Taking pride in our journeys of growing up and discovering our queer essence involves honoring the full diversity of our community. As a member of the LGBTQIA+ family, I cherish this diversity and hold space for those who may not claim the word queer as their own. As a cisgender gay man, I have spent more than three decades gathering the stories of other cisgender gay and queer men—stories woven with sorrow, defiance, tenderness, and fierce love. Through them, I’ve learned that we are a people of resilience, fearless hearts, and boundless compassion. It’s from this well of shared experience that I write. And still, no matter how you name your beautiful essence, may these words remind you to honor the quiet, unyielding courage it took to carry your spirit through the fires of becoming.
In previous articles, I’ve
written in depth about the trauma of growing up in a homophobic and transphobic
world—a world that often failed to honor our true essence—and the profound
impact that has on our lives. By reflecting on the overwhelming experience of
identity formation for LGBTQ+ youth who lacked support and faced mistreatment,
I invited readers with similar histories to meet their own suffering with
greater empathy. One path toward healing from trauma begins by cultivating
compassion for the pain we’ve endured.
In this article, I invite readers
to reflect not only on the courage it took to survive the challenges of growing
up queer but also on the resources that helped them navigate those experiences.
One meaningful way to engage with the experience of growing up in a homophobic
and transphobic world is by identifying the tools, relationships, and inner
strengths that carried us through. This strengths-based approach can help
reduce the risk of re-traumatization when dealing with past trauma experiences.
One goal of processing difficult
past experiences—often held in the body, including within the autonomic nervous
system—is to gently release their hold on us. As we begin the work of letting
go of embodied trauma, it's essential to stay grounded in the safety of the
present moment. One way to do this is by welcoming the positive emotions that
arise from acknowledging our journey toward self-acceptance and equality. By
dropping into bodily sensations associated with such acknowledgement, we can
create a more compassionate and gentler path toward healing. This isn’t to
minimize the reality of today’s anti-LGBTQ+ climate—there is still much work to
be done. But recognizing how far we've come and celebrating our progress can be
both empowering and a source of hope as we continue on our personal healing
journey and strive for greater justice and equality.
Not everyone who grew up queer
experienced trauma or mistreatment, and it's important to recognize that.
However, for those LGBTQ+ individuals with more positive upbringings, it’s
worth exploring how witnessing the mistreatment of other queer youth—whether
directly or indirectly, through media, community, or shared stories—might have
affected them. Additionally, being raised by loving, supportive parents who
assumed their child was straight can create a subtle but meaningful disconnect.
Even in caring households, that underlying assumption may feel at odds with a
person’s authentic sense of self. Many LGBTQ+ individuals have found it helpful
to process these experiences with a trained professional—especially one who is
also a member of the community and has done their own personal work around
similar dynamics.
When it comes to healing from
trauma, it's important to recognize that trauma is both a biological and
physiological response to overwhelming events—not just a psychological one. As
Dr. Bessel van der Kolk explains in The Body Keeps the Score, “trauma lives in
the body’s memory, not in the moment that caused it.” Similarly, Peter Levine
notes, “Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the
absence of an empathetic witness.” In my training on the impact of trauma on
the nervous system, I learned that many queer individuals with a history of
trauma often experience a persistent sense of threat, even in the absence of
actual danger. This ongoing state of perceived threat is a key component of
anxiety. They may become stuck in a chronic fear response, which can manifest
as a prolonged state of fight, flight, or freeze. Supporting the nervous system
in completing the responses it couldn’t at the time of the trauma can help
deactivate this stuck fear response and promote healing.
One gentle way to access trauma
stored in the queer body is by cultivating a sense of safety. This can begin by
identifying what was—and still is—supportive in relation to being queer. By
recalling and tuning into the felt sense of moments when we experienced safety
growing up, we can approach trauma with more care and compassion. For example,
when I hear stories from gay or queer young people who have endured hateful
acts, I often ask: What helped them cope with such overwhelming stress? How did
they make it through? Who showed them kindness during that time? Naming what
helped them survive not only honors their resilience but also supports the
process of gently shifting out of a stuck threat response.
Queer people who grow up in
challenging circumstances—especially experiences of homophobia or
transphobia—require a safe therapeutic space. In that space, individuals can
honor the deep courage it took to survive and begin to see themselves as the
heroes of their own stories. Taking this a step further, we might become
curious: How does the person’s body respond to being validated as the hero of
their own story? What sensations arise as they recall the people, places, or
moments that supported them during their upbringing? Do they feel warmth or
openness in their chest? Do their shoulders feel lighter? Has their breathing
shifted? Is there any change in their vision?
