Beyond Police Victimisation

Beyond Police Victimisation:

Diverging Narratives in the Experiences of Victoria’s GLBTI Population.

Jessica Lamb

Submitted in total fulfilment of the requirements of the degree of Master of Arts.

School of Social and Political Sciences The University of Melbourne

Abstract

My research critically engages with the concept of marginality present in discourse on the relationship between GLBTI people and police. By problematising the taken-for-granted categories present in police-GLBTI studies, my research, informed by Hurley’s (2007) critical assessment of marginality, seeks to look beyond the dominant narrative of victimisation in the GLBTI population. This small-scale exploratory study surveyed GLBTI people about their opinions and experiences of Victoria Police. Quantitative and qualitative data were collected from a sample of 247 GLBTI Victorians utilising an online survey. The diversity of the participants and responses suggests that the relationship has moved beyond the structured binary of the police and the GLBTI population. This has implications for the current, normative approach to policing GLBTI people which is based on assumptions about a monocultural community with one set of policing needs. Non-binary participants emerged as a minority within the sample, demonstrating a greater frequency of interactions, and less satisfaction with interactions than their peers. My findings challenge normative assumptions about the narrative of victimisation and presence of binarism in discourse surrounding the GLBTI-police relationship.

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to a great many people whose contributions helped to shape not only my work, but myself as a researcher. I would like to acknowledge Natalia Hanley, whose early supervision of this project helped in the crucial formation stages. To Dave McDonald, who has shepherded this project from start to finish, thank you for your guidance, ideas and excitement for this topic. Heartfelt thanks to John Fitzgerald for, well, everything. For taking myself and my project on, for pushing me to be a better researcher and above all for believing in me when I needed it most.

I give thanks to the individuals and organisations within the GLBTI community who helped with the dissemination of my online survey. Thanks to everyone who took the time to participate in my research, and especially those who shared personal anecdotes, many of which would not have been easy to relive. Your contributions made this work possible, and I thank you.

I give immense gratitude to my parents, for their belief, their support and their patience.

And finally, to my fiancée Christine. Asking you to marry me in the hectic final two months of this project may not have been advisable, but I think it was the wisest decision I’ve ever made. Thank you for your love, your humour, and above all, for saying YES!

For Jo, Kevin, Sylvia & Gail. In Memoriam.

Table of Contents

List of Figures………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. p.6 Chapter 1. Introduction……………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.7 1.1 Historical story……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.8 1.2 A changing story?...... p.9 1.3 Interrogating the concept of marginality……………………………………………………………………………p.10 Chapter 2. Literature Review………………………………………………………………………………………………….. p.13 2.1 Marginality: Framing a Community Identity………………………………………………………………………p.13 2.2 Reframing marginality in a policing context………………………………………………………………………p.15 2.4 Why do police target GLBTI people?...... p.18 2.5 GLBTI experiences and opinions of police………………………………………………………………………….p.21 Chapter 3. Research Method………………………………………………………………………………………………….. p.25 3.1 Research questions……………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.25 3.2 Research Design………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..p.25 3.3 Survey Questions………………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.27 3.4 Mixed data produced from a single method……………………………………………………………………..p.28 3.5 Recruitment & Data Collection………………………………………………………………………………………….p.29 3.6 Ethical Considerations & Risk Management…………………………………………………………….………..p.31 3.7 Data Analysis……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..p.32 3.8 Results & Discussion overview………………………………………………………………………………….……….p.34 Chapter 4. Discussion: Quantitative Data………………………………………………………………………………… p.35 4.1 The Sample: demographics and traits.……………………………………………………………………………….p.35 4.2 Quantitative Data: perceptions, experiences, and subgroup differences………………….………p.37 4.3 Perceptions of police.………………………………………………………………………………………………………..p.37 4.4 Reporting and Disclosing……………………………………………………………………………………………………p.41 4.5 Experiences of police…………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.48 4.6 Satisfaction with police conduct during interactions…………………………………………………………p.50 4.7 Vicarious Contact……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….p.51 4.8 Participants who do not believe in the necessity of police………………………………………………..p.52 4.9 Transgender experience……………………………………………………………………………………………………p.53 4.10 An emerging minority: non-binary participants……………………………………………………………….p.55 4.11 Factors driving non-binary findings………………………………………………………………………………….p.59 4.12 No defining GLBTI attitude or experience………………………………………………………………………..p.64

Chapter 5. Discussion: Qualitative Data…………………………………………………………………………………… p.65 5.1 Complexity in policing experiences…………………………………………………………………………….………p.65 5.2 Persistence of historical memory……………………………………………………………………………………….p.68 5.3 Marginal identities……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..p.69 5.4 Passing privilege…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.71 5.5 Divergence of Community Narratives……………………………………………………………………….……….p.73 5.6 The future of policing GLBTI people……………………………………………………………………………………p.78 Chapter 6. Conclusion………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. p.79 Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. p.81 Appendix…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. p.88

List of Figures

Figure 1. Sexualities of the sample……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..……p.35 Figure 2. Gender identities of the sample…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..……p.36 Figure 3. Gender identities of Transgender participants……………………………………………………………………………………………..……p.36 Figure 4: Confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation where 1 is No Confidence and 10 is Full Confidence………..…….p.38 Figure 5. Responses to variable “I think the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police is positive”……………..….p.39 Figure 6. Cross Tabulation of Confidence in Police with participant sexuality subgroups…………………………………………….……p.40 Figure 7. Graphs representing five sexuality subgroups for comparison across variable: Confidence in Victoria Police…..p.41 Figure 8. Responses to variable “When I see a Victoria Police officer, I feel safe”………………………………………………………….…p.42 Figure 9: Confidence in reporting victimisation to Victoria Police on a scale of No Confidence to Full Confidence……….….p.43 Figure 10: Confidence in reporting crime as a witness to Victoria Police on a scale of No Confidence to Full Confidence..p.43 Figure 11: Comfort level in allowing police to attend into personal residence…………………………………………………………….……p.44 Figure 12. Responses to “I would feel comfortable disclosing my same-sex relationship to a Victoria Police officer”….….p.45 Figure 13. Responses to variable “Comfort-level disclosing sexuality to police”……………………………………………………………….p.45 Figure 14. Responses to variable “Comfort-level disclosing gender identity to police”…………………………………………………….p.46 Figure 15. Responses to variable “If required, I would feel more comfortable interacting with a police officer who is male, female or either”……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..p.47 Figure 16. Preferred gender of police compared across gender subgroups………………………………………………………………………p.47 Figure 17: Frequency of reported interactions with Victoria Police over previous twelve months……………………………………p.48 Figure 18: Types of interactions with police, as reported by participants…………………………………………………………………………p.49 Figure 19. Responses to variable “I was satisfied with the conduct of the Victoria Police officers with whom I interacted during the previous 12 months”………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.50 Figure 20. Responses to “During my interactions with Victoria Police, police were respectful of my GLBTI identity”………p.50 Figure 21. Responses to “When I hear stories about Victoria Police from other GLBTI people, they are positive”…………..p.51 Figure 22. Comparison of two variables: “When I hear stories about Victoria Police from other GLBTI people, they are positive” and “On the whole, I think that the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police is positive”…………….…p.52 Figure 23. Comfort disclosing gender identity to police compared across transgender and not transgender participants.p.54 Figure 24. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation…p.56 Figure 25. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ feelings of safety around police…………………….……p.56 Figure 26. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ confidence in reporting victimisation to police.…p.57 Figure 27. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants who experienced more than ten police interactions in the previous twelve months………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….…p.58 Figure 28: A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ satisfaction with police conduct on recent interactions………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………p.59 Figure 29. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ comfort-level disclosing their gender identity to police……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….p.60 Figure 30. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ comfort-level disclosing their sexuality to police.p.61

Chapter 1. Introduction

This thesis explores the experiences of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender and Intersex (GLBTI) people when engaging with police. The story of the GLBTI population’s relationship with police has, historically, been one of discrimination and violent victimisation. Remnants of this antagonistic relationship remain, anecdotally and in discourse. Yet the GLBTI population is changing, diversifying – both as a community, and in its relationship with police. Moments of collaboration with police emerge, moving beyond a traditional binary of repression by police violence or resistance against police violence. The contemporary GLBTI experiences of policing are overshadowed by a historical narrative of victimisation that perpetuates normative ideas about police violence. As the GLBTI- police relationship transforms, it is important to interrogate the binaries of language, categories of identity and concepts of victimisation that have traditionally framed this relationship.

Scholarship on the policing of GLBTI people has extensively covered ways in which this population has been victimised by violent and discriminatory police practices. Previous literature suggests that GLBTI people experience discriminatory and abusive policing at a greater rate than the broader community (Colvin, 2014; Mogul et al., 2011; Comstock, 1991; VGLRL, 2000). Anti-homosexual laws, primarily enforced by police, led to a hostile and distrustful relationship between GLBTI people and police (Johnson, 2010). Police have been documented to harbour heterosexist views (Bernstein & Kostelac, 2002; Cherney, 1999) and to have targeted GLBTI people in problematic ways (Dalton, 2008; Groves, 1995). GLBTI people have been shown to be legitimate victims of police discrimination (Russell, 2015), to have lower belief in police legitimacy than heterosexual Australians (Miles- Johnson, 2013), to avoid reporting their criminal victimisation to police (Williams & Robinson, 2004), and to experience secondary victimisation when reporting to police (Wolff & Cokely, 2007).

Surveys that focus on the GLBTI experience of policing and attitude towards police demonstrate uneven results across their participants (Williams & Robinson, 2004; Gillespie, 2008; VGLRL, 2000). Yet studies yield evidence that GLBTI people continue to endure discriminatory policing (Dwyer, 2011b; VGLRL, 2000). However, scholarship centring on the policing experiences of GLBTI people has largely excluded transgender and gender diverse participants (Williams & Robinson, 2004; Gillespie, 2008; Berman & Robinson, 2010; Wolff & Cokely, 2007). Transgender and gender diverse voices are absent from much of the research into the policing of GLBTI people, an integral omission given evidence that police target people who deviate from gender norms (Miles-Johnson, 2016; Dwyer, 2011a).

The narrative of victimisation at the hands of police endures anecdotally and discursively. Surveys exploring the GLBTI-police relationship have previously focussed on the GLBTI experience of police violence and discrimination encountered when reporting criminal victimisation to police (Berman & Robinson, 2010; VGLRL, 2000; Wolff & Cokely, 2007). Very little is known about the relationship outside of this context, and so the narrative of police victimisation remains normative.

1.1 Historical story.

The normalisation of police violence in queer lives has been solidified by critical moments between police and GLBTI people. Historical, publicised events such as the Stonewall Inn riots and the Mardi Gras riot, enshrined police violence in the GLBTI community narrative. When New York City’s Stonewall Inn was raided by police in the summer of 1969, it was one incident in a long line of violent police practices against GLBTI people (Mogul, et al., 2011). Frustrated with the loss of their safe space, and the heterosexist violence inflicted upon them, some of the most vulnerable members of the GLBTI population fought back against police. Drag queens, street people, butch lesbians, transsexuals and transgender women threw projectiles at police, rocked police vehicles, lit fires and forced police to retreat (Mogul, et al., 2011). The riot recurred the following night, and the impact of the queer uprising was felt throughout the GLBTI population. Stonewall brought police violence against GLBTI people into the mainstream consciousness, and framed the relationship into a binary of either repression by police violence or resistance against police violence (Mogul, et al., 2011).

A decade after the Stonewall riots, a commemorative march was organised in Sydney as a celebration of defiant gay pride. The 1978 Mardi Gras parade had its permit revoked at the last minute, and police descended on the crowd, attempting to disperse the marchers through the use of violence. Violent scuffles occurred, and participants were arrested and beaten, only to be taken to the notorious Darlinghurst police station (Russell, 2016). The events of the 1978 Mardi Gras riot demonstrate that in the decade since Stonewall, relations between GLBTI people and police continued to be defined by violence.

In Victoria, the GLBTI population was impacted by the police violence inflicted upon patrons of the Tasty nightclub in 1994. Victoria Police raided the queer establishment on a warrant to search for illicit substances, and subjected hundreds of patrons to invasive strip searches and heterosexist

8 language. Victoria Police were heavily criticised over the raid, and formally apologised to the community in 2014 (Russell, 2015). Russell (2015) examines Tasty as the first instance where GLBTI people achieved legitimacy as victims of police violence in the eyes of the mainstream media and society more generally. Tasty triggered a significant outcry over queer rights, and brought attention to lingering heterosexist sentiments within Victoria Police. Stonewall, Mardi Gras and Tasty are examples of historical events where police violence against GLBTI people became public knowledge. These events enshrined victimisation as the core story of police-GLBTI relations. The community narrative, the mechanism through which we learn about ourselves and our community, informed GLBTI people’s expectations of police discrimination (Rappaport, 2000). Gay liberation, the GLBTI civil rights movement, was founded on a communal experience of police repression, and an organised resistance to that violence (Willett, 2000). Historical events such as the Stonewall Inn riots, the first Mardi Gras and the Tasty raid normalised police discrimination as an aspect of GLBTI lives.

Discourse centred on the GLBTI-police relationship is informed by these key historical events. Additionally, research utilising experiential surveys has demonstrated heterosexist instances of police violence, hesitance to report hate crimes to police, police mishandling hate crime victimisation, and general negative attitudes towards police. Yet evidence emerges that this relationship may be moving away from this historical narrative of victimisation by police.

1.2 A changing story?

The efforts to improve the policing experiences of this vulnerable population through collaboration have been explored (Asquith, 2012; Gillespie, 2008; Russell, 2016; Dwyer & Ball, 2012), but whether this improvement benefits all who fall under the GLBTI umbrella remains unclear. Initiatives such as Gay and Lesbian Liaison Officers (GLLOs) are intended to minimise community fears about interacting with police (Dwyer & Ball, 2012). Community policing initiatives throughout the 1990s and 2000s have seen police outreach to GLBTI citizens. In addition to GLLOs, police have taken part in Pride marches, Sydney’s Mardi Gras parade, community organisations liaise with police through GLLO reference groups, and police actively recruit from the GLBTI population.

In Victoria, the 2002 Pride March is cited as representing a turning point in the dialogue between police and GLBTI people. This marked the first year that Victoria Police participated in the parade, marching in uniform and on duty. The contingent of Victoria Police officers was led by then Chief

Commissioner Christine Nixon, who was the first Chief Commissioner to participate in Pride March (Russell, 2016). The reaction of the GLBTI population to Victoria Police’s involvement in Pride is notable for the level of positivity and warmth that was directed at police (Russell, 2016). Russell (2016:2) reports on the GLBTI reaction to uniformed police marching at Pride, noting that “the police contingent received loud and ‘tumultuous applause’ from the crowd”. Russell (2016:5) found that the inclusion of Victoria Police and the Chief Commissioner at Pride converted “bad feelings of queer oppression and exclusion into good feelings of LGBT recognition and acceptance”.

Similar scenes occur at Sydney’s annual Mardi Gras parade, where uniformed police receive enthusiastic support from the crowd. This is perhaps even more remarkable, given the violent history of Mardi Gras as a site of police repression and GLBTI resistance. That it is now a site of reconciliation demonstrates a willingness amongst GLBTI people to welcome police into safe spaces, and to move the relationship into a new era of collaboration. However, Russell (2016:2) notes criticism of police attendance at Pride and Mardi Gras events, as it “contributes to the normalization of queerness as a site to be continually policed and regulated”. In a way, such events continue to legitimise police intervention in queer lives. Yet Gillespie (2008) evidences the overwhelming popularity of police presence at GLBTI community events. In a study of patrons at Atlanta’s Pride festival, Gillespie surveyed gay, lesbian and bisexual people on their attitudes towards police, with a focus on community policing initiatives. Gillespie’s results demonstrated that collaborative policing initiatives such as GLLOs, and police presence at queer events, had positive support from GLBTI people. Additionally, unlike Williams & Robinson (2004), Gillespie found that prior victimisation resulted in participants having a higher opinion of police, not lower.

Moving beyond the historical binary of police victimisation and queer resistance, the findings of these scholars suggest that the GLBTI-police relationship may be evolving. Whether this change is reflected in GLBTI experiences of police victimisation remains unclear, and serves as a central theme of this thesis.

1.3 Interrogating the concept of marginality.

The story of the GLBTI-police relationship is changing, but discourse is not capturing this transition. Michael Hurley’s (2007) work on interrogating concepts of marginality in research can be utilised to understand why this may be the case. Referring to the work of Graham Willett (2000), Hurley cautions that the experience of marginality “is not a straight forward synonym for permanently

10 being in a minority” (2007:169). In other words, Hurley critiques the use of ‘marginality’ as a descriptive category rather than an analytic one. He cautions against installing marginality uncritically in research, and warns scholars who research marginal communities to interrogate the concept that marginality is inherent. If this is not done, Hurley warns, then scholars may produce an account of social deficit where none is warranted.

Marginality, according to Hurley, is more complex than is often acknowledged in research. Scholars should allow the complexities of marginality to emerge from their data, rather than enforcing or perpetuating a status quo. Hurley espouses marginality as an identity, and cautions that there exists a difference between having a marginalised identity, and having marginalised experiences. In this way, marginality is narrated. To belong to a marginalised population is to identify with that narrative of marginality, but it is not necessarily reflective of your lived experiences. Hurley prompts scholars to tease out the difference.

Hurley’s interrogation of marginality can be applied to research into the GLBTI relationship with police, by examining ways in which GLBTI people are made marginal by their relationship with police. For example, discursively, GLBTI people are framed as victims of either criminal violence or police violence. This binary of victimisation is frequently used to frame the GLBTI-police relationship in research. But this focus on criminal victimisation as the conduit to contact with police may be obscuring other sites of contact. Similarly, the relationship is frequently explored using the gender binary, with the experiences of men and women documented above those of diverse genders. This leaves a critical gap and actively marginalises people with diverse genders in discourse. Additionally, framing the GLBTI-police relationship through a historical lens, with a focus on the impact of past traumatic events, may perpetuate a narrative of victimisation.

