‘This is our place, but we’re the outsiders’: the navigation of identity and spaces of belonging by Indigenous LGBTIQ + women in Australia

ABSTRACT A secure sense of identity and belonging plays a crucial role in social and emotional wellbeing. While there has been research that investigates the exclusion of Indigenous people from a broad range of the workings of society in Australia, such as social spaces and institutions, there exists limited literature that specifically focuses on Indigenous LGBTIQ + women’s experiences. Building on the limited research on Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals’ lived experiences, this article analyses Indigenous LGBTIQ + women’s navigation of their identity and sense of belonging using data generated from interviews with the target group. Participants’ experiences reveal a diverse range of coming out journeys which all culminated in a strong sense of pride in their identity and belonging with their close family members and LGBTIQ + community. Themes of exclusion were also evident, particularly with other family members, schools, and other social spaces.


Introduction
As social beings, human existence and identity are defined by relationships that are formed with others.Belonging, therefore, plays a pivotal role in the wellbeing of individuals (Mellor et al. 2008;Roffey 2013).The desire to belong is instinctual, human beings are intrinsically motivated to form and maintain positive, long-lasting interpersonal relationships (Baumeister and Leary 1995;Mellor et al. 2008).Failure to meet such needs leads to feelings of social isolation, alienation, and loneliness, potentially resulting in poor mental health outcomes such as depression and suicidality (Bonson 2017;Mellor et al. 2008).Despite the identified importance of belonging for wellbeing, there exists very little research that explores Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (hereafter Indigenous) LGBTIQ + individuals' identity and belonging (Hill et al. 2021;Kerry 2018;O'Sullivan 2017;Riggs and Toone 2017;Spurway et al. 2020), with few that specifically focus on Indigenous LGBTIQ + women's 1 lived experiences.Investigations into Indigenous LGBTIQ + people's experiences reveal an interference to their sense of belonging stemming from their intersecting identities (Hill et al. 2021).Overwhelmingly, there are feelings of being forced to choose between their Indigenous and LGBTIQ + identities revealing an inability to express cultural and LGBTIQ + identities in all spaces.The negative impacts of social exclusion for Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals are especially pronounced, as it compounds wellbeing concerns already present within broader Indigenous populations (Soldatic et al. 2021b).
Social exclusion of Indigenous LGBTIQ + people is commonly perpetrated by Whitedominated LGBTIQ + communities (Carlson 2020;Hill et al. 2021;Soldatic et al. 2021a).The discrimination faced within LGBTIQ + spaces often manifests in the form of racial microaggressions, which are brief, everyday acts of prejudice that convey hostility, denigration, or negativity (Hill et al. 2021;Sue et al. 2007;Tran, Sullivan, and Nicholas 2022).Many Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals feel disconnected from the LGBTIQ + community, with those who do engage in LGBTIQ + spaces feeling racially discriminated against, tokenised, or burdened with the duty to educate others on Indigenous cultures and/or Indigenous matters (Carlson 2020;Hill et al. 2021).
Social and cultural exclusion of Indigenous LGBTIQ + people also occurs within Indigenous communities (Farrell 2021;Sullivan 2020b).Within some Indigenous communities and families, there is a lack of understanding, or negative perceptions, of sexuality and gender diversity, causing disconnections between Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals and their kin (Hill et al. 2021).The colonisation of Australia by White, European settlers has imparted Christian values and beliefs about LGBTIQ + individuals within Indigenous communities, resulting in sexuality and gender diversity becoming a cultural taboo manifested by a conflation of Christian belief systems with Indigenous cultural knowledges (O 'Sullivan 2017;Soldatic et al. 2021a;Soldatic et al. 2021b;Sullivan 2018).Many Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals have reported experiencing various forms of discrimination from Indigenous communities, including LGBTIQ + -phobia and transphobia (Hill et al. 2021).
The social exclusion of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals from Indigenous communities results in feelings of isolation that are heightened due to the socio-cultural importance of family and community within Indigenous cultures.Shame, blame, violence, and general negative perceptions have considerable impacts on Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals' (Sullivan 2020b).These include, but are not limited to, feelings of isolation and invalidation of LGBTIQ + identities through silence and lack of acknowledgment, being kicked out of home and having contact severed by family members, as well as fears of violence.These feelings and experiences cause some Indigenous LGBTIQ + to suppress their LGBTIQ + identities or move away from their community (Hill et al. 2021;Kerry 2018;O'Sullivan 2017;Sullivan 2021).However, Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals' relocation from their communities is not entirely a negative experience.Relocation also serves to overcome isolation, find new communities, and to explore and validate their identities (Sullivan, Coe, et al. 2022;Sullivan, Tran, et al. 2022).
