I was recently asked some questions about my experience of LGBTQIA+ justice and what it means to me, especially as a queer researcher and educator.

What does LGBTQIA+ justice mean to you?

LGBTQIA+ justice means that all people are recognised, valued and appreciated for who they are and how they relate to others. It is a fundamental part of creating equity and equality for LGBTQIA+ people and the intersections within our community. The justice we are fighting for is entwined with other forms of liberation, including civil rights, disability advocacy and environmental activism. Gender, sexual and relational binaries are violent to everyone, so the justice we work towards is with all people in mind.

Why does it matter to you?

LGBTQIA+ justice matters to me as we live in a world where many people do not have their basic needs met. People, organisations and governments can espouse ‘liberty for all’ and democracy but cannot be held accountable for actions against specific groups of people. There is no recourse for the legal violence towards queer people, so we are becoming disillusioned non-citizens. It is exhausting to exist as queer, from the everyday and local to the long-term and global. I want a world in which LGBTQIA+ people can be free to do as we want and need without stigma, shame and violence, and the continuous policing of our bodies, minds and hearts.   

How do you try to promote justice for LGBTQIA+ staff and students?

Visibility is a key factor for promoting justice for LGBTQI+ staff and students. I am privileged in many ways, so I use that privilege to open conversations with students and faculty, co-researchers and colleagues. I do this through sharing my pronouns, training and teaching on LGBTQI+ experiences (specifically Autistic ones, as this is my area of research and lived experience) and creating more accessible forms of free education online through various formats.

Can you share an example?

Two colleagues and I wrote an open letter to our university’s executive board asking them to clarify their response to the ruling of For Women Scotland Ltd v The Scottish Ministers. The university’s initial response, in our opinion, was unsatisfactory and did not instil confidence in the trans+ and gender non-conforming community within our university. Our letter gained over 100 signatures and was responded to by the executive board with more clarity. Our reasons for writing this letter were not just for a response and accountability from the board, but also to show trans+ students and staff that they have support from active allies, both transgender and cisgender, within the university.

With some help from one of the EDI student reps, I have also been able to organise trans+ training from a local trans+ charity, Beyond Reflections, for all South Coast Doctoral Training Partnership students and faculty, which will share the principles of being an active ally for trans+ people.

What challenges have you faced?

I constantly come out at university due to my research with other trans and gender diverse autistic adults, which puts me in a precarious position. My experiences of transphobia in the academy are often mixed with ableism and misogyny. Transphobic faculty are shrewd in how they undermine transgender students; there is no accountability for behaviour which goes against the Equality Act, as it is difficult to ‘prove’ or be taken seriously as a trans+ student or faculty. This is underpinned by the general “trans panic” in the UK, in which every governmental mistake, deliberate or otherwise, is blamed on trans+ people, as well as disabled people and those seeking asylum or refuge.

Faculty in positions of power are untouchable, meaning they can get away with disgusting behaviour towards students and other faculty. As a trans+ student who has experienced transphobia, I must put my mental health, connection to my faculty, and my early career on the line to prove that I have experienced this violence. And I ask myself: to what end? If someone is set to be transphobic, a slap on the wrist will not deter them; there will be no restorative justice here. Yet there also remains the guilt of having other students experience that if I do not speak up, this is another effect of this violence, that is not a one-off but ongoing. Whilst power remains with faculty over students, and senior leadership over everyone else, no one can experience justice in the academy.

What have you learned—and unlearned—in the process?

I have learned that I shall be regarded differently in different academic spaces based purely on my queerness and my research area. I have learned to create and enforce boundaries that keep me safe but also connected with those who teach, research and human in a way that aligns with my views on LGBTQIA+ liberation and justice. I will not engage with people who are narrow-minded and within spaces that do not value me and my community. I commit to myself and my values every day to not lose my soul, spirit and joy to the academy whilst continuously asking myself whether queer work is best managed within institutions with a history, old and modern, of violence towards marginalised groups. I am thankful to the wonderful researchers, faculty and students who create powerful spaces of change, love and liberation.