A few days ago, a close friend confided in me about a dark secret. He revealed that he had recently been sexually assaulted not once, but twice. The first incident occurred when he was molested by a stranger in a public place, and the second when he was raped by someone he trusted. Shockingly, he did not take any preventative measures such as PreP or post-exposure prophylaxis (PEP) after the assaults. The following day, he went to work as if nothing had happened, still unable to fully process the horrifying attacks. It was only later that he discovered he had contracted a sexually transmitted disease.
These stories of sexual assault and abuse among gay and bisexual men in the Philippines have been resurfacing within my immediate and extended circles. It has led me to speculate whether there is an undocumented rise in these incidents. I have heard accounts of acquaintances who contracted HIV after being drugged and raped, as well as individuals who were gang-raped while intoxicated. Additionally, I have come across online platforms where queer men post non-consensual photos of their hookups and share leaked sex videos of other queer men. This begs the question: are we simply perpetuating the same behavior as our heterosexual counterparts, finding thrill and arousal in the pursuit and conquest of others? It is unsettling to think that within our community, there may be individuals who embody a toxic masculinity specifically within a queer context.
Interestingly, queer men often denounce rape and assault as extremely wrong acts, yet they also contribute to a culture of sexual violence through jokes about sexual assault. This contradiction is not entirely surprising. Sociologists CJ Pascoe and Jocelyn Hollander discuss the concept of “mobilizing rape” in their co-authored paper. They propose that sexual assault is not just an individual incident but rather a wide-ranging constellation of behaviors, attitudes, beliefs, and conversations that perpetuate gendered dominance in everyday interactions. Mobilizing rape involves not only engaging in activities legally defined as rape but also engaging in other forms of sexual assault and non-consensual sexual encounters, discussing rape and sexual assault, making jokes about them, laughing at related imagery, labeling oneself or others as rapists, blaming survivors for their victimization, or symbolically deploying the idea of rape.
Expanding on the notion that “mobilizing rape” is a gender performance, one could argue that queer men attempting to dominate other queer men stems from internalized homophobia. By perpetrating acts of violence against other men, queer men replicate the stereotypical aggression associated with heterosexual men. A 2016 research study conducted in the United States on minority stress and intimate partner violence among gay and bisexual men suggests that experiences of minority stress, such as internalized homophobia and homophobic discrimination, increase the risk of experiencing and perpetrating intimate partner violence among gay men.
Recently, I had a conversation with Sabrina Gacad, the chair of the University of the Philippines’ Department of Women and Development Studies and founder of Lunas Collective, a volunteer-powered helpline supporting survivors of gender-based violence and discrimination. We discussed the importance of families, particularly parents, being the first place where consent is genuinely understood. This understanding of consent extends beyond a sexual context and equips individuals with the ability to say no when they feel unsafe or uncomfortable. Gacad explained that practicing consent in non-sexual situations, such as sharing toys, can lay the foundation for comprehending and articulating consent in tense sexual situations. By helping children navigate their emotions and communicate why they are saying no, they can learn about boundaries for themselves and others.
It gives me hope to see queer-friendly spaces like Lunas Collective fostering a safe environment for queer individuals to acknowledge and confront their experiences of abuse. This is especially significant for Filipino queer men who may find it challenging to acknowledge their own abuse due to societal stigmas. Sadly, these individuals may blame their sexual orientation and gender expression for their victimization, further exacerbating their shame. As a survivor of sexual abuse, I struggled to take the first steps towards healing from my trauma. As a teenager, I wrongly believed that I deserved the abuse inflicted by my uncle and that I had somehow contributed to it. The situation was made worse by my mother siding with my uncle, solidifying my incorrect belief that I was at fault for the abuse. Even as I write this, feelings of shame and disgust resurface, and I must continually remind myself that I am a survivor, not an accomplice.
My friend has sought therapy to help process his abuse, and it has been instrumental in his healing journey. While individual healing is crucial for queer men like us who have endured abuse, it is equally important for Filipino gay and bisexual men to collectively address why sexual assault occurs within our community. By confronting the culture of abuse and assault, we can strive to break the cycle for good.
For inquiries or to share your own experiences, reach out to Evan at [email protected].
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