caused some transgender officers — many of whom are trying to address inequities from within — to face pressure from both sides.
“It’s an ongoing issue that we have to address as a society,” Callahan said of the hiring discrimination trans law enforcement officers face. “We’re starting to see agencies that are developing transgender interaction policies with the public, but they’re not developing policies like this for their employees, and we find that ridiculous. You should be doing both, because you’re going to have people from the community working or at least trying to get jobs at your agency.”
‘That’s not equal protection of the law’
Hamilton alleged that the psychologist who did his evaluation asked him questions like, “What were the names of your doctors that performed your surgery? How does your family feel about you being transgender? How does your wife feel about you being transgender?”
“I felt like it was kind of weird because … it doesn’t pertain to the duties of being a police officer at all,” Hamilton said. The psychologist, who is named in Hamilton’s complaint, has not returned a request for comment.
As part of standard procedure, the department asked Hamilton for information about his employment over the last 10 years.
After the psychological evaluation, Hamilton said the department asked for documentation outside of the standard 10-year window related to his honorable discharge from the Army 12 years ago due to medical issues, according to his EEOC complaint. Hamilton provided part of the medical discharge records signed by himself, his commanding officer and a physician stating why he was discharged. The department asked for his complete Army medical record, which Hamilton requested from the National Personnel Records Center for military personnel, according to his complaint. The documents were delayed due to the Covid-19 pandemic, so Hamilton also provided the department with the tracking number for his request.
The department rescinded the conditional offer the day after it requested additional documentation related to his honorable discharge, according to Hamilton’s complaint.
After the department rescinded the offer, Hamilton said he contacted his uncle, who has been a police officer for more than 30 years in Chicago.
“The first thing he said was, ‘That doesn’t even sound right; something definitely is up,’” Hamilton recalled.
After hearing Hamilton’s story, Cusimano said the questions that the psychologist allegedly asked him were red flags.
“I just don’t see, at the end of the day, under any reasonable standard, how you get to ask these questions of protected class members when you’re not asking them of members of the straight community applying for the same positions,” Cusimano said. “That’s not equal protection of the law.”
She also noted that Hamilton applied for the job just a few days after the Supreme Court ruled in June 2020 that LGBTQ people are protected from employment discrimination under federal law. Hamilton’s case, she said, is an evolution of that Supreme Court decision.
“Now that the LGBTQ community is a protected class, what are those protections?” she said. “Acting reasonably, should an employer have understood — and I say, certainly — that those protections extend to the equal hiring process, as well as all processes related to employment?”
‘The phone call never came’
Patrick Callahan, Julie Callahan’s husband, a member of TCOPS and a criminology consultant for the federal government and political groups in Washington, D.C., said he had a similar experience to Hamilton’s.
In 2006, he had a promising interview with an agency outside of Boston. The person he interviewed with “was thrilled” and said he’d call him back that Monday, Patrick Callahan recalled.
“Well, the phone call never came,” he said. “So Tuesday I gave him a call. He wouldn’t take my call. In fact, I was never able to get in contact with him again.”
He said he found out through a friend who knew officers who worked for the department that he wasn’t hired because he’s trans.
“As soon as they got my background check back and saw those female names,” they changed their minds, he said. His friend told him it was “a joke around the department, that some ‘it thing’ wanted to work there.”
Officer Kathryn Winters, the LGBTQ liaison at the San Francisco Police Department, suspects she was the victim of a similar instance of anti-trans employment discrimination, though she was never able to confirm this.
In 2014, she applied to the Denton Police Department in Texas and took its written exam.
“I think I scored in like the top five on the written exam,” she said, noting that the scores are posted publicly. “And then a couple weeks later, [I] received a letter from the Denton Police Department stating that my military discharge form, my DD 214, wasn’t in my background packet. And for that reason, I was being completely disqualified for further consideration.”
She said she and her wife both double- and triple-checked to make sure everything was included in the application packet, including the DD Form 214, prior to its submission. She said “there’s nothing specific to indicate” that she was rejected because she’s trans, but she believes someone may have removed the form from her packet “and that was the reason they gave for not continuing with my consideration.”
A request for comment from the Denton Police Department has not been returned.
There have also been other high-profile cases of alleged anti-trans discrimination by law enforcement agencies. In 2012, Mia Macy, represented by the Transgender Law Center, successfully sued the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives after the agency offered her a job as a ballistics technician and then rescinded the job offer after she told them she was trans.
