Embodied, Situated, and Co-Constructed: Young Sexual Minority Men’s Experiences of Intersectional Identity and Minority Stress

Abstract

Intersectionality, minority stress, and social ecological theories have all been important frameworks for understanding mechanisms that create and maintain sexual and gender minority health disparities. In this study, we integrated these frameworks to guide a grounded theory examination of identity-related experiences in specific settings among 33 Black, White, and Latino young sexual minority cisgender men who lived in Chicago. Analyses identified four key categories: Racism Manifests in Context- and Sexual Minority-Specific Ways, Sexual Orientation Can Mean Feeling Safe and Seen or Threatened and Alone, Gender is a Matter of Self-Expression, and Bodies Are Not Always Made to Fit In. Participants reported both identity-based privilege and marginalization as well as unique forms of minority stress at the intersection of specific identities. Across these categories, participants’ experiences of their intersecting identities and associated forms of minority stress were embodied in their physical appearance, situated in specific neighborhoods and contexts, and co-constructed through their interpersonal interactions with others. Further, participants’ narratives provide powerful insights about the nuanced ways in which young sexual minority men understand and negotiate their lived experiences. Findings highlight how experiences of identity and minority stress are both intersectional and located within specific social ecological contexts, which has important implications for research, clinical practice, and advocacy.

Nearly ten years ago, the Institute of Medicine (2011) released a report documenting the extent of sexual and gender minority health disparities and provided guidelines for research to understand and reduce these disparities. The report was organized using four key conceptual frameworks: the minority stress model; life course development; intersectionality theory; and social ecological perspectives. Research has increasingly incorporated these frameworks over the past several decades, and thus dramatically improved our appreciation for the complex and varied nature of the experiences of the many groups of people who fall under the umbrella of sexual and gender minorities. Minority stress theory has helped identify specific pathways through which minoritized identities are associated with disparities; life course development and intersectionality theory have helped illustrate heterogeneity in these experiences; and social ecological perspectives have moved us from individual deficit models to awareness that multilevel factors play an important role in population health disparities. Frameworks that once were topics of theoretical debate are now backed by ample empirical evidence.

To advance our science from this point, we are tasked with increasing understanding of the nuanced ways multiple forces work in combination to shape the lived experiences of sexual and gender minorities. For example, how do minority stress processes vary based on intersectional identities, stage of lifespan development, and the specific settings in which people spend time? What forms of minority stress are not yet identified because we have not centered the experiences of those who can name and discuss them? Beyond individual stress and coping, what specific multilevel mechanisms help translate structures of power and inequity into population health disparities, and how can we best intervene to address them? In order to answer these questions, we must integrate multiple frameworks with a focus on appreciating the complexity and variability of sexual and gender minority people’s experiences.

In this study, we integrated minority stress, intersectionality, and social ecological theories to compare the identity-related experiences of Black, White, and Latino young sexual minority cisgender men in specific settings. This contributes to needed research on the lived experiences of sexual minority men of color (Bowleg, 2013; Calabrese et al., 2018; Ferlatte et al., 2018; Reisen et al., 2013), which helps build a foundation for identifying multilevel factors contributing to population health disparities for this population. We now review these frameworks to highlight the rationale for and contribution of this study.

Minority Stress Theory

Minority stress theory proposes both general and identity-specific stress processes that mediate the relationship between sexual minority status and health. Identity-specific stress processes are categorized as distal (e.g., experiences of discrimination or victimization) or proximal (e.g., expectations of rejection, identity concealment, and internalized homophobia). Further, the impact of these processes is moderated by characteristics of one’s minority identity (e.g., salience, valence), coping skills, and social support (Meyer, 2003). Since this model was originally proposed, a large body of empirical evidence has illustrated its value in helping to explain sexual orientation health disparities including mental health concerns (Hatzenbuehler, 2009; Lehavot & Simoni, 2011; Walch et al., 2016), substance use (Goldbach et al., 2014), and physical health problems (Frost et al., 2015; Walch et al., 2016).

More recently, research has sought to identify and document forms of minority stress experienced by under-represented sexual and gender minority groups. The development of scales to measure minority stress among LGBT people of color (Balsam et al., 2011) and gender minorities (Testa et al., 2015) provided important tools to advance these lines of research. Research has also identified the importance of considering social ecological factors such as dyadic processes (Feinstein et al., 2018) and connection to community (Meyer, 2015; McConnell et al., 2018) in understanding minority stress impacts. The incorporation of intersectionality theory and social ecological theory can continue to strengthen the minority stress literature.

Intersectionality Theory

Intersectionality as a concept has been present in Black womanist texts for some time to discuss how race and gender are inherently linked, such that within a system of White supremacist patriarchy, men and women of color have gendered expectations pushed upon them but are not viewed as masculine or feminine in the same way that White men and women are (Collins, 2002; Crenshaw, 1989, 2014; Ferguson, 2014; hooks, 1981). Collins argues sexuality is also inherently linked to race and gender and names how heterosexual Black women’s sexuality is seen as deviant because it is linked to Blackness. Intersectionality has been crucial to identifying the challenges intersectional oppression creates for marginalized people in navigating spaces. Women’s spaces tend to focus on White women’s issues, while Black spaces tend to focus on Black men’s issues; thus, Black women often have difficulty finding spaces wherein both their gender and race are recognized and respected (Collins, 1998, 2002).

Intersectionality theory has also been central to understanding the experiences of sexual minority men of color. Sexual minority men may be seen as violating gender norms or failing in their masculinity due to their same-gender attraction, and are more likely to experience discrimination if perceived as feminine or gender nonconforming (Bowleg, 2013; Reisen et al., 2013). Sexual minority men of color also experience unique sexual stereotypes due to racialized perceptions of deviant sexuality (Bowleg, 2013; Calabrese et al., 2018). For example, Black sexual minority cisgender men are stereotyped as being more secretive and manipulative in sexual behavior and more likely to cheat on or transmit STIs to female partners (Calabrese et al., 2018).

Sexual minority men of color also report difficulties related to navigating spaces. Sexual minority men’s spaces often focus on the needs and experiences of White men, making men of color more vulnerable to racism; conversely, spaces for young men of color often focus on the needs and experiences of heterosexual men, making sexual minority men more vulnerable to anti-gay prejudice and biphobia (Balsam et al., 2011; Bowleg, 2013; Brennan et al., 2013; Parmenter et al., 2020; Reisen et al., 2013). Navigating different spaces may lead sexual minority men of color to feel that they must identify more or less with some communities; for example, some may view their identity as a Black man to be more salient than their identity as a gay man given the pervasive impacts of racism (Bowleg, 2013; Reisen et al., 2013). Sexual minority men of color also receive covert and overt messages from these communities regarding whether they belong. For example, Nero (2014) argues that White gay men create and maintain cultural and physical separation between themselves and Black gay men, communicating to Black gay men in both subtle and tangible ways that they are unwelcome in the gay community. In sum, sexual minority men of color often navigate spaces that are at best complicated and at worst openly hostile to them and their experiences. At the same time, they report positive experiences and resilience strategies related to their multiple marginalized identities, such as freedom from traditional role expectations and increased ability to cope with minority stress (Bowleg, 2013; Ghabrial, 2017).

Social Ecological Theory

Social ecological theory highlights the importance of the relationships and settings within which people live (e.g., Bronfenbrenner, 1977). Sexual and gender minority health research is growing in its emphasis on identifying specific social ecological factors that create and maintain population health disparities. For example, research has identified important social ecological factors related to mental health disparities at the interpersonal (e.g., family support; McConnell, Birkett, et al., 2016; Ryan et al., 2010), setting (e.g., school climate; Birkett et al., 2009; Kosciw et al., 2013), neighborhood (e.g., frequency of hate crimes; Duncan & Hatzenbuehler, 2014; Duncan, Hatzenbuehler, et al., 2014), and public policy (e.g., Hatzenbuehler 2010; 2011) levels. This multilevel understanding is crucial for developing effective prevention and intervention approaches.