While existing research provides insights into Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals' lived experiences, there remain significant gaps within the literature that warrant further exploration.There has been little emphasis on the positive aspects and experiences of occupying intersecting Indigenous and LGBTIQ + identities.Current research has primarily focused on the Indigenous LGBTIQ + population's interactions with their own communities.Although there is an acknowledgment that the population is faced with discrimination from other spaces, there is a lack of detail on how this discrimination manifests.Furthermore, while there has been some research with Indigenous LGBTIQ + populations (see Bonson 2017;Farrell 2021;Hill et al. 2021;Soldatic et al. 2021a), there exists limited research that highlights Indigenous LGBTIQ + women's experiences.This article explores Indigenous LGBTIQ + women's lived experiences with particular emphasis on their navigation of identity and spaces of belonging, identity formation and security, experiences of coming out and pride in identity.Participants' navigation of spaces of belonging will be discussed, including their family networks and Indigenous community, LGBTIQ + spaces, school, and other social spaces.

Methods
This article forms part of a larger research project that explored the social and emotional wellbeing of Indigenous LGBTIQ + youth in New South Wales (NSW), Australia.The broader research project included in-depth interviews, an online survey with Indigenous LGBTIQ + people, and three workshops with Indigenous LGBTIQ + youths; Indigenous Elders; and LGBTIQ + service providers.All phases of the project, including the interviews utilised in this article, were co-designed and co-led by Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals.The data that inform this part of the research, were collected from 14 Indigenous LGBTIQ + young people aged 14-25 living in New South Wales who participated in indepth, semi-structured interviews.Participants were recruited through a variety of networks, including Indigenous LGBTIQ + social and service provider networks.Interviews were conducted via Zoom due to Covid-19 restrictions within Australia.The project received ethics approval from the AH&MRC (HREC Ref. 1536/19) on 27 August 2019.All quotes have also been reviewed and approved for publication by each of the participants quoted in this article.All participants were remunerated for their time and input, in line with National Health and Medical Research Council ethical guidelines (2007).This project was funded by the Australian National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC) under its Targeted Call 2018 Indigenous Social and Emotional Wellbeing Funding Round (Grant ID: 1157377).
We asked participants to choose pseudonyms, but no-one took up this option.We have used 'participant' as we believed this was the safest way.First, it completely deidentifies participants, removing gender/sexuality identities and First Nations groups.This was important as the cohort is relatively small, and it could be possible to identify someone using identifiers such as young Bunjalung/Gumbayngirr gay cisman.Not all of our respondents are out to their community of origin, and we did not want to 'out' them, that is their decision.Second, choosing names for our participants would present some challenges especially for non-binary, gender-queer and trans people who often carefully choose their names based on gender/sexuality, cultural and personal reasons.Choosing for them overrides this choice.
While the interview participants consisted of individuals of diverse sexuality and gender identities, this article focuses on the experiences of participants who identified as women, equalling seven of the fourteen interviews.Four of the participants identified as gay/lesbian, two identified as queer, and one participant identified as bisexual.The importance of the participants' Indigenous and LGBTIQ + identity in their sense of self and lived experiences was evident throughout the interviews.The diversity and complexity of participants' experiences are reflected in their stories of coming out, their descriptions of safe and unsafe spaces and the pride they feel in both their Indigenous and LGBTIQ + identities.While their experiences and relationships with their families and communities, and consequently their coming out journey differed from one another, they were unified in their resilience and pride in their identities.

Navigating spaces of belonging
As individuals with multiple intersecting identities, participants discussed experiences of navigating spaces of belonging.Participants spoke of their fears of social exclusion and being subjected to violence due to their identities, whether this was assumed or based on prior experiences.Participants reported they experienced most violence and continued to harbour negative sentiments about schools and other public spaces.Conversely, family and LGBTIQ + spaces were cited as the primary networks of support for participants' identity affirmation, greatly assisting them to establish a sense of belonging.

Coming out to family and community
Consideration of coming out caused many participants to fear being rejected from their family and community.For some participants, the prevalence of heteronormativity in their networks caused them, their friends, and their family to question the authenticity of their same-sex attraction (Hill et al. 2021;O'Sullivan 2017).The dismissal of participants' same-sex attraction as a phase or one-off occurrence prolonged their coming out journey, causing them to either repress their desire to explore their sexuality or hide feelings of same-sex attraction from others.
My family knew that I had dated a woman, but then everyone assumed it was just that one woman and that I was straight … I just decided I'll let people believe that for four years and then re-came out at the age of 20, like, do you remember when I dated that girl?I don't wanna date guys (Participant 6).
For Participant one, the notion of heteronormativity was so pervasive in her community that her LGBTIQ + -identified friend also disregarded her same-sex attraction.
I've always thought I've liked girls throughout high school, but I've always thought, well, maybe all girls are like this, I don't know.So, I ignored it and suppressed it for a few years.And then in Year 12, I was going through my HSC and stuff, and I just had a big breakdown and one of my best friends, who's a gay male, and I just said, 'I think I'm gay.I don't know what to do'.And even he was like, 'Oh, it could be a phase' (Participant 1).
The concerns with coming out were further amplified by the lack of LGBTIQ + visibility which isolated participants during the coming out process.Participants were unable to understand, relate, or validate their feelings.
I just felt like I couldn't go anywhere.I was isolated because I couldn't tell anyone.I didn't really know any other gay people.At that time, I didn't know my cousins were gay.I just felt like a freak because it was never spoken about really (Participant 1).