Using Hurley, there is a need to interrogate these taken-for-granted categories and frameworks, as they may be perpetuating a dominant cultural narrative of victimisation that might not be reflective of the GLBTI population’s lived experiences. By examining GLBTI experiences of policing, I seek to interrogate the categories of identity and concepts of victimisation that have dominated discourse, to examine if such binaries present an adequate framework for researching this population. My research, utilising Hurley, seeks to problemetise this lens of victimisation in order to gain a fuller picture of the perceptions and interactions that GLBTI people experience of police.

These concepts are further explored in the following chapter, where I present a review of the

11 literature on the relationship between police and GLBTI people. My methodological approach of an online survey and ethical considerations are outlined in the third chapter. The fourth chapter presents a descriptive analysis and discussion of the quantitative survey data. The fifth chapter delves deeper into the concepts uncovered in the first discussion chapter, by utilising the qualitative survey data. The final chapter presents concluding comments and ponders future implications for the GLBTI-police relationship.

Chapter 2. Literature Review

2.1 Marginality: Framing a Community Identity.

The heteronormative ideal of male, female and heterosexual is “invested with the power to define all other sexualities as marginal” (Dwyer, 2011a:3). Any deviation from this norm became regulated in social, legal, religious, and medical settings. Foucault (1978: 43) outlines ways in which the discourse surrounding homosexuality has changed over time. Rather than being an act that people do (i.e. sodomy), it becomes a type of person, someone who can be pathologised and criminalised. The language surrounding sexual difference is focussed on perversion and deviance. Sexual and gender deviance, therefore, became an identity – one placed firmly at the margins of respectability. The heteronormative ideal was framed as the centre, around which any deviation was criminalised.

The state was able to regulate, criminalise and punish people for the crime of existing outside of society’s accepted gender and sexual norms (Shneer & Aviv, 2015). This regulation manifested as violence against people whose sexuality and gender did not conform. Shneer & Aviv (2015:181) define violence as “the physical and discursive use of power to maintain social, cultural, and physical boundaries that support dominance of one group over another”. Comstock (1991) recognises that the violence against gays and lesbians came from a desire to maintain structures of power, but also mused whether violence enacted by citizens was caused by prejudice and misinformation. Bell & Perry (2015:100) posit that whether the violence is committed by a citizen, agent of the state or act of the state, the intention is the same - to “subjugate minority groups with the purpose of maintaining power and privilege, domination and difference”. These accounts demonstrate how victimisation, subjugation and marginalisation of GLBTI people became normative.

GLBTI identity was not benign in the eyes of the state, but risky. Dalton (2006:282) demonstrates the legal and cultural anxiety over public homosexual activity, in particular, which was framed as being a “societal problem”. In a review of archival documents submitted to a seminar on male sexual criminality in 1970, Dalton (2006:285) explains how “the problem of male sexual offending is represented in the ofﬁcial discourse as a ﬂow of polluted (and polluting) bodies that threaten to contaminate and corrupt other men”. Non-heteronormative identities needed to be regulated, as they were deemed ‘a risk’ to societal values. Intersex and gender non-conforming people were conceived as being a threat for they “confounded the law that distinguished the sexes and prescribed their union” (Foucault, 1978:38). GLBTI identity, therefore, needed to be regulated and

subjugated as it posed a threat to the heteronormative ideal, and Dalton shows how this could be framed as a criminal threat.

Scholars have focussed on how GLBTI people experienced and understood being marginalised and risky. Tremblay (2015:5) calls this sense of being a second-class citizen the “raw materials for social movement activism”. He outlines how experiencing this marginalisation produced a “sense of belonging to a minority”. Thus, while the state had given GLBTI people a pathologised and criminalised identity, the solidarity of this marginalised identity produced a kind of kinship. This was the first stirrings of a community; one based in fighting oppression (Willett, 2000). In the 1960s, queer activists began to reject this pathologisation of sexual and gender identities that deviated from societal norms, and advocated for pride in their identity 1 (D’Emilio, 1983). Marginality became an identity around which they could organise resistance. Valerie Jenness (1995) evidences how the gay rights movement made violence against GLBTI people into a social problem , rather than a social fact . GLBTI people began to reframe risk, successfully establishing themselves as legitimate victims of societal and state violence (Russell, 2015). Using Stanford’s (2012) framework of risk, GLBTI people can be understood as moving from posing ‘a risk’ to being ‘at risk’. They successfully reframed their marginalised identity from being a threat and needing regulating, to being vulnerable and needing protecting.

A developing sense of community identity brought with it new mechanisms for understanding their own marginality. One of these mechanisms is the concept of vicarious contact. GLBTI people share their experiences, which informs group members of the violence that they can expect from society (criminal victimisation) and institutions (police discrimination). For example, the highly publicised 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard, a young gay man in the United States, was found to have a “vicarious traumatizing effect” on the GLBTI community (Bell & Perry, 2015:104). GLBTI people reported attempting to obscure their queer identity in the aftermath of Shepard’s death, as it made them more aware of the potential heterosexist violence that they could face. Shepard’s death served as a vicarious experience of violence, and as Herek et al. (1997) demonstrate, the impact of vicarious victimisation can be of similar impact as personal victimisation for the original victim’s reference community (Bell & Perry, 2015).

These vicarious experiences of violence and victimisation feed into a community narrative, which

1 Homosexuality was formally declassified as a mental disorder by the American Psychiatric Association in 1973. Herek (2015:31), tongue firmly in cheek, calls this event the “the biggest mass cure of mental illness in modern history”.

Rappaport (2000) describes as a story common among a group that tells the members important things about themselves. In this case, the community narrative informs GLBTI people about the kinds of violence and discrimination that they should expect from society (Bell & Perry, 2015; Wu, Smith & Sun, 2013). Shneer & Aviv (2015:181), commenting on Wayne Myslik’s 1994 study of a queer neighbourhood, note that “most white queer men assume violence as a social fact, even if most of them have not experienced social violence directly”. GLBTI people are informed of their own marginality by the marginal experiences of those in their identity group, and the stories they tell about violence.

2.2 Reframing marginality in a policing context.

GLBTI people are frequently framed as made marginal by poor policing practices (Bartkowiak-Theron & Asquith, 2012). They are understood to be both ‘a risk’ and ‘at risk’ because of complex intersections of their GLBTI status with other vulnerabilities (Dwyer, 2011). The literature is dominated by accounts that portray GLBTI people as marginalised and victimised by their relationship with police. This narrative, that GLBTI people embody an inherent risk in their encounters with police, can be traced back to an historically violent relationship, with notable sites of queer resistance against police brutality. Events such as the above-mentioned 1978 Mardi Gras riot and the 1994 Tasty Nightclub raid, and police practices such as entrapment and not taking hate crimes seriously, have likely contributed to GLBTI having a lowered belief in police legitimacy (Miles- Johnson, 2013).

The GLBTI population are both made marginal by their treatment at the hands of police; and their marginalised identity defines how they relate to and approach police. Wu, Smith & Sun (2013:75) find that American Chinese immigrant’s perceptions of police were impacted by “direct contact with police, vicarious contact with police, media exposure to police misconduct, and perceptions of officer demeanour”. As the relationship between police and GLBTI people has been historically fraught with tension, the community narrative is laden with negative experiences and stories that shape GLBTI people’s perceptions of police. A history of being victimised by police violence, secondary victimisation at the hands of police and well-known instances of police brutality have contributed to a community narrative that is saturated by fear of police. Chan (1997:26) notes that historical police abuses can overshadow the contemporary relationship between police and minorities.

Comstock (1991) reports on specific ways in which police have enacted violence against GLBTI people, historically. The practice of entrapment, wherein police would solicit other men for sex and then arrest them, was a routine tool used by police in their crusade against homosexuality (Comstock, 1991; Gallo et al., 1966). In a survey of court records taken from Los Angeles County between 1962 and 1964, Gallo et al. (1966:707) found that a staggering 51 per cent of homosexual misdemeanour arrests were triggered by undercover ‘decoy’ police propositioning men first. The lesbian community was also targeted with violence and harassment. Throughout the 1970s, lesbian organisations experienced violent confrontations with police. Police found any minor sanction with which to target gay and lesbian establishments, often involving alcohol permits (Comstock, 1991:156). Such police tactics represent an over-policing of the GLBTI population. But as Colvin (2014:189) indicates, GLBTI people have been both over and under-policed. The concept of secondary victimisation, where a GLBTI person reporting their victimisation to police receives an abusive or dismissive response, drove down reporting rates. This fear of the police response resulted in GLBTI people avoiding contact with police. This fear was not necessarily driven by personal experience, but also based on the vicarious experience of other GLBTI people. For example, Comstock (1991:152) notes that incidences of physical assault by police officers were “reported with notable frequency in the gay/lesbian, alternative and mainstream media”. Individuals learned about abusive police conduct through the community narrative of vicarious experiences and media reports, and so did not need direct contact with police in order to feel the impact of police discrimination.

Additionally, GLBTI perceptions of police have been impacted by violent historical events between police and the GLBTI community. The 1969 Stonewall riots in New York, the 1978 Mardi Gras riot in Sydney, and the 1994 police raid on the Tasty nightclub in Melbourne are all events that shaped GLBTI opinions of police, and continue to do so (Russell, 2015; Groves, 1995). Wu, Smith & Sun (2013:75) explain how a “single highly publicized incident can significantly increase citizens’ negative sentiments toward police”. Dwyer (2014:158) explains how these historical experiences have a negative legacy that can linger in the minds of those affected. Dwyer (2014) points to the Tasty raid as a well-publicised event that brought attention to violent and inappropriate police practices, such as invasive strip-searches, heterosexist language, lack of respect for privacy and lack of female officers to search female patrons. Russell (2015:122) investigates how the Tasty raid cast the police’s image in the media as “overwhelmingly negative” and damaged police reputation. Both queer and mainstream press reported the raid as “excessive, coercive, degrading, dangerous, intimidating, discriminatory and unacceptable” (Russell, 2015:124). For GLBTI people, the Tasty raid and similar

16 acts of police brutality served as a reminder of the power that police hold over queer bodies. Such incidents act as what Dwyer (2015) might term “pedagogical moments”, informing GLBTI people of the discrimination and violence that they can expect to face at the hands of police.

However, the ability of police to enact violence onto GLBTI people has been increasingly challenged by the visibility and credibility achieved by the push for GLBTI civil rights. Recalling Jenness (1995), GLBTI people successfully transformed the discourse on societal violence from a fact into a problem, and demanded protections accordingly. Police violence against GLBTI people, which once may have been tolerated, emerged as a liability to police legitimacy. Russell (2015) demonstrates how the events of the Tasty nightclub raid in 1994 not only resulted in a loss of legitimacy for police, but a gain of legitimacy for GLBTI people as credible victims of police violence. Violence against GLBTI people had “newfound visibility and ‘empirical credibility’” (Jenness, 1995:148). The GLBTI population leveraged this legitimacy to call for better legal rights and protections, especially from police. In Australia, community-led initiatives like the Anti-Violence Project held police to account by documenting societal and police violence against GLBTI people. The GLBTI population emerged as a marginalised group with a legitimate claim on victimisation and changing expectations of the role of police and the state in their lives.

This had a noticeable impact on the policing of GLBTI people, and ushered in new ways of policing this minority population, at a time when police organisations were reassessing their community policing policies (Dwyer, 2014). As GLBTI people pushed back against policing that frames queer identity as deviant, police organisations have undergone change in the way they approach the policing of vulnerable people (Asquith, 2012; Dwyer, 2014). This has then led to new, more collaborative ways of policing as police organisations seek to address the gap in service being experienced by marginal communities compared with mainstream communities. For the GLBTI population, police have introduced a variety of measures such as recruiting from within the community, GLLOs, police-community liaisons committees and greater community engagement including participating in Pride marches. However, these are institutional changes, and as Chan (1997:1) suggests, change that is imposed on a police organisation from the top often meets resistance from the bottom. As Dwyer notes (2014:159), “seemingly regressive moments of policing can randomly emerge in ways that are antithetical to the contemporary policing partnership climate”. This speaks to the impact of individual officers’ attitudes and behaviours on the policing experiences of GLBTI people. As such it is appropriate to assess the literature on direct encounters between GLBTI people and police, for these may differ from the community’s relationship with

17 police, and from the police organisation’s relationship with the community.

2.4 Why do police target GLBTI people?

The police brutality enacted on GLBTI people has come to be understood as excessive, and scholars have sought to understand this seemingly inherent need of police to exert violence on queer bodies . As detailed above, this hatred manifested as violence and discriminatory police practices enacted on GLBTI people. Scholars have explored reasons why GLBTI people receive “uneven and inequitable” treatment by police (Colvin, 2014: 189). Prior to the decriminalisation of homosexuality, police behaviour towards GLBTI people could be perceived as simply the police enforcing the state’s laws. As homosexual acts were decriminalised, scholars turned their attention to reasons why police continued to discriminate against GLBTI people. The decriminalisation era brought with it an acknowledgment that police pursued sexual and gender deviance with a fervour that could not be reduced to their enforcement of the law. The following section examines potential driving factors behind the police victimisation of GLBTI people.

Foucault (1978) suggests that the state was not necessarily heterosexist, but rather was regulating all sexuality in promotion of the monogamous, opposite-sex procreative ideal. Foucault argued that sex became a police matter as a way of ordering public discourses (1978:24). Police conduct in relation to GLBTI people can be understood in terms of the state’s reliance on police for the regulation of its citizens’ sexuality. A Foucauldian appreciation of the police-GLBTI relationship indicates a power relationship between the institution of policing and the GLBTI population; with sexuality at the heart of this power relation. GLBTI people’s experience of this power imbalance, therefore, would manifest as the experience of discriminatory policing. However, scholars such as Colvin (2014: 189), argue that the over-policing behaviour of “harassment and arrests have been driven mostly by officers’ homophobia”. Comstock (1991) supports this argument, reporting on the work of sociologists and criminologists from 1950s and 1960s. Comstock found that police displayed an obsession with policing ‘sexual deviants’, and cites a study that found ‘homosexuals’ ranked as police members’ most hated group in society, second only to ‘cop-bashers’.

Johnson (2010:401) examines how legislation contributes to heterosexist over-policing, rather than focusing on homophobia of individual officers. Johnston (2010:402) explains how the “law facilitates forms of police discretion that encourage the disproportionate social control of male homosexual conduct”. He explains how the state, no longer able to criminalise homosexual acts or identities,

instead created legislation criminalising “a range of ‘offensive’, ‘obscene’ and ‘indecent’ conduct in public places”. In this argument, GLBTI identity is understood to be burdened by a lingering attachment to deviance, perpetuating the idea of the identity’s inherent riskiness.

Williams & Robinson (2004) combine the anti-GLBTI sentiment of the police officer with the heterosexist laws of the state to argue that such laws simply enable the already-present anti-GLBTI sentiments of the police, and give them the tools with which to continue to over-police the GLBTI population. They explain how the “laws governing the behaviour of homosexuals in public (namely those concerned with gross indecency in a public place) have been overzealously applied and their wording is so vague that they have been open to multiple interpretations and abuse by officers” (2004:214). The implication here is that police look for ways to exert their power over GLBTI people. This preoccupation with police as perpetrators of heterosexist violence is present in studies of gay and lesbian police. Scholars attempt to understand “how officers reconciled a ‘deviant’ behaviour with their law enforcement role as regulators of deviance” (Colvin, 2014:186).

Queer and gender theorists point to hyper-masculinised police culture as the driver behind the police’s targeting of GLBTI people. Central to their argument is an understanding of the ways in which police are culturally “doing gender” (Bell & Perry, 2015:101). The police identity is orientated around standards of heteronormativity, which refers to “the normalisation of heterosexuality and the marginalisation of all other sexualities” (Dwyer, 2015:496). Police culture encourages police to perform their role in a manner which maintains and benefits hegemonic masculinity 2. This has direct implications for GLBTI people, who are viewed as non-heteronormative, and thus a threat to normalised gender roles. As Dwyer (2014:154) explains “policing was defined by a certain idea of masculinity and maintaining that at all costs”. Tomsen & Mason (2001:264) point to a link between homophobia and sexism, explaining how police experience “discomfort and anger at not being able to automatically detect the conventional signifiers of gender in another person”. Messerschmidt (1993) explains how police view GLBTI people as a deviation from the masculine ideal, and their bodies and desires become criminalised. When police target gender diversity, they are responding to “[…] the urge to validate the gender conformity that is linked to a social system of heterosexual privilege” (Tomsen & Mason, 2001:270). Lesbians have come to represent ’gender trouble’ and violence or “hostility towards lesbians is […] about the perpetrator’s inability to tolerate this sort of gender non-conformity” (Tomsen & Mason, 2001:264).This is similar for gay men, as Dalton (2006:285) highlights the trauma and stigma that they experienced at the hands of police for having

2 A term and concept developed by R W Connell (1987)

their desire classified as deviant. The literature presents an argument that the over-policing of GLBTI people with tactics such as entrapment at beats and street harassment is the police’s way of reasserting their masculine dominance over this deviant GLBTI identity. To police, gender and sexual diversity is perceived as a violation of gender norms, and they perceive themselves as the regulators and enforcers of the heteronormative ideal.