Both minority stress and intersectionality theories might be considered inherently social ecological in form, as they highlight the relationships between people’s identities and stress exposure. Early work on minority stress focused more on identifying specific sexual minority stressors than the context within which stress takes place, but more recent work has increased emphasis on social ecological context by examining how community connection may complicate experiences of minority stress (Meyer, 2015; McConnell et al., 2018; Parmenter et al., 2020). In this domain, intersectionality theory provides crucial language for understanding how people’s experiences of both connection and minority stress may vary based on their multiple identities. Although attention to structures of power and inequity has been an essential component of intersectionality theory since its genesis, psychological research has had a tendency to minimize this emphasis by focusing on intersectionality as a tool for understanding individual identities rather than individuals in context (Ferlatte et al., 2018; Parent et al., 2013; Williams & Fredrick, 2015). Thus, emphasis on social ecology in research guided by both frameworks has varied.

Current Study

In this study, we examined sexual minority cisgender men’s experiences of their intersectional identities using minority stress, intersectionality, and social ecological theories as guiding frameworks. In doing so, we aimed to describe patterns of experience that may help identify multilevel factors contributing to population health disparities for sexual minority men of different races/ethnicities. We focused on participants’ intersectional identities rather than particular health behaviors or outcomes to provide a broader examination of sexual minority men’s experiences in multiple settings. We followed recommendations to focus on specific shared (i.e., cisgender sexual minority men) and nonshared (i.e., Black, White, and Latino) identities to facilitate comparison within and between groups (Parent et al., 2013).

This study was part of a broader grounded theory study on social ecological influences on racial disparities in HIV among young men who have sex with men in Chicago (McConnell, 2018). Grounded theory focuses on generating a theory to explain a given process that is grounded in participants’ experiences (Creswell, 2013). It is important to interpret the findings within the specific setting of Chicago: a Midwestern city of about 2.8 million people (about 33% non-Hispanic White, 30% Black, and 29% Hispanic/Latino; U.S. Census Bureau, 2019). Chicago is characterized by racial segregation, with majority White neighborhoods on the North Side, majority Black neighborhoods on the South and West Sides, and majority Hispanic/Latino neighborhoods buffering White and Black neighborhoods on the West and Northwest Sides (see Figure 1; U.S. Census Bureau, 2019). This study focuses on a subset of findings related to participants’ experiences of their intersectional identities in the Chicago places and neighborhoods where they spend time.

Figure 1.

Majority race/ethnicity by Chicago community area using 2010 Census data.

Method

Participants

Participants were sampled from an ongoing longitudinal study of young men who have sex with men in Chicago (McConnell, 2018). IRB approval was obtained from Northwestern University prior to conducting the current study. Eligibility criteria for the current study included: membership in the longitudinal cohort, identifying as a cisgender man, identifying as Black, White, or Latino, being over the age of 18, and living in Chicago. Interviews were balanced to facilitate comparison across racial/ethnic groups and experiences in different Chicago neighborhoods. From a pool of 463 eligible participants, 33 participated in the current study (11 White, 11 Black, and 11 Latino). Participants’ average age was 23.1 (SD = 2.9; Range 18 – 28). Most (n = 27) identified as gay, four identified as bisexual, one identified as queer, and one identified as unsure/questioning. For additional demographics, see Table 1.

Table 1.

Participant Demographics

Pseudonym	Age	Race/Ethnicity	Sexual Orientation	HIV Status
Hunter	28	White	Gay	Negative
Jared	26	Black	Gav	Positive
Lucas	24	Latino	Gay	Negative
Cesar	26	Black/Latino	Gay	Negative
Max	22	Latino	Gay	Negative
Luis	20	Latino	Gay	Negative
Javier	22	Latino	Gay	Negative
Gabriel	19	Latino	Gay	Negative
Jacob	20	White	Gay	Negative
Will	20	White	Gay	Negative
Cody	22	White	Gay	Negative
Anthony	20	Black	Gay	Positive
Steve	22	Black	Bisexual	Negative
Dave	21	White	Gay	Negative
Rodrigo	26	Latino	Gay	Negative
Brett	21	White	Gay	Negative
Colin	20	White	Unsure/Questioning	Negative
Hector	26	Latino	Gay	Positive
Randall	27	Black	Gay	Negative
Tyrell	26	Black	Bisexual	Positive
D’andre	24	Black	Bisexual	Negative
Louis	27	Black	Gay	Positive
Terell	28	Black	Gay	Positive
Chris	26	Black	Gay	Negative
Miguel	25	Latino	Gay	Negative
Jerome	20	Black	Gay	Positive
Joey		Latino	Gay	Negative
Brad	25	White	Gay	Negative
Luke	20	White	Queer	Negative
Michael	22	Black	Bisexual	Negative
James	21	White	Gay	Negative
Dustin	24	White	Gay	Negative
Danny	18	Latino	Gay	Negative

Data Collection

The systematic approach to grounded theory (Corbin & Strauss, 2014) was utilized to iteratively collect and analyze interview data using the constant comparative method, and theoretical sampling was used to aid theory generation (Corbin & Strauss, 2014). Given the role of context in people’s experiences of their identities and entrenched patterns of racial segregation and economic inequality in Chicago (U.S. Census Bureau, 2019), participants were primarily sampled based on where they lived to ensure representation from a range of neighborhoods.

Interviews began by asking participants open-ended questions about where they spend time socially and how they meet potential sexual and/or romantic partners, including experiences with social networking apps. Participants were directly asked about their experiences of their race/ethnicity and their sexual orientation in both social spaces and on apps. Next, participants were presented with a series of data visualizations illustrating patterns in the places where parent study participants met their sexual partners and asked how these related to their experiences. For example, one image showed the specific social networking apps where White, Black, and Latino participants met their sex partners; another showed the neighborhoods of the bars/clubs where White, Black, and Latino participants met partners. Finally, participants were shown sociograms created using network data from the longitudinal study (for additional detail, see Hogan et al., 2016) and asked about their experiences of these relationships.

Member checking of the protocol (Creswell & Miller, 2000) was completed through feedback from the parent study Community Advisory Board and pilot testing with three initial participants prior to use with the remaining 30 participants. All interviews were conducted as one-time, in-person visits by the first author between May and December 2017. Given that the interview asked about potentially sensitive topics and that the first author’s identities (discussed below) diverged from many participants, a brief feedback form was used to anonymously assess participants’ experiences on two 1 to 5 scales. Participants reported high comfort during the interview (M = 4.8) and accuracy of their responses (M = 4.9). Qualitative responses described their experiences of the interviewer as comforting, welcoming, and nonjudgmental, and of the interview as interesting, enjoyable, and thought-provoking. Interviews ranged from 37 minutes to 82 minutes (M = 59). Participants were compensated with $30 cash. Interviews were audio recorded and transcribed by the PI and study RAs. Identifying information was removed during transcription, pseudonyms were used, and recordings were deleted following transcription.

Researcher Positionality and Reflexivity

The first author identifies as a White queer nonbinary person, the second identifies as a White cisgender butch lesbian, and the last author identifies as a White biracial genderqueer woman. The first two authors were doctoral students in clinical-community psychology at the time of the study, and both moved to Chicago temporarily to pursue these degrees. All authors have lived in and are most familiar with either majority-White neighborhoods on Chicago’s North Side or majority-Latinx communities west of Chicago. Authors are limited in our personal experience and knowledge of sexual minority men’s communities in Chicago, particularly on the South and West Sides. Further, Whiteness insulates us from the mundane, insidious traumatic stress of racism as it manifests both within and outside of LGBTQ+ spaces and communities.