While there were similarities in their fears and concerns of coming out, the participants' individual journeys were heterogeneous; consequently, the impacts of coming out differed among participants.Coming out was not universally viewed as a negative experience.Several participants reported coming out to be a neutral experience despite some of the struggles they faced.For participant eleven, she felt her story was not a 'sad' one, even though she had experienced feelings of invalidation and invisibility.Likewise participant twelve reported having no issues with coming out to her family and expressed it was not a big part of her story.I've never actually seen myself to be gay, like I just met someone.It's just the first time I've ever liked a girl, been interested in a girl.We just ended up being together.So, I've never actually had like the lifelong of coming out and in that everyone since has (Participant 12).
Participants eleven and five expressed concerns of coming out though ultimately had positive experiences: The only person that would have bothered me if they didn't like [my LGBTIQ + identity] would be my mum and my grandma.And she just said, oh, I have heaps of lesbian friends that play golf.I don't care (Participant 11).
[My mum] has been on many floats in Mardi Gras, so I knew she was gonna be fine … She was the last person I was worried about (Participant 5).
In contrast, participant one's mental health was severely affected by her inability to come out, resulting in depression, self-hatred, and self-harm.
In year seven, [being gay] crossed my mind, and then it left and then back in year eight.I was really, really depressed and I was self-harming 'cause I didn't know … So, it was hard time and I didn't how to talk to my mum about it and how to talk to my family 'cause like … I don't want to be the only one (Participant 1).
For participant five, coming out meant that she was unable to go back to her hometown due to fears of violence and discrimination, which negatively impacted her sense of belonging and wellbeing.
I can't really go and visit her [Grandmother].I see her when her and pop come down here.I can't actually go there because I feel uncomfortable going back to my hometown (Participant 5).
Uncertainty and fear of rejection from family were prominent within participants' experiences, and greatly informed how participants navigated their LGBTIQ + identity with family members prior to coming out.Some participants were unsure how family members would react to their coming out, consequently feeling the need to hide their same-sex attraction.Notably, participants expressed more concerns towards family members who were highly impacted by colonisation.For instance, Grandparents who were part of the Stolen Generations and often raised with Christian and Western belief systems (Read 2014), were seen by participants as more likely to reject them.
I think one of the things that I feel with my grandparents is that one of my grandfathers was stolen and he's got a lot of trauma and he's quite homophobic.I guess the thing that -I never talked to him about being queer 'cause that would make our relationship even worse than it already is (Participant 6).
I think there's a lot of people, Indigenous, non-Indigenous, that cop a lot of backlash of being gay/bi from families is wheremy grandparents, for me personally, was a big worry for me.I was like, 'Oh shit, are they gonna disown me', 'cause I'm real close with them … I worship my grandparents.I was worried thinking, 'Shit, because I'm gay and displaying these emotions and feelings, am I gonna get disowned because I'm not praying to God or I'm not going to church every Sunday, or I don't have the same beliefs as them?' (Participant 13).
Similarly, participant twelve believed that the White side of her family would be more likely to reject her based on her sexuality, as opposed to acceptance by her Indigenous side of the family.
My White family is definitely the ones I thought would have more of an issue.My black family, they just love me.As long as I'm happy they would not care about anything.I knew when I grew up like my nana and poppa, my Black side, were a little bit like, oh, it's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.They're a little bitbecause I had an uncle that was gay and it was like an awkward family thing but honestly, no one -I don't know how to nicely say this, but no one cares … I did think that my grandma on my dad's side, my White side, would be a bit judgmental because she's very old school (Participant 12).
Despite initial feelings of uncertainty, all participants ultimately received positive reactions from family members they were close with when coming out.
I think I'm more so, again, really lucky in that respect, in that I have a really loving, supportive family.And all of the fears that I had when I was younger like, oh, I don't wanna tell them, the thing that everyone goes through, I feel.Anyway, by the time I did come out, it was just love and respect from my family (Participant 6).
Participants expressed that they felt loved, respected, and that their relationship with their close family network was unaffected.They also indicated that their immediate family members were their biggest supporters, this was especially true of those that had Aboriginal mothers.
And then I think my mum was the first person I told, and she knew since I was young.I stood to her in the kitchen, and I said, 'Mum, what would you do if one of your kids was gay?' And she's like, 'Why?Are you gay?' And she was like, 'I've known since you were 13', and then she just gave me a big cuddle and said, 'I'll always love you just the same as all your other brothers and sisters, so don't worry about me not loving you as much' (Participant 1).
Due to their close relationship mothers were often the first person that participants came out to.The family's prior levels of interaction and engagement with LGBTIQ + individuals and the LGBTIQ + community also determined participants' level of comfort in coming out to them.While participants had positive reactions from their families, they acknowledged that they were fortunate in that respect, and that not every Indigenous LGBTIQ + individual would have had the same experiences.
