* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.
Domestic violence is rampant in the LGBT+ community and it is being swept under the rugJ L Russell is a writer from South Wales in the UK. His novel 'The Multiple Lover' is out now
If you are a survivor of sexual assault, you know how difficult it is to come forward. Whether you experienced that assault decades ago, or you were assaulted recently when the rallying cries of “believe the victim” have been louder than at any time in history, sharing your story is always a terrifying prospect.
For survivors of assault in the LGBT+ community, the terror of talking about abuse is even more palpable.
I know the fear that paralyses LGBT+ sexual assault survivors into silence, because I am one. I learned about the pandemic of domestic abuse — and the silence it’s met with — in the LGBT+ community in the most horrible way possible.
When I entered into an exciting new relationship with a man I was head-over-heels for, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show. One night, I glanced at his phone and was devastated by what I saw — my boyfriend was propositioning other men for sex. He had numerous messages on his phone to and from other men, arranging these meet ups. I was shaken to my core. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I say something to him? To anyone else?
Shortly after, I confronted my partner. What happened next is scorched into my being for the rest of my life. He threw me up against the bathtub and raped me.
Stunned, writhing in physical and emotional pain, I was at a loss. I maintained my silence, ashamed and embarrassed. I blamed myself for his violent outburst. I never went to the authorities, and it took a long time after the relationship ended before I shared my story with anyone else.
I eventually found the courage to write a fictionalised memoir about my experience, 'The Multiple Lover', which was released in May of this year. However, I know that countless other LGBT+ domestic violence victims haven’t been so lucky, and still live in fear of sharing what happened to them.
Why is it so hard for people like me to come forward? First, my rape was one of intimate partner abuse, which the public has a hard time believing. In fact, a 2018 YouGov survey showed that 24% of respondents thought that “in most cases it isn’t rape if non-consensual sex occurs within a long-term relationship”.
It’s no wonder that victims of domestic abuse have a hard time coming forward.
Second, I wonder if as a gay man, I subconsciously felt that coming forward would reflect poorly on the LGBT+ community—one that is already plagued by misunderstandings and negative stereotypes. Would my rape serve as further evidence for those claiming LGBT+ relationships are sexually perverse or deviant?
Perhaps other survivors like me are hesitant to report sexual abuse to protect the image of the community. Maybe, as individuals, we feel we bear the burdens of the LGBT+ community, and don’t want the negative things we endure to reflect poorly on our identities—especially when our trauma is perpetuated by another member of the community.
In addition, LGBT+ survivors face unique challenges when trying to find help. According to the Williams Institute at UCLA, “LGBT people face barriers to seeking help that are unique to their sexual orientation and gender identity.”
These barriers include the survivors’ fears of outing themselves to friends and family who may not accept them, as well as fear of homophobia from the counselors they might go to for help.
Intimate partner abuse is rampant in the LGBT+ community and it is continually swept under the rug. I don’t know how to solve it, but as a community, we need to work with each other and our allies to shine a light on this epidemic so that survivors are empowered to come forward, share their stories, and get the help they need to heal.
RELATED STORIES
British LGBT domestic abuse victims twice as likely to attempt suicide
OPINION: The LGBT+ community needs to question chemsex culture in light of the Sinaga trial
Greedy? Confused? Bisexual Iranians go online to fight prejudice