Clinicians ‘may lack the competency’
As lawsuits slowly accumulate and more people transition on the job, the culture within agencies is slowly changing, Julie Callahan said. Throughout its existence, TCOPS has seen more than 500 officers transition, she added. Trans officers have also made headlines over the last few years for being among the first in their agencies.
But supportive policies for current officers and applicants aren’t growing equally across the country. Agencies in bigger cities are more likely to have better policies, Julie Callahan said, meaning more conservative or rural areas might lack basic information about trans people, which can affect whether they’ll hire them at all.
There also aren’t clear, consistent standards across the country for how clinicians conduct psychological evaluations for law enforcement. Michael Roberts and Ryan Roberts, co-owners of Law Enforcement Psychological Services Inc., have evaluated many LGBTQ law enforcement applicants in San Francisco. They said the guidance, regulations and required continuing education for clinicians who conduct evaluations differs by state. California is among the most well-regulated states, they said.
“Police and public safety psychological assessment is a component of a specialty practice as recognized by the APA,” Michael Roberts said, referring to the American Psychological Association, “so this isn’t something that any clinician should be doing without training specific to this.”
There are laws interwoven into the process of doing psychological assessments for law enforcement candidates, such as the Americans With Disabilities Act, which someone could “run afoul of” while evaluating a trans candidate’s medical records, for example, he said.
“It is the case that people are out there — they’re probably not doing it correctly. They may be doing it without specialized training, which they shouldn’t be doing. They might lack the competency to perform the specialty function,” Ryan Roberts said.
A transgender applicant shouldn’t be disqualified simply for having been diagnosed in the past with gender dysphoria — a diagnosis that is often necessary to receive certain medical treatment, according to Michael Roberts.
“You cannot use just the fact that they had gender dysphoria or they attempted suicide five years ago or something like that. That wouldn’t cut it; they have to dig down deeper,” he said.
Given the allegations in Hamilton’s case, he said, it sounds like that’s what the psychologist did.
Julie Callahan said she knows of trans law enforcement candidates who were disqualified for past suicidal ideation, which 81 percent of trans adults have reported experiencing, according to the 2015 U.S. Transgender Survey.
Many therapists who are evaluating law enforcement candidates “don’t understand that once you’ve dealt with your gender issues, any kind of suicidal ideation has gone away, because you’ve removed the impetus for it,” she said.
‘We’re in an untenable position as transgender cops’
Another barrier to better policy for trans officers and prospective officers is the broader conversation about criminal justice reform, which is happening alongside recent efforts to ban law enforcement at Pride parades, Patrick Callahan said.
Trans people disproportionately face violence and mistreatment from law enforcement, leading advocates to push for reform or, in some cases, for replacing law enforcement agencies with social support services and other community-led, violence-prevention efforts.
According to a 2011 report from the National Center for Transgender Equality, nearly half of trans people reported they are uncomfortable seeking police assistance. More than one-fifth (22 percent) of trans people who had interacted with police reported police harassment, and 6 percent of trans individuals reported they experienced bias-motivated assault by officers. Those rates were higher for Black transgender people: 38 percent reported that they faced biased harassment, and 15 percent reported assault motivated by bias.
Patrick Callahan said most LGBTQ rights groups see trans officers as the “enemy,” and they “don’t speak to us at all,” even though trans officers face the same discrimination and harassment as trans people in other fields.
“They shut us out automatically, because we’ve crossed a line somewhere,” he said. “We are not trans enough anymore. We are not LGBTQ enough anymore … and we get the same from people within the law enforcement community. Right now, we’re in an untenable position as transgender cops. Actually, anybody in the LGBTQ community who is law enforcement, we’re just in a position where we can’t affect change, because we aren’t being allowed to even by the very people that we would most like to help.”
Gay and Lesbian Police Officers march during the Gay Pride Parade in New York, on June 30, 2019.Bill Tompkins / Getty Images file
For Hamilton, things are also moving slowly. Cusimano said it could take up to a year for the Louisiana EEOC to complete its investigation. But Hamilton said the experience hasn’t affected his goals.
“I still want to work in law enforcement,” he said. “At the beginning, I’m not going to lie, I was super, super disappointed, especially disappointed with NOPD. But this is still a dream of mine.”
