When Our Pain Turns Inward: Lateral Violence in the LGBTIQA+ Community

Around IDAHOBIT, we often focus on visibility, rights and celebration. And rightly so. But this year, in the spirit of the theme “Will You Stand Against Discrimination?”, I want to offer a slightly different lens on inclusion, one that asks us to look inward, and consider how we treat each other within our own community.

This reflection is especially for those of us in the LGBTIQA+ community, but also for our allies, DEI practitioners, Leaders and HR professionals who are working to create safer and more inclusive environments. We often talk about standing against discrimination from outside, but what about the kinds of exclusion and harm that can happen from within?

We can all make a difference, now more than ever. That also means asking: what would it look like if we stood against not just external discrimination, but the subtle ways we sometimes exclude or undermine each other? How can we go rainbow, not just in symbols, but in actions of care, empathy and solidarity?

Lately, I’ve been noticing a rise in tension and conflict within the LGBTIQA+ community, not from the outside, but between us. During workshops, at events, and in online spaces, there’s been an undercurrent of frustration, exclusion, and even hostility that feels familiar but hard to name. It wasn’t until a recent session that I was facilitating where we explored the concept of lateral violence that something clicked.

Lateral violence is a term more often linked to First Nations or Indigenous communities, but it applies just as powerfully to any group that’s experienced oppression. It shows up when the trauma, shame or pain we’ve internalised gets turned sideways, not towards the system that caused it, but towards each other.

And this conversation feels especially important right now. As we mark IDAHOBIT, we’re doing so in a climate where so much has been thrown at our community politically, from attempts to wind back rights, to public narratives that fuel fear and division. It’s exhausting. And sometimes, that exhaustion spills over into our own spaces.

In this piece, I want to unpack what lateral violence is, how it shows up in queer spaces, and why recognising it is key to healing and solidarity. This isn’t about blame. It’s about understanding where these patterns come from, and how we might do better, together.

What is Lateral Violence?

Lateral violence refers to a range of negative behaviours that marginalised people direct towards their own peers rather than their actual oppressors. It can include bullying, shaming, silencing, gossip, social exclusion, backstabbing, and even physical aggression.

Unlike overt hate from outside groups, lateral violence is harm that happens within an oppressed group, a kind of "horizontal hostility" born from years of discrimination and intergenerational trauma. It's been especially explored in First Nations contexts, where colonisation and ongoing racism have created conditions for internal conflict.

The roots of the concept go back to anti-colonial thinkers like Frantz Fanon and Paulo Freire, who noticed that when people are oppressed for long enough, they often internalise that oppression and turn their pain inward or sideways. Freire wrote about how the oppressed "frequently practice horizontal violence against each other," and Fanon described how the colonised person, unable to confront the coloniser, would lash out at their own.

Sound familiar?

It should, because this happens in our own queer communities too.

How Lateral Violence Shows Up in Queer Spaces

In LGBTQIA+ communities, lateral violence can be surprisingly common and quietly damaging. Maybe it’s a gay man dismissing the identity of a bisexual person. Or a trans person being invalidated by another trans person for not being "trans enough." It can look like gatekeeping, exclusion, whisper networks, or subtle power plays in community spaces.

We see it when people use identity as a weapon, questioning someone’s authenticity, or deciding who gets to belong and who doesn’t. We see it when racism, ableism, classism, or body shaming creep into queer spaces. When people who have experienced marginalisation themselves end up recreating those dynamics inside our own communities.

That’s lateral violence.

It doesn’t mean we’re bad people. But it does mean we’ve got some healing to do.

Why It Happens: Internalised Oppression and Unhealed Trauma

So why do we do this to each other? One reason is internalised oppression.

When we grow up surrounded by messages that our identities are wrong, shameful or less-than, some of that seeps in. We might not even realise we’ve taken it on, but it shapes how we see ourselves and others in our community. And when we haven’t had safe ways to process that hurt, it can come out sideways.

Lateral violence is often a misguided attempt to reclaim power or status when we’ve felt disempowered for so long. But instead of directing our energy at the systems that harm us, we aim it at the people closest to us.

The irony is, those people are often the ones who would understand us the most.

Breaking the Cycle: What We Can Do

If any of this is ringing true, you're not alone. The good news is: we can name it, and we can change it.

Here are a few starting points:

• Raise Awareness: Talk about lateral violence in your networks and communities. Sometimes just having the language to name a pattern can help people see it more clearly.

• Foster Cultural Safety: Whether you're part of a social group, workplace or volunteer collective, make sure everyone feels safe, respected and included. That means actively addressing things like racism, transphobia, biphobia and ableism when they show up.

• Adopt Trauma-Informed Practices: Understand that people might be carrying invisible wounds. When someone reacts strongly, ask what might be beneath that reaction. Compassion doesn't excuse harmful behaviour, but it helps us respond in ways that de-escalate rather than inflame.

• Encourage Reflection and Accountability: Invite people to check in with themselves: Where might I be projecting something onto others? What internalised beliefs am I still unpacking? And when harm happens, encourage calling in over calling out where possible.

• Focus on Solidarity: Remember what unites us. We’re all navigating a world that wasn’t designed with us in mind. That shared experience can be a source of strength, not division, if we let it.

Lateral violence doesn’t make us broken. It makes us human. But it also reminds us that healing isn’t just individual, it’s collective.

If we want our communities to be truly safe, affirming, and inclusive, we need to look honestly at the ways we hurt each other and where those patterns come from. Naming lateral violence is the first step. Healing it? That takes empathy, courage and a willingness to show up differently.

We don’t have to be perfect. But we do have to try. Because when we stop turning our pain inward and start turning toward each other, that’s when real transformation begins.

#IDAHOBOT2025 #DEI #LGBTIQA+