The participants' emphasis on family when discussing coming out highlights the importance of family to their sense of belonging and connection.The ability to maintain connection with their family and be open about their sexuality greatly enhanced their wellbeing.The family's reassurance that participants are accepted facilitated a sense of belonging, with participants no longer experiencing distress related to hiding crucial aspects of their lives and identities.Furthermore, coming out to family also enabled them to establish pride in their identities, as they were able to unite their sexuality and their culture.While participants had generally positive reactions from their close family networks, participants' relationships with their extended family and the wider Indigenous community were mixed.
I never really spoke about [my sexuality] with my extended family because there are some homophobic people in my family that I don't really talk about it with (Participant 3).
For some, there was no desire to speak about their sexuality to their extended family due to LGBTIQ + -phobia, despite participants having come out, for example, participant five says: I was quite lucky to come out at a time where it was acceptable, with a family that was very accepting as well.But back home in the smaller community of [removed], it's not verythere's not many queer people.I'm the only gay person, openly gay person in my family on my mum's side … I don't talk to most of my family because of that reason.They're a bit weird about it (Participant 5).
Connection and acceptance by family plays a pivotal role in the identity and belonging for Indigenous LGBTIQ + women.The stories of the participants clearly describe mostly positive connections between themselves and their closest family members.However, it is also evident that the influence of Western belief systems, and the consequent discrimination towards LGBTIQ + individuals within Indigenous communities remain broadly present (Hill et al. 2021;Kerry 2018;O'Sullivan 2017;Sullivan 2021).
LGBTIQ + spaces Previous research on the experiences of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals have highlighted their exclusion from LGBTIQ + spaces with racism, stereotyping, and ignorance being commonplace (Carlson 2020;Hill et al. 2021;Soldatic et al. 2021a;Sullivan 2020b).Although the participants in this study experienced similar negative interactions within LGBTIQ + spaces, positive experiences, and connotations about LGBTIQ + spaces are prevalent.It is not entirely clear why this is.It could be due to participants varying degrees of apparent 'visibility' or 'openness' (Dawson 2018), or it could be that research to date has predominantly concentrated on the LGBTIQ + community as a whole and/or focussed on the experiences of men and/or those who are gender diverse (Sullivan 2020a).Further research is required to understand the experiences of sexuality diverse women in LGBTIQ + spaces.
LGBTIQ + spaces and events, such as Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, were avenues for participants to meet other LGBTIQ + people and to celebrate their identity.As such, there was a consensus amongst participants that despite its faults the LGBTIQ + community facilitated some sense of belonging and validation of identity, with comparisons made between the inclusion and safety of LGBTIQ + spaces versus the discomfort of non-LGBTIQ + spaces.
I think the queer community can be racist in some areas.I think it depends on where the groups that you find.I remember one time I went to this party; it was like a lesbian party and I was there and then this girl came up to me and she was just like, 'Oh, you're so brave to come here.Your skin is so beautiful,' it was really weird.She was just talking about my skin and making me feel really uncomfortable.She obviously thought it was weird that I was there She was a lesbian, but she was still a white person, so I think she made me feel like I didn't belong in that space (Participant 3).
There's always like micro-aggression that you're not sure what it meant, if it was because they're racist (Participant 3) When I'm not around my community, people who know me and have always known me as part of the Indigenous community, I get more questions and what can feel like challenges of my identity.So, when-and most of the time, it comes from a place of curiosity, but it's like, 'Oh, you're Indigenous.Wow!I never would've guessed,' or, 'Which one of your parents is Aboriginal?' and I have to go through this whole spiel of both my parents are Aboriginal … both sides of my family have Indigenous ancestry.So, I guess maybe that's what's led me to feel like it's quicker for someone to accept my queerness here than they are to accept my Aboriginality because I don't look like the stereotype of what an Indigenous person looks like (Participant 6) I mean my friend would just go gay clubbing or something and it's so refreshing.I hate going to straight clubs 'cause it's so, I don't know, it's so boring and dominating.In gay clubs, you can just be yourself and just dance and sing (Participant 1).I really enjoy queer parties.I like parties that are open for all sexualities and all genders because I find they're usually the most inclusive spaces, particularly with other races or people with disabilities as well.It feels like it's a lot more fun for me (Participant 3).
Participants expressed that being able to witness and engage with other LGBTIQ + individuals, whether through social media, sporting activities, or online content creators, provided them with a sense of identity validation.This facilitated their coming out and pride in their LGBTIQ + status and acted as a catalyst for future interactions with LGBTIQ + spaces and events.I was deep in the closet, and I used to just watch YouTube and stuff like that, because back then YouTube was massive, and people were posting their coming out stories like all of that other stuff.I used to watch them all the time and then I kind of gathered that's how I kind of knew how I was feeling (Participant 11).I actually started playing footy at the age of 16, women in league.And the girls I was playing footy with, so half of my team was gay.And then I was going with them, I was likeand it made me feel more, this is me.And the more I was hanging out with people that were gay as well, and I guess getting that attention as well, I enjoyed it more.And it did sink in about, yeah, I like this, this is what I am, and this is who I am (Participant 13).
