Derek spent years in a violent relationship. At first Derek’s partner Josh made remarks about Derek being “ugly” and “not good in bed,” says Alex, a social worker in Toronto. Over time, the situation escalated to physical violence, and Josh slammed Derek’s head against walls, kicked, and beat him. It took eight years, but Derek was eventually able to escape the situation.
Interviewed for a book called Gay Masculinities, Paul recounts how his partner bit his nose all the way to the septum and locked him out of his own apartment, bleeding.
“I had to run all the way back to the bars to try to get some help. It was awful,” he says.
Most imagine domestic violence as something that men inflict on their female partners, but the real story is more complicated.
While straight women make up the majority of victims of domestic violence, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people are not immune. According to Statistics Canada, people who identify themselves as gay, lesbian, or bisexual are two to four times as likely to have experienced intimate partner violence.
A familiar story
Their relationships may look different, but LGBT victims of domestic violence face many of the same challenges as their straight counterparts.
“It’s hard to get the energy to stand up and walk away from a relationship that has lasted years, after going through years of abuse,” says Laurie Chesley, manager of the David Kelly LGBTQ Counselling Service at Family Service Toronto. Victims may also be financially dependent on their abuser. Over time, they can become cut off from friends and family, losing the social support that could help them escape. Many victims may think that violence just comes with the relationship, and that they should deal with it.
But LGBT people face particular challenges in finding help. Stigma, gender roles, and a lack of adequate social services combine to keep them in harm’s way.
Nowhere to go
None of the domestic violence shelters in Toronto accept men of any sexual orientation. This makes it difficult for gay men to find safety in times of severe violence, and even harder in the long run to leave an abusive relationship.
“There are people not knowing where to go,” explains Howard Schulman, coordinator for the Anti-Violence Program at the 519 Centre, a community centre for the LGBT community in Toronto.
Even if they do decide to seek help, Schulman says, “There are issues of shame, and people might not even recognize they are in a violent relationship.”
Compared to social services for heterosexual women, there are far fewer programs for lesbians, gays, and bisexuals that accept both women and men. The 519 is one exception, along with Family Service Toronto. The lack of support is a real concern, because early intervention can make a big difference in victims’ lives.
“The longer you are quiet about it, the more likely you are to experience it again and again, and to deal with something more serious down the road,” says Alex.
A culture of silence
Cheryl Champagne, an assault counsellor and educator at U of T, says it can be difficult to admit that domestic abuse happens with LGBT couples.
“There is fear that it confirms that same-sex relationships are not healthy,” she says. “But it’s important to realize violence and abuse can happen to everyone, to every group […] and it’s important to be out there talking about it.”
“Violence in some same-sex relationships shouldn’t undermine [our perception of] the quality of relationships in the community as a whole,” says professor David Rayside, founder of the Bonham Centre for Sexual Diversity Studies at U of T. No one uses heterosexual domestic violence to argue that straight relationships are dysfunctional, he points out.
Victims must also confront stereotypes. Gay and bisexual men might feel that they should be strong enough to defend themselves, and lesbians face the stereotype that females are not violent or abusive. These assumptions become a problem when seeking help from the police, who might brush violence off as a “catfight.”
Studies show that every minute, a lesbian is abused by her partner. Lesbian relationships are often romanticized as a utopian “fusion” of two women, where violence is out of the question. Many lesbians are trapped in “a conspiracy of silence,” as scholar Joan Mclennen writes, where women face immense pressure to maintain the romantic façade, even in times of severe violence.
Moreover, gays, lesbians, and bisexuals have to come out twice, once as a sexual minority, then again as a survivor of intimate partner violence. HIV/AIDS, homophobia, ethnicity, and age further complicate the issue.
Abuse can even take the form of outing a partner, which means that it is closely connected to homophobia.
“There is a surprising amount of homophobia still present,” says Chesley. “Some people can experience that overtly, from negative comments to not getting promoted.”
Closing the gap
The few public services open to men or focused on LGBT relationships, like the 519 Centre and Family Service Toronto, are hampered by underfunding and understaffing.
“It’s always funding, funding, funding,” says Chesley. She runs the David Kelly LGBT program with another staffer, who has to divide her time between this and another family services program. Chesley notes that it’s hard to attract large donors like TD Bank, who support LGBT events like Pride Week. “How can a counselling service compete with Pride? We’re quiet, confidential, and small. It’s hard for us to sell our image, whereas something like Pride is a celebration, and on TV. Social services generally have a hard time.”
“There are limitations in terms of services we can offer, in terms of dealing with clients,” says Schulman of the 519 Centre, who’s the only one shouldered with the Anti-Violence Program. “More funding from city of Toronto and the provincial level would definitely be helpful.”
As a result of meagre financial support, public education campaigns, like advertisements in subway cars and buses, are directed towards heterosexual women. Shelter from the Storm displays a poster of a disgruntled family sitting on a couch: “Help her out. Donate. Because no one should have to live with abuse. Ever.” LGBT relationships aren’t in the picture.
“It would be good for larger donors to recognize the service we provide for the community,” says Chesley. “How do we tell the public ‘counselling is good for you?’
“People will go to the gym to get healthy, but counselling to deal with problems? Perhaps with time.”
