News
Why queer spaces often fail South Asian women
Homosexuality stigmatization often compounds discrimination in conservative cultures
Uncloseted Media published this article on Dec. 16.
By NANDIKA CHATTERJEE | “I want to change your last name to make it sound whiter,” Sonali “Alyy” Patel remembers her white girlfriend saying to her while they were spending a quiet evening at home.
Patel felt a wave of grief wash over her. “I [have] to give up my South Asian-ness in order to be in a queer relationship,” she remembers thinking.
Patel and her girlfriend had been dating for some time and were sketching out a future together, even starting sentences with, “When we get married.” But as they built a foundation, she continued to feel marginalized because of her Indo-African heritage.
“I remember I was in [my girlfriend’s] household, and her father made a comment that was racist to brown people,” Patel told Uncloseted Media. When her girlfriend called him out, Patel remembers him responding by saying, “You were racist before you started dating a brown girl.”
Patel, a 29-year-old researcher and LGBTQ activist living in Vancouver, Canada, says comments from girlfriends and society kept popping up. So she began investigating them academically and went on to create the Queer South Asian Women’s Network.
In a 2019 study she published in the Journal of Lesbian Studies, Patel conducted in-depth narrative interviews with nine queer South Asian women in Toronto. She found that these women routinely experienced microaggressions, erasure and pressure to conform to white, Western queer norms, with one participant being told her queerness wasn’t that important during a conversation with her partner. Another said she was advised by friends and family to stick to other people of color when it came to dating.
This discrimination is often compounded in many conservative South Asian cultures where homosexuality is still stigmatized and viewed as a violation of religious or family values. In addition, women are expected to uphold family honor through modesty, heterosexual marriage and self-sacrifice.
A 2019 Pew Research Center survey found that only 37 percent of Indians believe homosexuality should be accepted by society, compared to majorities in most Western nations.
In Patel’s experiences in queer circles, she believes that what often felt like a visceral sense of South Asian identity loss was actually enforced assimilation. “I had no language or framework to understand that this was racism. I grew up in a white town. … People were very openly racist and okay with it,” she says. She adds that in addition to facing racism in LGBTQ spaces, South Asian women face rejection for being queer at home.
“Our families are like, ‘Haha no, you’re not gay,’” she says.
Coming out
Patel says coming out poses unique challenges for South Asian women compared to women of other ethnicities.
In a 2025 study in the Canadian Review of Sociology, Patel interviewed 40 queer South Asian women in Canada and found that staying closeted can protect them from judgment from family and community.
This leaves these women vulnerable to contrasting pressures where their LGBTQ circles want them to come out.
“There was a participant who [was told by another] queer woman who was white that she just needs to ‘try harder to come out to [her] family,’” says Patel. “But that’s not how it works. [She] did try coming out to them, [but] they didn’t listen.” When she did come out, she was told by her family, “You’re not really gay.”
“Our culture prizes silence, sacrifice and family reputation over individual truth, so falling in love with a woman isn’t just about your personal life,” Suja Vairavanathan, a life coach in Essex, England, who works with South Asian women, told Uncloseted Media. “It feels like you’re challenging an entire system.”
Vairavanathan, who grew up in a traditional Indian family, came out later in life.
“For me, it wasn’t a typical ‘I always knew’ story. I didn’t grow up identifying as gay or even questioning my sexuality,” she says. “I spent 20 years in a marriage, raising kids, living what looked like the ‘right’ Tamil woman’s life. Then I fell in love with my best friend, who happened to be a woman.”
After Vairavanathan left her marriage, she came out in a TikTok video where she is smiling ear-to-ear with on-screen text reading: “You’d have to be a little delulu to think that a 42-year-old Tamil divorcee, mum of two sons, eldest daughter, recently turned gay woman had the audacity to show up on social media and live life unapologetically.” Her caption added: “Yet here I am.”
While there were many positive comments on the video, Vairavanathan says the backlash from many folks in the South Asian community was intense: “I had comments calling me ‘a disgrace,’ saying I’d ‘ruined my family’s name,’ even messages telling me I was ‘corrupting Tamil culture’ or that I must have been ‘brainwashed by the West.’ People reduced my whole life to a scandal just because I chose to live honestly.”
Internalized shame
This community rejection can be painful. “It wasn’t strangers attacking me. It was my own people, speaking the same language I grew up with, who decided I didn’t deserve respect anymore. And that hurts in a way racism from outsiders never could, because it feels like rejection from your own bloodline,” says Vairavanathan.
