More often than not in the discourse around gender and climate change, the word “gender” is used primarily to refer to women. There is no disputing that women are acutely vulnerable to the effects of climate change in ways that are different than men and sometimes hidden. However, this interchangeable use of words neglects other dimensions of gender, sexual orientation, and sexual identity. As a result, we are missing important ways gender impacts people’s experiences with climate change.

In the aftermath of natural disasters, which are expected to become more frequent and intense as the climate changes, members of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex (LGBTQI) community are routinely excluded from response, relief, and recovery efforts.

LGBTQI individuals are uniquely vulnerable to exclusion, violence, and exploitation because of the intersecting impacts of social stigma, discrimination, and climate change. According to a recent legal survey, homosexual acts are punishable by death in 10 countries and are illegal in another 65. Eighty-nine other countries discriminate against LGBTQI individuals and families in other ways: same-sex couples and families are excluded from legal recognition, prevented from adopting children, or denied housing, employment, and services. Transgender people often face extreme discrimination and are even targets of “corrective rape.”

Marginalization extends in important ways to disaster preparedness and response. LGBTQI communities and individuals are frequently not considered in evacuation and emergency shelter procedures and have a more difficult time safely displacing and finding new housing and employment.

When Disaster Strikes

According to an analysis by Dale Dominey-Howes et al. in Gender, Place, and Culture, the LGBTQI community often does not receive proper warning before, during, and after major storms. The general media plays a powerful role in this respect. “During and after disasters, critical information is supplied by the media, who are therefore capable of enhancing individual and community capacities for survival and recovery,” they write. “By making choices on how to report on disasters and which experiences to highlight as newsworthy, the media also constructs and shapes public perceptions of a disaster.” They point out that after Hurricane Katrina, for example, the LGBTQI community faced heightened hostility following media reports about religious groups that blamed the LGBTQI community for attracting the wrath of God with their “sins.”

Emergency shelters are rarely able to sufficiently serve LGBTQI victims. In one reported case following Katrina, a transperson was jailed after showering in a women’s restroom despite being permitted to do so by a volunteer at the relief shelter. “Many of the women who were affected by the storm do not fit the traditional heterosexual image of ‘woman,’ and these women not only faced the obstacle of sexism but also homophobia and transphobia as they sought out assistance,” writes Charlotte D’Ooge, development director for the American Civil Liberties Union of Louisiana.

Before it was ruled unconstitutional, the Defense of Marriage Act banned the Federal Emergency Management Agency from extending family benefits to same-sex couples and parents. According to a working paper by gender theorists Lori Hunter and Emmanuel David, “the lack of legal recognition for same-sex relationships also placed an added burden on same-sex couples struggling with insurance claims and applications for government assistance. Without such recognition, same-sex couples were excluded from accessing support provided to heterosexual couples.”

The social and legal challenges faced by LGBTQI individuals are not unique to one place or culture. In the aftermath of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami, the Aravanis, a distinct group of stigmatized people in India who do not identify as either male or female, “were excluded from the relief process, temporary shelters, and official death records…thus rendering this population invisible in many of the relief and reconstruction agendas,” write Hunter and David. A collection of accounts by Aravanis who were able to gain access to emergency shelters tells of sexual and physical harassment and abuse, including “corrective rape.” The majority of Aravanis were turned away from government shelters and left to fend for themselves.

The government of India and local municipalities, to some extent, leveraged the destruction left in the wake of the tsunami to increase equality among social castes and genders by expanding property laws for women and members of lower castes. But the Aravanis were left out. They were denied ration cards, access to housing, and in the event of a death, were not given the ex-gratia provided to the families and friends of deceased heteronormative victims.

Nowhere to Go

Although the specifics are difficult to project, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change anticipates changing climate patterns will increase migration in response to slow onset changes and emergency situations.

Displaced people of all kinds are in deeply vulnerable positions, but LGBTQI persons often experience elevated threats due to discrimination, stigma, and invisibility. The Organization for Refuge, Asylum, and Migration (ORAM) estimates that LGBTQI individuals experience the highest rates of violent abuse, discrimination, and alienation due to their sexual orientation and gender identities. The typical coping mechanisms and services that may be available to heteronormative refugees, such as counselling, relevant cultural training, and introductions to supportive communities in their resettlement location, are inaccessible or inadequate.

The experience of LGBTQI refugees may be informative about the challenges faced by the climate-displaced too. Refugee settlement is a tiered process that classifies people into men, women, and family units. Under this system, same-sex families are often not recognized and even separated. Non-conforming gender identities are also placed into situations that are hostile and dangerous. “Most LGBT refugees escaped their countries because of the risks they had to deal with there,” writes Syrian blogger Mahmoud Hassino. “They cannot be placed in refugees’ shelters with the same people they are running away from.” Hassino, who fled Syria in 2012, saw this dynamic firsthand. “When staying in a shelter myself, I witnessed groups of homophobes and transphobes banding together to support each other’s attacks on gay and transsexual refugees,” he told the British Council.

Whether as refugees under the UNHCR definitions, displaced due to climate factors, migrating for better economic opportunities, or somewhere in between, the path faced by LGBTQI persons on the move is difficult, dangerous, and dark. However, stronger protections are not out of reach.

The Avoidable Tragedy

“The lack of response to the specific impact of disasters on LGBT communities and individuals is itself an emergency that has doubtless resulted in unnecessary suffering and an untold number of deaths,” writes OutRight Action International in their review of current relief and recovery programs. Without adjustments, the gaps in disaster response will only become more problematic as the impacts of climate change become stronger.

A critical first step, according to D’Ooge, is simply maintaining an awareness that while disasters do not discriminate, relief and recovery practices do. Definitions of gender, assumptions of heteronormativity, and homophobic/transphobic stigmas inhibit the resilience of LGBTQI communities and therefore must be removed from disaster responses.

The next step is to create safe spaces for LGBTQI people to gather during emergency events. According to the IGLHRC, this is essential to strengthening broader community institutions. The creation of safe spaces elevates the visibility of the LGBTQI community in the eyes of the state and relief and recovery programs, reducing the probability of exclusion.

In the aftermath of disasters, the recovery process can be seen as “an opportunity for establishing accountability, respect, and equality where there was none before,” according to OutRight Action International. Research indicates that conventional recovery programs tend to favor middle-class families and homeowners, while low-income and renting households are largely excluded. But there is also the possibility of harnessing this reconstruction period for good. Rebuilding can be an opportunity to create a stronger, more resilient community for all individuals.

The ORAM recommends that all officials and advocates working on displacement receive LGBTQI training, provide safe and identity-sensitive housing, refrain from classifying refugees based on gender binaries, and eliminate discrimination in defining marriage and family status.

Based on what little is known about the unique experiences of LGBTQI individuals and communities during disaster relief and recovery, major policy changes and new paradigms are necessary to adequately prepare and protect all genders. Additionally, much more research is necessary to understand how climate change is affecting people based on multiple intersections of identity. The invisibility of LGBTQI persons is a major part of their vulnerability, and much is dependent on context. An upper-middle class, white, gay male will experience different privileges and challenges in disaster and displacement scenarios than a transgender Bangladeshi subsistence farmer. Understanding how these differences alter individual resilience is a critical component to designing climate policy that ensures that no one is left out or behind.