As clinical-community and counseling psychologists, we value diversity and social justice, and our research is guided by an ecological approach that grounds individual experiences within broader community and societal contexts. Given that we strove to adopt a feminist and constructivist framework in data collection and analysis, we used several methods to clarify our positionality in relation to study findings. Prior to conducting any interviews, researchers met to identify sensitizing concepts, or ideas, thoughts, and interests they had regarding the topic of study (Rasmussen et al., 2016). These provided a starting point for inquiry and guided the interview protocol; however, we also worked to maintain openness beyond these sensitizing concepts, such as including open-ended, general questions and modifying the protocol as analysis developed. We maintained reflexivity by discussing biases prior to data collection and analysis, journaling, and documenting team discussions (Rasmussen et al., 2016).

Data Analysis

The first and second authors independently coded the transcripts using Dedoose (Version 7.0.23; 2016) and regularly met to discuss this process and analyze data. Several phases of coding were used to build concepts, categories, and ultimately a theory from the data (Corbin & Strauss, 2014). Interviews were first open coded to summarize segments of text into concepts, then concepts were grouped into higher-order categories representing phenomena, or the important ideas from the data. The first and second authors reviewed and refined categories to identify core phenomena relevant to study aims and used open coding to further develop category properties and dimensions. This resulted in a codebook with descriptions and examples. The first and second authors then coded all responses. The mean Cohen’s Kappa was .80, indicating good inter-coder agreement, and disagreements were resolved through consensus.

Consistent with the paradigm model (Corbin & Strauss, 2014), the first and second authors then used selective coding to identify conditions, actions/interactions, and consequences associated with these categories. This process continued until theoretical saturation was reached (i.e., no new relevant data emerged, the categories and their properties and dimensions were well developed and showed variation, and relationships among categories were well established). As part of the review process, authors revised the coding structure by dividing one category into two categories and identifying additional concepts. We then recoded relevant categories using this revised structure, audited each other’s coding, and resolved any disagreements through discussion until consensus was reached.

Results

Consistent with this study’s grounded theory approach (Corbin & Strauss, 2014), results were organized in a hierarchical fashion. The current study focuses on a cluster of four categories related to participants’ experiences of their intersectional identities (race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender expression, and body image); these categories could contain multiple concepts. The following language is used to describe the number of participants who contributed to categories and concepts: all denotes 33 interviewees, most denotes 26–32, many indicates 16–25, some indicates 6–15, and few signifies five or fewer. For concepts described with respect to specific racial/ethnic groups, the following language is used: all denotes 11 interviewees, most denotes 8–10, many indicates 5–7, some indicates 3–4, and few signifies 1–2. A summary of categories and concepts, including counts by race/ethnicity, is provided in Table 1.

Racism Manifests in Context- and Sexual Minority-Specific Ways

All participants described ways in which their racial/ethnic identities shaped their affiliations with and experiences within settings, including where they spent time, how they presented or behaved, the responses they received, and their internal experiences. As the concepts in this category illustrate, many highlighted context- and sexual minority-specific forms of racism. Participants reported that “every neighborhood is different” (n = 26) with respect to race, and their experiences varied based on their intersecting identities, how they presented themselves (e.g., clothing, speech, and mannerisms), where they were, and who they were with. Chris (Black, gay) noted he dresses in gender non-conforming ways, which gives the appearance that he:

…can possibly come from a different class. That puts me in danger when I go to predominantly Black neighborhoods and Hispanic neighborhoods. […] Of course, it’s like vice versa […] if I just seem like I came from the neighborhoods I was just talking about, and I’m somewhere - Lakeview or something like that, I would get treated the same way. […] I be feeling out of place everywhere. Takes me like 40 minutes to look for an outfit every day cause I have to think about the buses and the trains that I’m getting on and the community that I’m going to. You know, sometimes I bring a shirt like, a button up shirt or something just to like throw on. And it’s like a daily routine, so.

In addition to identifying how his experience is shaped by the clothes he wears (which he incorporated into context-specific self-presentation as part of his daily routine), Chris identified how it is shaped by who he is with. He described how he largely has friendly interactions with staff at a store in a majority-White neighborhood, but noticed a marked difference when he came into the store several times with a group of Black friends (including curt interactions, heightened surveillance, and being asked to keep his merchandise in clear view). Overall, participants identified a number of ways in which their experiences of race/ethnicity varied across contexts.

Some participants (n = 12), including some Black participants (n = 4), reported hypervigilance towards Black men, particularly in majority-White neighborhoods. This included nonverbal signals like stiffening muscles, staring or visually surveilling participants, lack of dialogue, and physical avoidance. Michael (Black, bisexual) described this experience: “Even if I don’t know what neighborhood I’m in, I can tell if I’m in a predominantly White neighborhood. Like just from when you’re driving and you looking at the way that people look at you. […] people will be staring all in the car and everything.” Participants noted hypervigilance was reduced if they were read as queer; for example, Cesar (Black/Latino, gay) said:

I can’t describe it, it’s just this uncomfortable feeling sometimes, like you walk into the neighborhoods like somebody’s watching you, where you going, all this kind of stuff […] When I’m in those neighborhoods, [my sexual orientation is] the only reason why I’m accepted. When they know, like if I’m flamboyant in my walk through the neighborhood it’s different than if I walk through masculine. It’s different […] versus when I go in looking more like a man, walking, not talking, not flamboyant or whatever. Then they’re like - let me cross the street cause you’re right here.

Of note, over half (n = 6) of Black participants spontaneously identified their experiences were shaped by policing, including racial profiling and aggressive police responses (particularly in majority-Black neighborhoods); no White or Latino participants reported this theme. Overall, these experiences of hypervigilance from others characterized how Black participants experienced their race/ethnicity in different neighborhoods around the city.

Some participants (n = 13), including most White participants (n = 9), reported Whiteness as unremarkable, noting White sexual minority men are rarely impacted by race and often spend time in majority-White spaces where this unawareness goes unchallenged. Brad (White, gay) spoke about how he feels comfortable wherever he is, but omitted discussion of race/ethnicity:

I feel fine around Lakeview, well, I feel fine around everywhere. […] I have an open face. I have an open gaze. I’m not, I want to say hi to everyone and ask how their day is […] I’m never afraid, really, because as long as you can smile and say, “Hello” and “How are you,” and I have no ill desire for anyone ever around me. And I know that some people walk around with that literally strapped on their face […] I just breathe happy. I’m just a good human. I try to just be a nice citizen.

Brad identified some potential awareness of the impact of race – his comment that “some people walk around with that literally strapped on their face” was followed by a story about witnessing several White women treat a Black homeless man in a dismissive fashion. However, overall he discussed his own racial identity very little, even when directly asked about his experience of race/ethnicity. Further, race/ethnicity seemed to play very little role in shaping where he spent time. For example, he described frequenting a particular bar because he experiences it as “well-rounded,” which he described as “all ages, all genders, all non-gender conforming people, and families, because they have food and a bar;” this description omits any mention of race/ethnicity. In general, these responses reflected a lack of consideration of race/ethnicity.

For other participants, experiencing Whiteness as unremarkable reflected a conscious awareness of this dynamic as an aspect of White privilege. For example, Jacob (White, gay) said:

I mean like White male privilege is just, it’s very rare that I’ll actually be sort of aware of it […] that I’ll ever feel sort of out of place in any of these places. I mean other than age, I mean there are definitely times where I feel like oh they know that I shouldn’t be here. But other than that […] I feel like I could probably slip in anywhere in terms of race or gender, obviously gender. I never really feel out of place […] [In North Halsted] I would be kind of invisible, floating around, never felt like there was a spotlight on me.

Jacob’s experience of his Whiteness as unremarkable was related to his easy experiences with inclusion and belonging in different spaces in the city, including North Halsted (Chicago’s official LGBTQ+ neighborhood). Overall, whether it reflected lack of consideration or awareness of privilege, Whiteness as unremarkable characterized the experiences of White sexual minority men, who tended to spend time only in majority-White neighborhoods.