While the motivations behind police behaviour have come to be understood as rooted in upholding a hegemonic masculinist ideal, recent attention has been turned to their mechanisms for targeting GLBTI people. Unlike racial identifiers, queer identity can be obscured, and many GLBTI people attempt to live a closeted life. Angela Dwyer (2011, 2011a, 2011b), in her extensive exploration of the policing of queer youth, utilises Foucault to understand the processes that render queer identity visible to police. As explained above, the medicalisation of homosexuality and gender variance produced the concept of people as deviant rather than people performing deviant acts (Foucault, 1978). This pathologising implied that their homosexual or gender variant nature could be detected on their person. This idea, that sexual and gender deviance is discoverable, is essential to the policing of sexual and gender difference. Foucault (1978:44) explains how these ‘unnatural’ traits were thought to be detectable “in the depths of the organism, or on the surface of the skin, or among all the signs of behaviour”. In their regulation and repression of gender and sexual deviance, police have relied upon certain mechanisms which have rendered these identities as discoverable.

Skolnick & Fyfe’s study (1993:97) of police violence unearthed the mechanisms through which police surveil, and thus target, variations from the mean. They argue that constant alertness leads police to become attuned to “deviations from the normal” and to associate them with the potential for criminal activity. They explain how police “prefer to encounter citizens who appear stable, well- dressed, normal, and unthreatening enough not to warrant a field patdown” (Skolnick & Fyfe, 1993:95). They argue that there is a risk involved in encounters with police, but that this risk is exponentially greater for “outcast group members” who “may be presumed to be a potential offender” (Skolnick & Fyfe, 1993:103).

Dwyer, using a Foucauldian (1978:44) understanding of how the ‘sexually peculiar’ becomes “imbedded in bodies”, demonstrates how queer bodies are able to be read, identified and regulated. Dwyer (2011a) explains GLBTI deviance as transgressing the heteronorm , as GLBTI people visibly destabilise traditional notions of gender roles. Police are able to read this transgression on the bodies of GLBTI people, so that their queerness, and therefore perceived deviance, becomes visible

(Dwyer, 2014). Police surveillance of visibly queer bodies then becomes a form of subtle constraint (Dwyer 2011b:5), which works as a “pedagogical moment” to inform young queers that their queerness is “out of place in public spaces” (Dwyer, 2015:509). Visibility is a central theme in Dwyer’s work, and is an appropriate mechanism for understanding ways in which police are able to render queer bodies as discoverable and therefore able to be policed. Dwyer’s themes of constraint and surveillance of queer bodies add to the argument that decriminalisation of homosexual acts has not prevented police discrimination against GLBTI people.

As demonstrated above, reasons underpinning police discrimination against GLBTI people are relatively well-explored. What is less understood are the ways in which GLBTI people conceptualise the role of police in their lives, and how they navigate interactions with police that may be fraught with tension. As police organisations work to overcome their heterosexist actions and reputations, the impact (if any) on GLBTI people is unclear (Russell, 2016). The following section details the existing literature on GLBTI experience and perceptions of policing.

2.5 GLBTI experiences and opinions of police.

According to Tremblay (2015:11), the relationship between GLBTI people and police has entered an era of “dialogue and collaboration”. However, Dwyer (2014:159) warns that “the fragile trust in the present may be inextricably linked with the mistrust of the past”. Miles-Johnson (2013) concludes that further cooperation between GLBTI people and police will not be possible until trust and belief in police legitimacy are restored. This suggests the relationship may be in a transitional phase; at once problematic and progressive – a nexus of history and hope. How this translates into encounters between individual officers and GLBTI individuals is another matter, and has been the subject of a specific body of literature. I will detail this literature and what it says about GLBTI experiences and perceptions of policing, below.

A collaborative approach to policing the GLBTI community has involved the implementation of liaison officers. These officers are trained in the issues and needs of the community, but normally only number a handful in any given police force. This initiative has been present for approximately two decades, depending on the police force, which means it is one of the only new ways of policing with data on impact – although it is severely limited (Dwyer & Ball, 2012). Berman and Robinson (2010), in their extensive survey of the victimisation experiences of Queensland’s GLBTI population, examine the impact of GLLOs on their respondents’ policing experiences. Whilst respondents

reported positive experiences of GLLOs, very few (only 4 per cent) accessed their services, with the vast majority interacting with mainstream police officers. This figure was similar in Leonard et al.’s (2008) survey of GLBTI victimisation, with only six out of 339 respondents accessing GLLOs.

The small numbers of GLBTI people accessing GLLOs means that studies focussing on this site of interaction are likely missing the broader policing relationship with GLBTI people. Dwyer (2014:160) expresses this concern that partnership policing models may not be informing street level police work, and that GLBTI sensitivity training “may not actually filter down into day-today interactions with LGBT people in public spaces”. This has implications for the high rates of under-reporting of criminal victimisation to police present within the GLBTI population (Comstock, 1991). Miles-Johnson (2013) reports that expectation of a heterosexist police response strongly influences GLBTI people’s willingness to report their victimisation to police. Miles-Johnson (2013) concludes that GLBTI people have lowered belief in police legitimacy compared with heterosexuals, highlighting the importance of comprehensive research into the policing experiences of GLBTI people.

The vast majority of studies examining GLBTI people’s experiences of mainstream police are centred on the reporting of criminal victimisation to police, or experiencing violence and discrimination from police (Berman and Robinson, 2010; Wolff & Cokely, 2007; William & Robinson, 2004; Leonard et al., 2008, VGLRL, 2000). These are often the same issue, as GLBTI people reporting victimisation can be further victimised by poor treatment from police. This can include police not taking victimisation seriously, insensitive or abusive police, dissatisfaction with the outcome of the report and police unwilling to classify victimisation as a hate crime (Wolff & Cokely, 2007, Williams & Robinson, 2004). On the latter point, Wolff & Cokely (2007) in their study on police incident reports, report that police found hate crimes to be normalised and acceptable forms of behaviour, which influenced their decision to not file a report when prompted by victims. When police did file a report, Wolf & Cokely find that the GLBTI participant was rarely satisfied by the outcome, which may be an issue of procedural justice (Miles-Johnson, 2013). The incident reports that they examined were filed by GLBTI people throughout the 1990s, and were overwhelmingly negative of police conduct, although they did cite small sign of improvement. That these reports were collected two decades ago, prior to modern models of collaborative policing, may explain the negative nature of the reports. Williams and Robinson, in a study from 2004, find that three quarters of their survey respondents did not feel discriminated against or harassed by police. They noted this was far from the indictment of the police that they were expecting when they undertook their research.

The majority of experiential studies focus on reporting criminal victimisation as the main site of contact between police and GLBTI people, or they focus on the existence of GLLOs. These studies highlight a concept that is frequently cited in policing GLBTI studies – that of improvement. Improvement in the relationship is portrayed as developing on a linear path, as less GLBTI people experience discriminatory policing. Police reconciliation initiatives are also viewed as improving the relationship (Gillespie, 2008), although such initiatives are also critiqued for increasing the intervention of police in GLBTI lives and spaces (Russell, 2016).

One problem inherent with portraying improvement as a linear path between the problematic past and a better future is that these studies often cite the GLBTI population as an homogenous group, with an assumed uniformity of experience. Research into the GLBTI population that follows similar methodologies risks reproducing gaps in our knowledge of this relationship. The experience of transgender and gender diverse people has been relatively under-researched, compared with research focussing on minority sexualities. Gender diverse participation numbers have previously been too low to draw inferences (Williams & Robinson, 2004; Berman and Robinson, 2010), or not captured at all (Gillespie, 2008).

Williams & Robinson (2004) call for further research to take an intersectional approach to discrimination by police. When facing a participant with multiple marginalised identities they found it difficult to ascertain from which identity the police discrimination originated; or whether it was a complex interaction of marginal identities. As Russell (2016) notes, there are certain members within the GLBTI population whose racial or class privilege impacts upon their relationship with police. Chenier (in Tremblay, 2015) cautions us to keep intersectional concerns at the forefront of our minds; lamenting how queer activists have since moved away from early intersectional thinking. Mogul et al. (2011) take an intersectional look at queer injustice, discovering that transgender and gender non-conforming Americans are over-represented in the criminal justice system. The experience of gender variant people within the GLBTI population remains under-researched, underlying an assumption that sexuality, not gender, is the key determinant in GLBTI experiences of policing. This may be obscuring the full picture of GLBTI encounters with police, which presents a critical gap in knowledge of this relationship.

Visibility played a role in police encounters, as many GLBTI victims of crime obscured their GLBTI identity when reporting their victimisation (Berman and Robinson, 2010). Dwyer (2011a; 2011b) explores the impact of visible queerness on over-policing practices such as targeting and

23 harassment. She highlights the existence of police intervention in queer lives, especially in public spaces. This demonstrates that studies focussing solely on the reporting of victimisation to police may be missing other key sites of interaction. There potentially exists a greater variety of police- GLBTI encounters and sites of interactions not being investigated in research.

Discourse on the policing of GLBTI people is dominated by a narrative of victimisation, despite recent evidence suggesting that the relationship is transforming. Experiential surveys have demonstrated uneven results, potentially as a reflection of a heterogeneous GLBTI population, or perhaps reflecting a policing relationship that is transitioning between the distrust of the past, and hope for the future (Williams & Robinson, 2004; Berman & Robinson, 2010). There is tension between framing GLBTI identity as ‘a risk’ and ‘at risk’, but it is unclear how this informs the policing experiences of this community, nor whether this binary accurately reflects the relationship. Additionally, the broader GLBTI relationship with police remains obscured, as previous research excludes people of diverse genders.

Chapter 3. Research Method

3.1 Research questions.

My research presents a small-scale exploratory study of the policing opinions and experiences of GLBTI people. Accordingly, the key research questions driving my research are:

• What are the types and frequency of interactions between GLBTI people and Victoria Police?

• What are the perceptions of and the attitudes towards Victoria Police by GLBTI people?

Additionally, my research was guided by a series of sub-questions:

• To what extent does a perception of marginalised identity shape GLBTI interactions with police? • To what extent does a perception of police culture shape GLBTI interactions with police? • To what extent do vicarious contact and the community’s victimisation narrative shape GLBTI people’s opinions and interactions with police? • What are the similarities and differences in the policing experiences and opinions of GLBTI people? Is there homogeneity of experience and opinion, or is this more multifaceted and diverse?

3.2 Research Design .

My research design reflects a mixed qualitative and quantitative descriptive study using data from a

cross-sectional anonymous self-completed online survey of GLBTI people focussed on attitudes and experiences of policing. This method was selected due to ethical concerns, to facilitate access of a hard-to-reach population, and for ease of distribution. These reasons are discussed in detail below.

A self-completed online survey presented the most appropriate method for sampling GLBTI people’s interactions with and perceptions of police. The survey method allowed me to collect a comparatively large data set in an efficient and cost-effective manner; and results were able to be collated and processed quickly (Bryman, 2012:658; Creswell, 2003). Hosting the survey online was convenient to respondents; the survey could be completed in their own time and also accorded respondents the option to bookmark the URL link for completion at a more suitable time. An online survey provided the additional advantage of reaching respondents across Victoria, without requiring the researcher to expend limited resources on travel.

The rationale for survey research was directly influenced by the hard-to-reach target population (Wu, Smith & Sun, 2013). A survey hosted online is able to be disseminated widely without the need for the researcher to identify individuals’ GLBTI status. Participants self-selected for the research, and the online survey allowed respondents to participate in private without the threat of outing their GLBTI status, which can lead to potential discrimination or harassment. This method was selected to be convenient to the sample, and in the hope that the anonymity and security of an online survey would boost participation.

This was useful because it enabled me to include a breadth of participants from across GLBTI communities and facilitated comparisons within and between these groups and therefore an appreciation of the diverse and complex experiences and opinions that people hold. The self- completion survey was hosted on Survey Monkey and was distributed via URL link 3. Completing the survey took approximately twenty minutes, depending on whether respondents answered all open and closed questions. This mix of question styles had the added benefit of discouraging respondents from exhibiting response sets, like acquiescence (Bryman, 2012: 239).

The first page of the survey served as a Plain Language Statement and also listed the researcher’s email address for any questions or concerns from respondents. Several participants made use of this email, providing feedback on the framing and language used within the survey. The variety of the feedback received highlighted the diversity of identities and communities within this population. As

3 See appendix for a copy of the survey

26 the topic of policing encounters had the potential to be sensitive for many members of the GLBTI population, it was important to be clear about the intention and contents of the survey from the outset. The data collection period was approximately two months, with the majority of surveys completed in one week.

3.3 Survey Questions.

The survey was comprised of three sections: demographic questions, perceptions of policing and interactions with police. Interactions and perceptions were separated into distinct sections to facilitate comparison between the two.

The demographic questions were designed to highlight the complexity and diversity of the GLBTI population. This is a population that crosses all age, gender, cultural, class and geographic lines. Establishing the demographic profile of the sample enabled me to make comparisons between different subgroups, such as between the various ages or genders. Respondents were asked to define their sexuality and gender identity, as well as to chart how open they are about their GLBTI status. Participants were also surveyed about their age, education level, intersex status, residential location and relationship status. Participants could also indicate whether they were Indigenous or Torres Strait Islander or from a Culturally and Linguistically Diverse background. Drawing out connections between demographic variables and quantitative responses allowed trends in the data to be identified (Bryman, 2012). For example, the frequency of participant interaction with police was able to be compared across age, gender and sexuality, to see if any of these factors act as a predictor for contact with police. Additionally, differences of experience within the demographic subgroups enabled me to see which genders or sexualities were more prone to negative interactions with police.

In order to ascertain the sample’s experience of policing, participants were asked about their interaction frequency with police, types of interactions, conduct of police during interactions, police respect for their GLBTI identities and their perception of the impact of appearance and behaviour on interactions with police. In order to ascertain the sample’s opinions of police, participants were asked about their confidence in reporting criminal victimisation to police, willingness to disclose their GLBTI identity to police, comfort level at having police attend their place of residence, if they were aware of measures undertaken by Victoria Police to improve its relationship with the GLBTI population, and whether they believe the police need to work harder to improve its relationship

with GLBTI people. Participants were not asked about their experiences of hate crime or criminal victimisation, topics which have been the focus of previous research. My research is solely focussed on experiences of policing, and as such cannot account for GLBTI victimisation more broadly.

Wu, Smith & Sun (2013) suggest that marginalised communities can produce the social phenomena of a community narrative. Experiences of group members feed vicariously into this community narrative, as these social storytellers relate their experience (Rappaport, 2000). Bell & Perry (2015) have shown how vicarious experience, in this case of hate crimes targeting a marginalised population, impact other group members to the same extent as if they experienced the violence themselves. This mechanism is applied to the policing of the GLBTI population, who have historically been marginalised by police behaviour. The impact of this community narrative on the opinions of GLBTI people is explored in my survey. For example, participants were asked a series of questions about their opinions of the GLBTI community’s relationship with police, their GLBTI friends’ relationship with police, and their own confidence in police. The answers to these questions tease out the different ways in which participants perceive police as an individual, and as a member of a marginalised population. Additionally, participants were asked whether they believe that police are a necessary part of society, in order to assess their belief in police legitimacy; to ensure that comparisons could be made with other variables.

3.4 Mixed data produced from a single method.

Social research method scholars are increasingly accepting of the presence of two mixed data sets produced by a single research strategy (Bryman, 2012; Creswell, 2003; Hesse-Biber, 2010; Patton, 2015). Much of the earlier controversy surrounding this approach stems from rigid beliefs about the nature and the production of knowledge (Marsh & Furlong, 2002). These ontological and epistemological concerns were seen as intrinsic to the nature of quantitative and qualitative strategies – that your own presumptions and ingrained biases about the construction of the world dictated which strategy you utilised and therefore what kind of knowledge you produced (Bryman, 2012). However, these boundaries have becomes less rigid as scholars have understood ways in which qualitative data can be used to help clarify quantitative data. There are ways of marrying the ontological and epistemological concerns of quantitative and qualitative strategies. For the social sciences especially, the need to reach beyond the numbers; to ask not only what the world is, but why the world is the way it is, lends itself well to a research design that incorporates two data sets (Bryman, 2012).

In the manner of Hesse-Biber (2010; 4), a mix of qualitative and quantitative data can be viewed as two complementary data sets, rather than competing; in a manner which allows for “fuller understanding of the research problem”. My research method gathered data from a series of closed and open questions, with the aim that the qualitative data would expand upon the themes raised in the quantitative data. In my survey, the open questions frequently prompted participants to explain their previous response; and so were linked to a preceding closed question or series of questions. The addition of open questions on my survey allowed for the collection of data that was better able to qualify opinions and experiences whilst exploring social processes; to deconstruct the relationship between social actors (survey participants) and structures (the police).

For example, a series of closed questions asked participants whether or not they felt targeted by unwarranted police attention, whether they felt it was due to their appearance or behaviour, and if they felt this was linked to their GLBTI identity. A follow up open question then asked participants to expand upon their answers. The first questions were able to quantify how strongly participants felt that their GLBTI status brought them police attention. But it was the follow up open question that allowed the complexity of their answers to emerge. Such open questions allowed participants with intersecting vulnerabilities to discuss their identities. Intersectional themes of classism, ableism and racism were discussed, along with the ways in which participants perceived police masculinity and police surveillance of their bodies. These issues, central to understanding the contemporary relationship between participants and police, may have been missed if not for utilising a mix of open and closed questions. Utilising open, qualitative questions allowed for greater exploration of the themes uncovered by the initial quantitative data generated by the closed questions (Bryman, 2012).

3.5 Recruitment & Data Collection.

The target population

Possessing a GLBTI identity relies on self-selection into that status (Berman & Robinson, 2010). For this reason, the true parameters of the GLBTI population, both in Victoria and in general, remain unknown (Wilson, 2004). The continual discrimination, harassment, violence and vilification of GLBTI people led many within the population to not publically identify as GLBTI (VGLRL, 2000; Leonard et al., 2008). This presents a challenge to researchers, who generally must rely on GLBTI people to “opt in” to research. In this way, GLBTI people constitute a hard-to-reach population. For scholars, this

means a reliance on intra-community networks for the dissemination of research participation (Browne, 2005; Wu, Smith & Sun, 2013). For the purpose of my research, it is this potential hesitance to participate in research that influences my use of an anonymous online survey. I also relied on community organisations and social groups, as well as the networked nature of the GLBTI communities, for the distribution of my survey.