Despite finding a sense of belonging within LGBTIQ + spaces, some participants believed that there was an issue of access due to their geographical location.Sydney's LGBTIQ + spaces are densely congregated within the city's Inner West area (Gorman-Murray and Nash 2014; Sullivan 2023).For those living outside of this area, particularly within Sydney's outer Western suburbs, it was difficult to find physical LGBTIQ + spaces, and the only way to easily engage with the LGBTIQ + community is through online platforms (Coe 2022;Farrell 2021).This lack of physical access hindered participants' connection to the LGBTIQ + community.
I guess there's a bunch of safe spaces, but there isn't like somewhere where specifically gay people can go to hang out, and socialise, and network with each other, not in Western Sydney.I haven't seen anything out here … There isn't really anything out here but social media.That's probably the only thing that someone that is LGBTQ to reach out to other LGBTQyeah, social media.There's nothing out here where we can all go together and network and what not (Participant 5).
Many participants moved between rural or regional towns and urban centres.Participants who lived within rural areas indicated that the lack of LGBTIQ + resources in those areas was even more evident.
I think growing up, discovering my sexuality, I feel like being in a regional or rural part of Australia and in a community where I couldn't visibly see anyone like me stalled the factme finding out who I was because if, you don't know what you don't know (Participant 6).
Due to the geographically imbalanced establishment of LGBTIQ + spaces, participants suggested that resources need to be put towards expanding LGBTIQ + spaces and services to more locations, especially rural areas where LGBTIQ + visibility is low.While previous research (Carlson 2020;Hill et al. 2021) highlighted the possibility of disconnection from the LGBTIQ + community for Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals, the experiences of these participants indicated LGBTIQ + spaces to be flawed but valuable, with the potential to improve in the future to accommodate even more Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals.Beyond the expansion of LGBTIQ + resources to more areas, the employment of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals, the consultation of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals within LGBTIQ + services and organisations, and the creation of Indigenous LGBTIQ + -specific spaces have been recommended by Indigenous LGBTIQ + youth as methods to increase their inclusion within LGBTIQ + spaces (Spurway et al. 2022).
For participants from regional NSW, the lack of LGBTIQ + visibility during their youth is a result of being geographically located.In rural areas LGBTIQ + populations are thought to be too small, or non-existent, to warrant the creation of LGBTIQ + spaces and resources (Whitehead, Shaver, and Stephenson 2016).The absence of LGBTIQ + resources is also attributed to rural areas being unsafe for LGBTIQ + individuals due to LGBTIQ + -phobia which acts as a barrier for the establishment of LGBTIQ + facilities and resources (Forrest, Gorman-Murray, and Siciliano 2019;Power et al. 2014;Whitehead, Shaver, and Stephenson 2016).This also means that LGBTIQ + people do not feel safe enough to openly identify as LGBTIQ + and can remain invisible to other members of their community, contributing to feelings of isolation and exclusion.Exposure to other LGBTIQ + people and LGBTIQ + experiences and knowledge was seen as a facilitator of the participants' coming out process and was something they felt they had to seek out.

Experiences in school environments
Participants articulated that primary and secondary schools were spaces where violence and negative experiences occurred most.Yet, the limited literature discussing Indigenous LGBTIQ + populations has rarely mentioned schools as spaces of alienation and discrimination.Although not within the primary or secondary school context, Sullivan and Day (2021) discuss the inclusion and exclusion of Indigenous sexuality and gender diverse students within higher education spaces.Broader research has shown that non-Indigenous LGBTIQ + students are prone to LGBTIQ + -phobia within school environments, with heteronormativity being perpetuated through the curriculum and bullying from other students.Similarly, the participants in our study indicated that primary and secondary schools are actively and overtly discriminatory, racist, homophobic, and transphobic spaces with perpetrators including other students, administrative and teaching staff, and educational policies and practices.
Bullying and exclusion from other students were particularly prevalent.Participants detailed the LGBTIQ + -phobia they experienced due to their sexuality.The participants expressed that some students perpetuated anti-LGBTIQ + discourses around school, making school an unsafe and violent space.For some, the LGBTIQ + -phobic behaviours of fellow students prevented them from coming out, whereas others had their LGBTIQ + identity invalidated as incompatible with their Indigenous identity.
In terms of the safety perspective, absolutely it was not safe, I believe, back when I was 14, to hold my girlfriend's hand walking to schoolno way.We were definitely closeted … Because my partner at the time, who was more masculine-presenting and is now a trans man, they had to finish schoolthey had a slip from the teacher to leave school ten minutes early so that they can walk home before everyone else got out of school so they wouldn't get rocks thrown at them or abused because they were more masculine-presenting and obviously not straight.So, they would be bullied relentlessly (Participant 6).
Well in high school, we had another Aboriginal girl, and the rumour just went around about me … and she was actually quite judgy about it.She's like, 'oh, you never hear of a gay Aboriginal, it's not a thing' (Participant 1).
Racism was apparent in the school environment and was perpetrated by both non-Indigenous and Indigenous students.Teachers also perpetuated violence against participants within the school environment.For participants, teachers' inaction meant that racial and LGBTIQ + -phobic abuse and isolation from other students persisted and/or escalated.For some, teachers also actively participated in the discrimination against them, with the abuse from an authority figure further impacting their mental health.One young person, moving from a school in an area of low socio-economic status, Western Sydney, to another area in Sydney that has a relatively high social status, found that this shift in space also led to a shift in the attitudes of teaching staff.