Mental health professionals who work with South Asian clients say that collectivist traditions, where family reputation is often prioritized over individual expression, can lead to the stigmatization of LGBTQ identities.
On the AAHNA South Asian therapy website, they write that understanding taboos associated with sexual orientation “is crucial for effective therapeutic practice, as they can significantly influence mental health and well-being.”
Balancing dual identities
Jiya Rajput, a British Indian content creator and founder of the QPOC Project, says the balancing act of her sexual and racial identity can be tough: “Being both South Asian and queer sometimes feels like having two vastly different identities,” Rajput told Uncloseted Media. “I have tried my best to blend my queerness with my desi identity. However, it is not often easy, with stereotypes and prejudice sometimes making me feel out of place.”
This balancing act may involve navigating stereotypes and racism inside queer spaces, which can have negative mental health outcomes. A 2022 survey of LGBTQ Asian Americans found that discomfort with one’s race or ethnicity within queer communities was associated with lower psychological well-being for those who consider their racial identity important.
Dating as a queer South Asian woman
Balancing this dynamic can make dating challenging. A 2023 study revealed that queer Asian American women are frequently subject to rigid racial dating preferences, with most preferring to date within their own racial group, often as a reaction to feeling fetishized or rejected from white queer spaces.
And even dating within communities of color presents its own set of challenges. “Racism is not exclusively a white people’s issue,” Patel says, noting that she experienced subtle discrimination with another girlfriend who was Punjabi.
“[She] was genuinely trying to relate with me, she just couldn’t,” she says.
Patel remembers her girlfriend holding many assumptions, such as the belief that all South Asians share the same cultural traditions, such as Bhangra, a lively Punjabi dance, or Garba, a traditional Gujarati folk dance performed during festivals.
“It comes from a place of just wanting to be seen for their own culture,” Patel says, noting that many people of color aren’t accustomed to being truly heard or understood. “There’s so much excitement in dating someone from a different background that sometimes you forget to actually listen and receive the culture through their lens.”
When South Asian women do decide to date white women, Patel says it can feel like one “should just assimilate … and try to keep the pressures of being brown [and] growing up in a stricter, possibly patriarchal, culture at bay.”
These pressures in queer spaces caused Lavina Sabnani to leave her culture behind in an effort to feel accepted.
“It felt wrong to push away everything my ancestors carried with them for so long,” Sabnani told Uncloseted Media. “There’s a standard of whiteness at Pride, at lesbian parties, at cultural and social clubs. … Me and the other brown girls never get noticed. It was like you’re invisible within a community where you’re supposed to be counted in.”
“Being a lesbian South Asian means breaking the mold in every possible way,” says Hubiba Ali, a first-generation Pakistani American, self-described “butch lesbian” and food scientist from Chicago. “Pakistani women I was raised around don’t wear boyish clothes, have short, cropped hair, thick muscles, and hairy legs. They do not eat with gusto, laugh and joke boisterously, or take up space. I gave up a lot of my birthright participation in my culture in order to live free.”
Underrepresented and under researched
To make change, Sabnani says South Asian representation in queer spaces is essential. But it’s not happening yet. According to GLAAD’s “Where We Are on TV” 2024-2025 study, Asian Pacific Islanders represented only 11 percent of LGBTQ characters on broadcast, 2 percent on cable and 14 percent on streaming.
Even shows that strive for diversity, like “The L Word: Generation Q,” fail to include South Asian characters. “They had everyone — Black, Latinx, East Asian — but not a single South Asian woman,” says Patel.
She recalls a dating app called Her that featured an image of two white women kissing — one of whom had a tattoo of a Hindu deity.
“They’ll use our gods, but not our faces,” she says.
Outside of Patel’s research, little information exists about racism and homophobia toward queer South Asian women.
And even in queer nightlife, Ali describes feeling sidelined. She says that while there are a few South Asian LGBTQ organizations in Chicago, finding meaningful representation is hard even in those scenes.
“They tend to be hosted in a part of town colloquially known as ‘Boystown,’ which semantically already does not center women or lesbians,” she says. “The events are usually held at gay bars for gay men.”
Finding acceptance
Patel says that to make spaces truly inclusive, folks need to “start by listening to queer brown women, understanding our unique challenges, and amplifying our voices.”
And despite all of these challenges, many queer South Asian women are still surviving and building a more inclusive future.
