Grieving will always entail a complex set of emotions one must deal with individually and on their own time. When you grieve a sexual and romantic partner, these emotions can feel all-encompassing, as is the nature of grief. But when you’re grieving your same-sex partner, this grief often has to be hidden away because of societal attitudes. This hiding disallows partners from fully experiencing and expressing their grief, delaying the healing process. “Disenfranchised grief” is the clinical term for experiencing a loss, when that loss wasn’t societally accepted, known, or allowed. What’s more, LGBTQ+ populations regularly face disenfranchised grief when met with the loss of their intimate partner, in part due to the same systems that oppress their grief practice. Historically excluded groups, such as the LGBTQ+ community, have lessened access to healthcare systems while being at an increased risk of potentially fatal illnesses.
Here lies the cyclical relationship of systemic oppression: the institutions build barriers to access and then stigmatize the groups seeking access by making them into the villain of the story. If you’re reading this right now and it seems like a lot to handle, consider what it might be like to experience. If instead, you’re reading this following the death of your same-sex partner, SHA encourages you to use this article as a source of validation and an encouragement for healing. As we explore these themes of grief and disenfranchisement, we’ll focus on the reported lived experiences of LGBTQ+ people facing a romantic loss, as well as what society might do to break down those barriers in pursuit of quality, equitable care.
Mental health challenges when processing loss are extremely common, but the additional weight of stigma and homophobic or heterosexist attitudes only adds to the trauma experienced during a time of extreme pain. The bereaved partners of same-sex lovers may feel alone, either because of intentional societal exclusion or because it may seem no one is able to understand their specific struggle. This goes hand in hand with the experience of feeling invisible. LGBTQ+ persons losing their partner are often not acknowledged as their partner, whether this is by the deceased’s family or the general population at large. Again, guising this particular kind of love and loss (think: “oh, this was her really good friend!”) only does more harm during a fragile time. Failing to acknowledge the relationship in this way can cause grieving partners to doubt their own relationships, adding stress and post-death resentment to the mix of already complicated emotional work. Some older lesbian women even report struggling to come out or remain out once their partner has died because of society’s hiding tactic.
In this way, the LGBTQ+ community seems to face relentless battles after their partners’ deaths. These include struggling to be seen and heard as members of the community but also as loved ones of the deceased, experiencing multiple losses, seeking support, and beginning again. As the bereaved partners are pushed out of sacred spaces for healing following their partner’s death, they feel another deep loss: that of a loss of security and a sense of home. Without their partners, they are forced to turn elsewhere for support but are only met with challenging rhetoric and shame. They might also experience the loss of others in the LGBTQ+ community, depending on their “out” status, relationship with friends, and relationship with themselves through the grief journey. When turning to new spaces in pursuit of help, LGBTQ+ people will often face discrimination at the hands of formal systems, such as social services or education. These issues with formal support systems go further to implicate the legal and financial realms. Because same-sex relationships are not considered societally equal, especially if not legally married, bereaved partners might find it more challenging to access legal and financial services that would benefit them. These challenges make it more difficult to move on with life after a partner’s passing. Finding new places for authenticity and allowing oneself to be vulnerable is not as easy after hiding those feelings away. For this and other reasons, disenfranchised grief provides certain populations with specific problems that must be addressed in order to achieve equity and healing.
In order to address these disparities, research into this type of grief should be prioritized and stratified. Stratifying by race/ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation will allow for the gathered data to report any nuances within the community and their experiences. This will also help prove to policy- and decision-makers that the LGBTQ+ community is a priority population for mental health resources and education. In fact, education must be factored in with this research in order to encourage more study and curiosity in the subject. Enabling young LGBTQ+ people to engage with their communities through research could open up social mobility patterns for generations to come. Training in this sense should be geared specifically towards the populations they aim to serve. Furthermore, centering this population in the work of formal and informal support services would increase access to professionals for people who need them.
By Emily Carriere