We had an Aboriginal teacher.He was really lovely, and we went on Aboriginal camps and stuff with him.I found I was quite comfortable with him, that's why I'd speak to him a lot about the issues, and he would say, I experience it too in the staff room.All White teachers, they don't give a shit.It wasn't even just about being Aboriginal, it's being from Western Sydney.So, they thought I was someone like weirdo coming from Western Sydney, the teachers would talk so much shit about it in the classroom in front of me (Participant 1).I came out when I was 12 to an Indigenous teacher's aide at my school, and then he goes, 'You're not a rug muncher' (Participant 11).
The education participants received compounded their sense of invisibility, with the heteronormative curriculum making them unable to process their same-sex attraction and suppress their identity further.The lack of education around same-sex sex education also meant that participants struggled when they did come out and engage with same-sex partners.
It was compulsory sexual health education.That was mostly focused on male and female, cismale and female partners.So, when I started having sex with women or people with vaginas instead, that was a lot more different.I had to figure out what was going on (Participant 3).
Like everyone else is getting talk heteronormative sex ed and I'm getting none of that.I don't have any information about how I'm being safe or what a healthy relationship looks like for me because I'm just seeing hetero-normative styles of education in my schooling and there's no information at my local Aboriginal doctor that I go to.So, I think probably in a negative way in that there's information that I could have had that I would not receive until much later in life when I sought it out myself (Participant 6).
Participants with children currently in school expressed concerns that their children would experience discrimination for having LGBTIQ + parents.The anxiety of heteronormative school environments persists into adulthood, with no perceived changes to educational institutions regarding LGBTIQ + people's experiences.
It was definitely challenging especially with, I guessthere was thoughts of, 'Oh fuck, what if she [daughter] goes to school and she gets picked on for having two mums' (Participant 13).My son's father's comments when it's like, 'Oh, [our son] will get bullied if he knows that he'sif all his friends know that his mum is gay, and whatnot'.So, it sort of brings it back to that.I guess that sort of stuck with me like, is that what's gonna happen?Is that really what's gonna happen?(Participant 5).

Other spaces
While experiences of discrimination and violence of school were discussed by participants in significant detail, other spaces were also deemed to be unsafe for participants.Workplaces, health-care services, and political spaces were nominated as spaces where participants felt unwanted, unrepresented, or not catered for.Participants strongly believed that Indigenous people are broadly alienated from society.
cause being an Aboriginal woman, you deal with all of that stuff.You deal with being the outsiders even though this is our country, this is our place, but we're the outsiders.We're the ones being left out all the time and made to feel uncomfortable, unaccepted (Participant 5).
I also think as an Aboriginal person, just existing can be quite political.I obviously want Aboriginal people to want us to have sovereignty or care about political issues.And I think a lot of White people just don't even like, know or even engage with Aboriginal politics at all (Participant 3).

Pride in identity
Despite some of the struggles that participants experienced due to their Indigeneity and sexuality, there was a great sense of pride in their identities.Participants expressed that their Indigeneity and sexuality informed their place in the world and their sense of belonging.Their support networks also played a tremendous role in validating their identity and sense of self.Most participants had been encouraged by their family and communities to take pride in their culture and history.Sexuality, on the other hand, was something that participants had to form pride in.Despite discrimination from school and other spaces, their established family support network encouraged participants to seek out LGBTIQ + spaces and create a sense of belonging.Thus, their struggles growing up meant that, while they have had their identity challenged, overcoming those challenges reaffirmed their belonging and provided them a sense of security and pride in their identity that cannot be wavered by others.
[I have pride] in my Aboriginality because that's an identity I've had from birth.I've never not known and had pride in my culture and history, whereas my queerness was something I discovered as I continued to grow and became more comfortable and proud in that (Participant 6).
I just had the attitude of like, fuck it, if you can't accept it for who I am because a black lesbian, then don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you, really (Participant 13).

Discussion
The findings from the interviews expand previous research on the identities and belonging of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals.The navigation of identity and belonging for Indigenous LGBTIQ + women is multifaceted and complex, experiences not only reinforcing the struggles of exclusion and marginalisation, but also exhibiting resilience, strength, and connection to their communities.
The negative impacts of colonisation on participants' navigation of identity and belonging are still noticeable.Australian society has invalidated and continues to invalidate the existence of Indigenous LGBTIQ + women by perpetuating coloniocentric norms.The term coloniocentric here emphasises the coloniality of power, highlighting colonisation's legacy of whiteness, heteronormativity, and Christian norms that inform conditions of discrimination of the colonisedin this case, Indigenous Australians (Grosfoguel 2011; Sullivan 2021).This can be seen in the dissonance between the responses of family members to participants' coming out, the historical enforcement of Christian and Western values on the Indigenous population conflating Christian and Indigenous cultural beliefs in Indigenous communities, resulting in the deprecation of sexuality and gender diversity (Soldatic et al. 2021b;Sullivan 2018;2023).For some, coming out has severed connection to community and distant family members, their reactions ranging from being blamed for spreading same-sex attraction to being shunned from community.