Artists like MANI JNX, a British Punjabi indie musician, are using music to explore queer South Asian love, trauma and joy. And visual creators like Mina Manzar are building online communities through art. “Funnily enough, here in NYC, so far from Pakistan, is where I’ve found the most vibrant and beautiful South Asian queer community,” Manzar told Uncloseted Media.
As for Patel, she has found a relationship with a Tamil woman that is grounded in mutual respect and cultural exchange. “I’ve learned how to make Tamil food, I’m learning the language, and she comes to Garba with me and dances every year,” she says. Their shared commitment to honoring each other’s traditions illustrates the importance of genuine cultural understanding in queer relationships that goes beyond surface-level acceptance or stereotypes.
Her hope is that the commitment to understanding that she has developed with her partner can become more reflective of how society tries to understand the experiences of queer South Asian women.
“Let’s just address each racialized group as a different racialized group and give them some damn visibility,” Patel says. “It’s not that hard.”
District of Columbia
Physician: addiction doesn’t always look the way you think it does
Yngvild Olsen headed HHS’s Center for Substance Abuse Treatment during Biden-Harris administration
Many people think the telltale signs of drug addiction include sweating and vomiting. But a prominent addiction medicine physician says the best signals aren’t always so visible.
Dr. Yngvild Olsen says more accurate signs come from the brain, specifically the compulsion to keep using drugs, including opioids, despite damage to education, career and relationships.
While it may be harder to understand the true nature of drug addiction, it’s never been more important because of the increased fatality risk of even microscopic amounts of fentanyl, which can be found in many illegal drugs.
Olsen, who headed the Center for Substance Abuse Treatment at the Department of Health and Human Services in the Biden-Harris administration, has worked in addiction treatment for more than two decades. She is now a healthcare advisor with the law and professional consulting firm Manatt, Phelps & Phillips and a physician at the Institute for Behavior Resources/Reach Health Services in Baltimore.
Olsen met with Youthcast Media Group to discuss her career, the opioid epidemic and what to know about fentanyl. The physician, a graduate of Harvard Medical School and the John Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, cited her field experiences as key in shaping her perspective on addiction treatment and recovery. This interview is edited for clarity and length.
What made you believe this work in addiction treatment is important?
I had a couple of experiences really early on in my career that very significantly shaped my interest in addiction and addiction medicine, and my belief that I had a role, and that I could really help people get better from that disease. So the first was during the summer between my first and second year in medical school. I spent the summer on the Eagle Butte and Pine Ridge reservations in South Dakota and really saw firsthand just the devastating impact that substance use — in that case, alcohol — had on not only individuals, but their families and whole communities, and just how profound that impact had been for people who had lost their lives, who had lost family members, who had physically, emotionally and spiritually negative impacts of just feeling very hopeless and and trying to find solace in their substance use, particularly their alcohol use, and doing that without really finding it. I think that was really the lesson that experience taught me.
What did you learn about treatment practices during your medical education? How was that helpful to your career?
When I was a resident in general primary care at Boston Medical Center, I was really fortunate to have a group of mentors who also were general internists, like I was training to be, who were very interested and focused on medical education and research in substance use. And so they modeled for me many of the interactions that we had with patients. I got to do a research study with one of them looking at smoking cessation among people with opiate use disorder, taking methadone. And really importantly, I got to spend a month with one of them at the Boston City Public Health Department’s Opioid Treatment Program, or what some people call a methadone clinic, because he was their medical director. I got to see people recover, and who had recovered, who had gotten their lives back together, gotten their families back together, had new families (or) businesses. It was unbelievably helpful to see that people could recover, that they did recover, and that I, as a physician, could be part of their treatment. I saw people get better, and recover, with medications like methadone and buprenorphine, and other services designed individually for them. That was really helpful and kind of a big eye-opening moment for me.
What factors contribute to addiction and why is it considered a complex disease?
People come into treatment for their addiction — or when they’re not in treatment, but are in an emergency department or on the street — with a lot of shame. They have a lot of shame about this disease that they have, that for so long, they were told, ‘Well, you know, you should just stop. Why can’t you just stop?’ Well, we know that addiction is a disease. It’s a complex disease that has lots of different factors related to it. So there’s a big genetic component that combines with environmental factors and other risk factors. For example, people have what’s called adverse childhood experiences. Some of these are if they grow up with lots of physical or sexual abuse or emotional abuse or have parents who are in jail. That’s really traumatic and so all those childhood experiences that increase stress are a big risk factor.
