News
LGBTQ people are leaving Orthodox Judaism behind
‘I started to, slowly but surely, take back my own narrative’
Uncloseted Media published this story on April 28.
By EMMA PAIDRA | Shlomo Satt remembers first thinking he might be gay at 13 years old after seeing an article about gay marriage in the newspaper. Growing up in an Orthodox Jewish community on Long Island, New York, Satt immediately felt anxious about what this could mean for his future.
“I think that’s when I started thinking, ‘Oh, am I that? Am I gay?’” Satt, now 30, told Uncloseted Media and GAY TIMES.
As Satt came to realize he was gay, his anxiety skyrocketed. He was aware that only half of Orthodox Jews — and 20 percent of ultra-Orthodox Jews — are accepting of homosexuality.
“In my community, it’s very shunned to be gay,” says Satt. “So it was really, really, hard for me to accept that I was attracted to other men, because I was like, ‘It’s not what the Torah says you’re allowed to be.’”
Unlike more progressive denominations, Orthodox Judaism advocates for a more literal understanding of the Hebrew Bible, known as the Torah. For example, verses such as Leviticus 18:22, which states that “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination,” are more likely to be interpreted verbatim by Orthodox rabbis.
“One of the hallmarks of growing up Orthodox and queer is feeling really alone,” says Satt. “It’s not something we talked about.”
Stories like Satt’s represent what’s motivating LGBTQ people to leave Orthodox Judaism. While little research has been done, one 2023 study from Brooklyn College CUNY found that only about 15 percent of LGBTQ people left Orthodox Judaism directly because of their sexual orientation or their religious views on homosexuality. Other reasons for leaving the denomination included religious views on homosexuality, being judged, bullied or alienated, emotional abuse, trauma, wanting more freedom, and mental health issues.
“It was really hard for me to engage in [Orthodox Judaism] and not feel deep shame or trauma,” says Satt. “That’s why I left.”
Growing up Orthodox
Unlike many Orthodox Jewish families, Satt’s parents allowed him some access to technology and even played secular music like The Beatles. Still, he had no television in the house growing up and zero education about LGBTQ people.
“I didn’t even know that someone could be gay until a friend told me in sixth grade,” he says. “For most of my upbringing, it wasn’t like homophobia was espoused. It just was literally not talked about.”
After the newspaper article triggered Satt’s “gay awakening,” he struggled to keep his feelings inside. “It was really hard for me to accept that I was attracted to other men,” he says. “All I wanted was just to be straight.”
Staying silent about his emotions took a toll. He worried that his dreams of having a big Jewish family would be unattainable. “I wanted to have a wife and kids and be normal within my community, and it felt like I couldn’t have any of that if I was gay,” he says.
By around age 15, Satt’s stress levels reached a breaking point. “I had a night where I was just really, really depressed and crying to God about my sexuality. It was really hard for me to cry at that point, because I was so not tuned in with myself.” He decided to meet with a school psychologist who was part of the Orthodox community. After telling the psychologist he might be gay, the response he received was, “We can fix that.”
Satt remembers initially feeling immense relief at the thought that his sexuality could be cured. “I was so joyful,” says Satt. For the next three and a half years, he worked with members of the Orthodox community who practiced conversion therapy.
The turning point
This therapy, which has been widely discredited for decades, culminated with Satt doing a retreat through an organization called Brothers Road, where participants were encouraged to reenact their trauma in front of each other. He was forced to beat up a punching bag with a metal baseball bat, pretending it was his mother. “I don’t know what the purpose of this was, but it was horrible. And doing this for 35 adult people, it’s totally insane and super humiliating.”
After the therapy failed, Satt began to question the negative messaging he had been taught about being gay. “The things that are more innate to me, I believe, are from God. I didn’t choose to be gay, I just was gay,” he remembers thinking.