Many participants reported experiencing and observing a hierarchy of sexual desirability (n = 21), particularly on social networking apps, where White and Latino partners were viewed as more desirable and Black partners were viewed as less desirable. A number described this in terms of “sexual preferences,” including instances where people on apps will put up language on their profile such as, “No Blacks, No Hispanics” or “White guys only.” Luke (White, queer) described how this shaped his experience on apps: “I remember I was talking to somebody once, and they were like upset because they had somehow gotten into my Grindr profile and they were like, ‘The people who hit you up were much more attractive than the people who hit me up, and I don’t think you’re like actually that much more attractive than I am. It’s probably just because you’re White.’ That probably holds some truth.” Joey (Latino, gay) also described this hierarchy: “I feel like race does play a role in the gay community. […] It’s happened to me. Like, where there have been some times when I did message a guy, and he’s like, ‘I’m sorry I’m not into Latinos or Mexicans.’” Hector (Latino, gay) described a similar perspective on anti-Black sexual racism:

Usually most Latinos will be looking for a White guy, cause that’s the norm for us to be with White people, cause Black people aren’t good. That’s something that happens within our community too. […] And I know that’s how it is with my friends, like it’s always a joke about that. It’s like, when you’re on Grindr, “Oh, the White guy, the guy that’s sexy.” And then he has a Black guy, which is like, “Oh, cause he’s got a big dick” and stuff, that’s why you meet him. But it’s like the White guy, “Oh, this could be my boyfriend.” And the Black guy is more of like a sexual encounter.

Hector’s narrative illustrates how the hierarchy of desirability also incorporates sexual stereotypes (such as penis size) and prejudicial beliefs about which types of partners are appropriate for sexual encounters versus dating relationships. Miguel (Latino, gay) identified he had spent a lot of time thinking about this hierarchy, which he explicitly named as sexual racism:

It’s a hard question to answer because when we think of things like sexual racism, when people don’t go for people of other races, or people wrap those up in language of preference, does that really get to the fact that, are we looking at how society defines beauty and desire? Are we looking at how people treat each other? Are we looking at how people view themselves? How does that all come together and say what does the gay community feel about people of color? […] And the more I look the more I learn that there’s new things to study, until I get to the point where in order to explain the gay community you have to explain the world.

Although most participants used the language of “sexual preferences,” Miguel explicitly named these patterns as sexual racism, highlighting their roots in broader systems of oppression.

Some participants (n = 15), including most Latino participants (n = 8), reported exotification of Latino men in which others expressed desire purely on the basis of their ethnicity or endorsed stereotypes in dating encounters, such as asking for salsa dancing instruction or assuming Spanish fluency. Joey (Latino, gay) described his experience: “It’s like, ‘Oh hey, I love that you’re Latino, I love your skin color.’ I’ve had a few people ask me how I got my skin color. I’m like, ‘I don’t know how to answer that!’ [Laughs] Genes?” Participants who shared this experience of men explicitly saying they wanted to sleep with them because they were Latino described associated emotional costs. Luis (Latino, gay) described his interactions on apps:

Terrible. Factioning, racializing, fetishizing. […] It’s like we’re all the sexual minority but then there’s also sort of this fetishization on racial identity. […] I’ve had experiences where I would ask a one-time guy, “So what made you meet up?” I’m always curious. And they’re like, “Well honestly it’s because you are young and Latino.” […] there’s always that possibility that you’re just someone’s object.

He went on to describe his efforts to cope with these experiences in his sexual relationships:

But at the same time, it is casual sex. So I am able to detach myself. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good or bad person, as long as I had my thing with them, and it was safe, I’m all right. Those opinions, those statements, it does affect me, but I’m going to make it not affect me, I’m just moving forward. Because these are people who are not in my life, these are not friends, these are not co-workers, these are not classmates, they don’t go to school, they don’t work with me. They’re just strangers. […] I feel comfortable hooking up with people of similar ethnicity or race. That’s one way that I’ve dealt with trying to ignore that fetishizing of one’s race, is just to be with someone who identifies as Hispanic or Latino. And that’s been positive for me. For the most part.

Luis’s experience highlights how widespread and impactful experiences of exotification were for Latino participants. Although some Black participants also experienced exotification, these experiences were secondary to their experiences of hypervigilance. By contrast, exotification was the primary way in which Latino participants experienced their race/ethnicity.

Finally, a few participants expressed colorblindness (n = 3), or the belief that race/ethnicity did not matter and did not shape their experiences. These narratives were distinct from experiences of Whiteness as unremarkable in that they reflected explicit statements that race/ethnicity did not shape people’s experiences rather than a lack of consideration of race or awareness of White privilege. For example, when asked about how his race and/or sexuality shaped his experiences in the city, Anthony (Black, gay) said:

It’s really not different. Well, cause I’m myself anywhere. So it’s really not any different. […] It’s really just sexual orientation. Because there’s a lot of people my race that’s LGBT. They express their selves in my community. It’s just other people where they come from, they think it’s different from where I am.

Other participants expressed the belief that race/ethnicity did not shape their experiences, but then identified specific impacts. For example, Lucas (Latino, gay) said, “I don’t think race has ever been an issue for me, in terms of appearance and being, like, me being afraid of being judged or discriminated against because of my appearance.” However, he went on to describe several experiences of discrimination that he perceived to be related to his Latino identity, including people responding awkwardly to his Mexican ID and being turned away when attempting to purchase cough medicine at a drugstore. Several Latino and Black participants both identified and denied or minimized the impact of race/ethnicity on their experiences.

Sexual Orientation Can Mean Feeling Safe and Seen or Threatened and Alone

All participants (n = 33) described ways sexual orientation shaped their experiences within settings. Responses addressed how sexual orientation shaped where participants chose to spend time, the responses they received from others, how they presented or behaved, and their internal experiences. Again, participants reported these experiences were context-dependent based on how they presented, where they were, and who they were with. Overall, experiences of sexual orientation centered on themes of safety, self-expression, and belongingness.

Many participants (n = 20), including most Black participants (n = 10), described how anti-gay prejudice threatens safety. Similar to their experiences of racism, participants described experiences of anti-gay prejudice and safety as neighborhood-specific. Randall, a Black gay man who lived in Austin (a majority-Black West Side neighborhood), described how these experiences varied between the majority-White West Loop and the majority-Black South Side:

West Loop area, excellent. It’s particularly, you know, kinda like, it’s accepting of it. But you know, you still have some areas that still need a lot of work. […] They’re very much homophobic. So, anybody like, “So what’s a good place on South Side to go for LGBT?” I tell them, “You know […] we have a few areas […] it depends on the area, it really depends on the area.” And do I recommend them? Yes. But my thing is, I don’t want to put them in harm’s way. […] I do not want to see anybody get gay bashed. Cause there’s been youth who has been in that area who got chased to the train station.

Similarly, Chris (Black, gay) described how even though LGBTQ resources may exist in majority-Black neighborhoods, people may not be able to use them because of concerns about visibility: “Cause sometimes stuff do exist, but you got fear of being outed, or you don’t have - you’re not on good terms with your own community. So you have to go to other places.” This reflects a broader trend where Black and Latino participants described variable experiences of sexual orientation in different neighborhoods, while White participants tended to spend time exclusively in majority-White North Side neighborhoods where they felt safe and affirmed.