In a safe therapeutic setting,
the person recovering from trauma can begin to gently orient to the safety of
the present moment as they process and integrate early life experiences. Given
my extensive training in the Somatic Experiencing approach to trauma healing, I
have learned one way to do this is by pausing and noticing the environment
through the senses. This simple act of orienting involves exploring your
surroundings—letting your eyes move naturally, turning your head gently, and
allowing your gaze to rest on an object for a few moments. When you're ready,
you can continue scanning the environment in this mindful way. It can also be
helpful to notice what feels pleasant in your surroundings and stay with that
experience for as long as it feels supportive. For example, you might see a
beautiful tree outside your window. If it feels pleasant, let yourself really
notice it and track any corresponding sensations of ease or comfort in your
body. Through this practice, the person on a healing journey may begin to
cultivate a deeper sense of inner safety, grounding their reflections in the
present as they explore and make meaning of the past.
In my work with queer people, I
have learned that for some, there were no helpful resources available to cope
adequately with the pain and suffering caused by homophobic and transphobic
bullying. They cannot recall anyone who offered support or anything that
lessened the humiliation they felt for being different. In such cases, the
person can be invited to imagine the missing resources and notice what happens
internally when they picture having those resources during that time. For
example, Lee, a 25-year-old queer nonbinary person, grew up in a small
religious community in the Midwest, without the privilege of a queer-friendly
environment like Greenwich Village in New York or open-minded parents. They
experienced homophobic mistreatment at home and bullying at school. When
invited to recall any resources or situations that helped ease their suffering,
they could not remember any. Processing their trauma while staying within the
trauma vortex—where overwhelming emotions, memories, and sensations make it difficult
to function—could have led to re-traumatization. Instead, Lee benefited from
imagining the missing resources being available during their childhood. Through
their imagination, they pictured RuPaul and an army of drag queens coming to
their rescue, freeing them from bullying and humiliation. The bodily sensations
that arose from this imaginal experience activated their ventral vagal pathway,
creating a state of safety and relaxation. The experience felt profoundly real
in their body. For the first time, they experienced the freedom to use
imagination as a doorway to transform what they could not change as a child.
They were not denying the overwhelming feelings they had growing up, but for
the first time, began to experience pleasant sensations that contrasted with
the trauma-related feelings. Repeatedly moving between the distress of their
past and the safety created through imagination helped regulate their autonomic
nervous system, preventing it from becoming stuck in hyperarousal (overwhelm
and agitation). This process strengthened their emotional resilience and
allowed them to integrate past experiences without re-traumatization.
Unlike Lee, many queer people
found helpful resources while growing up, and they needed therapeutic support
to tap into the healing power of recalling and embodying those resources. Even
Lee needed help to discover how they managed to get through their painful
experiences and still be here to talk about them. Later in their therapy, Lee
discovered that rocking their body from side to side was a somatic resource
that helped them self-soothe and manage anxiety during their childhood. This
discovery happened during a session when they were unaware they were rocking as
they reflected on their past. By being invited to pause and notice what their
body was doing, Lee recognized that this movement had helped them through
difficult moments. They took pride in the wisdom of their body for offering a
resource when none was available from the outside.
Finally, we live in a world where
most of us grew up surrounded by heterosexual indoctrination. For those of us
with a queer soul, this often meant having to protect ourselves from its
pervasive influence. We sought refuge in the resources available to us and can
take pride in the survival skills we developed and the support systems we
leaned on to get through. It’s important to recognize the bodily sensations
connected to these resources, allowing them to serve as a foundation for
whatever may emerge as we continue our healing journeys. Regardless of what
caused our trauma, we all have a right to heal. Life is meant to be an
opportunity to grow, to love, to experience joy—not a constant reliving of
unhealed pain. That’s why somatic-focused trauma therapy is so necessary—not
only for LGBTQ+ people, but for anyone living with trauma. It offers a path
forward, a way to reconnect with ourselves, and a chance to fully thrive.
© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a
psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic
Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), writer (https://www.drpayam.com/articles_and_book) ,and
artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)
Licensed Marriage and Family
Therapist online anywhere in CA & Florida