With the help of a licensed trauma specialist, Satt reconstructed his relationship to Judaism. He is still Jewish today, and has plans to pursue rabbinical school, but he left Orthodoxy behind. “I actually started really heavily diving into spirituality as a means of meaning in my life, as a means of connecting with my Jewish roots and my tradition, but in entirely different ways. One hundred percent progressive, 100 percent equitable, only learning with people who conferred my identities,” says Satt, who now identifies as a “post-denominational Jew.”
This transition hasn’t been easy. Satt has lost all contact with his family and describes losing the relationship with them as “the hardest thing” in his life.
Unfortunately, Satt’s experience isn’t unusual. An article written by the founder of Jewish Queer Youth (JQY), a nonprofit mental health organization, found that from 2016 to 2023, over 2000 queer youth from Orthodox families accessed support services provided by JQY. And amongst closeted Jewish Orthodox gay men, concerns about the impact of their sexuality on family relationships are a common theme.
Despite this, Satt says he’s experienced immense joy since accepting his sexuality, healing through therapy with an affirming Orthodox rabbi, and having a Jewish wedding where he married his long-term partner. “I started to, slowly but surely, take back my own narrative and live the life that I wanted.”
The rabbinical perspective
While one 2025 study published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior found that some ultra-Orthodox communities are moving away from uniform rejection of homosexuality, gay rights remain controversial in many Orthodox communities. For example, Chabad, a major movement within Orthodox Judaism, states on its website that when it comes to queer desires, “even if it burns inside for a lifetime, the best thing for you, for your health, and for your ultimate satisfaction in life is to subdue and re-channel that desire.”
Mark Dratch, an Orthodox rabbi in Jerusalem, says that there is a limit to the accommodations an Orthodox synagogue can make.
“The sense of alienation, the sense of depression and the person’s emotional and sometimes physical well-being, that’s part of a rabbi’s responsibility,” Dratch told Uncloseted Media and GAY TIMES. “So I think there’s room to be welcoming and embracing, while at the same time living with this kind of dissonance of what tradition requires.”
Though Dratch ultimately views queerness as being in opposition to Orthodox Judaism, he still believes it is his duty to try and support LGBTQ congregants. “I may not like this part of you, but if I don’t embrace you, then we’re going to lose the other 95 percent of your Jewish commitment,” he says.
Dratch says LGBTQ Jews would be welcome to attend services in his synagogue, but he wouldn’t marry a gay couple. “It may not be good enough for some LGBT people in these communities,” he says. “They want to be more than tolerated.”
Marceline’s story
It’s not just gay people who struggle. As early as 9 years old, Marceline Franco locked herself in her bathroom and wrapped a towel around her head, trying to picture herself as a woman. Assigned male at birth and raised in a Syrian Orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn, N.Y. Franco felt intense guilt for wishing she was a girl.
“I desperately, more than anything, wanted to be a woman,” says Franco, now 30 years old. “I would sit in the bathroom as my only safe space to cry and pray and beg.”
Staying quiet about wanting to dress as a woman and go by a girl’s name put an immense amount of stress on Franco. “One of my fantasies as a kid was that I could wake up in a woman’s body. But in the bed next to me was a clone of me that could live out the rest of my life as my family and community would have wanted,” she says. “I felt horrible that I would rob them of me.”
A shared experience with conversion therapy
By the time Franco entered college, she decided to see an ultra-Orthodox therapist. “Over the next four and a half years, I participated in some version of conversion therapy,” she says. “[My therapist’s] view of it was more of a fetish/escape, and that it was something that I could learn to control and basically bury.”
Franco’s therapist taught her to think of herself in four parts. When Franco suggested that there was a fifth part — a girl — her therapist shut the idea down. Franco found the elimination of this part of her troubling. “It was the erasure of my transness with this person in a professional setting, which is deeply, deeply problematic,” says Franco.
Similar to Satt, conversion therapy didn’t work. And after watching queer comedian Hannah Gadsby’s comedy special “Nanette” for a college class, Franco began to question her therapist even more and started reconsidering her religious upbringing.