However, equally apparent was the acceptance of participants and their sexuality by close family members who participants universally said helped create support networks that validated feelings of belonging and encouraged them to explore and embrace their identities.The experiences of the participants within Indigenous communities show there is a dichotomous co-existence of colonial LGBTIQ + -phobia and Indigenous notions of familial and communal connection.Within Indigenous communities, family and kinship are pivotal to one's personal identity and wellbeing (Morgan, Slade, and Morgan 1997;Murrup-Stewart et al. 2021), the contrast between reactions of close family members and distant family members representing how connection and kinship can transcend colonial impacts.
Institutions and spaces, such as schools, continue to perpetuate coloniocentric norms that marginalise Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals.The legacy of colonisation continues to reproduce the hierarchies of power that frame the Indigenous population as 'other' (Grosfoguel 2011;Sullivan 2021).As discussed by the participants, schools discriminate against Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals and maintain coloniocentric ideologies.Discrimination is perpetrated in multiple ways, the most overt being racism and LGBTIQ + -phobia from students and teachers.The exclusion of LGBTIQ + -related education materials is also particularly harmful, impacting how LGBTIQ + people view themselves and how non-LGBTIQ + people perceive them.While there has been an effort to integrate Indigenous history and cultural knowledge into the school curriculum (Lowe and Yunkaporta 2018), there has been no incorporation of LGBTIQ + -inclusive learning content within schools (Ezer et al. 2020;Hillier and Mitchell 2008;Lowe and Yunkaporta 2018).The lack of LGBTIQ + learning content and inadequate Indigenous educational materials reinforces heteronormative, Western values as the ideal and feeds a perception of Indigenous LGBTIQ + students as peripheral.For participants, this has translated to a lack of understanding from other students and indifference from teachers, creating an unsafe space.
The absence of LGBTIQ + knowledge within the curriculum resulted in participants feeling that they were unable to navigate their sexuality and relationships in a healthy manner, impeding their wellbeing and exploration of identity.While discrimination from students and teachers displays the micro-scale bigotry participants face, the exclusion of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals from the school curriculum represents a deeprooted institutional coloniocentrism that continues to marginalise and enable violence against Indigenous LGBTIQ + populations.Institutional coloniocentrism is not only restricted to schools, with participants indicating that the politicised existence of Indigenous and LGBTIQ + people, as well as continued racism and LGBTIQ + -phobia, means that they are unable to feel safe or express their identity within most spaces.Workplaces, health facilities, and political spaces, for example, all display similar coloniocentric norms that enable discrimination against Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals.
The importance of culture and sexuality is particularly strong within this research, with participants expressing their Indigeneity and sexuality to be the most important aspects of their identity.While this article aimed to focus on the experiences of Indigenous LGBTIQ + women, participants seldom spoke about their experiences from a gendered perspectiveinstead focusing on how their Indigenous and LGBTIQ + identity inform their lived experiences.This could perhaps be due to the interview questions not being framed by gender.However, there are also other possible explanations for the absence of gender in the discussion.From a cultural perspective, while men and women occupy different roles in Indigenous communities, their roles are seen as equal, and there is no foundational belief of women being subordinate to cismen (Dune et al. 2017).As such, gender disparity within Indigenous cultures is less of an issue outside of coloniocentric influences, which may explain participants' lack of consideration of gender in their lived experiences (Dune et al. 2017).However, these are tentative hypotheses, and further research is needed to understand how gender influences the experiences of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals.
There are other evident future research directions that require consideration.Research that explores how gender identities inform the lived experiences of Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals will provide a more nuanced understanding of how the group's social and emotional wellbeing can be improved and how resources can cater to different gender identities.There is an evident need to decolonise institutions and Indigenous communities to create and foster safer spaces for Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals, most pertinently, a change in school curricula to be inclusive of LGBTIQ + experiences, thereby facilitating understanding and acceptance of LGBTIQ + identities as well as creating a safe space for young people.Prior research has supported the success of inclusive educational materials, with overwhelming positive impacts especially evident among LGBTIQ + students (Gegenfurtner and Gebhardt 2017).
For Indigenous LGBTIQ + youth this process will also serve to decolonise schooling institutions by disrupting heteronormativity and Christian values that inform current learning content.Indigenous learning content also needs to be implemented more effectively within school curricula, developing students' knowledge of Australia's colonial history and its impacts on the Indigenous population (Lowe and Yunkaporta 2018) building an understanding of Australia's coloniocentric values and helping students unlearn them.From a community perspective, dedicating more resources and facilities for Indigenous LGBTIQ + people, especially within rural areas, will also assist in their navigation of identity and belonging.The localisation of LGBTIQ + spaces in urban areas, such as Sydney, severely limits access for Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals hindering their ability to establish a sense of belonging and destabilising their identities.Locating LGBTIQ + resources within Indigenous communities will allow Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals to better explore their identity, as well as increase LGBTIQ + visibility within remote communities, promoting decolonisation and facilitating a sense of belonging.