Most participants identified that safety is a prerequisite for self-expression (n = 29): in settings where anti-gay prejudice and heterosexism were more prevalent, participants were careful about how they presented themselves and aware of others’ responses. For example, Louis (Black, gay) described how he altered his speech because others may perceive him as “talking White” or “talking gay,” then went on to describe how he also alters the way he walks:

And it’s not that oh I’m afraid or I’m scared. It’s like no, I’m just being smart. You know, if I can avoid a confrontation, I will avoid it. […] If I have to walk slower, or with my legs wider to put on some type of oomph when I walk, I’ll do it to avoid the drama. And I do it to avoid the drama. Now if I’m downtown or I’m up North, or anywhere where I feel safe, like in the suburbs, I’ll walk regularly. You know what I’m saying, and to some that might be runway, to others it might be, “Oh that’s just how he walks.” To others it might be gay, I don’t know. But where I feel safe is where I’m most comfortable at, so.

Louis’s experience highlights how anti-gay prejudice intersects with race/ethnicity to shape how participants expressed themselves in different spaces, with more Black and Latino participants reporting a constant need to monitor and adjust their behavior to fit in depending on the neighborhood they were in. Danny (Latino, gay) described a similar experience living in Pilsen: “I mean, Pilsen’s filled with Mexicans, so I feel comfortable there, but when it comes to who I like and stuff like that, they’re not really okay with it. So I can’t really express myself that way.” Black and Latino participants were also more likely to report spending time outside of the neighborhoods where they lived due to anti-gay prejudice.

In settings where anti-gay prejudice and heterosexism were less prevalent, including LGBTQ+ spaces, participants felt freer to express themselves through dress, mannerisms, and displays of affection. Many participants identified this as one of their favorite aspects of spending time in North Halsted. However, many participants also described ways in which LGBTQ+ community can signify connection or alienation (n = 25). For example, Max, a gay Latino participant who lived in Humboldt Park (a gentrifying West Side neighborhood that was historically majority-Latinx), described why he felt connected to North Halsted:

Halsted, that area, it’s just – it’s alive to my community, my type of people. […] It’s like people that I can talk to about stuff that others don’t understand, if you know what I mean by others. I can talk to certain people and joke around about certain things that I really know I can’t do out of the area.

Max specifically named that this was related to Halsted’s association with the LGBTQ+ community. However, other participants reported feeling alienated around LGBTQ+ community. For example, Miguel (Latino, gay) said he feels uncomfortable in gay bars that he experiences as judgmental, which he described as, “Mostly […] skinny White people and people who […] let you know that they don’t want to talk to you. Sort of just like this feeling of, if I don’t want to have sex with you, why are you even here?” For these participants, LGBTQ+ community spaces were characterized by feelings of alienation and disconnection rather than belonging.

Overall, the presence or absence of anti-gay prejudice in different contexts was the most salient aspect of how participants reported experiencing their sexual orientation, and participants linked safety to their ability to engage in self-expression. Safety, belonging, and freedom of expression were also important reasons participants sought out LGBTQ+ community. Black and Latino participants reported more complicated and varied experiences related to their sexual identities than White participants, who tended to report more uniformly affirmative experiences.

Gender Is a Matter of Self-Expression

In describing their experiences of sexual orientation, many participants included experiences related to gender expression (n = 18). Participants were not directly asked about gender; thus, this category is best understood as emerging from spontaneous references, and the extent to which gender expression and sexual orientation were linked may reflect how questions were asked. Responses highlight how gender is both expressed in clothing and physical features and performed in mannerisms. Further, responses highlight the connection between sexual orientation and gender expression: gender expansive expression increased participants’ visibility as sexual minority men, which in turn impacted their experiences of safety.

Overall, being read as more traditionally masculine was associated with greater perceived safety, in part due to decreased visibility as a sexual minority man. Terell (Black, gay) described how his experience depended on whether he was with others who were more visible:

If I’m by myself, I can go anywhere and I can pretty much get along with anybody and everybody. But, you know, some people that I hang with tend to be a little more flamboyant than me. And, not to say that it bothers me, but sometimes I feel more comfortable with being by myself versus being with this person that’s really flamboyant. […] I think sometimes some people ask for the attention versus you know, you’re just walking and you’re minding your own business. Some people will walk up and down the street and they’ll dance and you know, I’ve never been that type of person.

Although Terell was speaking to visibility as a sexual minority, he highlights how gendered mannerisms that do not perform traditional masculinity (e.g., “flamboyance”) are a central aspect of this visibility. Luke (White, queer) described a similar dynamic related to how he dresses:

It kind of just depends on where I’m at and other sorts of cultural differences other people may have that may influence their perception of what queerness is, or what makes somebody look or act queer. Just depends on where I’m at, who’s there. That’s super situational because I could be wearing a blazer and pants and people are thinking I’m going somewhere important or I could be in a tank top and cutoff short shorts and people will like, “Well, he’s around, he’s something,” so I mean, it just depends.

Luke’s juxtaposition of clothing associated with traditional masculine gender norms versus clothing that may read as “looking queer” highlights how gender expression shaped the visibility of sexual orientation (and the safety associated with masculinity) for many participants.

For participants who were more gender non-conforming, gender expression was experienced in more complicated ways than simply increasing their visibility as sexual minority men. Tyrell (Black, bisexual) described how even though he identifies as a cisgender male, his gender non-conforming presentation shapes how people respond to him:

Mostly I think people look at me because I have like abnormal features that doesn’t characterize me as like the gender I was born. […] I feel people staring at me and it’s like I wanna ask the question like what is that interests you about my face or like about my body? Or is it the way I talk, is it like the way I sat down, is it the way I walked? […] Sometimes it freaks me out because it’s just people staring […] I’ve had people tell me I look androgynous. I’ve had people tell me I look like a lesbian. It’s like, “No you just look like a girl, you should have been a girl.” I’m like, “No, I don’t want to be a girl.”

Tyrell went on to describe how these experiences dated back to childhood, such as his grandmother getting his hair cut because people often thought he was a girl. He also spoke about how he embodies both masculinity and femininity, which others sometimes found confusing:

I like to be passive and I like to exude my femininity, but at a certain point I like to exude the masculinity. I don’t believe that we are meant to be masculine or feminine. We’re meant to be either, or, or both. Like me, I’m just both, like I just happen to have high cheekbones and long eyelashes. […] I get more of a uncomfortability when it comes down to like me thinking or assuming that it’s mostly my gender that people question, or my sexual orientation that people question. Because sometimes people are iffy about if I’m straight or gay. I’ve also, because I am bisexual, I’ve been told, “Well you’re just confused.” Also been told I’m just greedy.

Tyrell went on to describe a range of reactions from others related to his gender expression and sexual orientation, including primary experiences of disgust or curiosity and less frequent empathic conjecture about the difficulties he might encounter. He also described difficulty interpreting when others’ staring reflected sexual interest, noting that he didn’t want to approach someone and “get punched in the face or something.” Tyrell’s experience embodying both masculinity and femininity highlights how gender expansive expression may be experienced in more salient, complex, and potentially adversarial ways than expression that simply increases the visibility of sexual minority identity. (In a similar vein, his experiences of anti-bisexual stigma highlight the interpersonal costs associated with deviating from dominant scripts about sexual minority male identity.) Overall, gendered self-expression that violated traditional masculinity norms was associated with increased visibility and decreased safety, and these experiences were even more complicated for participants who were more gender expansive or non-conforming.

Bodies Are Not Always Made to Fit In

Some participants (n = 12), including many White and Latino participants and few Black participants, described body image as an important aspect of their identities that shaped their experiences within settings. Participants were not asked about body image; thus, this category is best understood as emerging from spontaneous references. Participants described the impact of their experiences on social networking apps as well as in physical spaces like bars and clubs.

Participants identified pressures for sexual minority men to present as either muscular or thin, reflecting the visibility of bear and twink archetypes in sexual minority men’s communities. Dave (White, gay) described how these two ideals created restrictive norms around body image: “I feel like when you go to [North Halsted] there’s all the muscle guys and all the twinks, and there’s really not much in between. So I feel like people go to extremes to get into those two categories.” Miguel (Latino, gay) echoed how he sees these extremes in North Halsted bars:

If I go to a bar and I see all the bartenders, I can instantly get a feeling of who the bar owner thinks is hot. Cause it’s all very singular type of guy. It’s either scruffy, or super muscular, or you know, both. Or you know, sort of more of a twinky bartender crowd. It’s like when you see the staff, you see the type of people that the management thinks is worthy.