“I no longer was able to hold the belief that the Torah was true,” she says. “I realized that I may be holding onto religion to protect myself from coming to terms with the grief of being alone in the world … and justifying staying closeted.”
Franco ultimately left organized Judaism behind.
Six months later, she came out as trans. In order to explore her gender, she cut contact with her family. However, upon trying to reestablish a relationship with them as a woman, things did not go well. “I was nearly barred from my own grandfather’s funeral and I was barred from a family Shabbat meal mourning him. Two weeks later I was kicked out of my cousin’s wedding for showing up dressed as myself,” she says.
“The grief is immeasurable. It is nearly impossible to mourn people and relationships that are actively still living in this world. … And to move through all these major life moments alone has been really difficult.”
Despite this loss, Franco still practices elements of Judaism that resonate with her and has found joy and meaning in her transition. “Once I just started speaking my mind, saying how I felt, it stopped being confusing. I stopped hating myself for having these feelings. I just started loving myself.”
How Satt and Franco learned to move forward from religious trauma
Both Satt and Franco left the Orthodox communities they grew up in.
Still, Satt says Judaism has been the healing force for him. “It brought me back into a relationship with God, The Infinite, The Sum of All Good,” he says. “It ultimately made me feel very connected to myself, to humanity and to my heritage.”
Satt is thrilled that some rabbis are fighting for more inclusivity in the Orthodox Jewish space, but unless more begin to follow in their footsteps, he believes LGBTQ Jews will continue to disaffiliate from the denomination.
Though Franco no longer practices Judaism, she still finds meaning in some of the lessons she learned when she was.
“When my therapist was my mentor, she had me start to look at the world as having divine providence. And I did see a lot of that in my life. To this day, I still do,” she says. “And I just have reinterpreted that God doesn’t care that I’m Jewish or not. God loves me as I am.”
2026 Midterm Elections
Annie Andrews denounces trans athletes after Trump targets her
President used anti-trans slur to describe SC Senate candidate
Days after President Donald Trump called Annie Andrews, the cisgender Democratic nominee for South Carolina’s U.S. Senate seat, an anti-transgender slur on social media, Andrews came out against transgender girls and women participating in sports.
Trump called Andrews a “trannie” on Truth Social while attempting to garner support for her opponent, U.S. Sen. Darline Graham (R-S.C.), the incumbent seeking reelection in South Carolina.
After the president’s use of the slur was widely reported, the incident provided an opportunity for Andrews to explain her position on the ongoing trans debate that has shaped political discourse in the 2020s, despite trans people making up only 1 percent of the U.S. population, according to the Williams Institute.
She used the opportunity to denounce trans rights and pointed out that, as a physician, she had never performed gender-affirming surgery on minors.
“I want you to hear me loud and clear: I don’t support biological men playing women’s sports, and I don’t support and haven’t ever performed gender surgery for minors,” Andrews said in a political ad.
Despite these recent developments, Andrews has previously voiced support for trans South Carolinians. In 2022, she posted on her X account, criticizing the Save Women’s Sports Act, which was signed into law by Republican Gov. Henry McMaster and restricts trans girls from participating on girls’ sports teams.
“This is shameful legislation that does nothing to protect or support women or children in SC. In fact, it is actively harmful. I will always support trans youth,” Andrews wrote in after the legislation passed.
The Washington Blade reached out to Andrew’s campaign about the comments, and asked if she supports trans rights but did not receive a response.
2026 Midterm Elections
On Republican Long Island, gay Democrat Chris Gallant bets on public service over politics
Chris Gallant sat down with the Blade ahead of his race for NY’s 1st congressional district.
New York’s Long Island, which is just 50 miles from the Stonewall Inn, is a reliably red enclave where President Trump won easily in 2024.