Sampling and recruitment

For convenience, this research is located in Victoria, as the researcher is based in Victoria with access to contacts and networks which proved beneficial for sampling the population. Focussing on one state - Victoria - enabled close interrogation of police-GLBTI contact issues particular to this site. The desired participants for the survey were people over 18 years of age who currently live in Victoria and identify as Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex or otherwise non-heteronormative and non-gender-normative 4.

The sample size for surveys (n= 264) was large enough to gather a diversity of responses, whilst producing a manageable amount of data. This project relied on what Bryman (2012; 201) terms non- probability sampling; predominantly utilising the convenience sample and the snowball sample. Convenience sampling is a fitting method for reaching the GLBTI population, due to the networked nature of the community. Convenience sampling is exactly that; a sample that is available to the researcher by virtue of its accessibility and is therefore convenient (Bryman, 2012). An early recruiting method involved handing out leaflets advertising the survey at Victoria’s 2015 Pride March. However, the uptake from this method was exceedingly poor, with no surveys completed in the week following the event. This was the catalyst for focussing recruiting methods solely on distribution via the internet. Social media networks Facebook and Twitter were utilised to advertise the survey and to encourage the link to spread through the sharing of posts. GLBTI groups on Facebook were particularly useful for posting the survey link in one place that would then be seen by many people from the target population 5.

Snowball research is a non-probability sampling technique which involves the use of personal contacts to spread the initial wave of survey advertisements (Bryman, 2012). The hope is that these personal acquaintances will then distribute the survey to their own networks, which may have been otherwise elusive to the researcher. Initial contacts will then suggest further contacts and so on. This

4 For thorough research into the policing experiences of GLBTI youth, see Dwyer (2011; 2011a; 2011b). 5 Facebook groups included GASP Geelong, Goulburn Valley Pride, Anti-Violence Project.

technique is especially useful in hard-to-reach populations such as the GLBTI population (Browne, 2005). Administrators for GLBTI social clubs and organisations, as well as advocates, were approached via email and asked to disseminate the survey link to their group members 6. Targeting social clubs encouraged greater diversity of participants, as the researcher could keep track which ages, genders, sexualities and ethnicities were not being represented. If a particular demographic appeared to be missing (for example, initial survey responses heavily favoured young people) then older GLBTI clubs and societies were targeted to try and diversify the respondents. The breakdown of identities within the “GLBTI” remains unknown, but the researcher can at least ensure that each identity group is accounted for, even if the proportions are not representative.

There were limitations to this sampling method; for example, those taking part in online community life were more likely to interact with survey advertisements via these targeted groups and organisations. In addition, this method excluded Victorians without access to the internet. Thus some within the population were more likely to be selected than others.

3.6 Ethical Considerations & Risk Management.

My research received ethics approval as a Standard Project through the University of Melbourne’s Faculty of Arts Human Ethics Advisory Group, as well as approval from the Humanities and Applied Sciences Human Ethics Sub-Committee. Accordingly, good research practice guidelines enshrined in the University of Melbourne’s Code of Conduct for Research and the Australian Code for the Responsible Conduct of Research were followed. Specifically, the research aims were described in plain language at the start of the survey to ensure that participants were able to give informed consent and they were asked to confirm that they were eighteen years of age or over (see appendices for Plain Language Statement). Participants were also informed of their anonymity in undertaking the survey. Data generated by the survey was stored in a secure manner as outlined by the above-mentioned research guidelines. There were three major ethical concerns that emerged during the research design process, and the mitigation of these is outlined below.

First, as per research ethics guidelines, this project acknowledges that data collected may come from friends or relations of the researcher because personal contacts of the researcher were approached via email, online and in person and asked to distribute the advertisement for the survey to their own personal networks in the hope of creating a snowball effect. This raised a concern that a conflict of

6 Groups included TransGender Victoria, Organisation Intersex International (OII) Australia, Matrix Guild Victoria

interest may arise, as the researcher would be handling data provided by personal contacts. Taking ethical considerations into account, personal contacts were made aware that their participation in the research was voluntary. Data generated by friends was collected anonymously and remained within the broader sample of non-personal contacts (Ellis, 2007). No email addresses were collected, however IP addresses were collected for the purposes of data cleaning to ensure against duplicate responses.

Second, to minimize the potential risk of participants recounting distressing personal information, both the advertisement for the survey and the first page of the survey (Plain Language Statement) advised that the survey would be on the topic of opinions and experiences of policing. All participants were given the researcher’s contact details in the case of adverse outcomes. The first page of the survey also warned participants of potential risks and provided telephone numbers to external counselling and legal hotlines, many particular to the GLBTI community, for participants to access if needed 7. It was made clear that participation in the survey was voluntary, and that participants could end their involvement at any time. This forewarning allowed participants the opportunity to self-select for the survey, knowing the risks to their own psychological well-being.

Finally, there was the possibility that during the data collection stage of this research, the researcher may have been exposed to members of the general public revealing their involvement in illegal activity – as well as other distressing topics. The researcher was aware of this risk and relied upon an established health and wellbeing network for support, in addition to frequent discussions with supervisors. As all survey responses were anonymous (even to the researcher), respondents who may have declared illegal activity were protected from any ramifications that may have arisen from disclosure.

3.7 Data Analysis.

Data analysis constituted a two-stage process, as the open and closed questions of the online survey generated both quantitative and qualitative data. Data analysis techniques were descriptive, as the nature of the data did not allow for statistical testing. Below, I outline the techniques employed for each stage of data analysis.

Stage One: Quantitative data

7 Contacts listed were Switchboard, Victorian Legal Aid, Lifeline and Beyond Blue. Anti-Violence Project was listed upon request from AVP, in their mission to collect instances of violence directed at GLBTI population.

The first stage of data analysis focussed on the quantitative data, providing a broad overview and uncovering trends in participant responses. Quantitative survey data was exported from the website host, Survey Monkey, and imported into SPSS, as well as Microsoft Excel. Quantitative data was then assessed for trends and relationships using a variety of quantitative tools of analysis outlined below.

The nature of the research design, which called for a non-probable convenience sample of a hard-to- reach population, dictated the use of descriptive statistics for data analysis. The distribution of values for each variable was explored using a frequency table, in addition to other tools of analysis such as simple description, comparing means and examining variation within each variable (de Vause, 2014: 212).

Cross-tabulation was used for exploring the relationship between two variables (de Vause, 2014). For instance, the relationship between age of participant and their confidence level in police was analysed via cross-tabulation. This allowed for generational differences in survey responses to be explored. The insert of a third variable allowed for differences within demographic subgroups to be explored. For example, a cross-tabulation showing the relationship between gender and whether participants preferred to interact with a male or female police member with an added third variable of transgender status enabled differences in responses to be visualised.

Stage Two: Qualitative data

The second stage of data analysis utilised the qualitative data to look closer at the patterns discovered in the first stage of analysis. The research framework of Hurley’s work on marginality was used to critically analyse the survey results. Qualitative data was exported from the website host, Survey Monkey, and downloaded in the form of a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet. Data was analysed utilising a combination of Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word and SPSS. The qualitative responses presented in the second discussion chapter have been cleaned for legibility.

I undertook a thematic analysis of the qualitative data produced by the open questions of the survey; wherein I pulled key themes from the text and identified patterns. This process involves encoding qualitative information by attributing words (or phrases) as labels to sections of text (Boyatzis, 1998:vii). As per Bryman (2012: 568) these codes helped to label and organise data into manageable fragments. Following Charmaz (2006), I remained aware of reducing the original quote

33 so drastically as to lose its meaning; whilst attempting to do away with any preconceived ideas of codes or categories. Charmaz’s (2006: 50) method relies on an initial close reading of the text, and labels were generated via line-by-line and incident-to-incident coding.

Initial labels given to describe the actions of the text are eventually able to be categorised; and it is from these categories that clear themes emerged from the data. Themes generated from the qualitative data included perception of police culture, police not taking victimisation seriously, and participants feeling ridiculed or mocked by police.

3.8 Results & Discussion overview.

By quantifying GLBTI opinions and encounters of Victoria Police, and analysing these alongside qualitative accounts, I aim to critically assess the nature of this contemporary relationship. I will firstly assess the overall policing opinions and experiences of the sample, relying on quantitative data as a marker for the level of trust and confidence that GLBTI Victorians have in police, in addition to their reported direct encounters with police. I will then assess subgroup differences within the quantitative data, assessing the data for the presence of minority experiences within the sample, in an exploration of whether participants experienced policing uniformly. In my second analysis chapter, I will utilise the qualitative data to dig deeper into the policing experiences of my sample, and will provide a discussion of these results in the context of discussions on marginal identity and community narratives. This will provide a critical assessment of this contemporary GLBTI-police relationship.

Chapter 4. Discussion: Quantitative Data

4.1 The Sample: demographics and traits.

The two-month period of data collection resulted in 264 surveys being submitted online. After cleaning the data by filtering out incomplete and non-viable surveys, the sample size was reduced to 247 participants.

The survey allowed participants to identify their sexuality as an open response, without the constraints of pre-determined categories. Categories of sexuality were then distilled from the responses provided. The sexualities of participants were: gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, queer, heterosexual, asexual spectrum, fluid heterosexual and unsure. Four participants did not identify their sexuality. The breakdown of sample sexualities is displayed in the table below.

Gay 62 Lesbian 41 Bisexual 45 Pansexual 34 Queer 31 Heterosexual 10 Asexual spectrum 14 Fluid Heterosexual 3 Unsure 3 Total 243

Figure 1. Sexualities of the sample (n=243).

Participants were also able to list their genders without the constraints of pre-determined categories. However, given the immense diversity of genders listed and for ease of data analysis, these responses were organised into the following categories: female, male, non-binary, and not specified. All categories included transgender participants. I selected non-binary as an all- encompassing term for participants who listed their gender as neither wholly male nor female. Examples of non-binary genders listed by participants included: non-binary, queer, genderqueer, genderfluid, agender, two-spirit, transmasculine and demi-gender. The category of ‘not specified’ included those who listed themselves as cisgender or transgender, but did not specify as male, female or non-binary identity. Additionally, participants who listed their gender as unsure,

questioning or intersex were also categorised as ‘not specified’ 8. Six participants did not list a gender. The breakdown of genders is displayed in the table below.

Female 105 Male 70 Non-binary 50 Not specified 16 Total 241

Figure 2. Gender identities of the sample (n=241).

Fifty-four participants identified as transgender; the following table shows the breakdown of their genders.

Transgender (n=54) Female 21 Male 19 Non -binary 6 Not -specified 8 Figure 3. Gender identities of Transgender participants (n=54).

Seven participants (3 per cent of the sample) indicated that they have an intersex variation, however this question was added at the request of intersex advocates after 40 per cent of participants had already completed the survey. As such, it is unknown whether any of those 40 per cent have an intersex variation. Where I refer to the Intersex experience or opinion of police, this subsample is referred to in the text.

Participants were overwhelmingly young, with only twenty percent over the age of 45 years old. Sixty-seven per cent of the sample were between 18 and 34 years old. Seventeen per cent of the sample indicated that they come from a Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD) background, and 2 per cent identify as Indigenous or Torres Strait Islander.

The sample were well-educated, with 73 per cent having some form of tertiary qualification and 15 per cent having completed a master’s degree level or higher. For 23 per cent of the sample, year 12 or VCE equivalent was the highest level of education that they achieved. However, 71 per cent of

8 Following the research guidelines set out by Organisation Intersex International Australia, “intersex” is not a gender identity, but rather connotes people with an intersex variation.

these were between 18-24 years old and likely have not completed their tertiary studies yet. The majority of the sample, 52 per cent of participants, resided in either Melbourne City or the inner-city suburbs. Sixteen per cent indicated that they lived regionally, either in a rural setting or regional city. The remaining 32 per cent resided in the middle and outer suburbs of Melbourne.

Two participants (less than 1 per cent of the sample) indicated that they were current of former police officers. However, 23 per cent of the sample have close family or friends who are police officers and 24 per cent of the sample have considered a career with Victoria Police. The sample displayed a strong streak of political activism as demonstrated by high rates of protest/rally attendance (60 per cent indicated rally attendance in previous twelve months) and anecdotal evidence, such as mentions in the qualitative data of activist networks. Thirty per cent of the sample indicated that they are open about their GLBTI identity to everyone, and 2 per cent indicated that they were not open about their identity to anyone.

4.2 Quantitative Data: perceptions, experiences, and subgroup differences.

In this first results chapter, I present analysis and discussion of the quantitative data produced by the survey. I place my participants’ opinions and experiences of Victoria Police within the broader context of discourse on the policing of GLBTI people. This chapter has three sections. In the first, I examine participant confidence in Victoria Police, willingness to report to police, and comfort-level around police. In the second section, I focus on key areas of policing experiences, such as frequency of interactions with police, types of interaction, and satisfaction with police conduct during interactions. The final section explores the possibility of a minority group within the sample, as differences between demographic subgroups are examined.

4.3 Perceptions of police.

Participants responded to a series of questions gauging their attitudes towards Victoria Police and policing in general. On the variable “I have confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation”, participants were asked to rank their agreement with the statement on a scale of “No Confidence” to “Full Confidence”. The frequency of responses is detailed in Figure 4.9

9 This data was collected on a visual analogue scale of 1 to 10, where 1 was No Confidence and 10 was Full Confidence. In order to illustrate the distribution of sentiment, I present the data graphically on a linear scale, although it is categorical data.

n 20

0 No Confidence Full Confidence

Participants (n=247)

Figure 4: Confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation where 1 is No Confidence and 10 is Full Confidence (n = 247).

The bulk of participants report moderately positive confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation, but the figure dips dramatically at Full Confidence. In fact, participants who report No Confidence (n=32) are more numerous than those who report Full Confidence (n=9). This may be a reflection of previous evidence that GLBTI people continue to possess lowered belief in police legitimacy than heteronormative Australians (Miles-Johnson, 2013). Given previous findings of low confidence in police (Williams & Robinson, 2004), the relatively positive trend to participant responses is a surprise. Gillespie (2008) produced data that showed community opinion as overwhelmingly positive towards police, but his study focussed on attitudes towards police at Pride events. This suggests that GLBTI people will have positive attitudes towards police if they are aware of police initiatives to protect the GLBTI population.

Half of my sample reported being aware of any measures or initiatives undertaken by Victoria Police to improve its relationship with the GLBTI community, and to improve the policing experience of GLBTI people. Participants reported knowledge of a range of measures undertaken by Victoria Police. Seventy-seven per cent of the sample were aware of Victoria Police participating in Pride March every year. As Gillespie (2008) demonstrated, knowledge of police attendance at Pride was linked to positive attitudes towards police. This was the most well-known of the measures taken by Victoria Police, followed by an awareness of the existence of Gay and Lesbian Liaison Officers (GLLOs). Victoria Police, in response to demands for more equitable policing from GLBTI community groups, introduced GLLOs in 2000. Berman & Robinson (2010) found that over 70 per cent of their sample knew of GLLOs but only 4 per cent accessed them. This liaison model dominates the approach of police to the GLBTI population, despite a lack of research into the effectiveness of this

approach (Dwyer & Ball, 2012). Sixty-two per cent of survey participants were aware of GLLOs, similar to Berman & Robinson’s finding.

Perhaps in reflection of participant knowledge of policing initiatives aimed at their community, a third of the sample reported that they felt the community’s relationship with police was positive. While the previous variable focussed on participants’ personal attitude towards Victoria Police, the next variable reports on participants’ beliefs about their community’s relationship with Victoria Police. Participants were asked to rank their agreement with the statement “I think the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police is positive”. The frequency of results is graphed below.

50 n 40

0 Strongly Agree Neutral Disagree Strongly Unsure Agree Disagree

Figure 5. Responses to variable “I think the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police is positive” (n=245).

Once again, participants who strongly agreed with the statement (n=8) were outweighed by those who strongly disagreed (n=29), but the distribution of views was fairly even across the available responses. Thirty-three per cent of participants agreed overall with the statement, 33 per cent took a neutral view, and 29 per cent disagreed. There was less variation in responses when participants were asked whether or not they believed that Victoria Police needs to work harder to improve its relationship with GLBTI people. Seventy-two per cent of the sample agreed with the sentiment that Victoria Police need to work harder, and only 5 per cent disagreed. Despite the majority of the sample being aware of police initiatives, participants still overwhelmingly call on police to work harder in their relationship with the community. For participants, a positive attitude towards police does not negate their desire to see further improvements in their, or perhaps their community’s, policing experiences. A third of the sample report the community’s relationship with Victoria Police

as negative, a similar frequency to those who ranked their confidence in Victoria Police towards the negative end of the scale.

Overall, the above variables both display a broad spectrum of responses from within the sample. To explore the possibility that the bimodal distributions within the data may be due to differences amongst participant subgroups, I selected one variable for a closer analysis. I ran a cross tabulation utilising sexuality as a variable against which to segment confidence in police. The results are displayed in Figure 6.

Confidence in Victoria Police

No Full Confidence 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Confidence Total Sexuality Gay 1 3 5 4 7 8 12 11 8 3 62 (n) Lesbian 3 1 4 3 4 8 2 7 3 6 41 Bisexual 5 1 3 5 4 9 7 5 6 0 45 Pansexual 7 4 2 7 2 3 4 5 0 0 34 Queer 11 5 2 1 1 3 5 1 2 0 31 Heterosexual 1 0 1 1 0 2 1 3 1 0 10 Asexual 0 0 2 1 0 2 5 2 2 0 14 spectrum Fluid 1 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 3 Heterosexual Unsure 1 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 3 Total 30 14 21 22 18 36 37 34 22 9 243 Figure 6. Cross Tabulation of Confidence in Police with participant sexuality subgroups (n=243).