Miguel went on to describe how these norms impacted his self-esteem and sense of belonging, making him reluctant to talk to people or approach potential sex partners in bars for fear of rejection.

Miguel was not alone in describing the negative effects of body type norms. Several participants described internalizing ideal body stereotypes within the gay community, and described subsequent impacts on their self-esteem and eating behavior. Hector (Latino, gay) described how he internalized body image ideals as part of what it meant to be “the good gay, the perfect ideological gay.” He shared how “growing up in the gay community, back then I was like 125, always making sure I was the little, thin, kid” and judged others who did not meet these body image ideals. However, once he got older and gained 40 pounds, Hector found himself fearful and self-conscious that he was now receiving the same judgment from others. Javier (Latino, gay) shared similar experiences, and described how race/ethnicity and body image came together in his internalized stereotypes about what it meant to be gay:

Honestly the one thing that comes to mind is this idea of a common White gay guy. […] And I’m like I don’t fit that mold. And I remember I was always told by my whole family I’m trying to be White […] I’m trying to act White. And they were like, “You don’t gotta be that way.” And like why do they feel like I was trying to be White when I was, I felt like I was being myself. And I feel like it was about I had to fit the stereo - being gay, you have to be the stereotypical gay guy. […] Very fashionable, into like all the pop, and like Britney Spears and being very thin, tall, and like having money, all that stuff. I just don’t fit into any of that. […] I remember, before I lost a lot of weight, I was always very chubby and it just grew into my teenage years. And then something just snapped in me and I lost all this weight and I went down a lot and I was very thin, and even then I didn’t feel good about myself. I feel like I did it for all the wrong reasons. I saw myself getting thin but I didn’t feel good about myself. […] I got all this attention because I lost it pretty quick, cause I really worked out. And I don’t know why I got more socially acceptable maybe? In a way it kind of did. I got all this attention from people I worked with […] but it was all the wrong attention in a way. Like I got all these compliments, every day I would get a compliment, like oh how did you do it you look so good. And I remember I would get hit on a lot, in apps, in person. […] I just feel like I could never fit the mold, no matter how skinny I get, no matter how much money I get, I will never really be able to fit that mold people talk about. Which kind of made me feel like, “Oh well forget that mold, I’ll try to be myself.”

Javier was not alone in changing his behavior in order to lose weight and more closely approximate internalized body image ideals. Rodrigo (Latino, gay) described how his weight loss improved his confidence and increased his acceptance from potential sex partners on social networking apps. He went on to describe how body image ideals continued to shape his perceptions of potential sex partners and the places he might go to meet them:

The gay community is very - physically, aesthetically, they want to be pleasing. As do I. I mean, who doesn’t, right? But [the gym is] a place where people actually go to do that. […] I think I would actually go to the gym first to find someone that I’m physically, sexually attracted to, rather than go to a restaurant.

In contrast to Hector and Javier, whose experiences not meeting body image ideals led them to question these ideals, Rodrigo’s comments illustrate how meeting body image ideals can reinforce them.

Together, these narratives reflect the ways that body image, race/ethnicity, sexuality, and gender come together to shape the experiences of men. Specific norms and scripts about the kinds of bodies that are viewed as desirable in some sexual minority men’s communities exist (e.g., bear, twink). Participants’ narratives illustrate how sexual minority men whose intersecting identities and/or body type do not fit these dominant representations often receive the message they are less desirable or not welcome in some sexual minority men’s communities at all.

Discussion

As these narratives illustrate, sexual minority men’s experiences of their intersecting identities were rich and complex. Integrating intersectionality, minority stress, and social ecological theories provided an important set of tools for making sense of this complexity. Intersectionality theory has long articulated how our multiple identities and their relationships to power shape our experiences; these pervasive forces were evident in participants’ experiences of their race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender expression, and body image. Consistent with intersectionality and minority stress theories, participants described invisibility or privilege related to dominant identities (e.g., White, traditionally masculine) and pervasive stress related to marginalized identities (e.g., Black or Latino, gender non-conforming, larger body size). Participants also named unique forms of minority stress at the intersection of specific identities. For example, Black and Latino participants reported both general and sexual-minority specific experiences of racism (including sexual racism) alongside sexual minority stress, while White participants described insulation from both racial and sexual minority stress. Consistent with social ecological theory, participants’ experiences of their identities and associated minority stress unfolded through physical presentation (i.e., embodied), specific contexts (i.e., situated), and interpersonal experiences (i.e., co-constructed). Each of these aspects is discussed below.

First, participants highlighted how their intersecting identities were embodied: their experiences varied based on their physical presentation, including both more stable traits (e.g., skin color, body type, physical features) as well as aspects they modified as a form of self-expression (e.g., clothing, speech, mannerisms). Consistent with intersectionality theory, participants reported greater awareness of and negotiation around embodied marginalized identities. For example, traditionally masculine participants identified privileges associated with their gender expression, such as freedom from discrimination or discomfort around their sexuality and increased sexual desirability, particularly on social networking apps. By contrast, gender nonconforming participants were more likely to experience discrimination and minority stress and reported lower desirability on apps. This is consistent with the literature demonstrating that hypervisibility of gender nonconforming gay and bisexual men places them at higher risk of discrimination and distress within and outside of LGBTQ+ spaces (Bowleg, 2013; Reisen et al., 2013).

Several participants spoke about embodiment at the intersection of racial/ethnic identity, sexual orientation, and body image, perceiving the “ideal gay guy” as thin or muscular and White, and describing a specific form of minority stress related to not meeting this stereotypic ideal. Findings are consistent with research documenting greater body image concerns among sexual minority men, which are often bound up with devaluation of more feminine or gender non-conforming expressions (Brennan et al., 2013; Filice et al., 2019; Halkitis et al., 2004; Kimmel & Mahalik, 2005; Tiggemann et al., 2007). Body image is also interconnected with race/ethnicity, as stressors and stereotypes related to masculinity, fitness, and attractiveness differentially affect Black and Latino gay and bisexual men (Bowleg, 2013; Brennan et al., 2013; Calabrese et al., 2018) and dominant body image models (e.g., twink, bear) are bound up in both Whiteness and hegemonic masculinity (Hennen, 2005; Green, 2011).

Participants (especially Black and Latino participants) described monitoring embodied aspects of their physical presentation, such as dress or mannerisms, to conceal or minimize their minority identities in order to avoid associated experiences of minority stress. Consistent with social ecological theory, these strategies were context-dependent. In a profound example of this, Chris (Black, gay) shared that he spends a significant amount of time planning his outfits to minimize adverse experiences related to his gender expression and/or Blackness, depending on the neighborhood context. Although these complex negotiations of self-presentation should be understood as a resilience strategy akin to code switching (Ghabrial, 2017), it is also important to highlight the significant time, energy, logistical planning, and emotional labor they require and to note that these burdens are disproportionately placed on participants with multiple marginalized identities.

Second, participants highlighted how experiences of their intersectional identities were situated within specific settings, including neighborhoods and social networking apps. Consistent with previous research (Duncan, Kapadia, et al., 2014), Black and Latino participants reported spending time across a number of different neighbuorhoods in which they lived, worked, studied, and socialized. These patterns of Black and Latino bridging and White insularity were linked to a number of interpersonal (e.g., anti-gay prejudice, inclusion and belonging) and structural (e.g., physical safety, concentration of LGBTQ+ and community resources) influences discussed in greater detail elsewhere (McConnell, 2018). Some White participants identified this as a form of White privilege, as they seldom felt a need to venture out of majority-White neighborhoods where they largely felt comfortable around their sexuality and perceived their race/ethnicity as unremarkable; others were simply unaware. Black and Latino participants reported being more acutely aware of their race/ethnicity in majority-White neighborhoods, where they experienced greater racial/ethnic minority stress, and more acutely aware of their sexual orientation and gender expression in majority-Black or Latino neighborhoods, where they experienced greater sexual minority stress. Black participants more frequently experienced hypervigilance from others (a more general form of racial/ethnic minority stress), and Latino participants more frequently experienced exotification (a form of minority stress tied to both race/ethnicity and sexual orientation).

