Content Warning: Discussions of sexual violence, homophobia and transphobia
Ever stopped to think about the 'norm' in heteronormativity? It's a concept so woven into our daily lives that we often overlook its subtle, but disturbing, influence. From the popularity of Love Island to "Mr. Right" and "Mrs. Always Right" mugs in Salvation Army, heteronormativity is everywhere, quietly dictating the relationships we form.
But what happens if you’re more Woof! than Vault 21? Despite living outside its rigid rules, queer people still grapple with heteronormativity’s impact. Stereotypes of how safe sexual relationships should look are baked into the education system and even the law – all centred around heterosexuality, pushing queer experiences to the sidelines. UniQ and Thursdays in Black want to bring to light the harmful effects of heteronormativity, effects that are often kept in the shadows – with sexual harm and violence being the darkest of all.
Heteronormativity: The “Straight” Jacket That Binds Us All
What comes to mind when you think of a 'person' or 'human'? Google it, and you'll probably see stock images of middle-aged white men. That's because whiteness and maleness are often seen as the 'default' human in our society—thanks to centuries of European colonialism and patriarchy. If you've taken PopHealth or any media paper, you're probably already aware of this strange, unspoken bias in our collective consciousness.
But there's also a third bias: heteronormativity. Put simply, it’s the idea that straightness (heterosexuality) is the norm. Heteronormativity assumes that, like white men, straight and cisgender people (whose gender matches the sex they were assigned at birth) are the 'default' humans. Thus, being queer is seen as unusual or 'other'.
Sure, straight people statistically outnumber queer people (around 28:1 in New Zealand) – but there’s more to the story. The national census only started asking about sexualities five years ago. As stigma and homophobia lessen, the number of queer people only continues to grow. In fact, this year’s Critic census showed the number of straight and queer students at Otago are nearly equal.
Due to its strict gender roles for both men and women, heteronormativity allows no space for gender diversity. ‘Divine femininity’, alpha males, trad wives (think Nara Smith), even twink/daddy and fem/butch culture is based on heternormative ideas of how men and women should behave in relationships. We hear it in the classic question: “But who is the man in the relationship?” It’s like a loved-up knife and fork couple asking a pair of chopsticks who’s the fork in the relationship – it just doesn’t make sense.
Now, if you're straight and reading this, take a deep breath: we have no beef. Heterosexuality isn’t bad; it’s neutral, just like queerness. And that’s the point! While straight relationships and their norms are (mostly) fine and dandy, they shouldn’t be the default expectation – forcing those who don’t follow them to ‘come out’.
Sex and Heteronormativity
We’ve all encountered – or internalised – stereotypes around sex that cause problematic situations. Maybe you assumed your boyfriend should be “always up for it” and felt hurt when he turned you down. Or perhaps you believed (even a little bit) that women shouldn’t be “too sexual,” leading you to feel uncomfortable with your girlfriend’s openness, or to judge a female friend’s past hookups in a way you’d never judge the bros’. And let’s not forget the common notion that sex wraps up when the man finishes.
Hahna Briggs, the manager of Te Whare Tāwharau (Otago Uni’s Sexual Violence Support and Prevention Centre), who specialises in sexual violence prevention and support, questions this norm of sex beginning and ending with the penis: “Do we value mutual pleasure in sex where we focus on the journey, or is one person’s pleasure more valued, with the end goal of sex being ejaculation?” Those of us who’ve encountered the Tinder Breatha™ know all too well the answer to this question.
The rigid heteronormative sexual script doesn’t just leave straight women unsatisfied; it also gives rise to some awkward conversations between queer partners whose encounters don’t fit the mould. And for those who don’t have sex at all, negotiating relationship dynamics is even harder (shout-out to asexuals, it's tough out here). This is especially true when it comes to conversations about sexual harm. Expectations for how sex “should” happen affects our ability to give enthusiastic consent too, in both queer and straight relationships. It’s hard to ask and have sex that doesn’t conform.
