Inappropriate questions to LGBTQI+ people
Inappropriate questions to LGBTQI+ people
When we talk about respect, we often mean things like equal rights, access to services, freedom of self-expression. But respect begins with the small things: with how we treat one another in everyday life, which words we choose, which questions we ask.
LGBTQI+ people, like everyone else, deserve communication that is safe and free of prejudice. Yet there are still situations where, instead of genuine interest or support, we meet tactlessness, intrusion into private life, or even insults – often not out of ill will, but simply out of not knowing.
We have collected common phrases and questions that seem “innocent” but can be painful or inappropriate. And we explain — why it is better to avoid them, and what is worth knowing so that our communication becomes more ethical, more sensitive, and more humane.
“You don’t look like a lesbian / You don’t look like a gay man / I can’t believe you used to be a woman/a man”
These are stereotypes. There is no “right” way for LGBTQI+ people to look. And a line like this is not a compliment at all.
A line like this rests on false ideas about the appearance, behavior, or lifestyle of LGBTQI+ people. It hints that there is some “typical” or “right” look for gay men, lesbians, or transgender people – that all gay men have to be affected, all lesbians masculine, and all trans people easy to spot.
Sexual orientation and gender identity do not determine how a person looks. The LGBTQI+ community holds just as many different styles, personalities, and forms of self-expression as any group of straight people. So when someone says “you don’t look like…”, they are essentially trying to squeeze a person into a frame of notions that has no sense behind it at all.
“Do your parents know that you are gay/a lesbian?”
This is a personal question. Some people have difficult relationships with their parents because of it. Better not to ask without consent.
For many LGBTQI+ people, coming out (disclosing their orientation or gender identity) is a difficult and painful road. Far from everyone has acceptance and support from their family. Some meet condemnation, pressure, psychological or even physical violence. A question about parents can accidentally touch a very sensitive and painful subject that a person is not ready or does not want to talk about.
Besides, a question like this seems to hint that sexual orientation is something that has to be hidden or explained. Or that it has to be “cleared” with your parents somehow, that you have to justify it. But that is not so. LGBTQI+ people owe no one a report on their identity, not even the people closest to them.
So if you truly want to support a person, better give them room to decide for themselves what to share. And if it has already happened that you asked something too personal – just say: “Sorry if that was too intimate a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
That is exactly what respect for personal boundaries looks like.
“But what about children?”
LGBTQI+ people can have children too — biologically, through reproductive technologies, or through adoption. That is normal.
This often comes with a note of doubt or judgment – as if relationships between LGBTQI+ people automatically ruled out starting a family. But that is not so. LGBTQI+ people, like everyone else, can want to be parents and do want to be parents – and very often they become parents.
Some have children from previous heterosexual relationships. Others choose surrogacy, donation, artificial insemination, or adoption. And every one of these paths is entirely legitimate and worthy.
When people ask a question like this, it sounds as if a family without a heterosexual couple were incomplete, and the love and care of LGBTQI+ parents not enough. But numerous studies show: children who grow up in LGBTQI+ families receive just as much warmth, stability, and support as children in any other family.
So before asking “But what about children?”, it is worth asking yourself: why do I believe that LGBTQI+ people cannot be good, loving parents? In most cases it is only a stereotype that has nothing in common with reality.
“Which of you is the mom and which is the dad?” or “Who is going to give birth?”
Questions like these are excessive curiosity that borders on tactlessness.
Questions like these often come up in conversations with LGBTQI+ couples – especially when parenthood or motherhood is involved. But usually they carry no sincere wish to understand – rather an attempt to squeeze a family model that is non-binary or unfamiliar to you into the “traditional” frames you know. It is a question about “roles”, about which partner supposedly “plays the man” and which one “the woman”. And that in itself is a stereotyped approach to relationships.
And besides – this is deeply personal. Who decides to give birth and how, or whom a child calls mom or dad, is the business of that family alone. Just as in any heterosexual couple, it is not a topic for discussion with people you barely know.
“Which of you is the man and which is the woman?”
LGBTQI+ relationships have no such “roles” as stereotypical straight relationships do. All couples are different.
This question rests on the false notion that any relationship has to have a clear division of roles: one person “strong and in charge”, the other “caring and soft”. In heterosexual couples such stereotypes often fail to work as well, but in LGBTQI+ relationships they make no sense whatsoever.
By asking something like this, you are essentially trying to squeeze a relationship between two people into a model familiar to you that simply does not fit. LGBTQI+ couples are not a copy of straight couples with a mandatory division into “the man” and “the woman”. People in such relationships build them on mutual understanding, support, and love – not on performing assigned gender roles.
Such questions can be hurtful, because they reduce a relationship to a caricature template instead of seeing its real meaning — a partnership between equals. So it is better to simply accept a couple as they are, without trying to “sort them into boxes”.
“Have you ever been in a relationship with men/women?” / “Have you ever had real sex?”
This devalues a person’s experience. Imagine questions like these being put to you — pleasant? There is your answer.
Questions like these can sound like an attempt to test or to justify someone else’s identity. As if a person had to pass some “test” or gain some “experience” with the opposite sex for their orientation to be recognized as real. But sexual orientation is not a choice based on experience, it is part of who a person is.
Imagine a heterosexual person being asked: “Are you sure you are not gay? Maybe you just haven’t tried?” — it sounds absurd, doesn’t it? These questions sound just as absurd and just as wrong when they are put to LGBTQI+ people.
Besides, sex is an intimate subject, and asking about it without a very clear context or consent – that is a violation of personal boundaries. If you are not ready to hear something like this addressed to you, it is not worth asking it of others.
“So how do you do it?” (about sex)
This is personal. You don’t ask all of your acquaintances about their intimate lives, do you?