Conclusion
This article discussed Indigenous LGBTIQ + women's navigation of identity and belonging, highlighting their experiences of coming out and their interactions with their family and Indigenous community, LGBTIQ + spaces, school, and other spaces.Synthesising the experiences of participants given the limited previous research conducted on Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals, it is evident that the impacts of colonisation have hindered their ability to establish a sense of belonging with their communities and other spaces.This is evident in the disconnect young Indigenous LGBTIQ + individuals feel with the LGBTIQ + community, experiencing racism, discrimination, and the constant need to educate non-Indigenous people on cultural and quotidien concerns as they navigate the contingencies of living in the Australian colonial settler state.Colonisation has also disconnected Indigenous LGBTIQ + people from some Indigenous communities with the imposition of heteronormative, cisnormative and heteropatriarchal values and the consequential conflation of Christian beliefs and values with Indigenous cultural knowledges.Indigenous LGBTIQ + people's experiences demonstrate the ways in which the processes of colonisation further compound the displacement of Indigenous LGTBIQ + people and enforce their disconnection from culture, Country, and community.
However, despite the ongoing impacts of colonisation on the daily lives of Indigenous LGBTIQ + young people, there were still stories of strength and capability that enabled them to resist and overcome the negative aspects of living in a colonial settler state.In spite of microaggressions, discrimination and racism within LGBTIQ + communities, participants also spoke of acceptance and safe spaces that enabled them to establish relative comfortability and authenticity.This was also the case in Indigenous spaces, in particular close family who acted as buffers against the worst challenges imposed by colonial settler Australia allowing them to feel loved and supported in their life journeys.It is these everyday micro processes of decolonisation emerging out of people's lived experiences that can also be powerful acts of solidarity and resistance reinforcing more macro processes of decolonisation.As Hunt and Holmes (2015, 158) argue, 'daily actions undertaken by individual Indigenous people, families, and communities often go unacknowledged but are no less vital to decolonial processes'.Although participants were ultimately able to manifest belonging in their communities, deeper efforts to decolonise spaces will facilitate positive identity development and a sense of belonging without intrapersonal and interpersonal struggles.LGBTIQ+ attempts to be representative of gender and/or sexuality diversity, including, although not exclusively, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, Intersex, Queer Plus (for those identities not listed).All participants included in this article identified as 'women' (including queer and trans women), although no-one identified as trans or non-binary, we maintain an inclusionary use of the term 'woman' mindful that some may not choose to disclose nor identify with the term ciswomen.Ciswomen are those people who identify with the gender they were assigned at birth.

Notes on contributors
Corrinne T.
Sullivan is an Aboriginal scholar from the Wiradjuri Nation in Central-West of New South Wales.She is an Associate Professor in Human Geography, and the Associate Dean (Indigenous Education) in the School of Social Sciences.Her research interests focus on experiences and effects of body and identity in relation to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as well as Indigenous Education, with expertise in Indigenous curriculum and pedagogy development.Duy Tran is currently working as a Community Health Promotion Officer for the Peer Education team at ACON.Before this, Duy worked as a Research Assistant at Western Sydney University on projects investigating Indigenous LGBTIQ+ wellbeing and LGBTIQ+ lateral violence and microaggressions.Kim Spurway is a Senior Research Associate with the Institute for Culture and Society, Western Sydney University.Kim's work focuses on critical approaches to humanitarian emergencies, natural disasters, race, disability, and gender/sexuality diversity.Linda Briskman holds the Margaret Whitlam Chair of Social Work at Western Sydney University.Areas of research and activism include asylum seeker rights, Indigenous rights and challenging racism.She publishes widely in each area.Her most recent books are the coauthored Human Rights and Social Work: Towards a Rights-Based Practice (Cambridge University Press 2022 with Jim Ife and Karen Soldatic) and the co-edited Indigenous Health Ethics: An Appeal To Human Rights (World Scientific, 2020 with Deborah Zion and Alireza Bagheri).John Leha is one of BlaQ's founding Directors and Chair of BlaQ Aboriginal Corporation Board as well as the CEO of the NSW Child, Family and Community Peak Aboriginal Corporation (AbSec).John has worked extensively in the Indigenous sector across all levels of government and community-controlled organisations.John is a proud Birra Gubba, Wakka Wakka and Tongan man born and raised on Gadigal land, Sydney.William Trewlynn is one of BlaQ's founding Directors, the Co-Founder & Managing Director of YarnnUp and a Board Member of The Land Back Foundation.He is a proud Aboriginal man with traditional ties to the Nucoorilma people of Tingha and Dunghutti people of Woolbrook NSW.As a Queer Aboriginal man, William has experienced firsthand the hardships the community face.Karen Soldatic is a Professor at the School of Social Sciences and Psychology and Institute Fellow in the Institute for Culture and Society both at Western Sydney University.Karen's research engages with critical questions of identity, race, ethnicity, disability and sexuality under settler colonial regimes of power.