From this cross tabulation, it can be seen that the only sexuality subgroups that expressed Full Confidence in Victoria Police were gay and lesbian participants. Conversely, participants from every sexuality subgroup except asexual spectrum expressed some measure of No Confidence in Victoria Police. To demonstrate this comparison visually, I graphed the five most populous sexuality subgroups: gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual and queer in Figure 7. The five graphs displayed in Figure 7 demonstrate the notable variation found within the sample, and even within the subgroups.

Lesbian Participants Pansexual Participants 15 15

10 10 n n 5 5

0 0 No Confidence Full Confidence No Confidence Full Confidence

Lesbian participants (n=41) Pansexual participants (n=34)

Gay Participants Queer Participants 15 15

10 10 n n 5 5

0 0 No Confidence Full Confidence No Confidence Full Confidence

Gay participants (n=62) Queer participants (n=31)

Bisexual Participants 15

10 n 5

0 No Confidence Full Confidence

Bisexual participants (n=45)

Figure 7. Line graphs representing five sexuality subgroups for comparison across variable: Confidence in Victoria Police.

4.4 Reporting and Disclosing.

Willingness to report victimisation to police has been the focus of many GLBTI-police studies (Berman & Robinson, 2010; Leonard et al., 2008; VGLRL, 2000). Given evidence of high rates of abuse and discrimination faced by GLBTI people, it is integral that people feel comfortable, safe and confident interacting with police. Participants reported on a series of variables gauging their feelings of safety around police, comfort level in disclosing their GLBTI status to police, and willingness to

report crime to police. Responses to these measures varied, but did reveal a continuing hesitance to interact with police; especially if potential disclosure of the respondent’s GLBTI identity was involved.

The sample were asked to respond to the variable “When I see a Victoria Police officer, I feel safe” with responses presented as a Likert item. Figure 8 displays the frequency of results for this variable.

50 n 40

0 Strongly Agree Neutral Disagree Strongly Unsure Agree Disagree

Figure 8. Responses to variable “When I see a Victoria Police officer, I feel safe” (n=246).

While participants who strongly disagree with the statement outweigh those who strongly agree, the overall agree/disagree ratio is relatively even. Forty one per cent of participants report feeling safe in the presence of police, and 35 per cent do not feel safe. Twenty-four per cent report feeling neutral, or neither safe nor unsafe. Despite many participants feeling safe or neutral in the presence of police, there still exists a marked hesitancy to report their criminal victimisation to police, and to not share their GLBTI identity with police; demonstrated below.

45 40 35 30 25 n 20 15 10 5 0 No Confidence Full Confidence

Participants (n=246)

Figure 9: Confidence in reporting victimisation to Victoria Police on a scale of No Confidence to Full Confidence ( n=246).

Participants’ reported confidence in reporting victimisation to Victoria Police again demonstrated their diversity of opinions, with five peaks in the graphed data, but with a majority reporting some measure of confidence. Thirty-nine participants express ‘Full Confidence’ in reporting their victimisation to police; compared with 53 participants who express ‘Full Confidence’ reporting to police as a witness to crime.

n 30

0 No Confidence Full Confidence

Participants (n=245)

Figure 10: Confidence in reporting crime as a witness to Victoria Police on a scale of No Confidence to Full Confidence (n=245).

More participants feel comfortable reporting to police as a witness to crime, then as a victim. This hesitance to report victimisation compared with as a witness may reflect the personal nature of

reporting as a victim. Often personal details need to be recorded, or police may visit their place of residence. The following measure demonstrates the discomfort that the sample demonstrated at the idea of police visiting their place of residence.

n 30

0 Not Comfortable Very Comfortable

Participants (n=245)

Figure 11: Comfort level in allowing police to attend into personal residence, where 1 is No Confidence and 10 is Full Confidence ( n=245).

Fifty-three participants, or 20 per cent of the sample, reported being ‘Not Comfortable’ with police attending their place of residence. Again this reveals an anxiety about allowing police into their private sphere. A similar proportion, 17 per cent, report being ‘Not Comfortable’ with disclosing their same-sex relationship to police. This measure has significant implications for the reporting of same-sex intimate-partner violence.

40 35 30 25

n 20 15 10 5 0 Not Comfortable Very Comfortable

Participants (n=202)

Figure 12. Responses to variable “I would feel comfortable disclosing my same-sex relationship to a Victoria Police officer” (n=202).

For many GLBTI people, the disclosure of a same-sex or non-binary partner serves to reveal their GLBTI status. This is similar for allowing police into their place of residence, suggesting that the level of discomfort expressed on these measures may be being driven by a hesitance to disclose their GLBTI identity to police. Participants were asked to rank their comfort-level at the idea of disclosing their sexuality to police. Their responses are graphed below.

45 40 35 30 25 n 20 15 10 5 0 Not Comfortable Very Comfortable

Figure 13. Responses to variable “Comfort-level disclosing sexuality to police” (n=247).

Seventeen per cent of participants express being ‘Not Comfortable’ with the disclosure of their sexuality to police, outweighing the 8 per cent who express being ‘Very Comfortable’. The majority of respondents express some measure of discomfort at revealing their sexuality to police.

Participants were asked the same question about their gender identity. The graphed responses illuminate a different trend, with participants reporting being ‘Very Comfortable’ outweighing those who are ‘Not Comfortable’. This is likely a reflection of the fact that 56 per cent of the sample do not express a minority gender identity, and so would be (presumably) relatively comfortable disclosing their gender identity to police.

50 n 40

0 Not Comfortable Very Comfortable

Figure 14. Responses to variable “Comfort-level disclosing gender identity to police” (n=246).

That the line graph essentially shows two peaks is reflective of bimodal distribution, with no distinct pattern or trend to the responses of participants on this measure of confidence. This data underscores the significant variety that characterises the respondents within this sample.

The hesitancy and discomfort expressed in the above measures are likely a reflection of the fear that police will be homophobic or transphobic if participants’ GLBTI identities are disclosed. Participants were asked whether they would prefer to interact with a male police officer, a female police officer, or either. The results are shown below.

Male 3%

Either 42%

Female 55%

Figure 15. Responses to variable “If required, I would feel more comfortable interacting with a police officer who is male, female or either” (n=246).

As seen in Figure 15, participants demonstrated preference for interacting with female police officers over male police officers, with 42 per cent having no specific preference. The higher frequency of preference for female police may be due to the widespread understanding that women demonstrate less homophobic attitudes than men (Flood & Hamilton, 2005). Given the sample’s hesitance to disclose GLBTI status, participants may feel that interacting with female police would avoid encountering anti-GLBTI attitudes.

For the comparison across genders (and given the diversity of responses seen in the above cross tabulation across the sexuality subgroups), I have grouped genders that are neither male nor female into a third category: non-binary genders. This does not include participants who did not specify a gender.

Preferred gender of police Police gender female participants male participants non -binary participants Male 2% 6% 0% Female 66% 34% 67% Either 32% 60% 33%

Figure 16. Preferred gender of police compared across gender subgroups (n=224).

Note that unless otherwise stated, all references to female, male or non-binary participants includes transgender men, women and non-binary participants. Seventy-six per cent of transgender women preferred female police, compared with 32 per cent of transgender men. This notable difference between the responses of transgender women and men is explored in a later section.

4.5 Experiences of police.

Respondents were asked to report the number of interactions that they have had with Victoria Police over the previous twelve months. The frequency of reported interactions is shown below.

n 30

0 None One Two Three Four to Ten More than Ten

Participants (n=236)

Figure 17: Frequency of reported interactions with Victoria Police over previous twelve months (n=236).

As is apparent from this graph, participants experienced a wide variety of interaction frequencies. Eighty-one per cent of the sample reported experiencing at least one interaction with police over the previous twelve months. More participants reported having no contact with police than having more than ten contacts with police. Almost one quarter of the sample experienced more than four interactions with police. However, these results do not necessarily reflect their involvement in activities that warrant police intervention. For example, two participants report that they are current or former police officers, and 22 per cent report of the sample report that they have friends or family who are police officers, which may skew results on frequency of interactions with police.

It should also be noted that a participant reporting no recent interactions with police does not necessarily imply that the participant is free from victimisation or from police attention. It may in fact mean that they are more prone to these things, and as such avoid police. Having no interactions with police does not inform us of the direction of a participant’s relationship with police; whether negative or positive.

The following table shows the types of police interactions reported by participants, and the frequencies with which they experienced them.

Interaction Types ranked Female % Male % Non Binary % Breathalyser 37 On the Street 37 Rally/Protest 42 Rally/Protest 32 Breathalyser 30 On the Street 40 On the Street 24 Rally/Protest 26 Community Event 32 Community Event 24 Community Event 26 Breathalyser 28 Other 24 Other 20 Other 26 Witness to Crime 16 Witness to Crime 17 Witness to Crime 20 Victim of Crime 11 Traffic Offence 13 Victim of Crime 16 Traffic Offence 5 Victim of Crime 9 Traffic Offence 12 Public Info Session 4 Public Info Session 6 Public Info Session 8 Being Arrested 3 Being Arrested 3 Committing Crime 4 Served a Warrant 2 Served a Warrant 0 Being Arrested 2 Committing Crime 1 Committing Crime 0 Served Warrant 0

Figure 18: Types of interactions with police, as reported by participants.

The most frequent sites that participants reported interacting with police, as shown in Figure 18, were: at a ‘rally/protest’, ‘on the street’, through a police-administered ‘breathalyser’ test and at a ‘community event’. Participants reporting such high rates of interaction with police at rallies and protests suggests that participants may be taking “interaction” to mean a broad definition including observing police, or witnessing police interact with other GLBTI people.

Eleven per cent of participants interacted with police in the course of being the victim of a crime. For male participants, nine per cent interacted with police due to victimisation, while 37 per cent interacted with police on the street. Previous quantitative studies into the policing experiences of GLBTI people have focussed primarily on victimisation as a site for police contact (Leonard et al., 2008; Berman & Robinson, 2010; VGLRL, 2000). My results demonstrate that by focussing solely on victimisation, other important sites of contact are being overlooked. Policy that targets the reporting experiences of GLBTI people will also therefore miss that the majority of interactions occur in a non- reporting context.

4.6 Satisfaction with police conduct during interactions.

Participants were asked to report on their satisfaction-level with police conduct during their recent interactions. These responses are graphed below.

90 80 70 60 50 n 40 30 20 10 0 Strongly Agree Neutral Disagree Strongly Unsure Agree Disagree

Participants (n=202)

Figure 19. Responses to variable “I was satisfied with the conduct of the Victoria Police officers with whom I interacted during the previous 12 months”.

Of the participants who provided a response (n=202), 58 per cent indicated that they were satisfied with the conduct of the officers with whom they interacted. This is compared with the 27 per cent who disagreed with the statement. They were then asked whether police were respectful of their GLBTI identity during recent interactions.

45 40 35 30 25 n 20 15 10 5 0 Strongly Agree Neutral Disagree Strongly Unsure Agree Disagree

Participants (n=132)

Figure 20. Responses to variable “During my previous interactions with Victoria Police, officers were respectful of my GLBTI identity” (n=132).

While 50 per cent of participants agreed that police behaved in a satisfactory manner during their recent interactions, this number falls when asked to consider police treatment of their GLBTI identity. Only 29 per cent agreed that police were respectful of their GLBTI identity during their most recent interactions. It should be noted that 105 participants reported that the measure asking whether officers were respectful of their GLBTI identity during interactions was ‘Not Applicable’. This implies that either they have not interacted with police recently, or that their interactions with police have not involved their GLBTI identity. Sixty-eight per cent of participants reported that their previous interactions with police shape their attitudes towards Victoria Police. However, the nature of this data does not allow for any conclusive links between previous interactions with police and willingness to report to police to be drawn.

4.7 Vicarious Contact.

To explore the influence of secondary contact on participant views, respondents were asked whether stories of police interaction that they hear from other GLBTI people are positive, neutral or negative.

40 n 30

0 Strongly Agree Neutral Disagree Strongly Unsure Agree Disagree

Participants (n=214)

Figure 21. Responses to variable “When I hear stories about Victoria Police from other GLBTI people, they are positive” (n=214).

The majority of respondents report that stories they hear from other GLBTI people about Victoria Police are negative. These responses contrast sharply with their own beliefs about the GLBTI community’s relationship with police and their own satisfaction with recent police interactions. When recalling the attitudes or experiences of other GLBTI people, 42 per cent of respondents

reported hearing negative stories (see Figure 21). Conversely, when asked about the GLBTI community’s overall relationship with police, 29 per cent reported it as being negative. Only 10 per cent of the sample reported hearing positive police stories from other GLBTI people, whilst 31 per cent believe the relationship between the GLBTI community and Victoria Police to be positive. The results of the two measures are shown side-by-side for comparison below.

120

100

n 60

0 Positive Neutral Negative Unsure

Policing stories from other GLBTI (n=214) GLBTI-police relationship (n=245)

Figure 22. Comparison of two variables: “When I hear stories about Victoria Police from other GLBTI people, they are positive” and “On the whole, I think that the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police is positive”.

The implication of these contrasting figures is that the stories that participants hear about police are more negative than what they believe the community’s relationship with police to be. This implies that there is an element of secondary, or vicarious , contact; wherein participants are steeped in a negative storytelling environment amongst their GLBTI peers. These results suggest that the policing experiences of participants may be very different to the policing stories that they hear anecdotally.

4.8 Participants who do not believe in the necessity of police.

Fifteen per cent of the sample indicated that they disagreed with the statement that “a police organisation is a necessary part of society” (n=37). There is connection between these thirty-seven participants who indicated that they do not believe that a police organisation is necessary to society, and those who reported negative responses on other measures, such as satisfaction with police conduct. For example, 92 per cent of this group reported feeling unsafe in the presence of police, as compared with the sample average of 35 per cent.

Ninety-two per cent of this group reported at least one contact with police in the previous twelve months, which is higher than the sample average of 81 per cent. Seventy-five per cent report being unsatisfied with the conduct of police during their most recent interactions, with only 8 per cent reporting satisfaction. These participants who do not believe that police are necessary to society demonstrate a higher contact rate and lower satisfaction rate than their peers in the sample. So who are these participants? Ninety-seven per cent (all but one) of these participants are under the age of 44 years, with 54 per cent being between the ages of 18 and 24 years. It is perhaps not surprising that the vast majority – 95 per cent – have never considered a career with Victoria Police. Conversely, 72 per cent of the participants who indicated that they do believe that police are a necessary part of society also indicated that they have considered a career with Victoria Police. The sample average was 24 per cent.

Other than all belonging to the younger age groups, demographically, these participants display great variance. Their genders and sexualities show no specific pattern, with females, males, non- binary and transgender participants represented with no one gender dominating. Causation is not able to be inferred from this quantitative data. Seventy-six per cent of these participants report that their previous experiences of Victoria Police shape their attitude towards police. Nevertheless, whether the participants’ views against police existence come from their reported high rates of experience and low rates of satisfaction with police, or whether these opinions are unrelated to interaction, but rather are influenced by politics or ideology is unknown.

4.9 Transgender experience.

There was an unexpected gulf between the reported experiences of transgender women and transgender men, that was not mirrored by the experiences of non-transgender women and men. Seventy-eight per cent of participants who identified themselves as transgender reported at least one contact with police in the previous twelve months. However, this statistic changes when women and men are viewed separately. Transgender women report a rate of at least one contact with police in the previous twelve months at 85 per cent, the highest of any gender group. Conversely, transgender men reported the lowest rate, with only 72 per cent having at least one contact with police in the previous twelve months. Comparatively, non-transgender women and men had very little difference between their rates – 80 per cent, and 81 per cent respectively. Transgender men therefore had the highest rate of no contact with police over the previous twelve months, and no transgender men reported in the “More than Ten” interactions category. Fifteen per cent of

transgender women felt that their appearance brought them police attention, a similar rate to transgender men – 20 per cent.

When transgender men did have contact with police, it was most likely to be ‘On the Street’ (47 per cent) or at a ‘Rally or Protest’ (42 per cent). These figures are notably different to transgender women, who reported being most likely to interact with police during ‘Breathalyser tests’ (52 per cent) and ‘Other’ (29 per cent). Only 19 per cent of transgender women interacted with police at ‘Rally or Protest’, and even less, 14 per cent, interacted with police ‘On the Street’. At least two transgender women participants elaborated that ‘Other’ included working alongside police in community liaison roles, which may explain the higher frequency of interactions. Surprisingly, almost fifty per cent of transgender men had considered a career with Victoria Police, and only twenty per cent of transgender women.

Of those who reported recent interactions with police, seventy per cent of transgender women noted satisfaction with police conduct during their recent encounters. For transgender men, forty per cent expressed satisfaction with police conduct during their recent interactions, the lowest rate of the sample. Further to this, as demonstrated in Figure 23, transgender men displayed a higher rate of discomfort at the idea of disclosing their gender identity to police than transgender women. It is possible that negative experiences of police conduct may be the driving factor behind transgender men having a low rate of interaction – by way of avoiding police. However, there is not sufficient data to draw such conclusions.

Comfort disclosing gender identity to police

Transgender Female Transgender Male Transgender Non-binary Comfort level (n=21) (n=19) (n=6)

Not Comfortable 19% 26% 16%

Very comfortable 10% 0% 0% Not Transgender Female Not Transgender Male Not Transgender Non-binary Comfort level (n=84) (n=50) (n=44)

Not Comfortable 8% 10% 52%

Very comfortable 55% 48% 2% Figure 23. Comfort disclosing gender identity to police compared across transgender and not transgender participants.