Integrating intersectionality, minority stress, and social ecological theories, we suggest it may be helpful to understand intersectionality as both an individual- and setting-level characteristic. Research has demonstrated how settings, including those focused on a shared marginalized group membership, are often organized around a particular configuration of intersectional identities at the setting-level. This setting-level intersectionality shapes the extent to which people experience connection and affirmation versus invisibility and minority stress within these spaces, and thus has significant implications for how people negotiate their identities within these settings (McConnell, Todd, et al., 2016). Thus, LGBTQ+ spaces may actually be explicitly or implicitly constructed and maintained primarily for members who hold certain privileges, such as Whiteness or maleness (Brennan et al., 2013; Nero, 2014; Parmenter et al., 2020). As participants noted, a setting’s dominant intersectional identities can be communicated in both overt (e.g., sexual racism in dating apps, racial profiling and discrimination in venues) and covert (e.g., the race/ethnicity and body type of bartenders, presumed patrons reflected in a store’s merchandise) ways. These setting-level characteristics can also be understood as sources of minority stress, even in the absence of specific invalidating or hostile interactions.

North Halsted (formerly Boystown), Chicago’s official LGBTQ+ neighborhood, was highlighted as an especially important context related to participants’ racial/ethnic and sexual identities. North Halsted is located in Lakeview, a majority-White neighborhood on the North Side, and participants described it as dominated by White cisgender men. For some Black and Latino participants, this was associated with experiences of racial/ethnic minority stress in North Halsted, which in turn led them to feel less welcome and comfortable there. Despite these negative experiences, many Black and Latino participants still reported being drawn to North Halsted given anti-gay prejudice and restricted expression of sexuality in the neighborhoods where they lived. This pattern of complicated belonging involved some aspects of their identities being affirmed while others were exposed to greater minority stress characterized Black and Latino participants’ experiences across nearly all of the settings (bars/clubs, neighborhoods, and apps) of which they were a part. This finding fits with previous research, which has documented how racism in LGBTQ+ communities and heterosexism in racial/ethnic communities can lead to experiences of multiple minority stress for LGBTQ+ people of color (Balsam et al., 2011; Bowleg, 2013; Ghabrial, 2017; McConnell et al., 2018; Rostosky et al., 2007). Overall, participants’ experiences were highly context dependent; consistent with social ecological theory, this underscores the need to attend to setting-level characteristics in how people experience their intersectional identities and associated forms of minority stress.

Third, participants highlighted how their intersectional identities were co-constructed through interpersonal interactions in various settings, which also profoundly shaped their experiences of minority stress. For example, Cesar (Black/Latino, gay) discussed being perceived as a threat in majority-White neighborhoods when perceived as a masculine Black man, with White people avoiding eye contact, stiffening body posture, and physical avoidance like crossing the street. He noted interpersonal responses shifted when he was read as queer in ways that reflected greater openness, relaxation, and friendly interest. By contrast, Louis (Black, gay) described increasing masculine mannerisms and adjusting speech in majority-Black neighborhoods to avoid conflict or confrontation on the basis of his sexual orientation. Other Black and Latino participants endorsed concerns related to physical safety around sexuality- and gender-related self-presentation in the neighborhoods where they lived, which also reflect interpersonal interactions that communicate messages around safety and belonging.

These experiences highlight how participants receive messages about their embodied identities that are reflected back to them through others’ responses. However, this relational communication is not passive or unidirectional: participants actively interpret these responses (e.g., reading lack of eye contact as threat perception) and engage in selective self-presentation to shift these interpersonal interactions in desired ways (e.g., increasing or decreasing the visibility of a sexual minority identity to facilitate safety and connection with others). These interpersonal exchanges highlight how participants’ experiences of their intersectional identities and associated minority stress are relationally co-constructed, and further underscore the importance of foregrounding an emphasis on how relationships both create and mediate experiences of settings in social ecological theory (Neal & Neal, 2013).

These interpersonal aspects of identity and minority stress are highlighted in research on sexual orientation rejection sensitivity, which has been proposed as a guiding framework for understanding sexual minority mental health (Feinstein, 2019). Rejection sensitivity includes both a person’s expectations of the likelihood of rejection as well as their subjective anxiety or distress about experiencing rejection. Past experiences of rejection can sensitize people such that they more readily perceive rejection and/or find it distressing in the future, which can in turn lead to behaviors attempting to protect against rejection (Feinstein, 2019; Pachankis et al., 2008). Research has demonstrated that rejection sensitivity mediates the relationship between discrimination and negative mental health outcomes. The transactional nature of rejection sensitivity is especially important for forms of minority stress that are more subtle and covert, where perception and interpretation may play a bigger role (Feinstein, 2019). The rejection sensitivity framework highlights the importance of understanding how people’s expectations, interpretations, and reactions shape their experiences of their identities in interpersonal interactions. Findings from the current study also underscore this co-constructed quality, as participants’ past experiences of both affirmation and minority stress shaped their expectations about interpersonal interactions in specific settings. Study findings also have implications for the sexual orientation rejection sensitivity framework as they highlight how these relational exchanges are informed by people’s intersectional identities (notably race/ethnicity and gender expression), which are embodied in particular ways and located in specific contexts with their own dominant setting-level identities.

Sexual racism on social networking apps provides one example of how participants’ experiences of their intersectional identities and associated forms of minority stress are simultaneously embodied, situated, and co-constructed. Participants of all races/ethnicities reported a hierarchy of desirability in gay and bisexual men’s communities, particularly on apps, such that White and Latino men are viewed as more sexually desirable while Black men are viewed as less desirable. This finding is consistent with research documenting the prevalence of sexual racism, specifically anti-Black sexual racism, in gay and bisexual men’s communities (Díaz et al., 2001; Newcomb et al., 2015; Paul et al., 2010; Phillips et al., 2016; Wilson et al., 2009). These race-based sexual stereotypes include the belief that Latino men are more hot or passionate and that Black men are more dominant or hypermasculine (Brennan et al., 2013; Calabrese et al., 2018; Newcomb et al., 2015; Wilson et al., 2009). Consistent with previous research, participants identified these racialized sexual stereotypes were more overt on apps than through in-person interactions, which may increase their negative psychological impact for racial/ethnic minority men (Paul et al., 2010; Phillips et al., 2016). These experiences were embodied in that they were based on participants’ physical presentations in their app profiles, situated within the specific context of apps that have their own dominant setting-level identities (e.g., Grindr as primarily White and Jack’d as primarily Black; McConnell, 2018), and co-constructed through interpersonal exchanges that include processes of both meaning making and decision making about selective self-presentation.

Although participants overwhelmingly articulated ways their intersectional identities were associated with their experiences of minority stress, some denied that race/ethnicity and/or sexuality played a significant role in shaping their experiences. For example, some said people are welcoming of diversity and friendly to all types of people in North Halsted, which was part of why they enjoyed spending time there. Others generally minimized the impact identity had on their experiences (noting that they felt the same way everywhere they went) or on how they treated others (noting that they treated everyone similarly). These statements may reflect the pervasiveness of color-blind racial ideology in U.S. society, which can impact both White and racial/ethnic minority people (Neville et al., 2013; Neville et al., 2005). People may also hold dialectical tension and contradiction in their beliefs about race, such that they move along a spectrum of beliefs ranging from “colorblindness” and minimization of race to awareness of racial identity and acknowledging the impact of race (Todd & Abrams, 2011). For example, some participants denied that their identities shaped their experiences, but went on to identify specific pervasive impacts. These seemingly contradictory statements can be understood as complex negotiations of dialectical tension (Todd & Abrams, 2011), perhaps reflecting a strategy of coping with the negative psychological impacts of intersecting racism and heterosexism.