Chris Gallant, an openly gay Democrat running for New York’s 1st Congressional District, which includes Nassau and Suffolk counties, is trying to capitalize on what he sees as growing frustration with the Republican Party and its ability to deliver for everyday Americans.
The Blade sat down with Gallant to discuss his move from civil servant to the fight for public office, how he has been personally impacted by the changes from the Trump administration, and the recent release of photos from his past that have brought the national spotlight his way.
Gallant has a long record of public service that, on paper, would make him an unconventional but compelling candidate for a heavily Republican district. His résumé includes New York Army National Guard service that began when he was 17, multiple overseas deployments, including multiple tours in Kuwait, work as an FAA air traffic controller, union leadership and service as a volunteer firefighter.
That record of service is central to how Gallant describes himself — particularly as he navigates the unusual combination of being an openly gay candidate, a military veteran, and a Democrat running in a district where Republicans have historically held the advantage.
“My fiancé and I both serve in the military and we built our relationship through trust, timing, and a lot of miles between us,” his campaign website says, highlighting the idea of family values that has become a central part of winning the area. “I’ve been openly gay in the military since just after ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ ended, and I’ve learned to speak plainly, hold the line, and back up what I say. I’ve also learned how to listen — and how to bring people with very different views to the table and actually make progress.”
Gallant said that record, rather than his sexual orientation, is what should define his candidacy.
“I think who I am as a person is an asset,” he told the Blade when asked if his sexuality has played any role in his decision to run. “I’m not running because I’m gay. I’m running, and,’Oh, I’m gay.’ It’s part of my identity. It’s just a part of who I am. But it’s not necessarily on the table because that shouldn’t make a difference on how I’m going to respond in Congress or how I’m going to run into a burning building. I don’t think those things necessarily matter so much.”
For Gallant, the campaign is ultimately about something broader than identity politics. He said he is running because he wants to restore Americans’ confidence in a government that he says has become less about its people and more about the wealthy leaders in charge.
“I’ve always said that part of the reason why I am running for Congress is because I want to restore faith in our government,” he said. “We’re all drastically exhausted with what’s going on in this world, and particularly with Donald Trump being in office, [his] type of politics, and the way he works, essentially. When Biden got into office after Trump won, it was like the release of a pressure cooker… the pressure cooker is just even worse now this second time around.”
He also explained that his experience working inside the federal government has shaped how he believes Washington should approach its problems. Gallant pointed specifically to the Trump administration’s efforts to reduce the size of government and the role of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), arguing that cutting government spending should not mean indiscriminate cuts.
“I understand that we as a nation need to save money, or at least fix the budget or balance it. We are getting further and further in debt … The budget is always a huge issue and something that we definitely 100% need to fix. But we need to do it with experts and, you know, attack these issues with a scalpel, not a chainsaw.”
The chainsaw Gallant mentioned is a clear reference to controversial Trump supporter Elon Musk, who announced he would be heading the highly politicized DOGE agency, where he, the first-ever trillionaire, brandished a shiny chainsaw symbolic of them cutting government spending with no regard for the impact on everyday Americans.
That philosophy, of scalpel over chainsaw, is also part of Gallant’s argument to voters who may be more accustomed to voting Republican. He does not present himself as a traditional politician, but rather as someone whose career outside politics could be an asset in Congress.
“I’m not a politician. This is my first foray into politics, and I think that’s what our politics need. We need fresh new faces, not career politicians. Someone who has brand new ideas, not tainted by politics. So I would say, give me the opportunity to prove myself, because, you know, until I actually get there and I can actually do a job, we won’t know.”
Gallant also shared signs that the political landscape on Long Island may be shifting. He pointed to gains Democrats made across the district last November and said economic concerns could further erode Republican support.
“Last November, in this district we [Democrats] gained 13 and 14 points across the district..And this district lost by 10 points last year. So even just in one year, you can tell that there’s a difference.”
