It Is Time to Talk About Sexual Harassment in the LGBT Community
By: Luwa Adebanjo
Tags: LGBTQ, Rape, Mental Health, Black Women, Community

Sexual harassment in the LGBT+ community

It Is Time to Talk About Sexual Harassment in the LGBT Community

Over this summer I matched with someone on a dating app, and through this unfortunate connection, I saw first-hand how sexual predators can disguise themselves even within a community all about love and acceptance. Luwa Adebanjo Follow Dec 19, 2020 · 9 min read

Photo by Mercedes Mehling on Unsplash

This person was in a welfare position in my university’s student union, runs an LGBT+ Instagram page, preaches about mental health, and supposedly supports the Black Lives Matter movement. By all accounts they do not sound like a sexual predator, nor do they look like one. That is the problem, it is hard to see danger when it is dressed like a ‘woke’ Gen Z activist.

The more I got to know this person, the more red flags I saw, but I wasn’t the first person to ignore these red flags, and I won’t be the last. This person constantly spoke about sex; you couldn’t go a conversion with them without them bringing it up. Red flag number one. They had cheated on their girlfriend twice previously, while in a poly relationship, and was skilled in explaining both incidents away. Red flag number two. Their constant sexual conversations and offerings of sex to almost anyone they met had made many people uncomfortable, and this person often admitted that they were worried that they were a sex pest. Red flag number three. They propositioned and offered sex to people during SU events, while on the committee when they were meant to be running said events. Big red flag number four. They had complaints made against them for this behaviour. They arranged an orgy during an SU event, taking people from the event to their home to have sex with them. Red flag number five. They then asked someone out without consulting their girlfriend and then had sex with that same person in their house while their girlfriend cried in the living room downstairs, which leads us to red flag six and seven.

Now, reading all those red flags you may be shocked that this person got away with such perverted behaviour, blatantly using their SU role for sexual favours, and wonder how no one objected. That is a question I have asked myself many times in recent months, and I have a theory. I think that when people aren’t men hiding in an alleyway, snatching women, and stalking in the dark- we struggle to see them as sexual predators. They were nice to us once, let us borrow their notes, they bought us a beer once, they seem really nice how could they ever do something so bad? I think that is the mistake we all make, forgetting that sexual predators, rapists, and abusers are all ‘normal’ people. They have friends, loved ones, and family. They have hobbies, they go out and for the most part, they act like good, honest people. Think about it, if someone was going around assaulting literally everyone they met and abusing everyone they saw, they would get ostracized very quickly. That is why the “but they never assaulted me!”, and the “they were nice and respectful when we dated,” arguments are so harmful. Predators often treat people well, and it is only their victims that they abuse, and therefore it is only their victims’ accounts that are relevant when discussing the possibilities of their abusive behaviour.

It has been disturbing to witness is this particular predator weaving through liberals circles, speaking progressively and yet still acting like an abuser. That is why when they asked me and their friends: “Am I becoming a sex pest?” we all rushed to console and reassure them. They were a progressive liberal, a good person, there was no way they could be a sex pest, right? Right?

I am not one to subscribe to the whole ‘if the roles were reversed argument’ but one thing I have found many people, including myself, saying over and over is: If they were a cisgender man, they wouldn’t be able to get away with this behaviour. Their gender and appearance made them seem non-threatening. Speaking to a former friend of theirs, she said that this person had offered sex to her at a SU event, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. She also said, “I brushed it off, but I kept thinking, if they were a bit taller or just a bit more masculine looking, I would have been so scared I would have never talked to them again.”

All this seems problematic enough, but I want to go back to red flag six and seven. Because when they cheated on their girlfriend for the 4th time, it was with me, and I did not consent. They took advantage of me during a vulnerable episode while I was intoxicated, and had already indicated how I struggled to say no and felt I couldn’t consent. An excuse they gave after the fact was that their girlfriend said it was okay for them to sleep with someone else. However, their girlfriend walked in on the act and was also intoxicated, and as such, she could not actively and truly give informed consent. This was a pattern of behaviour from this person, they would often push people into corners and then ask for permission intending to do the thing anyway, forcing the person to say yes, despite the fact they really don’t have a choice. It was darkly humorous to me that night that they considered asking their girlfriend for permission but did not ask me. And that’s how the night felt, they were clearly wanting sex and they were going to get it, and it felt pointless to resist so I simply went along, hoping that it would be over.

The aftermath of that night was shocking, to say the least. I thought that I could simply talk to them about how I felt, after all, they were a welfare officer. If anyone was going to be understanding about how they messed up it should be them, part of their job was to listen and validate victims’ feelings. It would be an awkward and uncomfortable conversation, but surely they would realize their mistake, apologize, work on doing better and we could both move on. In reality, the exact opposite happened. It was incredible to watch someone who would swear they were an ally, who would post about ‘listening to victims’ go from that mindset to texting me:

“I’m worried that you are continuing to act as though I sexually assaulted you.”