Unfortunately, there is little existing data on the policing experiences of transgender men and women to help explain this difference in reported experiences. A report into heterosexist violence by the Victoria Gay and Lesbian Rights Lobby (2000) found that transgender participants reported

54 negative policing experiences at a greater rate than non-transgender participants. However, the report treated transgender as one category, rather than exploring differences between transgender women and men. One possible answer for the differing experiences may be due to the notable age gap between transgender women and transgender men, with women trending older. Transgender women were the oldest gender group of the sample, with 62 per cent over the age of 45 years. Conversely, transgender men skewed very young, with only one participant being over 45 years. The difference in quantitative results between transgender women and men should serve as a reminder that within the transgender community, there is diversity of opinions and experiences.

4.10 An emerging minority: non-binary participants.

As a group, participants with non-binary genders score more negatively on almost all variables. There is evidence that non-binary participants are what Comstock (1991:21) would term “marginal people even within their own marginal population”. Compared with the responses of female and male participants, non-binary participants report more negative opinions of police, a higher frequency of contact with police, and less satisfaction with the conduct of police during their interactions. These findings will be detailed below, followed by an exploration of the reasons why this might be the case.

Non-binary participants have demonstrated negative opinions of Victoria Police, relative to the whole sample. The graph below presents a comparison of female, male and non-binary levels of confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation. Whilst very few participants express Full Confidence in Victoria Police, the frequency of non-binary participants reporting No Confidence is moderately larger than that of female and male participants. Twenty-two per cent of non-binary participants report No Confidence, compared with 11 per cent and 7 per cent of female and male participants respectively.

15 Female

% Male 10 Non-binary

0 No Confidence Full Confidence

Figure 24. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation (n=225).

On the measure of feeling safe around police, female and male participants report similar levels of comfort, whilst non-binary participants report moderately higher levels of feeling unsafe.

40 Female

% 30 Male

20 Non-binary

0 Agree Neutral Disagree

Figure 25. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ feelings of safety around police (n=221).

As detailed above, non-binary participants feel less confident in police, and almost twice as many non-binary participants feel unsafe around police than those who feel safe. Conversely, more female and male participants feel safe around police than those who feel unsafe. It follows, then, that non- binary participants are less confident than female and male participants in their willingness to report their victimisation to police.

15 Female

% Male 10 Non-binary

0 No Confidence Full Confidence

Figure 26. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ confidence in reporting their victimisation to Victoria Police (n=224).

Whilst around 20 per cent of female and male participants report Full Confidence in reporting their criminal victimisation to Victoria Police, only 4 per cent of non-binary participants express the same level of confidence. Non-binary participants would be more likely to hesitate in contacting police if they were the victim of a crime. Interestingly, on measures relating to interactions with police, non- binary participants have reported a higher frequency of contact with police, and a higher degree of dissatisfaction with police behaviour during their interactions. Coupled with their hesitation to approach police in the reporting of crime, this may suggest that the interaction between non-binary participants and police is due to a reason other than the reporting of crime.

Eighty-four per cent of non-binary participants experienced at least one contact with police in the previous twelve months. This is marginally higher than the sample average of 81 per cent, and suggests that only sixteen per cent of non-binary participants experienced no contact with police in the previous twelve months. However, when focussing on those participants who reported experiencing more than ten contacts with police over the twelve month period, non-binary participants stand out. The results are graphed below, with female and male participants included for the comparison.

Female, 6%

Non-binary, 14% Male, 1%

Figure 27. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants who experienced more than ten interactions in the previous twelve months (n=14).

Fourteen per cent of non-binary participants experienced ten or more contacts with police over the previous twelve months. This is a considerably higher frequency than the 6 per cent of female participants, and the 1 per cent of male participants who also reported experiencing more than ten contacts with police. Non-binary participants are reporting more interactions with police, and at a higher frequency during the year. This may be of concern, given that these same participants are also reporting the least satisfaction with police whom they interact with.

The following graph maps the satisfaction level of participants in relation to police conduct during their most recent interactions. Once again, female and male participants demonstrate relatively similar responses, and non-binary participants report comparatively negative responses.

70%

60%

50%

40% Female

% Male 30% Non-binary 20%

10%

0% Satisfied Neutral Unsatisfied

Figure 28: A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ satisfaction with police conduct on recent interactions (n=183).

Non-binary participants are more than twice as dissatisfied (47 per cent) by the conduct of police during recent interactions as female (21 per cent) and male participants (22 per cent). A majority of female (65 per cent) and male (59 per cent) participants report satisfaction with police conduct during interactions, which differs for non-binary participants, where the majority report being unsatisfied.

It is perhaps unsurprising then that non-binary participants are over-represented amongst participants who have lodged complaints against Victoria Police. Fifteen participants reported filing a complaint against Victoria Police in the previous decade. Of the thirteen who provided their gender identity; three were transgender women, one a transgender man and six were non-binary participants. In other words, of the thirteen who provided their gender identity and filed a complaint against police, ten out of thirteen were gender diverse. Forty-six per cent of those who filed a complaint and listed a gender identity were non-binary.

4.11 Factors driving non-binary findings.

There is evidence within the data that provides some indication of why non-binary participants may be reporting a higher frequency of negative responses across the survey measures. Firstly, they display a higher rate of discomfort in disclosing their sexuality and gender identity to police. Secondly, they were more likely to link their treatment by police to their GLBTI identity, and report the highest frequency of interactions with police ‘on the street’. Thirdly they were the most

politically active gender subgroup of the sample, with the highest rates of rally and protest attendance, and the highest rates of interacting with police at rallies and protests. They also reported the highest rates of dissatisfaction with the conduct of police at these rallies and protests. These findings will be presented and explored further below.

Reported comfort-level disclosing gender identity to Victoria Police is one variable where the difference between non-binary participants, and female and male participants, becomes stark. Non- binary participants report a high degree of discomfort at the idea of disclosing their gender identity to police. This can be seen on the graph below.

40 Female

% 30 Male

20 Non-binary

0 Not Comfortable Very Comfortable

Figure 29. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ comfort-level disclosing their gender identity to police (n=224).

In terms of comfort disclosing their gender identities, male and female respondents reported notably higher comfort levels than non-binary respondents. Forty-six per cent of females, and 35 per cent of males reported being ‘Very Comfortable’ with the idea of disclosing their gender identities to police. These figures include transgender females and males. In contrast, only 2 per cent of non- binary participants indicated that they would be ‘Very Comfortable’ disclosing their non-binary gender identities to police. Where 11 per cent of female participants and 15 per cent of male participants indicated that they were ‘Not Comfortable’ disclosing their gender identity to police, 48 per cent of non-binary participants reported their discomfort.

It is possible that this stark difference may be the result of a hesitancy or anxiety of non-binary respondents at having to explain the more personal details of their gender identities. ‘Non-binary’

was a category utilised for the purposes of this research to group participants whose genders did not fit as either wholly male or female. Terminology reported by participants, and grouped within non- binary, included: queer, genderqueer, genderfluid, demi, transmasculine, non-binary and gender apathetic. Given the variety of genders reported by respondents that comprise the Non-binary category, this result may be a reflection of respondents feeling uncomfortable, hesitant or anxious with having to explain their less common gender identities to police. This could be a symptom of gender descriptors such as ‘genderqueer’ and ‘genderfluid’ being unfamiliar to those not versed in the terminology of non-binary genders.

Given that non-binary participants have reported feeling unsafe around police, and having experienced negative interactions with police, there may exist a lack of trust in disclosing their gender identity to police without it resulting in a negative encounter. This anxiety about interacting with police, demonstrated in their hesitance to report being victimised, can perhaps be seen in the gender subgroup’s preference for female police officers. Non-binary participants overwhelmingly cited their preference to interact with a female police officer (67 per cent) over a male police officer (zero per cent). As explained above, female officers may be perceived to be less homophobic and more GLBTI-friendly, based on societal norms linking hyper masculinity to anti-GLBTI sentiment. For non-binary participants, female officers may present the less ‘risky’ option.The hesitancy of non- binary participants to disclose their gender identity to police is reflected in their discomfort at the idea of disclosing their sexuality. The results are graphed below.

15 Female

% Male 10 Non-binary

0 Not Comfortable Very Comfortable

Figure 30. A comparison of female, male and non-binary participants’ comfort-level disclosing their sexuality to police (n=225).

Non-binary participants displayed the most discomfort at the concept of disclosing their sexuality

61 and gender identity to police, at 20 per cent of the subgroup. Only 2 per cent indicated that they were ‘Very Comfortable’ disclosing their sexuality to police. This result may be due to the sexualities listed by non-binary participants, as the majority identified as something other than gay, lesbian or bisexual. If non-binary participants hesitate to disclose their gender identities to police because it would require an explanation of queer concepts, than a similar reason may apply to the disclosure of sexuality. Sixty-one per cent of non-binary participants identified their sexuality as queer, pansexual, asexual or fluid-heterosexual. The remaining 39 per cent identified as gay, lesbian or bisexual. This is compared with the 63 per cent of female participants who identified as gay, lesbian or bisexual, and the 73 per cent of male participants who identified as gay or bisexual. Terminology to describe sexuality may play a role in participants’ comfort level disclosing – for example, ‘lesbian’ may not require an explanation, but ‘pansexual’ might. As sexuality descriptors queer, pansexual and asexual in particular are not always included in previous studies.

Writing Themselves In Again , a community health survey undertaken in 2005, noted that ‘queer’ was an emerging sexuality descriptor utilised by less than 2 per cent of their respondents (Hillier et al., 2005). The term ‘pansexual’ was not added until their 2010 survey, and none of their surveys have utilised ‘asexual’ (Hillier et al., 2010). In a community health survey compiled in 2012, Private Lives 2 , less than one per cent of respondents identified as pansexual. These terms are relatively recent to the GLBTI community, which is reflected in my research by the fact that 80 per cent of participants who described their sexuality as pansexual were under the age of 34 years. Seventy per cent of those who identified as asexual were under the age of 34 years (for comparison, 45 per cent of participants who identified as Lesbian were under the age of 34 years). Hillier et al. (2010) suggest that the adoption of these descriptors is being driven by young people seeking greater freedom in their labelling of their sexuality. However, this may have an impact on willingness to disclose their sexuality to police, out of hesitancy or anxiety at having to explain emerging queer identities to the historically homophobic police.

Non-binary participants, to a higher degree than other participants, linked their negative treatment by police to their GLBTI identity. Thirty-three per cent of non-binary participants felt that their physical appearance or behaviour brought them unwarranted police attention, and 19 per cent of Non-binary respondents felt that this unwarranted police attention was related to their GLBTI identity. In comparison, 12 per cent of female respondents and 18 per cent of male respondents felt that their physical appearance or behaviour brought them unwarranted police attention. Eight per cent of female respondents then linked this unwarranted police attention to their GLBTI status, as

62 did 11 per cent of males. Non-binary participants were therefore the most likely of the gender subgroups to not only feel that they drew unwarranted attention from police, but that this attention was linked to their physical appearance or behaviour, which they in turn were most likely to link to their GLBTI identity.

Non-binary participants reported the highest rate of interacting with police ‘on the street’. Dwyer’s (2011a; 2011b) work on queer visibility and police attention may be useful for understanding why non-binary participants may link their treatment by police to their GLBTI identity – those who straddle heteronormative ideals attract police attention. Police, Dwyer (2011a) asserts, essentially police gender , especially gender that is transgressive of heterosexual norms. While there is no evidence in the data that all non-binary participants are visibly queer; the very nature of being neither wholly male nor female lends itself to the expectation that this may be visible on the body. Smith et al. (2014) found that gender diverse young people avoid public spaces including shopping centres and public transport due to negative attention from not conforming to gender stereotypes.

Non-binary participants report the highest level of political activity with the highest level of contact with police at rallies and protests. As police attend these events in an enforcement and crowd control capacity, this may lead to participants having negative interactions, or witnessing negative interactions with police. Non-binary participants reported almost double the rate of dissatisfaction with police behaviour at the rally as females and male participants.

There is a dearth of available research into the policing experiences of gender diverse people. Smith et al. (2014) surveyed gender diverse young people, in a comprehensive study of their wellbeing and mental health. They found that 17 per cent of their sample reported avoiding contact with police due to not conforming to gender stereotypes (Smith et al., 2014:61). This result felt relatively low, given that 65 per cent of their sample reported avoiding public toilets due to similar reasons. The authors surmise that the result may reflect police not figuring into young people’s lives, but this contravenes other research which evidences how the activities of young people are frequently over- policed (Dwyer, 2011). For example, Dwyer (2011) found that the intersection of youth and queerness made her sample particularly susceptible to police intervention. Non-binary people may be emerging as a subgroup within the GLBTI population with policing needs and concerns that differ from others within the community. Williams & Robinson (2004) criticise police in Wales for focussing too heavily on the policing needs of gay men, at the expense of other vulnerable people within the community.

The uncovering of gender diverse people’s police experiences as divergent from the broader GLBTI population is a novel finding of my research. To have surveyed a high percentage of non-binary participants was a success itself, given they constitute a hard-to-reach population. But the revelation that gender diverse participants experienced both greater rates of contact with police, and more negative interactions than the sample whole, begins to addresses a glaring gap in our knowledge of the GLBTI-police relationship. The policing experiences of gender diverse people deserve further research; so that these issues may be addressed.

4.12 No defining GLBTI attitude or experience.

The quantitative data suggests that GLBTI people experience policing and perceive of police in a variety of ways. The bimodal and multimodal distributions of the variables demonstrate that for this sample, there is no one story of being policed. My data suggests that a phrase such as ‘the GLBTI relationship with police’ would be meaningless; as there is no dominant opinion or experience. The only prominent, recurring pattern within the data evidences a minority subgroup – non-binary participants – having lower confidence in police, greater frequency of encounters with police, and more negative experiences of police than the greater sample. This lack of dominant narrative on policing will be explored further in the next chapter, with the analysis of participant’s qualitative responses.

Chapter 5. Discussion: Qualitative Data

5.1 Complexity in policing experiences.

The qualitative data provided a more in-depth, nuanced look at participant responses of their opinions and experiences of Victoria Police. Participants were able to expand upon what constituted a positive, neutral or negative encounter with police, whether they felt that their GLBTI identity was read by police and whether it impacted upon their interactions with police. Additionally, participants provided details of the policing experiences and opinions of their friends within the GLBTI community, as well as expanding upon their own beliefs and perceptions of the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police, and their individual position within that dynamic.

In the previous chapter’s analysis of the quantitative data, it was established that participants experienced a range of encounters with police over the previous twelve months, with one fifth of the sample experiencing no interactions and 7 per cent experiencing more than ten interactions. Of those who did report one or more recent interactions with police, 68 per cent of participants reported being satisfied with the conduct of Victoria Police officers with whom they interacted. A fifth of the sample reported that their GLBTI identity was not relevant to their recent interactions with police, whilst 16 per cent felt that police were respectful of their GLBTI identity, and a further 16 per cent found that police were not respectful of their GLBTI identity. The qualitative data provides insight into these quantitative findings.

Despite a majority of the sample reporting satisfaction with police conduct in their most recent interactions, very few participants shared examples of positive encounters in their qualitative responses. This may be because, as one individual suggested, “most people don't think a positive story is worth telling” (Participant249). Of those who did share positive interactions, the language utilised to describe the behaviour of police that resulted in the positive interaction revealed the style of policing preferred by participants. In these cases, police are reported to have “assisted”, “validated” and “supported” the participants, and to have presented as “helpful”, “friendly”, “nice”, “comforting”, “lovely” and “wonderful” (Participants 123, 242, 150, 196, 121, & 205). Other participants praised that police were “respectful”, “fair and positive”, “gave really good advice” and “had my best interests at heart” (Participants 198, 059, 205). Participant121 elaborated, “I was impressed with the obvious effort by the officers to appear casual and friendly”.

The positive image of police, as painted by participants, is one of friendly community service. There is an absence of language such as ‘tough on crime’, or any sort of law and order sentiments. Aggression in police is marked as a negative, resulting in an unfriendly and unapproachable police. This type of language alludes to the ‘force versus service’ debate within policing research; wherein the role of contemporary police is shifting (Bartkowiak-Théron & Asquith, 2012). Participants indicated that their positive experiences came from the perception of the police as “professionals” who “seek to serve the community” (Participant211). Police are criticised for any “less than compassionate treatment” (Participant121). Participant059 perceives police as appearing “aggressive and confrontational” with their “bulletproof vests and carrying guns”, concluding that it makes him feel “less safe rather than safe”. Participant121 expresses a similar sentiment; that “the uniform alone can present as threatening”.

The absence of these overt displays of respect and “good-humour” from police can result in an interaction that unsettles participants. As Participant249 explained, police response to disclosing GLBTI identity “it isn't disrespectful, but not respectful either”. Participant031 expressed a similar sentiment, saying “nothing was said negatively, but nothing was really positive either”. When police do not overcome the innate aggression of their role, but they perform their duty without misconduct, participants can be left feeling like their interaction was neither positive nor negative. Many participants reported experiencing mixed or neutral interactions.

Participants shared examples of negative interactions at a much greater rate than they shared positive interactions, despite the quantitative data suggesting that they experienced more positive interactions. Negative interactions included police use of “homophobic slurs” (Participant192) and police being dismissive of potential hate crimes. Participant192 shared a story of their violent victimisation in a crime that they felt targeted their GLBTI identity. However, when the police arrived “Once we told them it was a homophobic attack, they rolled their eyes and left”. Participants reported a range of interactions with police that were perceived to be negative.