The swapping of support from the Republican side to Democratic reflects the real concern voters have about the economy — impacted by the war in Iran, tariffs, and growing inflation.
“People are feeling it here in their pockets. The cost of living here on Long Island is already high, and things are just getting worse. There’s a lot of promises that were made with this administration that weren’t kept.”
Gallant said that frustration has directly translated into support from some voters who previously backed President Donald Trump.
“I know a lot of people who have voted for Donald Trump that have my lawn sign on their front lawn today. If that’s the change that they’re looking for, I’m going to provide it.”
But Gallant’s campaign has been complicated by a very different kind of political issue: the publication of photos from his past that have become a national story.
The photos, which include pictures of Gallant wearing various fetish gear for Mr. S Leather — including a harness and a collar — were shared with the New York Post.
Gallant has consistently rejected the idea that he should be ashamed of the images or that they undermine his qualifications for public office since their Sept. 13 publication. Instead, he has argued that his record of service should be considered alongside a private chapter of his life from 15 years ago.
“I mean, look, I’m totally not ashamed of who I am as a person. Those pictures were taken in my private life. I can still run into a burning building faster than most people. I can still fly a helicopter. And those are from 15 years ago, right? I built an entire life based around my commitment to the military and the Army National Guard.”
Rather than allowing the controversy to define him, Gallant said he hopes it can become part of a broader conversation about privacy and the consequences of living in a digital age — and indicated that this sort of scenario would become something semi-regular for those who grew up with technology.
“The reality is that we live in a digital age.This is what our generation is going to be stuck with. I laugh all the time because this is the reason why Congress and the Senate are about to die in their chairs. They didn’t have cameras and pictures and photos like that.”
“If I have to be the person to wave the banner now to fight and advocate for not only our community but anybody that could be put in this situation, that realizes now that we’re living in a digital age and this is what the future is going to be. It’s, you know, everything’s left online now.”
That argument extends beyond his own campaign. Gallant said he worries that the prospect of having a digital footprint scrutinized could discourage highly qualified and passionate potential public servants from seeking office.
“I understand that getting into public life means that the rest of your life becomes public. I get it, I do. But I also feel bad because there’s a lot of good people out there wanting to do a job in the public world, and they’re just afraid of what their digital footprint might have on them or might—what might exist because we’ve done things when we’re 12 or 15, or 20, or 30, or whatever.”
“I think living in this digital world, I would love to advocate for people to say, ‘How do we prevent some of these things from coming out into the public view so people can still maintain some kind of a private life?’”
For an openly gay candidate, the issue also carries a particular significance. Gallant said his experience has made him more interested in advocating for other LGBTQ people who may hesitate to enter public life because of what could eventually surface online.
His own LGBTQ policy priorities are relatively focused. He said adding further protections for same-sex marriage in federal law would be one of the issues he would want to pursue if elected, particularly as questions about the Supreme Court’s future approach to marriage equality continue to loom.
“My partner, who’s my fiancé, is currently deployed. We got engaged before he left in December because if the question came up to the Supreme Court– whether gay marriage was going to be a thing– we had to question whether, when he got back from deployment after Christmas this year, whether we were actually going to be able to legally get married.”
“I mean, these are questions that shouldn’t even be questions anymore. So if we can put something like [codifying same-sex marriage] into law, where it’s just not a Supreme Court decision and it can get overturned, like Roe v. Wade, then let’s do it.”
Gallant’s opponent, Rep. Nick LaLota (R-N.Y.), is the two-term incumbent and has a mixed record on LGBTQ rights. LaLota has been vocal in his opposition to overturning Obergefell v. Hodges, the Supreme Court case that established the constitutional right to same-sex marriage, but he has also been outspoken in his opposition to transgender rights. He co-sponsored and voted for H.R. 28, the Protection of Women and Girls in Sports Act, which would restrict participation in women’s sports based on sex assigned at birth rather than gender identity.
