18 months ago my colleague Dr
Kirsten Besemer blogged on here about a surprise finding from some work we
had done for the EHRC in Scotland – that a disproportionate number of
non-heterosexual people lived in the most deprived neighbourhoods in Scotland. We’ve
since written this up as a journal
article now published in Housing
Theory and Society.
In writing up the paper we set the findings in the broader
gentrification literature. As Kirsten wrote about back in 2012, this was
because the narrative of LGBT households as gentrification pioneers is dominant.
Growing up, one of the formative events in my emerging sexuality was watching
the Channel 4 drama Queer as Folk.
Aiden Gillen’s character Stuart typified this narrative – he lived in a swanky
loft apartment in central Manchester, in a rapidly gentrifying neighbourhood,
paid for through his successful career, despite the homophobia he had experienced
in his life. Similarly, in a lot of American scholarship on the creative class,
LGBT households are synonymous with the creative class. If you’re a gay man,
you’re rich and live in a loft apartment.
Reading through the literature on gentrification and LGBT
residential location choice that I did for this paper, it was surprising how
much this narrative has not been troubled – even though Loretta Lees in this article from 2000(£)
argued that gentrification scholarship needed a much greater focus on issues of
gender, ethnicity and sexual identity as well as class. Apologies if I did miss
out on particular literature, but the stuff that came up in my literature
search was predominantly accepting of the gay gentrification narrative.
There are two issues with this. Firstly, it does smack of a
growing heteronormativity that has been particularly noticeable in the debates
around equal marriage. Gay men are now just seen as men, in fact they’re almost
seen as uber-men as they aren’t burdened with childcare, and just want to
settle down with their husband in a very tastefully decorated house. This
ignores the “little things” that Panti
Bliss talks so evocatively about that frame how non-heterosexual people
experience the world. Yes, we have seen the declining significance of
homophobia in our society, but as a non-heterosexual you still find yourself censoring
your behaviour; or feel that lump of fear in your throat when you reveal the
gender of your partner to a relative stranger. To presume that non-straight
households are always gentrification pioneers, or increasingly second-wave
gentrifiers, is to ignore diversity within the non-straight population, and
impose a heteronormativity upon non-heterosexual people. If data on sexual
orientation at a neighbourhood level is available for other countries, I would
strongly encourage others to repeat our analysis to see if this is a Scottish
phenomenon, or a broader one.
The second issue is one of the policy implications of
recognising that the lives of non-heterosexual people might be difficult and
therefore they find themselves living in socially-rented housing in deprived
neighbourhoods. As we stated in our original Hard to Reach report it is
all too easy to presume Scotland’s deprived neighbourhoods are homogenous,
white, heterosexual working class areas. We have shown they are not. Our
finding might be a geographic fluke because the non-heterosexual population is
so small, although tests of statistical significance show it is not. That this
non-straight population living in deprived neighbourhoods in Scotland is
comparatively older, does give credence to the description an older
LGBT-identifying friend described, of lots of older non-straight people who had
pretty difficult lives, living in social housing in the west of Scotland. If we
accept this, then we need to consider whether services for non-heterosexual
people need to move out of inner-city locations, or that mainstream services in
deprived neighbourhoods need greater skills and training around helping a
non-heterosexual population that might have multiple problems.