Across Latin America and the Caribbean, where LGBTQ rights advance and retreat with every political tide, there exists a reality that remains almost invisible: that of people who, in addition to belonging to the LGBTQ community, live with a physical, motor, or sensory disability. In them, two battles converge — one for recognition and another for accessibility — often fought in silence.

According to the World Bank, more than 85 million people with disabilities live in Latin America and the Caribbean. At the same time, the region is home to some of the most vibrant LGBTQ movements in the world, though deep-rooted violence and exclusion persist. Yet studies that cross both realities are almost nonexistent — and that lack of data is itself a form of violence.

Being LGBTQ in Latin America still often means facing family rejection, workplace discrimination, or religious exclusion. But when disability is added to the equation, the barriers multiply. As a Brazilian activist quoted by “CartaCapital” put it, “When I walk into an interview, they look at my wheelchair first, and then they find out I’m gay. That’s when the double filter begins.” This phenomenon, known as double prejudice, appears both outside and within the LGBTQ community itself. Disability is often invisible even at Pride marches or in diversity campaigns, where young, able-bodied imagery predominates. Ableism — the belief that only certain bodies are valid — seeps even into spaces that claim to celebrate inclusion.

The desexualization of people with disabilities is one of the most subtle and persistent forms of exclusion. The Argentine report Sex, Disability, and Pleasure, published by Distintas Latitudes, shows how society tends to deny the right to desire and love for those living with physical limitations. When that person is also LGBTQ, the denial doubles: they are stripped of their body, their desire, and a fundamental part of their human dignity. As Mexican psychologist María L. Aguilar states “the desexualization of people with disabilities is a form of symbolic violence. And when it intersects with sexual diversity, it becomes a denial of the right to pleasure and autonomy.”

One of the most visible examples of inclusion comes from the world of sports. 

At the 2024 Paris Paralympic Games, at least 38 LGBTQ athletes competed, according to a report by Agencia Presentes. Yet the question remains: how many LGBTQ people with disabilities outside the sports world have access to employment, relationships, or basic services? In a continent marked by inequality, the intersection of sexual orientation, disability, poverty, and gender creates a mix of vulnerabilities that few public policies address.

Various studies show that LGBTQ people in Latin America experience higher rates of depression and anxiety than the general population. Reports on disability in the region also point to high levels of isolation and lack of support. But there are no intersectional data to measure how these challenges unfold when both realities converge. In countries like Chile, the Disability and Inclusion Observatory reports a high prevalence of mental health issues and insufficient access to specialized services. In the U.S., the Trevor Project has found that Latine LGBTQ youth face a greater risk of suicide attempts when exposed to multiple forms of discrimination. Across Latin America and the Caribbean, the absence of such data does not just reflect neglect — it perpetuates invisibility.

Neither disability laws nor LGBTQ policies address this intersection. A report by the International Disability Alliance warns that LGBTQ people with disabilities “face multiple discrimination and lack specific protections.” Even so, signs of progress are emerging: in Mexico, the Collective of LGBTQ+ People with Disabilities works to raise visibility around double exclusion; in Brazil, Vale PCD promotes labor and cultural inclusion; and in the Eastern Caribbean, Project LIVITY, led by the Eastern Caribbean Alliance for Diversity and Equality, known by the acronym ECADE, strengthens the political participation of people with disabilities and LGBTQ communities.

True inclusion is not measured by ramps or tolerance speeches. It is measured by a society’s capacity to recognize human dignity in all its expressions — without pity, without voyeurism, and without conditions. It’s not about applauding stories of resilience but about ensuring the right to a full life. As one Caribbean leader quoted by ECADE put it, “inclusion is not a gesture; it is a moral and political decision.”

This issue calls for a continental conversation. Latin America and the Caribbean will only be able to speak of real equality when the body, desire, and freedom of LGBTQ people with disabilities are respected with the same passion with which diversity is proclaimed. Naming what remains unnamed is the first step toward justice. Because what is not measured is not addressed, and what is not seen does not exist.

A cruise ship chartered by an LGBTQ travel company on Wednesday rescued 11 Cubans from a boat that was adrift between their country and Mexico.

Vacaya in a press release said the Royal Caribbean’s Brilliance of the Seas, which had left from New Orleans, discovered the migrants’ boat in the Yucatán Channel, a strait between Mexico and Cuba that connects the Gulf of Mexico (the Trump-Vance administration now refers to the body of water as the Gulf of America) and the Caribbean Sea.

A video that Vacaya provided shows the migrants’ boat before the rescue. Other videos show the rescue taking place.

MTV’s Downtown Julie Brown, who was performing on the ship, described the rescue in a video she posted to social media.

“We are in the middle of a live rescue operation right now,” she said. “The captain of the ship, while we were hauling so fast the other way, thought he saw a boat in distress. So, we looped around … and it was indeed a boat in distress.”

“Nothing speaks more to VACAYA’s values than providing comfort in a moment of need,” said Vacaya CEO Randle Roper in the press release. “I’m so happy we were able to bring these 11 refugees onboard safely and provide medical care, dry clothes, food, and, most importantly, water.”