Given the New Zealand sex education curriculum quite literally teaches heterosexuality as the norm, there’s little room to wonder how we got here. Heteronormativity is baked into our education – focusing almost exclusively on heterosexuality and non-gender diverse people. Almost everyone got the yarn about contraception, pregnancies, STIs, and how to put a condom on a banana. But in the current curriculum, it’s unlikely you would have heard anything about sex that wouldn’t risk getting knocked up (queer sex) or gender identity.
Exclusively heterosexual sex education – and the lack of inclusivity of any other sexual orientation or identity – is especially detrimental for transgender people. Trans high school students have reported higher rates of dating abuse and sexual coercion than their cisgender counterparts, citing the lack of inclusive sex education as a reason. Without a sufficient road map to include their sexuality, trans youth often have to engage in “trial and error” experiences that often put their sexual health in danger. Here, heteronormativity has created potential for dangerous and unhealthy sex.
Hahna emphasises the limitations of the heteronormative sex education model: “If young people do not have access to positive examples of queer relationships, it can be more difficult to recognise when their relationships are unhealthy. They may believe that certain harmful behaviours are normal or acceptable. There needs to be space to explore what healthy and unhealthy relationships look like in a wide range of communities.”
How Heteronormativity Leads to Sexual Violence
Heteronormativity doesn’t end at His and Hers towels, unsatisfied straight women, or the education system’s prioritisation of the banana. It’s ingrained into New Zealand law. The legal definition of rape is “sexual connection via penetration of genitalia by a penis, without consent.”
While unlawful sexual connection covers a broader range of sexual harm experiences, ‘rape’ (as Parliament defines it) is legally distinguished due to it historically being considered more severe. The distinction creates a cultural hierarchy of sexual violence; undermining the experiences of queer victims. With queer victims’ experiences of sexual violence existing outside of the law, many incidents go unreported or ignored.
Mainstream media only adds fuel to the fire of heteronormative sexual harm. Harm by men against women is often used as a plot device – sometimes even fetishised (looking at you, Game of Thrones). It was only this year that mainstream media gave male survivors a platform with Baby Reindeer, a Netflix series where a female stalker preys on a male bartender. The power of representation is clear: the UK-based male sexual abuse charity ‘We Are Survivors’ reported an 80% increase in calls in the first two weeks after Baby Reindeer’s release, with 53% citing the series as the reason for calling.
So, what about the queer community? Kahukura, the rainbow sexual violence support and research organisation in Aotearoa, found that 53% of their LGBTQ+ participants had felt pressured to consent or have sex in ways they didn’t want. The NZ Ministry of Justice reports that 68% of bisexual adults will experience interpersonal sexual violence at some point in their lives, compared to the national average of 29%. Counting Ourselves (the national trans and non-binary survey) found that 32% of transgender participants had faced sexual violence since age 13, compared to 7% of the general population. Over and over again, research shows the harsh reality: queer people face higher rates of sexual violence than the national average.
A Double-Edged Sword
Melanie Beres, Associate Professor of Sociology at Otago University and a founding member of Te Whare Tāwharau, brings a wealth of experience to her insights on queer sexual violence. With her extensive work in the field, Melanie highlights the often invisible nature of queer sexual violence: “Queer people do not have the same kinds of role models for how to love, negotiate relationships, and expectations for sex.”
Yet, there’s a silver lining to the lack of traditional queer sex education. Melanie points out that without standard scripts or mainstream queer representation, there’s a unique freedom for queer individuals to define their own relationships and sexual values. “Growing up in a straight world that creates a roadmap for you, exploring and knowing you are queer provides fewer scripts [for relationships and sexual experiences],” she explains. “This can be both freeing and challenging.”
Off the beaten track of heteronormativity, queer people have the freedom to explore identities and sex that aren’t set in stone or dictated by mainstream media. Without a rigid answer to queer sex, it “provides an opportunity to figure it out and explore,” says Melanie.
Veering off the heteronormative road map is scary, but then so are the alternatives; being stuck in a rigid script that isn’t for you ultimately limits your existence and potential pleasure. There is power and freedom in being lost. And while splitting off from heteronormativity can feel like a big step, it's time to start walking down the path towards safer and healthier sex.