A common link within the negative experiences reported by participants was the police treatment of genders that do not fit heteronormative ideals. Non-binary and transgender participants in particular, shared stories of uncomfortable, abusive, frustrating and upsetting interactions with police. The concerns reported by non-binary participants were generally in relation to the expression of their gender, with police either using improper language to refer to them, making inappropriate comments about their gender, or behaving a manner that was perceived to be condescending and

66 patronising. For example, Participant009 reported an interaction where they were washing their car and “[Police] questioned why I was ‘out so late’. They called me ‘champ’ the whole time”. Participant188 reported similar behaviour from police, where the “male member was dominant and controlling, used offensive and abusive language and acted in a patriarchal manner”. In addition, their “genderqueer identity was not acknowledged”.

Non-binary and transgender participants reported difficulty in having police recognise their gender identity. For many participants, the act of being ‘misgendered’ by police – referred to by the incorrect gender pronouns or terminology – was an uncomfortable and upsetting experience. Participant101 explained how “I have found it hard to be recognized as my true gender around male police officers”. Similarly, Participant122 reported that “the Victoria Police members were unaware of my GLBTI identity and misgendered me a number of times”. Transgender participants and participants with transgender partners reported the police asking invasive questions about “genitalia, surgeries, and my attractions to the opposite sex in relation to being with a trans person” (Participant081). The participant found this police behaviour to be “really inappropriate and made me feel very uncomfortable and upset”. Participant184 reported a distressing situation where: “I was detained because I looked like a teenage boy. (As many trans guys do) but then I was harassed by police as they all discussed whether I was male or female!?”. Participant052 shared a similar story of having their gender ridiculed by police who referred to them as “it”. They explain how “being described as 'it' felt disrespectful as did having my gender identity assumed by two officers”.

Other participants felt that the police behaviour towards them became increasingly disrespectful once their own, their friend’s or their partner’s gender identity was disclosed to police. Participant072 explains how their interaction with police was routine until police requested their ID, and then “when they saw my ID they treated me poorly”. Once the police saw that while presenting as male, their identification listed a different gender, the conduct of police altered. Participant009 had a similar experience with police, explaining: “[I had my] identity questioned and then challenged [and police] told me I wasn't who I said I was”. This was a recurrent theme, especially for transgender and non-binary participants, wherein “the police treat transgender people like we're sly criminals trying to hide our true identity” (Participant072). For Participant066, this police suspicion manifested in more sinister ways, as “[the police] took me in with a beating because they wanted to check my identity”. For these participants, police doubts over their identity and exposure to police violence were both directly linked to their non-binary gender.

Identification checks were most frequently cited by transgender participants as sites of tension with police, as often their gender presentation does not match the gender on their driver’s licence, or the gender on their driver’s licence does not match the gender listed in the police system. This was a cause for consternation for participants who felt that it disclosed their transgender status to police under conditions where they might have chosen not to disclose. Many felt that these situations put them at risk of disrespectful, unsafe or abusive police conduct.

Dwyer (2011b:5) found that police did not often constrain GLBTI people physically, but rather it was a constraint of “feelings, weird looks – almost undetectable limitations and moderations of their behaviour”. Participants observed and interpreted police behaviour as surveillance of their queerness. Participant098 reported “police officers looking oddly at a friend and I in the street” and they directly link this police behaviour “on account of my androgynous appearance”. Participant133 felt that it was “obvious I’m looked at as being ‘queer’” by police, a sentiment repeated by Participant025 who explained their experience: “You always get more looks and followed more closely, and they always look you up and down at rallies if you're looking particularly queer”.

Many stories of negative police interaction were not first-hand accounts, but participants sharing the experiences of their friends within the GLBTI community. Participant152 explained that “I hear stories from my peers about police harassment and abuse”. For Participant122, “the majority of stories about the Victoria Police from other GLBTI people is negative”. The influence of in-group members, as story-tellers, can prime participants for what to expect in an encounter with police. Despite some positive stories being shared, the overwhelming majority of participants who reported the experiences of their friends, reported abusive and upsetting interactions. Participant responses reveal that they are steeped in a negative story-telling environment, perhaps as “people tend to discuss negative experiences more” (Participant052). When secondary contact is from an in-group member, it can be termed ‘vicarious contact’ because the treatment of police against fellow GLBTI people ‘sends a message’ to the rest of the group, in a similar mechanism to hate crimes (Wolff & Cokely, 2007:3, Bell & Perry, 2015:103). This negative story-telling environment can be seen in statements such as “it is widely acknowledged that the police mistreat, misgender, harass and victim-blame members of the LGBT community” (Participant147).

5.2 Persistence of historical memory.

Historical interactions also contribute to this emotionally-charged relationship, and participant

68 responses revealed how indelible traumatic experiences can be. Participant176 revealed that they had “no protest experiences in the last 12 months, but I was the victim of police violence at a protest in the 1990s”. For Participant168, the historical abuse that they suffered from police has the result that they “can't shake the fear that the presence police officers bring to me to this day”. Participant114 “was a patron at the Tasty Club when it was raided and everyone was mistreated, ridiculed, bullied and embarrassed”. The 1994 police raid on the Tasty Nightclub was a critical event in Victoria’s history between police and the GLBTI population (Russell, 2015). As Participant185 explained, “I have friends who were a part of the Tasty Nightclub raid and still don’t trust police”.

Interactions between GLBTI people and Victoria Police do not occur without context. Previous experience of police, vicarious contact, perception of aggressive police culture and historical memory have had an impact on participant responses. To assess interactions empirically would be to miss interactions as sites of tension between “historical legacy, the present and social change” (Hurley, 2007:161).

5.3 Marginal identities.

While recent police-GLBTI studies have recorded improvement in police response to GLBTI victimisation, there is consensus that GLBTI people continue to be marginalised in their treatment by police (Wolff & Cokely, 2007; Miles-Johnson, 2013; Williams & Robinson, 2004). Wolff & Cokely (2007:4) define being marginalised by police to include experiencing “poor response time, inadequate or insensitive response by ofﬁcers, as well as inappropriate, and even abusive behaviour”. These poor policing practices are reflective of the negative interactions detailed by my participants above. Miles-Johnson (2013:688) reflects that “despite changes in the social, political and legal history of the relationship between police and LGBTI people, the nature of the relationship in Australia remains problematic”. In this context, being marginalised by police is to experience negative interactions based on a person’s GLBTI identity.

According to Hurley, marginalised groups have a tendency to produce social deficit accounts of themselves. Hurley (2007:161) calls this “cultural default, a form of inertia” and cautions that “the process of doing so often engenders practices of self or group representation that sideline the existing strengths of social capacity and power”. Hurley’s concern is that researchers install the term ‘marginality’ uncritically, and by doing so only perpetuate the findings that a marginal community is marginalised. Hurley warns researchers to be wary that, for minority communities, identifying with

69 the label of marginal may be different to experiencing marginality.

For the purposes of this analysis, ‘marginalisation’, for the marginal group, can be a “construction of themselves as (marginalised) social beings within the dominant power relations” (Crewe, 1997:967). To be marginal is to deviate from the ‘centre’; the standard against which marginal people measure themselves (Ferguson et al., 1990). This construction of the self as marginal relies on internalising the binary concept that the marginalised person exists ‘on the margins’ whilst those who reflect mainstream societal norms occupy the centre (Ferguson et al., 1990).

With Hurley’s warnings in mind, I did not measure marginality, nor did I define it. I had no variable assessing the distance between the centre and the margin, nor what the centre and the margin mean in terms of policing experiences. Rather, I analysed where participants placed themselves and their community in relation to the centre and the margin. I let participants define the margin, who dwells there, and the policing outcomes and expectations for the marginalised.

Participants define the centre and demonstrate an awareness of who occupies that space. Participant222’s comment, “my behaviour and appearance is moderately conservative and would not identify me as non-mainstream identity”, revealed an awareness about what is and is not ‘mainstream’. Participant059 also demonstrates an awareness of their appearance stating, “I do not think I am easily identifiable as a gay man and therefore do not feel that this has affected police attention towards me”. This sentiment, that negative experiences should be expected if you present as visibly GLBTI, is echoed back at participants by police. Explains Participant186 “I have a friend who was bashed for being gay and the Victoria Police officer told him he should try to act more 'normal'”. In this context, the police have sent a clear message - what Dwyer (2015) would term a “pedagogical moment” - that teaches the participant about their own marginality. Identities that are ‘normal’ and ‘mainstream’ are the centre, furthest from the margins, with the least expectations of police violence.

Other characteristics of those who occupy the centre include looking “older and middle class” (Participant160) and looking like an “obvious middle class woman” (Participant007). Anglo ethnicity is cited as providing protection from poor policing practices. Participant054 explained that “as a white middle class adult male I do not experience being targeted by police”. Participant206 agreed: “I don't usually look identifiably queer, as a young white cis woman I usually get assumed to be harmless”. Previous research has demonstrated that “the majority of white, middle-class people”

express “more confidence in the police than other members of society” (Miles-Johnson, 2013:687). Participant253 has never had a problem with police because “I don't think I ‘look gay’” and Participant003 believes that police target “people who are less "trendy" than gay is right now - for example, black men”. This contrasts with Participant059, who recognises that as a “white male” their “interactions with Victoria Police in the past have been generally fair and positive”, yet they fear that if their “gay identity is revealed during an interaction this may change”.

For most participants, the centre is defined by being the space that GLBTI identities do not occupy. Yet for some, they do possess traits that allow them to move closer to the centre. If their GLBTI identity cannot be read by police at all, then the closer to receiving mainstream police service they are.

Participants directly linked their GLBTI identities with being targeted by police. Participant067 explained, “I feel the more transgender I present the more I am targeted”. Participant090 agreed, stating “I look visibly queer it can draw unwanted attention including from members of the police force”. This has led Participant174 to “feel nervous about my trans status being discovered by [the police]”. These fears may not be unwarranted, as Participant113 discovered: “I feel that the violence pushing I have been subjected to at a rally was due to myself having no hair at the time, and if I presented in more heteronormative way they might not have treated me that way”. Participant143 also had police comment on the fact that they “do not conform to gender standards” and they have since felt “targeted because of the way I present myself”.

Some participants are critical of others within the GLBTI community for being “excessively confrontational about sexuality/gender” (Participant127). They warn that the GLBTI community “invite negative experiences” if their “identity is confrontational” (Participant253). This provides a sense that the marginality of others in the community is ‘asked for’ by not conforming; that these members play into their marginality and increase their chances of victimisation by police.

5.4 Passing privilege.

According to participants, marginality is not static, and GLBTI people are able to obscure their queer identity in a practice known as ‘passing’. Participant024 provides an example where “one transgender friend (pre transition) had her car broken into and changed back to her birth sex to report the incident”. In this case, the friend most likely would not have ‘passed’ as her gender

identity, and so reverted to her birth sex in order to access police help. Participant154, who is non- binary, explained a similar concept: “when I deal with the police I pretend I'm cishet because I don't want to get hurt and I want them to want to help me”. ‘Cishet’ generally refers to ‘cisgender and heterosexual’, which is the identity the participant believes the police will be most willing to help. Other participants also report being able to ‘pass’ as heteronormative. Participant137 explains, “to my knowledge people don't pick me as transgender”. Participant077, a transgender man, calls this “passing privilege” and explains how it has helped him as he is “yet to get any attention from police”. Not every participant had this privilege, such as Participant165, who explains “I am visually transgender, I do not ‘pass’ at this current time”.

Participant responses suggest that they conceive of their queerness as being visible and able to be read by police. GLBTI people “do embodiment in ways that position them outside the dominant heterosexist ways of doing gender and sexuality” and this can attract negative police attention (Dwyer, 2008:414). By obscuring the fact that they are GLBTI, or making a conscious choice to not disclose their GLBTI status (such as not disclosing a same-sex or transgender partner) they are acknowledging that they place GLBTI identity on the margins, and attempting to move themselves closer to the centre. A similar mechanism was reported by Hayes & Dwyer (2011:281) who found that gay, lesbian and bisexual police officers felt “compelled to ‘pass’ as heterosexual” in order to receive mainstream (non-abusive) treatment from their fellow police officers.

For transgender participants, the concept of ‘passing’ refers to the ‘privilege’ of not being read as transgender – that is, they are read as either a man or a woman, with no visible signs of their transgender status. The act of obscuring or refusing to disclose their GLBTI identity in order to access mainstream police services, suggests that for some participants GLBTI is a marginalised identity, one that will result in victimisation, likely violence, or degrading, dismissive police response. In this way, participants display an awareness of whether or not they too ‘pass’ as heteronormative.

Participants comprehend marginality in a variety of ways. In terms of the relationship with police, according to participants, a marginalised person is unable to access fair and equitable policing, and may in fact be vulnerable to abuse and misconduct from police. Participants present marginality as not fixed, but fluid. For example, they explain how some groups have gained more mainstream credibility with police over time, compared with others. They explain how their queerness, which makes them vulnerable, can be read by police and so they are actively able to obscure their GLBTI identities in order to access fair and equitable police service. This concept of ‘passing’ as

heteronormative reveals the traits that they believe makes a person more vulnerable to being marginalised by police violence. ‘Difference’ is highlighted as a trait targeted by police, especially gender differences such as androgyny or not looking wholly male or female. This is especially fraught for transgender and non-binary participants, who are frequently cited by participants as being more marginal than cisgender men and women.

To live on the margins, according to participants, is to expect violence and misconduct from police. This is not the experience of every participant, but many participants demonstrated an awareness of their own “degrees of social marginality” (Hurley, 2007:170). Participants framed these degrees in terms of risk of being victimised by police. Anglo ethnicity, middle class social status and conforming to gender binarism were the most frequently cited markers that could move participants closer to the centre, and thus to unproblematic police service. Being transgender, non-binary or possessing “multiple marginalized identities” (Williams & Robinson, 2004: 229) were the markers cited as placing participants closer to the margins, and thus more at risk of police victimisation.

Feeling marginalised by police is not necessarily based on participants’ lived experience of police interactions, but rather on perceived notions of how police will behave if their GLBTI status is revealed. As demonstrated in the quantitative chapter, the majority of participants reported police behaviour to be satisfactory in their most recent encounters. Yet very few elaborated on these positive interactions, compared with the participants whose qualitative responses were negative or critical of police. It would appear that the perception of possessing an identity thought to be marginalised by police is complex and involves a tension between different social forces and discourses. I propose that the expectation of violence and the fear of police discovering their GLBTI identity are likely acquired through means other than, or in addition to, direct contact with police. As discussed in the previous section, vicarious contact and community story-telling were found to contribute to participants’ responses about police. It is this ‘community narrative’ that informs participants’ expectations and attitudes towards police, and informs their understanding of their own marginality.

5.5 Divergence of Community Narratives.

According to Julian Rappaport (2000:6-7), “communities tell stories” and these stories are appropriated “into our own personal life stories”. Rappaport (2000:6) terms these stories “community narratives” and explains how our “personal life stories are negotiated in the context of

73 narratives told by the communities in which we live”. The “profound effect” of this mechanism of appropriation is that individuals are shaped by community narratives, even as they reshape the narratives themselves (Rappaport, 2000:6-7).

As a result of GLBTI people possessing a “contest identity”, GLBTI life stories have developed outside of the “canonical narrative” of heteronormativity (Weststrate & McLean, 2010:225). The outcome has been a community narrative of stigma, violence and “minority stress” (Weststrate & McLean, 2010; Cohler & Hammack, 2007). This narrative has been perpetuated by “cultural-historical factors” that “may have played a role in shaping these identities over the past 50 years” (Weststrate & McLean, 2010:225). These critical events in GLBTI history have often involved violent suppression from police, and have contributed to the community’s fear and expectation of being victimised by police (Russell, 2016; Westsrate & McLean, 2010). Events such as New York City’s Stonewall Inn riots in 1969, the 1978 Mardi Gras riot in Sydney, and the 1994 police raid on Tasty Nightclub in Melbourne have served to legitimise GLBTI people as victims of police violence in their own community narrative. A narrative of GLBTI victimisation by police has dominated research in the disciplines of criminology and queer studies.

Psychologists Cohler & Hammack (2007) have been critical of this dominant narrative of victimisation in GLBTI life stories. In their study of the narratives present in gay youth identity development, they identified a second, emerging narrative that casts off the association between GLBTI people and victimisation. The first narrative presented by Cohler & Hammack (2007), the narrative of struggle and success , is characterised by perceiving the victimisation and marginalisation of GLBTI people as normative. It presents a single path for GLBTI identity development – one of struggle against oppression, with the presence of violence and “minority stress”. Their second narrative, the narrative of emancipation , rejects the normative association of GLBTI identity with victimisation. This narrative espouses agency in GLBTI identity development, allowing for heterogeneity of life paths. In essence, Cohler & Hammack have identified this narrative as a “post- gay” approach, where any violence or stress endured by the individual is not linked to their GLBTI identity.

The emergence of a second and possible heterogeneity of narratives (Weststrate & McLean, 2010) has received little attention in the research area of policing GLBTI people. In previous studies, data showing diversity of policing experiences of GLBTI people has been attributed to the impact of jurisdictional differences in policing styles (Williams & Robinson, 2004), and to the impact of

74 improvements in the policing of the GLBTI community over time (Wolff & Cokely, 2007). The narrative of police violence and heterosexism has remained dominant in research in this area. Using the framework of community narratives developed by Coehler & Hammack (2007), I explore the possibility of a heterogeneity of community narratives in the responses of participants.

I first analysed participant responses for evidence of Cohler & Hammack’s narrative of struggle and success , which espouses heterosexism and ‘minority stress’ as a normalised part of GLBTI lives. In a policing context, I propose that this would manifest as a GLBTI experience and expectation of police heterosexism as normative. I next analysed participant responses for evidence of Cohler & Hammack’s narrative of emancipation . In a policing context, I propose that this would manifest as GLBTI people not believing in police heterosexism, and therefore not expecting violence or misconduct from police.

