What Queer Domestic Violence Can Look Like

Why this resource exists

Queer people experience domestic and family violence as often, and sometimes more often, than straight people. But we are less likely to be believed. We are less likely to be named in public conversations. We are less likely to be recognised by services. And we are far less likely to be understood in our full complexity.

Most domestic and family violence frameworks were built around heterosexual, cisgender, monogamous dynamics. These frameworks assume a man uses power over a woman, that there is one victim and one perpetrator, and that a safety plan or a police report will fix the problem.

But that does not reflect the lives of many LGBTIQA+ people.

It does not account for shifting power or shared trauma. It does not leave room for internalised oppression, community silence, or relationships that hold both harm and love.

This guide was written for anyone who senses something is not right in a relationship or family dynamic, but who does not know what to call it or whether they are even allowed to call it anything.

It is for queer and trans people navigating confusion, control, silence, grief, or shame. It includes the common forms of domestic and family violence and also names the ways harm can be justified, hidden, or even disguised as care in queer lives.

You do not need to be in crisis to read this.
You do not need to have left.
You do not need to call it abuse to know it hurts.

If you are wondering, doubting, scared, angry, numb, or trying to make sense of something you have carried quietly, this is for you.

What domestic and family violence actually means

Domestic and family violence is not just physical. It is about patterns, control, fear, and degradation. It is about someone using their power—whether emotional, social, cultural, financial, legal, or physical—to get what they want, while someone else adapts, retreats, or loses their freedom to choose.

It can happen in any kind of relationship. It can happen in long-term or casual partnerships, in monogamous or polyamorous dynamics, and in romantic, familial, or chosen family connections. It happens between people of all genders. It happens in queer households, trans collectives, activist groups, share-houses, and support networks.

In our lives, it often looks different. And the systems that are supposed to help us often do not understand what they are seeing, or do not see us at all.

Emotional and psychological abuse

This kind of harm is common and often invisible. It can look like ongoing criticism, humiliation, emotional withdrawal, or gaslighting. One day might feel like love. The next might feel like contempt. You might feel constantly on edge, blamed for everything, or made to believe your needs are selfish.

In queer relationships, emotional abuse can be wrapped in shared trauma language. It can sound like, “I’m triggered,” or, “You’re harming me,” whenever you raise something. Therapy words might get used to dismiss you. Or your reactions might be framed as instability instead of survival.

This kind of harm does not always show up as yelling. It might be silence. It might be control framed as concern.
It is real. It is disorienting. And it matters.

Identity-based abuse

Sometimes, the parts of ourselves we fought to live - our queerness, gender, culture, disability, or neurodivergence - gets used against us.

You might be misgendered on purpose. Mocked for your identity. Threatened with being outed. Shamed for being visible. Treated as too much, not enough, or not real.

In families, it might sound like:

“If you weren’t queer, we wouldn’t have these problems.”
“You brought shame on this family.”
“If you detransition, we’ll accept you again.”
“You’re doing this for attention.”

Sometimes this comes wrapped in concern. Sometimes in love. But it is still coercive. And it is still abuse.

Coercive control

Coercive control is a pattern of behaviours that makes someone feel afraid, isolated, dependent, or unable to speak or leave freely. It might look like monitoring your movements, deciding who you can see, setting rules you never agreed to, or punishing you for small things.

In queer relationships, it often shows up in subtler ways.

“If you leave, I’ll hurt myself. And it will be your fault.”
“If you talk about this, people will take their side.”
“I’m the only one who actually understands you.”

Sometimes it is called love. Sometimes trauma. Sometimes safety. But at its core, it is about control.

Physical violence

This does not always look like what you have been taught to expect.

It might be pushing, blocking a doorway, restraining, grabbing, smashing things, or using size or presence to intimidate. It might include threats toward pets, loved ones, or your body.

In queer dynamics, physical violence often gets downplayed.

“We’re the same gender. It’s not abuse.”
“I could have fought back if I wanted to.”
“It was just one time.”

But violence is about fear, not fairness. It is about what happens in your body when it starts, and what you stop saying in order to keep yourself safe.

Sexual violence

This is one of the most misunderstood forms of harm in queer relationships.

It can include coercion, pressure, manipulation, or silent compliance that does not feel like choice. It can show up as ignored boundaries, guilt trips, shame, or blurred lines around consent.

It also includes sabotage of your sexual health, STI status, access to contraception, or using kink, polyamory, or community politics to bypass your needs or comfort.

Consent is not automatic in queer relationships.
You do not owe anyone your body to prove you are safe, loving, or committed.

Financial abuse

This is about power through money, housing, access, and control.

It might include being cut off from income, being forced to justify every expense, being pressured into financial dependence, or being left without money for food, rent, medication, or safety.

It can also show up in less obvious ways, like damaging your credit, racking up joint debt, or sabotaging your ability to work, study, or access support in order to keep you reliant.

Social abuse and community isolation

Queer community is often our only safety net. That also means it is a powerful place for harm.

Someone might isolate you from friends, turn people against you, start rumours, or paint you as the abuser. This is especially common when they are more respected, more politically visible, or more persuasive.

This kind of abuse does not just damage trust in one relationship. It can strip away your sense of safety and belonging. For many people, the threat of exile feels as real as the threat of harm.

Legal, systems, and tech-based abuse

Abuse does not always stop when the relationship ends. Sometimes it continues through systems.

Someone might use the police, immigration, Centrelink, child protection, or family courts to intimidate or control you. They might make threats. They might report you falsely or manipulate the system to appear as the one in danger.

They might log into your accounts, leak private messages, track your device, or impersonate you online.

This kind of harm is often overlooked because it does not leave bruises. But it can leave people just as unsafe.

Spiritual and cultural abuse

Sometimes harm is framed as tradition, honour, or protection.

You might be shamed for your identity. Told you are sinful or selfish. Cut off from family, language, or cultural practice unless you hide who you are.

This is not just family conflict. It is coercion. And it matters.

But what if it’s not that simple?

Maybe you have hurt them too.
Maybe you have said things you regret.
Maybe they are more marginalised.
Maybe you were in love.

All of that might be true. And you can still be in a situation that is harming you.

You do not need to be a perfect victim to deserve care.
You do not need to leave immediately to be taken seriously.
You are allowed to be confused and still ask for help.

This is not about whether it fits someone else’s definition.
It is about naming what is happening so it does not keep shaping who you become.

It is still abuse if:

• You are still in love

• You have also done harm

• You are not ready to leave

• Everyone else likes them

• They say they are sorry

• You are not sure what happened

• You are scared to say it out loud

• They never laid a hand on you

You deserve:

• To feel safe in your home, your body, and your relationships

• To say no without fear

• To be recognised and respected in your identity

• To express needs and be met with care

• To name your experience without shame

• To create a life that is yours

You are allowed to:

• Talk to someone

• Get help

• Tell the truth

• Call it abuse, or not

• Stay

• Leave

• Come back

• Change your mind

• Set boundaries

• Survive

If you need support

You do not have to be sure. You do not need a label. You do not have to be ready.

You are allowed to ask for help.

• Rainbow DV Helpline (24/7): 1800 497 212

• 1800RESPECT: 1800 737 732

• QLife (3pm to midnight): 1800 184 527

• Or speak with a queer-informed therapist, community worker, or someone you trust

You are not too much.
You are not imagining it.
You are not alone.

Whatever your relationship to harm may be, whether you have survived it, caused it, or witnessed it; you are still worthy of care.

You deserve relationships that do not make you afraid of yourself.