“It’s sad that some people have to put themselves through such trauma in hopes of finding a better life, but that’s where we are today,” added Roper. “I’m so proud of our LGBT+ guests rallying to collect clothes for these fellow humans in need.”

The ship is scheduled to return to New Orleans on Saturday.

Activists throughout the region agree the elections offer a crucial opportunity to advance the inclusion and protection of the rights of their community amid far-right advances.

Venezuela’s presidential election will take place on July 28, while Brazil’s municipal elections will happen on Oct. 6. Regional and municipal elections will take place in Chile on Oct. 27. Uruguay’s congressional elections are slated to occur on the same day.

María José Cumplido, executive director of Fundación Iguales in Chile, emphasized the importance of having LGBTQ representation in politics. 

“It is fundamental because LGBTQ+ people tend to support laws or public policies aimed at protecting the community,” Cumplido told the Washington Blade. “In that sense, it is important that the voices of these people are heard because, obviously, they know the reality more closely and many times they have lived it.” 

Cumplido noted “LGBTQ+ representation has grown notoriously in recent years, so much so that today there is an LGBTQ+ caucus in Congress.” 

“That is good news,” said Cumplido.

Ignacia Oyarzún, president of Organizado Trans Diversidades (Organizing Trans Diversities or OTD), also from Chile, highlighted the observation and registration work the Trans Voting Observatory of Latin America and the Caribbean has done. Oyarzún also noted the promotion of transgender candidates as a way to combat misinformation a promote respect for the community’s political rights.

“We monitor the situation of the political rights of our communities in the region and establish guidelines through which we encourage respect for the right to elect representatives and to be elected,” said Oyarzún. “We also maintain initiatives that have to do with the dissemination of trans candidacies and news that go against the disinformation established through false news that have begun to circulate through the various social and political media.”

Collette Spinetti, president of the Colectivo Trans del Uruguay, pointed out the challenges faced by LGBTQ people in politics, especially trans people.

“The biggest challenge is to achieve trustworthiness especially towards gender-dissident people in their ability to be able to hold public office,” said Spinetti.

“In Uruguay politics is still quite macho, especially in the so-called traditional and right-wing parties where there is no political representation of members of the LGBTIQ+ community,” Spinetti further explained. “On the left, although there is, thanks to internal work, female representation, there is still a lack of work.”

“In this sense the scarce LGBTIQ+ representation is present through gay men,” added Spinetti. “There is still no representation of publicly lesbian people and only one representation in the interior of the country of a trans woman.” 

In Brazil, Keila Simpson, president of Associaçao Nacional de Travestis e Transexuais (National Association of Travestis and Transsexuals or ANTRA), highlighted the diversity of LGBTQ representation in the country’s politics. Simpson nevertheless recognized the importance of mandates that go beyond identity and address a wide range of issues that benefit the entire community.

“The challenges for LGBTQIA people when it comes to applying for positions in Brazil are many,” she said. “The first one is the way Brazilian society sees this stigmatized and completely stereotyped population. If we think about the trans population, this violence is even greater, since in addition to being smaller in number, the discrimination is even greater because this population is commonly associated with eroticism and hypersexualization of their bodies, and these are the main problems these people face. they are associated when they run for prominent positions or leaders, even in the partisan political arena.” 

In Venezuela, Richelle Briceño, a trans woman and former congressional candidate, on the other hand, lamented the lack of presidential candidacies that explicitly defend LGBTQ rights. She noted the country still faces fundamental challenges that prevent a serious debate on these issues.

“There are candidates who have expressed themselves against non-discrimination, but that’s as far as it goes,” Briceño recounted. “There are no specific candidates that I can tell you who even handle what the definition of the word queer is and how it is understood, let’s say, within LGBTQ+ activism.”

Briceño said María Corina Machado, an opposition leader who President Nicolás Maduro’s government has barred from running for office, has “come out in favor of issues such as equal civil marriage and the issue of recognition of trans identities.” Briceño noted to the Blade that Edmundo González Urrutia, who is running as her surrogate, did not meet with LGBTQ activists until last week.

“These activists exposed their points of view, however, the current candidate leading the polls has not made a public statement regarding his position or what his position will be on the issues of LGBT rights in Venezuela,” said Briceño.

Briceño further stressed that Venezuela “is still in a cave.” 

“Here the country is in the basics, the country is in not losing electricity, in having water and in seeing how people eat daily,” she said. “The political and economic crisis that we have lived through for two decades, and with more depth in the last decade, has not allowed for a serious debate on the issues of the 21st century, including the rights of sexual diversity populations or the LGBT population and women”.

José Rodríguez, a Venezuelan psychologist who, like many of his compatriots had to leave his country, said that “as a young Venezuelan exiled in Chile for eight years, today I feel the tranquility of living in a society where a governmental interest in the welfare of my community is appreciated, expressed by a legal framework that although it could be better; compared to the overwhelming setbacks that have occurred in recent weeks in neighboring countries and the constant lethargy of Venezuela in terms of advancing the LGBTQIA+ agenda, is deeply painful and worrying.”