Nur E Makbul Fortune[1]
In many parts of the world, queer individuals face the daily reality of self-censorship as a survival mechanism (Bar-Tal, 2017; Bar‐Tal, 2017; Rentflejsz, 2007). This phenomenon is intensified in countries where legal systems explicitly criminalize LGBTQ expressions (Bar‐Tal, 2017; Rentflejsz, 2007). The idea of this commentary arises from the authors’ own experiences of self-censorship as queer individuals, both in their roles as researchers and as subjects of research. It reflects on the deep-rooted culture of self-censorship within queer population and offers a critical case for examining how past trauma, fear of prosecution, and the inherent difficulty of trauma storytelling combine to force queer subjects into silence and/or self-censorship.
The Impact of Past Trauma
The everyday experiences of homophobic bullying, assault, and social ostracization, creates a collective trauma (Moffatt et al., 2013; Stevenson, 2023). Many queer individuals retreat into invisibility (Makbul & Goni, 2022), censoring their identities even among close friends and family (McKeown et al., 2010). The burden of having one’s very existence invalidated by both law and society is too much to bear, leading to a pervasive silence (Azim & Bilkis, 2023; Fox & Warber, 2015; Gearhart & Zhang, 2014; Kastein, n.d.). This silence, born out of past trauma, ensures that queer lives remain hidden from public discourse (Hutchinson, 1996; Lo, 2022; Weintrob et al., 2021), depriving communities of the representation and solidarity needed to challenge oppressive systems.
As authors of this commentary, we seek to highlight past cases that we believe contribute to the self-censorship experienced by LGBTQ+ individuals until today. This phenomenon is shaped not only by present fears but also by the enduring scars of historical violence and persecution, which reinforce a persistent culture of silence and/or act of self-censorship within queer communities. For example, the murders of LGBTQ+ activists Xulhaz Mannan in Bangladesh (2016), David Kato in Uganda (2011), and FannyAnn Eddy in Sierra Leone (2004) highlight the grave risks faced by queer advocates in hostile environments. Xulhaz Mannan was killed by the extremist group Ansar al-Islam (Azim & Bilkis, 2023; Khan, 2020; Makbul & Goni, 2022; Rashid, n.d.), while David Kato’s death followed a tabloid’s call for violence against homosexuals(Arimoro, 2021; Zabus, 2021). FannyAnn Eddy was murdered for her prominent activism in Sierra Leone (Zabus, 2021). These cases reflect how legal and societal structures in many regions perpetuate violence against LGBTQ+ individuals. The trauma inflicted by homophobic violence, familial rejection, and pervasive societal discrimination leaves an indelible mark on how queer subjects view themselves and navigate public life. In Bangladesh, the legacy of Section 377, which criminalizes “carnal intercourse against the order of nature” (Makbul & Goni, 2022; Purkayastha, 2014) sets the stage for queer individuals to be treated as criminals. Likewise, the existence of this law sends a message of societal disapproval, legitimizing the harassment and marginalization of LGBTQ people.
Fear of Prosecution
One of the most potent forces driving queer self-censorship in Bangladesh and other countries where LGBTQ expressions are criminalized is the fear of legal repercussions. For example, whenever we attempted to interview or write about LGBTQ+ individuals or their culture in Bangladesh, Section 377, although an outdated law, still poses a significant threat to queer individuals. Its existence creates a climate of fear, leading to ongoing self-censorship within the community (Chaney et al., 2020; Makbul & Goni, 2022; Mozumder, 2024; Shandilya, 2017). Even in countries where such laws are rarely enforced, their very presence signals the state’s disapproval of queer identities and offers legal cover for harassment, blackmail, and discrimination (Kastein, n.d.; Pain, 2022). For queer individuals, this fear of prosecution manifests in countless ways. Same-sex couples are forced to conceal their relationships (Matheson et al., 2021), unable to publicly express affection for fear of being reported or arrested (Matheson et al., 2021; Wei et al., 2021). Activists who advocate for LGBTQ rights need extra layer of protection, often operating under pseudonyms or avoiding direct engagement with the state to avoid legal scrutiny. This creates an atmosphere of profound uncertainty, where queer people are unable to trust even those closest to them, fearing that a single misstep could lead to imprisonment, public shaming, or worse.