This question violates personal boundaries. People are not asked about the details of their sex lives simply because you are curious. That is especially true of new acquaintances, colleagues, clients, or even friends – such curiosity is inappropriate, even if you consider it “harmless”.
When this question is put to LGBTQI+ people, what stands behind it is often not just curiosity but a wish to “sort things into boxes”, to reduce a relationship to a sexual act, as if that were the main thing or the only thing that defines a person.
Imagine someone walking up to a heterosexual couple and asking outright: “And how do you have sex?” – it would be very strange, rude, and offensive. The same goes for LGBTQI+ couples.
“What happened to you? Was there some trauma?”
Orientation is not a consequence of trauma. This is a myth that was disproved long ago.
A question like this sounds as if being LGBTQI+ were a “deviation” or the result of some painful experience in the past. That is not only a false assumption but a deeply offensive one.
In reality, sexual orientation does not arise from trauma, a parents’ divorce, violence, “wrong upbringing”, or any other events. It is part of who a person is, and it needs no explanation and no justification.
When you ask whether there was some trauma, you are hinting that something is wrong with the person, that they are “broken” or have “a problem that needs fixing”. This stigmatizes and it traumatizes.
Psychological research confirmed long ago: there is no connection whatsoever between sexual orientation and psychological trauma. LGBTQI+ people are just as different from one another as straight people are – with different experiences, different stories, and different life paths.
What does real harm to LGBTQI+ people is precisely prejudice, bullying, discrimination, and questions like these, which cast doubt on their very dignity.
“So when did you realize that you were gay/a lesbian?”
And do you remember when you realized that you were straight?
This question sounds as if sexual orientation were something a person has to consciously determine or “discover” at some point in life. In reality, for most people their sexual orientation is a natural part of their identity, something they simply feel rather than work out from some turning point.
Imagine someone asking you when you realized that you were straight. The question seems odd, because for most people this is not a particularly important moment in life. They have simply always been that way. The same is true of LGBTQI+ people: their orientation is part of who they are, and understanding it usually calls for no great realizations or decisions.
The question “when did you realize?” assumes that being homosexual is a choice a person makes, and that this choice could be changed. In reality, sexual orientation is natural, and it does not depend on when exactly a person became aware of their identity. It is like asking someone: “When did you realize that you love chocolate?” — it is simply part of your experience, with no special moment of discovery.
“You look like a boy/a girl – does that mean you want to be a man/a woman?”
Appearance does not always match gender identity. It is not worth jumping to conclusions.
This question assumes that a person’s appearance has to line up clearly with their gender identity. But that is not so. A person may have a look that seems “masculine” or “feminine” to you, but that does not mean they necessarily feel that way in terms of gender. Gender identity is an inner sense of who a person is (a man, a woman, or perhaps neither of these options), and it may not match how others read their appearance.
For example, a man may wear clothes considered “feminine” or have certain features considered more “femme”, but that does not necessarily mean that he wants to be a woman. The same goes for women: they may look more “masculine”, but that does not point to any wish to be a man. A person’s appearance can be the result of personal style, of self-expression, or simply of comfort.
A question like this can be very delicate, especially if a person is transgender or does not match traditional ideas of masculine or feminine appearance. By asking such questions, you risk revealing a misunderstanding of gender diversity and making the person uncomfortable. It can also create subconscious pressure on them to change their appearance to match someone else’s notions.
“Maybe you just need to try a relationship with the opposite sex?”
If a person tells you who they are, it is not for you to cast doubt on it. That is incorrect and disrespectful.
A question like this rests on the false assumption that sexual orientation is the result of a lack of “experience” or of some wrong choice. As if a homosexual or bisexual person only had to try a relationship with someone of the opposite sex and they would “change their mind” or “realize” that they had been wrong. This is a deeply humiliating and inappropriate idea.
Imagine the reverse situation: a heterosexual person is told that they “just haven’t tried being with someone of their own sex yet”. That would sound strange, out of place, and offensive, wouldn’t it?
Besides, a line like this devalues a person’s experience and self-identification. It casts doubt on their right to be themselves and to know themselves better than outsiders do. For LGBTQI+ people such comments can be especially painful, because they have often already met doubt, condemnation, or even violence because of their orientation. And “advice” like this only adds to the pressure and the discrimination.
“Oh, we are looking for a gay or a trans* person for our event — will you come?”
People are not decoration for “inclusivity”. You invite a person first, not a label.
Wording like this sounds as if a person were being chosen not for their experience, their expertise, or their interest in the subject of the event, but solely because of their identity – in order to “add diversity”. It devalues the person and turns them into a “symbol” meant to create the appearance of inclusivity instead of real participation.
Inclusivity is not about “adding someone LGBTQI+ for the picture”, it is about creating a safe space where every person has an equal voice. If you are inviting someone – address them as a professional, a speaker, or an activist, with respect for their skills and experience, and not as a label that will “check off” an item on a list.
For many LGBTQI+ people this kind of “selectiveness” can be offensive: it is as if they were noticed only when it is convenient for someone or needed for “show”. People are not obliged to represent their community every time someone has to be “put on display”.
An invitation should be personal and sincere: “We would be glad to have you take part as a person who has something to say, to show, to share”. Because that is how genuine equality takes shape — through respect, and not through formally keeping up an “inclusive picture”.
So, certain stereotyped notions that we meet from time to time in our lives do, of course, affect how we build our communication with people of different categories.
If you recognized yourself somewhere here, that is not a disaster. All of us can fail to know something or make mistakes.
The main thing is to learn, to listen, and to change.
And if you happened to say something incorrect – just apologize calmly and go on with the conversation. That is normal.