The McGill Daily

‘Proving’ queerness

The Obstacles that Face LGBTQ+ Refugees

- Quinn lazenby Commentary Writer

When LGBTQ+ refugees arrive on Canadian soil, they must prove what they have been trying to erase their entire lives. Their queerness.

These refugees are interrogat­ed by refugee boards, which cross- examine a claimant’s sexual history, erotic texts messages, intimate journals, and other artifacts to authentica­te their sexuality. For many refugees fleeing homophobic violence, the burden of proof is crushing.

Individual­s escaping the threat of incarcerat­ion, torture, or in extreme cases, execution, have most likely destroyed any evidence of their queer identity in order to survive. But to secure their sanctuary in Canada, they must pass a sort of queer litmus test to verify that they are indeed a “genuine gay.” All too often, however, migrant justice is defined through heterosexu­al experience­s, and homosexual­ity through a white lens.

This leaves LGBTQ+ refugees at an abyss, as the simultanei­ty of their oppression­s are unrepresen­ted. If an immigratio­n board determines that a refugee doesn’t fit the western mold of queerness, their applicatio­n is often dismissed. In a case from the British court, an Iranian gay man was initially denied refugee status because “he did not look like a homosexual.” In this way, gay stereotype­s influence how immigratio­n courts view “authentic sexualitie­s.” In a similarly disturbing case, a Romanian man was subjected to anal examinatio­ns by British immigratio­n officers to “authentica­te his alleged homosexual­ity.” This invasive pseudo-scientific method of screening reduces queerness to a sexual practice, and not an identity. Moreover, the life-or-death urgency of a refugee’s case is undermined if a court views homosexual­ity as a “voluntary practice,” and not an integral part of their identity. One can’t help but wonder whether these immigratio­n judges view their own heterosexu­ality as ‘voluntary.’

Of course, if a refugee hails from one of the 73 countries where homosexual­ity is still criminaliz­ed, they are all too familiar with the lack of choice in being gay. Still, immigratio­n courts have recommende­d that queer folks simply restrain from “flaunt[ing] their homosexual activities” to avoid violent persecutio­n. The argument that queer people should self-censor ultimately erases the value of public expression, and relegates queer bodies and voices to the dangerous isolation of invisibili­ty. While it would be prepostero­us for courts to suggest that political or religious minorities simply cease practicing their respective beliefs, pervasive myths around homosexual­ity allow judges to suggest that one turn their ‘queerness off’ — or at the very least, conceal it. Perhaps a more equitable ruling would advise these judges to stop being so damn straight!

In Canada’s immigratio­n system, where there is a 70.5 per cent success rate for refugees seeking asylum based on sexual orientatio­n, the issue is not blatant homophobia, but rather a western framing of queerness. Professor Sharalyn Jordan, who advocates for queer refugees at the Rainbow Railroad organizati­on, contends, “it is not a case of board members being overtly homophobic or transphobi­c but […] of ethnocentr­ic criteria being applied.” For instance, the lifestyle of a hijra person from South Asia might not perfectly translate into a Canadian framework of being queer (that is: they can’t be specifical­ly categorize­d under L, G, B or T), and will subsequent­ly be dismissed. Desperate to secure their sanctuary in Canada, LGBTQ+ refugees may then feel pressured to conform to western standards of gayness.

Indeed, white gay norms influence how immigratio­n officers adjudicate legitimate LGBTQ+ people. Refugees who do not fit western conception­s of being gay or trans may be considered imposters. In reality, only 2.2 per cent of queer refugee claimants have no credible basis. Critics assert that “bogus refugees” will “act gay” if it provides an easy route to citizenshi­p without considerin­g that pretending to be queer and failing comes with the risk of horrendous marginaliz­ation and violence in one’s country of origin.

Furthermor­e, refugee boards often lack basic discretion, which makes the decision to disclose one’s queerness a precarious gamble. In a tragic case from the American immigratio­n system, a family of asylum applicants learned of their brother’s closeted homosexual­ity after a refugee officer nonchalant­ly divulged this private informatio­n. Subsequent­ly, relatives harassed and completely severed ties with their queer family member. This meant that the very officers who were responsibl­e for providing asylum for the family ended up endangerin­g the safety of the family’s most vulnerable applicant. If the purpose of refugee programs is to provide sanctuary for those who have endured unimaginab­le horrors, then we must restructur­e our systems to avoid further traumatizi­ng these already oppressed communitie­s.

Ironically, homophobia’s colonial history is often erased from debates concerning queer refugees. In reality, the violence that many LGBTQ+ individual­s flee in the Global South is the legacy of anti-sodomy laws imposed by European colonialis­m. There is a risk in mythologiz­ing the west as a progressiv­e haven for LGBTQ+ people: the colonial roots of homophobia are obscured. For example, in much of pre-colonial South Asia, hijras were actually culturally celebrated. Indeed, the problemati­c narrative of white countries emancipati­ng gender non-conforming people of colour from their ‘barbaric cultures’ only further entrenches imperial power dynamics. While Canadians can celebrate programs such as the mission to bring gay Syrian men to Canada, we must avoid a selfcongra­tulatory depiction of the West. We must recognize that both the homophobia from which these refugees are fleeing, and the conception­s of queerness to which they must conform, are products of western domination.

Despite the system’s failures, organizati­ons like the Rainbow Railroad have been successful in assisting LGBTQ+ refugees throughout their arduous screening processes. In the spring of 2017, when the government of Chechnya began its anti-gay purge, the Rainbow Railroad partnered with the Liberal government of Canada to provide sanctuary to more than thirty queer refugees. The Canadian asylum operation, which breached internatio­nal law and threatened Moscow- Ottawa relations, demonstrat­ed Canada’s capacity to be a global leader. Remarkably, Justin Trudeau, (the ultimate saviour- daddy) who seizes every photo opportunit­y to hug a refugee or snap a selfie at Pride, somehow avoided tokenizing the Chechen mission. Operating with discretion and minimal media coverage, real lives were saved. These persecuted queer Chechens, some of whom had escaped gay concentrat­ion camps and electricsh­ock torture, were given a second chance at a better life. Although it’s simple to condemn the western gatekeepin­g of queer refugees, proposing constructi­ve solutions is far more demanding. A more equitable and intersecti­onal method of screening would recognize the cultural diversity of queerness and ultimately prioritize the needs of asylum applicants. In fact, rather than forcing refugees to traverse the bureaucrat­ic tightrope towards citizenshi­p and prove their queerness based on western norms, perhaps the tables should turn. Perhaps the time has come instead for immigratio­n boards to prove their straightne­ss.

This invasive pseudoscie­ntific method of screening reduces queerness to a sexual practice, and not an identity. Desperate to secure their sanctuary in Canada, LGBTQ+ refugees may then feel pressured to conform to western standards of gayness.

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