Queer Representation in Restorative Processes

Content warning: This post contains references to homophobia and childhood trauma. Please take care of yourself while reading.

There were two things I knew from a very young age: The first was that I was undeniably queer; the second was that telling people would be unwise. Growing up in a heteronormative world, I learned that I was different and that the world was not designed for me. Coming out made these implicit messages quite explicit. In one example, my 12th-grade government teacher, during some lecture on who knows what, walked over to me, put his fists on my desk, looked me in the eye, and declared, “And if you’re gay, you might as well just kill yourself now.”

Messages like his were part of the reason I chose not to report my rape to law enforcement. As a queer kid in Florida in the 90s, I already knew that law enforcement would not take my experience seriously. I told myself that people wouldn't believe me; that my life and experiences weren't as serious as those of my peers.

Twenty-five years later, I am a college professor who embraces my identity as a queer survivor. It is important to me to be open about my experiences with students. Students who identify with either or both of those identities share their own stories with me. We often explore how these experiences have shaped our lives, our identities, and our perceptions of safety and support. These conversations highlight for me the complexities of being queer in a heteronormative world where systemic and structural barriers to true equality still exist. I’ve learned so much about the ways trauma impacts the queer community.

In many instances, I have found that my feelings in the aftermath of my assault resonate with the feelings my students experience a whole generation later. They reveal patterns of deep pain, alienation, and trauma, which underscore the broader systemic issues that queer people, and in particular queer survivors, face.

Importantly, these experiences echo what we know from data on sexual violence. The most recent National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey confirms that 2SLGBTQIA+ people are at higher risk of experiencing sexual harm.1 The survey found that almost 80% of bisexual women and over 56% of bisexual men have experienced a contact sexual offense in their lifetime. Similarly, 3 in 5 lesbians and gay men reported experiencing contact sexual violence. Over 25% of lesbians and gay men and 50% of bisexual women reported that they had experienced rape, compared to 3% of heretosexual men. According to the 2015 U.S. Transgender Survey, roughly 1 in 2 trans people experience sexual violence in their lifetime,2 and queer and trans people who are racially minoritized experience sexual violence at higher rates than their white counterparts.

Barriers to reporting and help-seeking compound higher rates of sexual harm among 2SLQBTQIA+ people. Queer folks fear experiencing further homophobia and transphobia from law enforcement and service providers. For example, the U.S. Transgender Survey found that 57% of trans and non-binary people were uncomfortable asking the police for help, and 58% of respondents who did seek help from the police in the previous year reported multiple forms of mistreatment. Yet, it is not only that queer people fear law enforcement. They fear the current punitive and carceral state. It was not meant to protect us, and it harms us. This is especially true for folks from racially minoritized communities, who understand that there has to be a different way of addressing violence.

So when Ava,3 a non-binary student who was themself a survivor, came to me in 2021 and asked to do an independent study that sought to understand how queer survivors felt about restorative justice as a response to sexual violence, I immediately said yes.

It was the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and we continued to conduct our classes entirely remotely. Ava decided to gather a group of queer survivors in an online listening circle that would encompass relationship building, focus group questions, and opportunities for generating creative ideas about what queering restorative justice could look like.

We learned what we already instinctively knew: Queer survivors are looking for survivor-led spaces that center the queer experience. Importantly, places like The Audre Lorde Project and the Trans LifeLine already exist as places where 2SLQBTQIA+ people find community, support, and resources.

Queer survivors are also looking for models of healing, justice, and accountability that reject punitive and carceral responses. They seek pathways to reclaim their identities and stories in safe and supportive environments. They want those pathways to include personal storytelling, artistic expression, and collaborative dialogue.

They want facilitators who possess a deep understanding of the queer experience, who recognize the unique challenges and barriers they face. Ultimately, queer survivors seek restorative spaces where facilitators hear their voices, celebrate their whole selves, honor their stories, and recognize their creative expression as vital components of healing and restoration.

This Pride Month, we must honor both the diverse lived experiences of queer survivors and the unique challenges we face that arise from the trauma of individual experiences of sexual harm and the cumulative weight of stigma, discrimination, and systemic inequality.

The systemic and structural erasure of our stories by the current administration is intended to silence our voices and diminish the lessons of our historical plight. This erasure serves to further invisibilize and marginalize us, which will ultimately lead to more violence against us. We will not allow this to happen.

From an early age I learned the importance of queer solidarity and innovation. I learned to take the negative words and overt discrimination in stride, because I watched the queer community continually overcome. Queer people will continue to innovate, creating networks of support and opportunities for accountability that uplift and developing inclusive, community-driven restorative practices.