Gallant, on the other hand, has few official positions on LGBTQ issues but assured the Blade that, if elected, he would become “an advocate, particularly for the LGBTQ community.”
He also said he believes same-sex marriage should be codified into law and that nondiscrimination protections should be expanded. “I would definitely be pushing no discrimination against anyone for any reason — and that should not have any place in any workplace — especially on the federal government level.”
For Gallant, however, LGBTQ rights are only one part of a broader platform centered on public service, affordability and restoring trust in government.
He repeatedly returned to the idea that a member of Congress should be accessible to the people they represent — something he believes his experience holding town halls and working directly with members of his community demonstrates.
“I always find that a record of service and showing up every day at work and in our communities is what’s going to be key and important. And I think that’s what a representative needs to do. As a representative you’re supposed to represent and work with the people that elect you to office. And so that’s what I’m going to make sure I start today.”
Current prediction markets give LaLota a significant advantage over his challenger, with the incumbent holding an 81 percent chance of winning compared with Gallant’s 19 percent.
Japan
Report: LGBTQ exclusion costs Japanese economy billions a year
Open for Business findings coincide with marriage equality fight
LGBTQ exclusion may be costing Japan as much as ¥16.42 trillion ($10.35 billion) annually, according to a new report by Open for Business, which argues that greater inclusion could help address the economic pressures facing a country with a shrinking population and workforce.
Japan’s population is projected to decline from 126.15 million in 2020 to about 87 million by 2070, according to the National Institute of Population and Social Security Research. As the country confronts a shrinking workforce; the economic stakes of retaining talent, improving productivity, and ensuring that LGBTQ people can participate fully in the economy are becoming increasingly significant.
Open for Business estimates that the costs extend beyond lost earnings.
The organization attributes between $25.1 billion to $75.1 billion annually to the excess economic burden associated with depression, suicide and self-harm, cardiovascular disease and HIV/AIDS, and another $12.2 billion to $26.2 billion to lost earnings linked to the LGBTQ wage gap.
A 2026 survey by Dentsu Japan, the Japanese arm of global advertising and public relations company Dentsu Group, found that 10.6 percent of respondents aged 20-59 identified as LGBTQ, up from 9.7 percent in 2023. The survey polled 46,658 people living in Japan.
The report argues that Japan already has the foundations for greater LGBTQ inclusion; pointing to public support, corporate leadership, and growing legal momentum. Progress on these fronts, it says, could reduce the economic costs of exclusion, strengthen workforce participation and help Japan remain competitive.
“For Japan, LGBTQ inclusion is not simply a question of fairness. It is part of the country’s economic resilience,” the report states.
Japan does not legally recognize same-sex marriages at the national level, but partnership systems have spread across local governments. As of 2024, municipalities operating such systems covered nearly 93 percent of Japan’s population. The certificates can help couples access certain services, but they do not carry the same legal status as marriage, including in areas such as inheritance and medical decision-making.
The absence of marriage recognition can leave same-sex couples facing uncertainty over hospital access, medical decisions, and survivor benefits. It can also complicate employers’ decisions about spousal health coverage, relocation assistance and family leave, particularly when policies depend on a marriage recognized under Japanese law.
Japan’s PRIDE Index, administered by the nonprofit Work with Pride since 2016, evaluates corporate initiatives related to LGBTQ employees across five categories, awarding Bronze, Silver or Gold ratings. In 2025, 931 companies headquartered in Japan were assessed, with 80 percent receiving the highest, Gold rating.
Despite progress in corporate inclusion, workplace practices remain uneven.
A 2026 workplace white paper by Nijiiro Diversity found that 55 percent of surveyed employees reported no concrete LGBTQ measures at their workplaces. A separate 2025 survey found that 30 percent of professionals had experienced workplace discrimination or bias based on sexual orientation, while 27 percent reported bias based on gender identity. Only about one-third said they felt comfortable disclosing their sexual orientation or gender identity at work.