What is the easiest opioid to get addicted to?
It used to be heroin. That was a big problem, particularly in the Northeast and other parts of the country. That shifted to prescription opioids, beginning around the year 2000. So for about 10 years, it was really prescription opioids that were a big problem — people misusing them. And then it switched back to heroin. And then in about 2015, fentanyl came on the scene, and that really changed the game, given just how unbelievably potent fentanyl is, so it doesn’t take a lot to cause an overdose. Now there are all those other synthetic opioids, like the orphines and nitazenes and all those combinations of other substances, but fentanyl is really what’s still kind of driving a really big part of the overdose crisis.
Do LGBTQ individuals face heightened challenges when battling addictions? How do addiction specialists like you account for those challenges?
We certainly know that the prevalence of overdose and the challenges of substances is higher in the LGBTQ+ community. Where I see patients, we did a big LGBTQ+ training and had a grant to specifically provide services to that population. Where we were located, in Baltimore City, there is a big transgender community not that far from us. Particularly in the LGBTQ+ population, they have multiple stigmas. So it just compounds multiple stressors. And stress is a risk factor for substance use, and particularly a risk factor for recurrence of a substance use disorder. And so when you have all these negative factors building up in people, that can make it that much more challenging for people to find the services that they find meaningful and that are welcoming and supportive of them. So we tried very hard — and we still do — to make sure that we are a welcoming and safe space, because I think it is that safety that is really paramount.
What advice would you give someone worried about a friend or family member’s substance use?
There are two things. One is: I would talk to that person about your concerns and how that person’s personality changes or their behavior changes when they’re using or in withdrawal, and how that might be impacting their health and how they’re feeling. And then second: you can let them know that there are actual treatments that are really helpful, that can make them feel better and that can help them get back to who they were before they started using. It’s important not to be accusatory because … [people] have a lot of shame already, and so when somebody starts accusing them, that shame just gets worse. And a lot of times, people who have a substance use disorder or are using opioids won’t necessarily agree that they have a problem when you first start to talk to them. But talk to them again every time something happens and say, ‘I’m really worried about you because this now has happened and I see it as being tied to your substance use.’ And let them know that there are people who can help and that they could actually feel a lot better.
This work is part of a partnership between the Washington Blade Foundation and Youthcast Media Group, funded in part through a FY26 Community Development Grant from the Office of D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser. Adrian Malone is a senior at Bard High School Early College DC, one of Youthcast Media Group’s journalism class partners. Shreya Jyotishi, YMG assistant manager of content and programming, is a former Washington Blade intern and 2026 graduate of American University.
Afghanistan
ICC unseals arrest warrants for Taliban officials accused of persecuting LGBTQ people, women
‘For LGBTIQ+ people, this matters enormously’
The International Criminal Court this week unsealed arrest warrants for four Taliban officials in Afghanistan accused of targeting LGBTQ people, women, and others who defy the group’s strict gender norms.
The warrants the ICC unsealed on Oct. 5 are for Hibatullah Akhundzada, the Taliban’s supreme leader, and Chief Justice Abdul Hakim Haqqani. The ICC also unsealed warrants for Education Minister Habibullah Agda and Higher Education Minister Neda Mohammad Nadim.
The ICC last year announced warrants for Akhundzada and Haqqani, as the Washington Blade previously reported.
“In the warrants of arrest, the (Pre-Trial) Chamber (II), in line with current developments in international law, found that the definition of ‘gender’ in the Rome Statute necessitates an interpretation that goes beyond a purely biological conception of sex,” reads the ICC’s Oct. 5 announcement. “It considered that it requires acknowledging the socially constructed roles, behaviors, expectations, and hierarchies traditionally associated with individuals on the basis of their sex. The Chamber considered that these societal constructs, commonly referred to as ‘gender norms,’ form part of the contextual lens through which acts amounting to gender-based persecution under article 7(1)(h) must be assessed.”
“It found that there are reasonable grounds to believe that the four suspects are criminally responsible for having ordered, induced or solicited the crime against humanity of persecution, under article 7(1)(h) of the Rome Statute, on gender grounds against girls, women, and other persons non-conforming with the Taliban’s policy on gender, gender identity or expression; and on political grounds against persons perceived as ‘allies of girls and women,’” it adds. “These crimes are believed to have been committed on the territory of Afghanistan since the Taliban seized power on Aug. 15, 2021, and have continued until at least Jan. 20, 2025.”