Upon analysis, I found evidence that some participants believe in the presence of police heterosexism, but in two diverging ways. The first group were characterised by a belief in police heterosexism on an institutional level. Participant118 explains their belief that “the patriarchy, heteronormativity and cissexism are heavily present within Victoria Police structurally”. This sentiment is echoed by Participant131, who believes that police are “homophobic as an organisation and the culture of Victoria Police is one where our community isn't taken seriously and some I think hate us”. For Participant192, the violence and negative experiences that they and their friends have experienced from police is directly linked “due to being LGBTIQPA”. In this narrative, the “police as an arm of the state are inherently homophobic and transphobic” (Participant027). Police heterosexism is seen as normative, as is the fact that the GLBTI community “has not been protected or served by the police as an organisation” (Participant003). Participants in this group display anti- police sentiment and a strong belief that police are violent towards GLBTI people for heterosexist reasons. As Participant025 explains, police are “currently and historically one of the main brutalisers of LGBTI people through-out the world”. This community narrative presents a sense that police heterosexism is an embedded and inherent part of police culture. It normalises the idea that GLBTI people should expect violence from police, at every level of the organisation.

The second group who demonstrate a community narrative similar to Cohler & Hammack’s narrative of struggle and success , were characterised by a belief that whilst Victoria Police are improving at an organisational level, individual officers can continue to perpetrate heterosexist actions against GLBTI people. Unlike the participants in the previous group, these participants recognise that heterosexist

75 attitudes occur at an individual level for police, not structural. There is less anti-police sentiment amongst this group, as “most anecdotal evidence is that Victoria Police has grown immensely - including their attitudes toward the LGBTI community” (Participant058). Participant195 believes that police “try their best but don't have training in GLBTIQ issues so may not understand appropriate safe language”. This group is characterised by a frustration at what they describe as “polar opposite experiences with Victoria Police” (Participant189). The inconsistency of service perpetuates a fear of police, and leads to hesitance to contact police for help. Participant168 reveals anxiety about the risk that the next officer they interact with will harbour heterosexist ideas – “that's what I fear.....that 'this' police officer will be 'the one'”.

Participants express the sentiment that interacting with police remains risky due to the chance of interacting with heterosexist officers. Participant082 explains that police heterosexism is “very much dependent on the actual officers rather than the force I believe”. Participant158 agrees, commenting that it is “difficult to talk about the force in total because it constitutes a lot of people”. This group of participants acknowledge that police heterosexism depends on the officer, not the organisation. They express a sense that certain police are more likely than others to be heterosexist. For some, they are more concerned about “older members” of the police (Participant082) and “traditional types” (Participant205) who “seem to hold on to the old ideas” (Participant082). For Participant189, they feel that there is a “vast difference between senior sergeants and constables on the beat” in terms of heterosexist attitudes. This group of participants continue to expect violence from police as normative, but they attribute it not to organisational heterosexism, but to individual officers who are “super macho” (Participant111) and “aren't well educated in LGBTQIA issues” (Participant076).

The third group of participants do not demonstrate a belief in police heterosexism towards GLBTI people, in a manner befitting of Cohler & Hammack’s narrative of emancipation. These participants present a sense that their relationship with police is ‘post-gay’, that “individuals gaining the attention of police do so for inappropriate behaviours, not because of their LGBTIQ differences” (Participant034). This narrative is characterised by a belief that “police attention comes from suspicious or law breaking behaviour, not from [a person’s] GLBTI identity” (Participant095). As Participant140 explains, “I don’t commit crimes, and therefore do not gain attention”. This group have generally “not heard any stories of violence or discrimination towards the queer community” (Participant204). Where they do hear stories of GLBTI people having negative interactions with police, they attribute it to either “disrespectful people with a criminal background” (Participant095) causing their own negative interactions; or the idea that “most of the GLBTIQ* community are anti-

76 government pussies” and that researchers and police will “never get positivity from them” (Participant125). This group do not see heterosexism as a normative part of policing, and as such do not expect violence from interactions with police. As Participant197 comments, “Personally I am not concerned that my sexuality is ever going to influence my interactions with the police”. These participants express a post-gay narrative, with no belief in police heterosexism at either an individual or structural level.

A fourth group of participants demonstrate a narrative with elements of both struggle and success and emancipation . These participants espouse a narrative where a section of the GLBTI population has entered a ‘post-gay’ relationship with police, whilst a minority continue to be subjected to heterosexist police practices. This minority is characterised as those with gender differences which confront traditional gender binary norms, such as “gender diverse” (Participant008), “transgender” (Participant029) and “dykes” with masculine presentation (Participant191) and “openly 'stereotypical' gay men” (Participant073). Participant090 comments that they “have never heard a positive story about a police officer adequately supporting victims of crime who are trans or gender diverse”. The implication that transgender and gender diverse people experience greater rates of police heterosexism is reflected in many participant responses. Participant077 explains “I don't have confidence that my transgender status would be treated with understanding were it to come up, despite my confidence that being gay is not an issue [to police]”. For Participant077, being gay is seen as less at risk of police heterosexism compared to being transgender, explaining how “the two aspects have very separate levels of acceptance in the community”. In this narrative, minority sexual identities have achieved a greater level of community acceptance, and thus are not victimised by police at the same rate as minority gender identities.

The presence of four narratives in the data suggests that the traditional community narrative of victimisation has diverged. These four narratives represent varying attitudes amongst participants about heterosexist police violence. In the first narrative, police violence towards GLBTI people is intrinsic and endemic. In the second narrative, police violence is unpredictable and dependent on the individual officer attending. The third narrative presents a post-gay context where police violence is only experienced by those who break the law, or by GLBTI people who provoke police. The fourth narrative suggests that GLBTI people are not experiencing police violence evenly, with those who ‘transgress heteronormativity’ at greater risk of being victimised by police.

5.6 The future of policing GLBTI people.

The diversity of people, opinions and experiences represented in my research sample is suggestive of a population that is heterogeneous; of GLBTI ‘communities’ rather than ‘community’. As police organisations improve their heterosexist attitudes and behaviours towards GLBTI people, the dominant community narrative may be diverging, as less people identify with the narrative of victimisation. As Participant240 explains, “I despise the police because of my politics, not because I have been victimised on the basis of my queerness”. Weststrate & McLean (2010:225) theorise that this narrative divergence suggests “that homosexual identities have become less culturally defined, and instead more personally defined”. Heterogeneity of communities and community narratives has implications for the future of policing GLBTI people, as “a community cannot be a community without a shared narrative” (Rappaport, 2000:6). How would police, researchers and policy makers approach a population that is no longer defined by one set of needs? Which issues would be addressed first? There is messiness and complexity to the relationship between police and GLBTI people; a tension between the narrative of victimisation, and emerging narratives of a post-gay world, with evidence that a minority within the GLBTI population is being left behind.

Chapter 6. Conclusion

My findings challenge normative assumptions about the narrative of victimisation and presence of binarism in discourse surrounding the GLBTI-police relationship. The emergence of multiple narratives in participant responses has ramifications for previous understandings of GLBTI identity as homogenous. With diverse experiences, diverse opinions and diversity of demographics, the very notion of a singular ‘community’ relationship with police is challenged.

My finding of a schism of narratives echoes Russell’s work (2016), which highlights two perspectives on the police involvement at Pride march. Russell (2016:6) noted that “LGBT people did not uniformly welcome the news of the Chief Commissioner’s participation in Pride March”. With one perspective embracing police presence, and one decrying it, Russell (2016:6) found that Pride was “a site of significant complexity and contestation amongst both police and LGBT people”. These opposing views demonstrated “the contradictions and compromises” that GLBTI people encountered in their response to police presence at Pride (2016:7). Pride became a contested event, caught between the story of the past, and hope for the future. The responses that Russell analysed demonstrated diverging narratives, not only about the presence of police in queer spaces, but about the future relationship as well. My findings, similar to Russell’s, suggest that the GLBTI relationship with police is significantly more complex, and a site of greater tension, than is often acknowledged in research.

On a methodological level, my findings have implications for empirical research into the GLBTI population. So often presented as a homogenous identity, the GLBTI population may be too heterogeneous for representational identity politics. The diversity of the participants and their responses suggests that the relationship has moved beyond the structured binary of the police and the GLBTI population. This has implications for the current, normative approach to policing GLBTI people – which is based on assumptions about a monocultural community with one set of policing needs. The divergence of community narratives, outlined in the fifth chapter, evidences a GLBTI population with diverse experiences, diverse opinions and therefore diverse requirements of police.

My research critically engaged with the concept of marginality, and found that for many participants, their perception of the marginal status of the GLBTI population was not matched by their actual lived experiences of policing. The perception that friends and communities were experiencing discriminatory policing pervaded many responses. Participants were steeped in a

79 negative story-telling environment that influenced their understanding of who is marginal, and the consequences of being marginal. Participants conceptualised being marginal as being at greater risk of police discrimination. For some participants, the role of police centres on targeting society’s most marginalised citizens. This belief was expressed regardless of whether participants considered themselves to be targets of police discrimination. For participants, a sense of belonging to the GLBTI community means identifying with marginality. That is, participants belong to the community by identifying with the stories that are told about the GLBTI experience of police violence. As Russell (2016) suggests, “that intimate familiarity with oppression cannot simply be disavowed, because it’s what makes us queer as much as anything”. Remnants of the historical relationship remain, and it is this collective sense of victimisation that informs understandings of marginality, regardless of lived experience.

Following Foucault’s (1978) assertion that there is a power imbalance between police and GLBTI people, my findings imply that some within the GLBTI population possess more power than others in their relationship with police. It would appear that GLBTI people who hold the least power, in this case non-binary participants, are bearing the brunt of police discrimination. This perhaps recalls Stonewall, in which those within the GLBTI population subjected to police violence were also the community’s most vulnerable – those who transgress heteronormative ideals. Gender diverse people must become a site for further study, to better understand the mechanisms that render them vulnerable to poor police practices.

Community mental health and wellbeing surveys have been at the forefront of recognising the gender diversity within the community (Smith et al., 2014). But this needs to be explored further in policing discourse. Gillespie (2008:644) concludes that for GLBTI community policing programs to be successful, “police departments must consider the full range of diversity within the GLBT communities”. Beyond empirical contributions to the topic, my research has conceptual implications for the performance of non-binary identity and the associated risks. Participants exhibited clear anxiety over the disclosure of their queer identities to police, a symptom of GLBTI life that extends beyond the context of policing. Smith et al. (2014) found that gender diverse people avoid a range of circumstances due to anxiety over not conforming to gender stereotypes. In their research, gender diverse people reported that avoiding police did not rank as highly as avoiding other facets of life. My research, establishing non-binary participants as a minority within the sample, has implications that reach beyond policing and into discourses on discrimination facing the gender diverse.

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Appendix

Survey.

Demographic questions.

1. What best describes your sexuality? (for example; gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual, pansexual) 1 = Gay 2 = Lesbian 3 = Bisexual 4 = Pansexual 5 = Queer 6 = Heterosexual 7 = Asexual Spectrum 8 = Fluid Heterosexual 9 = Unsure 0 = Missing

2. What best describes your sex or gender identity? (for example; cisgender female, transgender female-to-male, genderqueer, two-spirit) 1 = Female 2 = Male 3 = Genderqueer/Non-binary 4 = Transgender non-specified 5 = Cisgender non-specified 6 = Intersex non-specified 7 = Questioning 0 = Missing

2a. Recoded trans status. 1 = Binary Male/Female non-specified 2 = Cisgender 3 = Non-binary 4 = Transgender

5 = Unspecified status 0 = Missing

3. Intersex is a term for people born with congenital differences in sex characteristics. Do you have an intersex variation? 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure 0 = Missing

4. What is your relationship status? 1 = Single 2 = Partner of same-sex 3 = Partner of opposite-sex 4 = Multiple partners 5 = One or both partners non-binary 6 = Other 0 = Missing

5. Which best describes your residential location? 1 = Melbourne City 2 = Inner City Suburbs 3 = Middle Suburbs 4 = Outer Suburbs 5 = Rural Town 6 = Rural Property 7 = Regional City 0 = Missing

6. What is your age? 1 = 18-24 2 = 25-34 3 = 35-44 4 = 45-54

5 = 55-64 6 = 65+ 0 = Missing

7. Do you identify as Indigenous or Torres Strait Islander? 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure 0 = Missing

8. Do you come from a Culturally and Linguistically Diverse background? 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure 0 = Missing

9. What is the highest level of education that you have completed? 1 = Year 10 2 = Year 12 – VCE or equivalent 3 = Apprenticeship 4 = Certificate/Diploma 5 = Bachelor Degree 6 = Professional Degree e.g. Juris Doctor 7 = Master’s Degree 8 = Doctorate

9 = None of the Above 0 = Missing

10. How open are you about your GLBTI status? 1 = Closeted/Not Open 10 = Extremely Open 0 = Missing

11. Which of the following groups are you open with about your GLBTI status? You may select

multiple options. 1 = Answer 0 = Blank/Missing

Opinion of Victoria Police and attitudes towards policing.

12. I have confidence in Victoria Police as an organisation. 1 = No Confidence 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 = Full Confidence 0 = Missing

13. I would feel comfortable disclosing my sexuality to a member of Victoria Police. 1 = Not Comfortable 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 = Very Comfortable 0 = Missing

14. I would feel comfortable disclosing my sex or gender identity to a member of Victoria Police. 1 = Not Comfortable

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 = Very Comfortable 0 = Missing

15. I would feel comfortable disclosing my Intersex status to a member of Victoria Police. 1 = Not Comfortable 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 = Very Comfortable 0 = Missing

16. If necessary, I would feel comfortable allowing police officers into my place of residence. 1 = Not Comfortable 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10 = Very Comfortable 0 = Missing

17. I would feel comfortable disclosing my same-sex relationship to a Victoria Police officer. 1 = Not Comfortable 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 = Very Comfortable 0 = Missing

18. If I was the victim of a crime, I would feel confident reporting it to Victoria Police. 1 = No Confidence 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 = Full Confidence 0 = Missing

19. If I witnessed a crime, I would feel confident reporting it to Victoria Police. 1 = No Confidence 2 3 4

5 6 7 8 9 10 = Full Confidence 0 = Missing

20. If required, I would feel more comfortable interacting with a: 1 = Male-identified police officer 2 = Female identified police officer 3 = Either 0 = Missing

21. When I hear stories about Victoria Police from other GLBTI people, they are positive. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

22. Please explain your response to the previous question:

23. On the whole, I think that the GLBTI community’s relationship with Victoria Police is positive. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 0 = Missing

24. When I see a Victoria Police officer, I feel safe. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 0 = Missing

25. I believe that a police organisation is a necessary part of society. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 0 = Missing

26. I believe that Victoria Police need to work harder to improve their relationship with GLBTI people. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 0 = Missing

27. I am aware of measures undertaken by Victoria Police to improve their relationship with GLBTI people. 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure

0 = Missing

28. I am aware of the following (Please select as many as apply): 1 = Answer 0 = Blank/Missing

Gay and Lesbian Liaison Officers – GLLOs GLLO participation on radio station Joy FM GLLO presence at community events such as Midsumma Carnival Victoria Police participating in Pride March Victoria Police apology for Tasty Nightclub raid Victoria Government expunging criminal records of Victorians previously convicted under anti- homosexuality laws

Interactions with Victoria Police and Experiences of policing.

29. How many interactions would you estimate that you have had with Victoria Police in the last twelve months? 1 = None 2 = One 3 = Two 4 = Three 5 = Four to Ten 6 = More than Ten 7 = Unsure 0 = Missing

30. Have you had any of the following interactions with Victoria Police in the last twelve months? You may select multiple responses. 1 = Answer 0 = Blank

Public Information Session Traffic Offence Roadside Breathalyser Test

Victim of a crime Witness to a crime Committing a criminal offence Being served a warrant Being arrested Interaction on the street (eg. chatting, asking for directions) Interaction at community event At a rally or protest Other

31. I was satisfied with the conduct of the Victoria Police officers with whom I interacted. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

32. During my previous interactions with Victoria Police, officers were respectful of my GLBTI identity. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

33. Please explain your response to the previous question.

34. My previous experiences with Victoria Police shape my attitude towards them.

1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

35. I believe that my physical appearance or behaviour brings me unwarranted police attention. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 0 = Missing

36. I believe that this police attention is related to my GLBTI identity. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

37. Please explain your response to the previous question:

38. I have attended a rally or protest with police presence in the last twelve months. 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure

0 = Missing

39. At this rally or protest, I observed the police behaviour to be respectful towards those involved 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

40. I identified as GLBTI during the time when homosexuality was illegal in Victoria (pre-1981). 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure 0 = Missing

41. My pre-1981 experiences shape my attitude towards police today. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

42. In the last decade, I have filed a complaint against Victoria Police. 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure 0 = Missing

43. I was satisfied with how my complaint was resolved. 1 = Strongly Agree 2 = Agree 3 = Neutral 4 = Disagree 5 = Strongly Disagree 6 = Unsure 7 = Not Applicable 0 = Missing

44. Are you a current or former sworn member of Victoria Police or another police force? 1 = Yes 2 = No 0 = Missing

45. Do you have close friends or family who are current or former police officers? 1 = Yes 2 = No 3 = Unsure 0 = Missing

46. Have you ever considered a career with Victoria Police? 1 = Yes 2 = No 0 = Missing

47. If you have any other comments about your policing experiences, or about this survey, please add them below:

100

Minerva Access is the Institutional Repository of The University of Melbourne

Author/s: Lamb, Jessica

Title: Beyond police victimisation: diverging narratives in the experiences of Victoria’s GLBTI population

Date: 2017

Persistent Link: http://hdl.handle.net/11343/132125

File Description: Thesis

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