The report also points to disparities in HIV and STI outcomes.
Men who have sex with men accounted for an estimated 82 percent of newly diagnosed HIV cases in Japan, according to the report. In a separate study at a Japanese gender-affirming clinic, researchers screened 275 transgender and gender-diverse patients and found that 6.2 percent tested positive for HIV or another sexually transmitted infection. All were asymptomatic when tested.
The report also estimates substantial losses from the LGBTQ wage gap.
It puts Japan’s total earned income at about $1.81 trillion, of which LGBTQ workers account for an estimated $175 billion, or 9.7 percent. Applying a wage gap of 7 to 15 percent, a range the report says is supported by OECD analysis, yields an estimated $12.3 billion to $26.3 billion in lost wages annually. Japanese research cited in the report also points to economic disparities among transgender workers, who are disproportionately represented in non-regular employment and lower-income groups.
“Public attitudes and many leading companies have moved considerably, but national frameworks and everyday workplace experience have not yet caught up. That creates both a challenge and an opportunity,” said Open for Business CEO Ken Janssens. “Japan’s population is projected to fall from roughly 125 million in 2020 to fewer than 87 million by 2070, while its working-age population is already contracting. The country ranks 14th globally for talent appeal but 55th for talent readiness, according to the report. In that context, Japan simply does not have talent to waste. Every worker who is less healthy, less productive, pushed into lower-paid work or unable to participate fully because of discrimination represents a cost that becomes harder to absorb as the labour force shrinks.”
Janssens further told the Washington Blade that the report’s ultimate message is that LGBTQ inclusion is a question of fairness, but in Japan, it is increasingly a question of economic resilience as well. The foundations for further progress are already there. The challenge now is to convert visible corporate leadership and social momentum into consistent practice and clearer protections.
Akira Nishiyama, a spokesperson for the Japan Alliance for LGBT Legislation, told the Blade that Japan’s business sector has pushed for stronger legal protections for sexual and gender minorities.
In 2017, the Japan Business Federation, known as Keidanren, announced a policy calling for nondiscrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Its chairperson also stressed the importance of legislation explicitly prohibiting such discrimination in 2023.
Nishiyama added Japan’s laws addressing workplace power harassment cover harassment based on sexual orientation and gender identity, outing someone without their consent, and forcing or pressuring someone to disclose or conceal their identity. Employers and local governments are required to take measures to prevent such harassment.
“While such legal frameworks and social momentum continue to advance, a law prohibiting discrimination based on SOGI has still not been enacted,” said Nishiyama. “In other words, legal measures to address discriminatory treatment, such as discriminatory hiring refusals, unreasonable transfers, and coerced resignations, are still insufficient. When legislations are needed to bridge this gap, I believe that initiatives promoted by the business sectors as well as the issuance of clear policies aimed at prohibiting discrimination, will serve as one of the major driving forces in this effort.”
Makiko Terahara, co-representative and leader of the business collaboration team at Marriage for All Japan, told the Blade that the figures are estimates and that the report does not claim legal reform alone would eliminate the economic losses.
“But the connection is real. Without marriage, same-sex couples have no spousal status for inheritance, tax, social security or medical decision-making. Without anti-discrimination legislation, employees have no clear legal remedy. This insecurity drives the concealment, stress and wage gaps that the report quantifies. So yes, I believe stronger legal protections would have a measurable impact on health, retention and Japan’s ability to attract talent,” she said.
Terahara also noted to the Blade the report cites a study finding that living in a municipality with a partnership system was not associated with better mental health. She said symbolic recognition without legal rights is not enough.
“The report confirms that Japanese society and business are already ahead of national law,” said Terahara. “Public opinion and leading companies have moved, and the remaining gap is in legislation. The report shows that marriage equality is not only a human rights issue but also an economic one, and that the cost of inaction is being paid now.”
The Open for Business report can be read here.
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