As soon as listening to a victim actually impacted their life they decided it wasn’t important. As soon as ‘believing women’ meant they would have to believe their accuser, it wasn’t something they stood by. I also think the fact that I am a black woman played a big part in my treatment by many people after my assault, but that is something I will expand on elsewhere*.

The sad truth is #MeToo looks good on an Instagram story but as soon as it becomes inconvenient self-proclaimed allies will turn into victim-blaming rape apologists. Every word that they have said about how it is wrong to harass victims, every post about how we should be uplifting voices, every promise they made on social media is easily thrown away. Instead, they will tout that you should believe women when they come forward about sexual assault, but not when they accuse me, I would never do that so if anyone accuses me then they are a conniving liar who is ‘acting’. Anyone can be a sexual predator, of course, even people you don’t expect, but not me. Believe me, not her.

Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

What was even stranger to witness was when a friend of theirs messaged one of my friends to tell her that she should take down her post promoting my work as I wasn’t being ‘truthful’. I had heard of this person before, but I had never met him. He’s also prominent in the LGBT+ circles of our university, everything I had heard about this guy was positive: he is well known and well-liked. Looking at his social media, and the positions he holds he seems like a liberal progressive. In fact, if you asked him a couple of months ago if he would ask people to repress a rape victim’s story because she accused his friend, I am fairly sure he would have been insulted. But again, when his friend did get accused, without even speaking to me he happily went around telling people to ignore me and my story. When I messaged him, confused about what exactly about my story he found to be a lie, he read my messages and ignored me.

I’m sure he thought his messages were only going to hurt me, and that was what he wanted, but instead, he showed himself as someone who actually holds no respect for victims. He showed those close to him that if they were a victim, his support only extended as far as his comfort zone. Because of his behaviour, I began to think more about how sexual harassment can be ignored, and even worse accepted in the community that swear that they will protect victims. I love being a part of the LGBT+ community and it is one of the best parts of my life, especially because I always felt so safe in community spaces. But now it felt like that safety was an illusion. I mean, we all know that the straight lads in the club who copped a feel anytime a pretty girl went by were gross. Their behaviour was unacceptable. But what about when the guy that grabbed your friend’s boob or butt was openly gay? I’ve been in clubs and watched female friends of mine become incredibly uncomfortable when a guy they didn’t know touched them without permission, but when they realized the guy was gay they sort of just gave up. Like their bodily anatomy didn’t matter when the person groping them wasn’t actually attracted to them.

Photo by David Jackson on Unsplash

I remember one incident in one of the nicest gay clubs I’ve ever been in. I was visiting my friend Zac, and we were with his roommate letting loose and ordering shots that were far too expensive. It was also the first gay club I had ever been in and so I had let down all my defences, feeling safe and giddy and free. Then a guy at the bar walked past Zac’s roommate and checked out her butt, making an ‘ooh’ sound and pinching her. Immediately I went into defence mode, used to looking after my female friends in clubs, and I said “Erm, that’s not okay. What’s wrong with you?” Immediately, I got a few weird looks and the guy said to me “Calm down babe, this is a gay bar, I’m not interested.” and laughed and walked away. His response confused me so much I couldn’t think of a reply. Regardless of whether he was gay, bi, pan, trans, or anything else, he had no right to touch a random girl at the bar without permission, even if he meant it as a compliment.

I’ve been thinking a lot about responsibility: what we owe to ourselves and what we owe to others. And I think we owe each other a lot more honesty. If we are going to claim to create safe spaces, we must keep those spaces safe, even from our own abuse. If we are going to claim to uplift marginalized voices, we cannot change our minds when marginalized people say something we don’t like. If you are only capable of looking after people’s welfare when they don’t hurt your feelings, then don’t run for a welfare position. It is not enough to simply virtue signal, and it is way past time for our actions to match our retweets and reposts. Activism with action is dead.

I am not saying that it is only the LGBT+ community that has this problem, sexual predators are unfortunately everywhere. The issue is that the LGBT+ community should be the last place a sexual predator can hide. And while sexual harassment is widespread, people struggle to see it in their own circles- it is easier to shrug and say “that stuff only happens over there” and wash our hands of responsibility. That is the easy and comforting reaction, but if we want to grow as a community and be allies to victims of harassment and assault, we have to do better. And that means stepping out of our comfort zone, and calling out red flags when we see them. Sexual predators don’t disappear when they enter our spaces. They are a part of our community, and we cannot keep ignoring that.