WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW TO START OR GROW YOUR SOCIAL ENTERPRISE
On Being Queer and Collective Trauma
Tip number 7 to fellow and aspiring (social) entrepreneurs, from my lived experience.
I often speak to social entrepreneurs. Social entrepreneurs are people who pursue an innovative idea with the goal of solving a social issue. In doing so many create social enterprises, which are organisations that maximise benefits to society and reinvest profits to further their mission. I have been a social entrepreneur for more than ten years.
The most common questions they ask me are: What do we need to know in creating our own social enterprise? How did you do it? Where do we start? This is one in a series of articles where I try to answer those questions and more.
NB: trigger warning, content might be found by some as distressful, with mention of violence and sexual abuse.
Dear fellow and aspiring social entrepreneurs and anyone working with social matters,
Tip number 7. Be mindful of collective trauma for yourself and/or your team.
As a queer social entrepreneur and activist, I have devoted the better part of two decades to championing equality for LGBTQI individuals across the globe.
My journey has not only included advocating for better human rights but it has also seen me lead and create a handful of impactful organisations.
Most recently, I am the proud founder of the social enterprise Micro Rainbow and the charity Micro Rainbow International Foundation.
These organisations are at the forefront of transforming the landscape for LGBTQI rights worldwide, embodying missions that seek to create a more inclusive and equitable society.
Micro Rainbow is a not for profit social enterprise that provides safe housing to LGBTQI people who flee persecution and come to the UK to seek safety. The Micro Rainbow International Foundation is a charity that supports LGBTQI people living with less than a dollar a day to step out of poverty by delivering small business training.
I also coach other social entrepreneurs, charity CEOs and queer activists to develop sustainable, social movements within their own countries.
Like many who undertake work of a similar nature to mine, we are exposed to trauma. More recently I became aware of an additional phenomenon, known as collective trauma.
On some level, I had always known it was there. However, it wasn’t until a recent coaching supervision session that the essence of collective trauma truly hit home.
What is Queer Collective Trauma?
Dr Kevin Leo Yabut Nadal defines queer collective trauma as experiencing negative psychological effects after a member of our community suffers from an act of hate or violence — even if we do not know that person.
The risks that LGBTQI people face include being fired, rendered homeless, imprisoned, tortured, or even sentenced to death.
As mentioned, I was recently coaching a queer activist who was grappling with the introduction of yet more discrimination laws aimed at LGBTQI individuals in their country. Like many queer activists, living and working in this environment can be terrifying.
It’s important to acknowledge that even if we are not directly affected, we have the awareness that we could have been the potential targets of such hate, and the possibility looms that we could be next.
In fact, when acts of violence occur within our community, in my case within the queer community, we may experience a range of emotions including sadness, fear, shame, hyper-vigilance, a lack of safety, low feelings, depression, fatigue, and exhaustion. Even as coach, I was impacted by events that did not directly affect me.
For me it’s important to understand that it’s not only extreme acts of violence, such as murder which might trigger our collective trauma.
Microaggressions and acts of discrimination (which many of us experience almost every day) can have similar impacts, affecting us deeply. I might have been coaching in the comfort of my home office and behind a screen but I was impacted by the collective trauma. I now realise why.
The Intersection of our Histories with Collective Trauma
Most of us who are queer have experienced some form of hate.
I was bullied through my entire education both by teachers and students. I internalised the shame of being asked “Are you a boy or a girl?”. I have been spat at during physical education at school in Italy as well as in the streets of London. More recently I overheard a group of men expressing homophobic language at the next table at my local café, once they realised I was having breakfast with my husband.
Despite being a middle-aged man who has made a career out of his queerness, those homophobic jokes and smirks reconnect me like a hot flash to the shame felt in my body when I was bullied; to the sensation of warm spit on my body, and to the innumerable times that our heteronormative structures, practices and beliefs have made me feel less than and/or wrong.
They are all experiences which have dehumanised me.
It was during the coaching supervision session mentioned above that I made these connections. I have been experiencing collective trauma for over 20 years and have not truly taken care of myself. The wounds were invisible. Similarly, my colleagues at Micro Rainbow are exposed to collective trauma daily.
I can recount countless episodes that have contributed to my experience of collective trauma. On one occasion, a trans activist and colleague was stabbed to death. In another instance, one of our beneficiaries was murdered for being themselves. Several other friends and colleagues have been severely beaten.
I remember the sadness I felt — it is still with me — when one of our first partners in Brazil was found dead in her bed; she was in her thirties. She was not murdered but she died due to the systemic hatred towards queer people, which often prevents them from accessing healthcare and earning a living.
My intention here is not to sensationalise. For me, it’s a stark example of how easy it can be to discount what we think doesn’t directly affect us. All these traumatic events might not have directly affected my circumstances but I now realise they have connected me to my history.
The Impact of Collective Trauma
I never paused to consider fully the impact of my history of discrimination and its relationship to the collective trauma around me. Why would I? I told myself, my experiences were minor. I only faced bullying and hatred. I wasn’t subjected to torture. I felt I wasn’t entitled to “complain” — I was the fortunate one. I was alive and had to persevere.
I realise now that minimising trauma is futile and comparing trauma is not possible nor advisable. As a queer activist, I understood that experiencing violence and hate was a given. What shocks me is how I normalised these experiences. I was and am impacted by so much of the trauma that takes place in my community.
My Learning Journey as a Social Entrepreneur Working for Human Rights
At Micro Rainbow, we assist individuals fleeing persecution who come to the UK seeking safety. Daily, we are privy to accounts of torture, sexual violence, and abuse. Some are even subjected to hate within the UK.
Additionally, the hostile environment we live in often scapegoats trans people and migrants for political gain. All this contributes to a collective trauma affecting me, my colleagues, our beneficiaries, and many others.
My learning journey as a social entrepreneur and queer activist has taught me the importance of not ignoring the impact of our work. Even if hate doesn’t directly affect you, it may still impact you. Collective trauma is real, and acknowledging and addressing it is crucial.
On the positive side, it reminds me that I have a community and a chosen family. It also keeps me connected to my passion in life. At the same time, I also want to get better at attending to it and to bringing this awareness into the systems I inhabit.
How We Can Heal from Collective Trauma
I do not wish to become desensitised to hate, which I fear has happened to many people. I seek and need to heal regularly. Healing from collective trauma is a personal journey. For me, engaging in activism is both a profound source of healing and yet I am forced to recognise the impact of the collective trauma.
These days, I find comfort in sharing the efforts of Micro Rainbow with my incredible colleagues and advocates. At Micro Rainbow, amongst other things, our casework manager initiated a “time out hour” which is an hour of collective healing where the team discusses the cases that have had an impact on them.
When faced with collective trauma, I am now more aware of the need to take action. It reminds me to practice self-compassion. I allow myself the space to sulk, to feel angry or sad, to reconnect with my values, my passion and to resource myself before proceeding.
Writing this article has significantly helped my process of healing from collective trauma. I also hope that it has offered colleagues and readers some inspiration to embark on or continue their healing journey from collective trauma and that of their organisations.
With my very best wishes for your social entrepreneurship journey
Sebastian
Ps. If you have also experienced collective trauma, please leave a comment. Sharing can also be a form of healing.
To know more about me, you can check my profile on Medium or connect with me on LinkedIn or Twitter.
If you missed the other articles, my tips so far are:
2. Working 12 hours a day only goes so far!
4. How to be an authentic leader