Laws criminalizing LGBTQ+ identities, such as Bangladesh’s Article 377, persist across numerous nations, rooted in colonial-era legal frameworks. Countries like Malaysia, with Section 377A and 377B of the Penal Code (Lee et al., 2023; Rosnan & Balasubramaniam, 2022), Singapore’s Section 377A (Baey, 2021), and Nigeria’s “Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act” (Oladosu-Uthman, 2021), retain similar provisions that criminalize consensual same-sex relations as “unnatural offenses”. These legal structures, despite varying degrees of enforcement, serve as instruments of systemic oppression, perpetuating violence, discrimination, and self-censorship within queer communities. Comparative legal research highlights that decriminalization efforts, like India’s repeal of Section 377, are essential not only for LGBTQ+ rights but for aligning with international human rights standards, signaling the urgent need for global legal reform (Joshi et al., 2022). In countries like Bangladesh, where social conservatism is deeply intertwined with law enforcement, the risk of prosecution is not limited to the courts. Queer individuals often face violence at the hands of police or vigilante groups, emboldened by the knowledge that their victims have little recourse under the law. This fear is not only crippling but life-threatening, forcing queer people to self-censor in every aspect of their lives, from their speech to their social interactions.
The Challenges of Trauma Storytelling
For those who have experienced the dual trauma of criminalization and societal rejection, the act of telling one’s story becomes loaded with danger. Trauma storytelling is inherently difficult, but for queer subjects in criminalized states, the stakes are even higher. Telling one’s truth not only means reliving painful experiences but also risking further victimization. In Bangladesh, for instance, when conducting interviews with LGBTQ+ individuals, we frequently faced concerns regarding the participants’ vulnerability. Given their precarious social and legal standing, sharing their trauma often posed a risk of further harm rather than serving as a means of healing.
This difficulty is compounded by the lack of safe spaces for queer individuals to tell their stories (O’Neill, 1974; Tavarez, 2022; Weintrob et al., 2021). In countries where LGBTQ people are criminalized, there are few, if any, platforms that offer the protection and anonymity necessary for trauma storytelling. Mainstream media often perpetuates harmful stereotypes about queer people, and the fear of being outed or prosecuted discourages individuals from seeking visibility. This creates a vicious cycle where queer trauma remains hidden, contributing to the erasure of queer experiences from public discourse.
Without the ability to share their stories, queer individuals are denied the catharsis and solidarity that comes from collective storytelling (Fukui & Hanssmann, 2022). We believe, the silencing of queer trauma not only deepens the wounds of individuals but also restrains the growth of movements that could challenge oppressive legal systems like Section 377.
A Global Struggle for Visibility and Dignity
The experiences of queer individuals in Bangladesh under Section 377 are not unique. In countries across the globe, from Uganda to Saudi Arabia to Russia, LGBTQ expressions are similarly criminalized, forcing millions of people into a state of perpetual self-censorship. The legal structures that sanction this repression may differ, but the effects are the same: queer people are denied the right to exist openly and authentically.
This commentary calls attention to the urgent need for decriminalization and the creation of safe spaces where queer individuals can tell their stories without fear of prosecution or further trauma. In doing so, a potential solution to the self-censorship problem among queer individuals in criminalized states must involve a multifaceted approach—blending scholarly research, academic advocacy, and grassroots activism. From a scholarly perspective, academia should prioritize intersectional research that documents the lived experiences of queer individuals in such legal contexts, producing empirical data that challenges the legitimacy of laws like Section 377 (Wagner & Kitzie, 2023). This research can inform policy debates and empower global human rights organizations to lobby for legal reform. Academic institutions can also serve as safe spaces for dialogue, offering courses, workshops, and forums that educate students, policymakers, and the public about LGBTQ issues. On the activism front, international and local queer rights movements must work in together as a cycle, utilizing academic research to bolster their advocacy while ensuring that the voices of those most affected by criminalization are amplified (Arimoro, 2021). Collaborating with legal scholars and human rights organizations, activists can push for strategic lawsuit aimed at decriminalization and press for protective policies that safeguard the rights of queer individuals. Moreover, digital activism and online platforms can play a crucial role in creating safe, anonymous spaces where queer individuals can share their stories, thus countering the effects of self-censorship and erasure (Gearhart & Zhang, 2014; Lo, 2022).
As mentioned, self-censorship, driven by past trauma, fear of prosecution, and the inherent difficulty of trauma storytelling, keeps these individuals in the shadows, unable to fully express their identities or share their experiences. It is time we stand against these outdated and inhumane laws in different parts of the world, and for the creation of spaces where queer voices can be heard, valued, and protected.
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[1] Assistant Professor of Communication Arts, University of Alabama in Huntsville
Bangladesh Feminist Archives 