Overall, study findings illustrate the value of integrating intersectionality, minority stress, and social ecological theories. This study focused on the intersection of race/ethnicity and sexual orientation; participants also highlighted the role of body image and gender expression. These influences were pervasive and cross-cutting, such that they shaped participants’ experiences at multiple levels and in multiple settings, including both in-person and app-based interactions.

Limitations

Though this study addressed gaps in the literature, there are some limitations. This project examined three specific ethnic/racial groups in depth based on the demographics of the City of Chicago, and we are unable to make conclusions about racial/ethnic groups that were not included in this analysis, such as Asian men. The majority of the participants in this study also identified as gay (27 out of 33), meaning these findings may be more representative of monosexual gay men than plurisexual (e.g., bisexual, pansexual, queer) sexual minority men. This is particularly important given evidence documenting differences in the experiences of monosexual and plurisexual sexual minority men, including specific forms of plurisexual minority stress and differences between plurisexual groups (Dyar et al., 2019; Katz-Wise et al., 2017; Mitchell et al., 2015). Given our primary focus on the intersection of race/ethnicity and sexual orientation, the protocol did not include specific questions about body image or gender expression. Thus, the discussion of body image and gender expression may not fully reflect participants’ experiences. Further, we used theoretical sampling to interview participants from different neighborhoods, including those identified as important by study participants. However, participants were recruited from an ongoing longitudinal study, and this group may differ from the larger population in Chicago. For example, familiarity with research may mean these participants understand their experiences in unique ways. Finally, although our decision to focus on young sexual minority cisgender men allowed us to identify and explore experiences specific to these communities, it also meant that we excluded gender minorities and sexual minority people who were not cisgender men; these populations are already under-represented in research.

Future Research Directions

The findings from the current study illustrate the value of integrating intersectionality, minority stress, and social ecological theories to understand how experiences of identity operate in complex, multilevel, and context-specific ways. The past several decades have been crucial for developing bodies of research that support each of these theoretical frameworks; the task for future research is to continue to find ways of strengthening and integrating them. Although intersectionality theory was never intended to focus on the individual level, research (particularly in psychology) has had a tendency to use it as a framework for describing attributes of individuals. Future research can continue to consider intersectionality in multilevel and context-specific ways, such as by focusing on intersectionality as a setting-level characteristic and naming systems of oppression (e.g., racism) rather than attributes of individual people (e.g., race) as drivers of health disparities. To this end, qualitative and mixed methods may be especially useful, as they provide tools for capturing the richness and complexity of people’s experiences while also identifying key patterns and potential multilevel mechanisms. We found pairing network, geospatial, and data visualization approaches with qualitative interviews to be particularly useful in the parent study (McConnell, 2018). By focusing on both shared (e.g., sexual and gender identity) and nonshared (e.g., racial/ethnic identity) aspects of participants’ identities, we were able to highlight patterns in participants’ experiences of both overall and within-community minority stress. For example, although all participants named that anti-gay prejudice and heterosexism shaped their experiences of settings, Black and Latino participants were more likely to report these experiences in their residential neighborhoods, alongside also experiencing racism in majority-White neighborhoods and LGBTQ spaces. Consistent with recommendations for intersectional research (e.g., Parent et al., 2013; Remedios & Snyder, 2015), future research should advance understanding of experiences at the intersection of particular identities and communities. Finally, there is a comparative lack of research on the experiences of sexual and gender minority people of color, and research underscores the detrimental impacts of multiple minority stress (Balsam et al., 2011; Bowleg, 2013; Ghabrial, 2017; McConnell et al., 2018; Rostosky et al., 2007). In addition to continuing to explore these experiences of marginalization, future research should also explore experiences of positive intersectionality (Ghabrial, 2017) and intersectional resilience among sexual and gender minority people of color.

Practice Implications

For therapists and other clinical practitioners, the current study’s findings highlight the importance of attending to clients’ intersectional identities, particularly with respect to the context-dependent negotiations performed by many sexual minority people of color. As noted above, it is important to balance awareness of multiple minority stress with appreciation of intersectional resilience. To this end, practitioners can be guided by feminist therapy (Brown, 2018), which underscores the importance of working collaboratively with clients to name and challenge systems of oppression from a stance of empowerment and liberation. Given the context-specific nature of participants’ experiences, clinicians may also find it helpful to integrate a thorough assessment of the relationships, places, and communities that are important to their clients, including a focus on both contexts that contribute to minority stress and those that support their resilience.

For activists, advocates, and policymakers, the current study’s findings reinforce the importance of how systems of oppression operate in complex, multilevel ways and engaging in change efforts that are similarly multilevel. Neighborhood played a salient role in participants’ experiences of both racism and sexual minority stress (including basic experiences of safety). Black and Latino sexual minority men were often bridging multiple environments and engaging in complex identity-negotiation strategies to minimize their experiences of both racial and sexual minority stress and to access resources that supported their resilience, while White sexual minority men largely spent time in neighborhoods that insulated them from these experiences. This pattern highlights the ongoing central role of racial segregation and resource inequality in structuring people’s daily lived experiences in ways that maintain systems of oppression, particularly White supremacy. Specific targets for change might include investment in resources (including LGBTQ+ specific resources) in communities of color, neighborhood desegregation, and access to affordable housing. Further, the study’s findings about the negative impacts of racist policing on Black participants underscore the importance of change efforts emphasized by the Black Lives Matter movement, such as addressing police brutality and investing in alternatives to policing.

Conclusion

Intersectionality theory proposes that we cannot understand the various parts of ourselves outside of their relationships with each other and with broader systems of power. Minority stress theory emphasizes that these identities are associated with unique and chronic experiences of stress, which are in turn associated with population-based health disparities. Social ecological theory reminds us that these structures of power and inequity influence health and wellbeing through specific settings and relationships, which in turn have their own norms and characteristics. Together, these frameworks offer valuable insights for understanding the experiences of diverse sexual and gender minority populations. As our participants so beautifully articulated, their experiences of identity and minority stress were physically embodied, situated in particular settings, and co-constructed through their relationships with others. These experiences were far more complicated for some participants than others: White sexual minority men reported more uniform and effortless experiences of belonging and affirmation, Latino sexual minority men reported salient experiences of sexual racism, and Black sexual minority men reported sexual racism alongside hypervigilant reactions from others and concerns about physical safety, including racial profiling and police violence.

Table 2.

Frequency of Categories and Concepts by Race/Ethnicity

Category	Concept	Black	Latino	White	Total
Racism Manifests in Context- and Sexual Minority-Specific Ways		11	11	11	33
	Every neighborhood is different	8	10	8	26
	Hypervigilance towards Black men	4	6	2	12
	Whiteness as unremarkable	3	1	9	13
	Hierarchy of sexual desirability	5	7	9	21
	Exotification of Latino men	3	8	4	15
	Colorblindness	2	1	1	4
Sexual Orientation Can Mean Feeling Safe and Seen or Threatened and Alone		11	11	11	33
	Anti-gay prejudice threatens safety	10	5	5	20
	Safety is a prerequisite for self-expression	10	8	11	29
	LGBTQ+ community can signify connection or alienation	7	8	10	25
Gender Is a Matter of Self-Expression		7	5	6	18
Bodies Are Not Always Made to Fit In		2	5	5	12

Note: Counts reflect participants’ discussion of both their own and others’ experiences, including interpretation of the visualizations or observation of others; thus, they should not be interpreted to reflect participants’ direct personal experiences with a particular concept.