Where are all the queer carers?
My experience of isolation
Realising I’m a carer and adjusting to that has been an isolating experience. Being a queer and nonbinary carer, caring for family members at the intersection of mental health and autism, has felt like being a small percentage within a small percentage.
Interacting with mental health professionals who over-pathologize autism and would likely misgender me if I gave them the chance, other 20-something queers who no longer prioritise COVID safety, and carers more than twice my age, only adds to that feeling.
I feel like I’ve stepped out of ‘Normal Time’. I’ve missed many milestones of my age group, and much of my life feels frozen in place. Time moves slowly and all at once, and the scaffolding of my life is wobbly and unpredictable with the ebbs and flows of caring.
I also live in a bit of a queer desert. Despite having an above-average percentage of LGBTQ+ people here according to the government census, and being bordered by the supposed queer utopia of Brighton, it’s a rare thing to encounter queer events in West Sussex. Finding an event or group that still takes COVID precautions is basically impossible.
The LGBTQ+ groups and social events I’ve been able to attend still leave me feeling on the outside. I navigate life differently as a carer. I also stick out like a sore thumb in support groups for carers completely populated by older cishet carers, spaces where I find it difficult to navigate misgendering.
If I feel the lack of support at the intersection of my own Venn diagram of identity and experience, then how could carers more marginalised than me feel in my place? Money, support, and empathy rarely trickle down these overlapping intersections.
Research into the experiences, needs, and barriers faced by LGBTQ+ carers could be used to fund more queer-specific caring spaces. To my knowledge, there are only two centres that focus on providing this support, one in England and one in Scotland. These spaces for queer carers are sorely needed.
Having a space where you don’t have to split your queer experience from your caring, is needed. Many LGBTQ+ carers would benefit from sharing collective knowledge about navigating harmful medical systems. More than that, being able to let your guard down and feel understood, not feeling alone in your experience, are all life-saving things. They are things I’m still searching for.
By Jules McGee-Russell
Published on 05/07/23