The Rome Statute established the ICC, which is in the Dutch city of The Hague, in 2002 after 60 countries ratified it.
The U.S. is among the countries that do not recognize the ICC. Secretary of State Marco Rubio on Friday announced U.S. sanctions against the ICC, which he described as a “rogue court.”
Then-ICC Chief Prosecutor Karim Khan in January 2025 announced a request for warrants against Taliban officials over their treatment of women and other groups since they regained control of Afghanistan in 2021. It marked the first time the ICC specifically named LGBTQ people as victims in a gender persecution case before it.
A report that Outright International released in 2023 notes Taliban officials have systematically targeted LGBTQ people — especially gay men and transgender women.
Taliban officials have subjected them to physical and sexual assault as well as arbitrary detention. The Outright International report also notes Taliban authorities have carried out public floggings for alleged same-sex sexual relations, and have collected intelligence on LGBTQ activists and community members.
Artemis Akbary, executive director of the Afghanistan LGBTIQ Organization, on Oct. 5 described the additional arrest warrants as “huge.”
“For LGBTIQ+ people, this matters enormously,” he said. “It strengthens the understanding that gender persecution can also capture persecution based on non-conformity with imposed gender roles, identities, and expressions.”
“This is an important development for accountability in Afghanistan, and potentially far beyond it,” added Akbary.
District of Columbia
Bet Mishpachah participates in D.C. Oct. 7 commemoration ceremony
Wednesday marked three years since Hamas attacked Israel
Bet Mishpachah Executive Director Joshua Maxey on Wednesday was among those who spoke at a ceremony in D.C. that marked the third anniversary of the Oct. 7 attack in Israel.
The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington hosted the ceremony that took place at the Washington Hebrew Congregation in Northwest D.C. Bet Mishpachah is the city’s LGBTQ synagogue.
“It was a deeply moving evening, especially hearing the stories of people who knew those who were murdered and those who survived and experiencing music that gave a voice to grief and hope,” Maxey told the Washington Blade.
Hamas militants on Oct. 7, 2023, killed roughly 1,200 people, including upwards of 360 partygoers at the Nova Music Festival near Re’im, a kibbutz that is a couple miles from the Gaza Strip, when it launched its surprise attack on Israel. The militants also kidnapped more than 200 people.
The Hamas-controlled Gaza Health Ministry says Israeli forces have killed more than 74,000 people in the enclave since Oct. 7.
The International Criminal Court in 2024 issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu; former Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant; former Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar; Mohamed Diab Ibrahim al-Masri, the head of Hamas’s military wing known as the Qassam Brigades; and Ismail Haniyeh, chair of the Hamas Political Bureau, after it accused them of committing war crimes and crimes against humanity in Gaza and Israel.
The Israeli government has strongly denied it has committed genocide in Gaza.
An Israeli airstrike on a compound in Khan Younis, a city in southern Gaza, on July 13, 2024, killed killed Deif, one of the alleged Oct. 7 masterminds. Israel less than three weeks later assassinated Haniyah in Tehran, the Iranian capital. Israel Defense Forces soldiers on Oct. 16, 2024, killed Sinwar in Rafah, a city in southern Gaza.
Hamas last October released the remaining hostages in Gaza as part of a ceasefire agreement that President Donald Trump helped broker. Israel has continued to conduct airstrikes and other military operations in Gaza since the official suspension of hostilities took effect.
“For Bet Mishpachah, it was especially meaningful to lift up the names of LGBTQ+ people, those whose identities we know and those whose stories may never be fully known, who were murdered, and to honor the LGBTQ+ survivors whose resilience continues to inspire us,” said Maxey, referring to his participation in Wednesday’s ceremony. “Emily Damari’s story is particularly poignant: while held hostage, she had to hide the fact that she was gay because she feared that revealing her identity to her captors could put her life at even more risk. Yet, she survived.”
“Her story, like so many others, reminds us of the extraordinary courage it takes simply to remain human in the face of hatred,” he added. “May we continue to remember and to mourn, to honor, and to work toward a future rooted in peace and hope.”
-
Movies5 days ago10 years later, we still can’t shake Barry Jenkins’s ‘Moonlight’
-
Theater5 days ago‘Some Like It Hot’ a wild ride at renovated Bernard Family Theatre
-
District of Columbia5 days agoD.C.’s LGBTQ homeless facilities face possible hit from Trump funding cuts
-
2026 Midterm Elections5 days agoTrump uses anti-trans slur against Democratic Senate candidate
