Making LGBTQ+ Census Data History: What it means, and why we still have a long way to go

This article is authored by?Aisling Sheehy, Digital Communications Officer at Guy's & St Thomas' Foundation.

This article was developed by the LGBTQ+ Network for LGBTQ+ History Month. This is an opinion piece and does not necessarily represent the views of all network members, or that of the Foundation.

To know someone inside and out is something you might say about a friend, family member, or someone else close to you. It means to know someone intimately. To know them so thoroughly that you know the sides that aren’t outwardly shown.?

I don’t think anyone would naturally think to apply that phrase to the Office of National Statistics, (probably because it sounds ridiculous), but in a way it’s true. The census asks a lot of questions – 51 in fact - to offer a detailed snapshot of our population at a given point in time. It’s about as close as we can get, as things stand, to knowing our population, inside and out.?

Like any research, the census is as much about what information is deemed relevant to capture as it is about the information itself. The census asks people’s ages, their occupation, their ethnicity, their relationship status. Why? So the government can develop policies, plan public services, and allocate funding based on this data.?

Up until very recently, the government did not deem it relevant to ask about sexual orientation or gender identity. But in 2021, for the first time in over 200 years and after over 20 years of campaigning by individuals, community organisations, and charities, the census finally asked for this voluntary information. And last month, when the census was revealed, LGBTQ+ people were no longer a hidden population.?

What does it mean??

The importance is significant. Up until this point, the answer to the question “How many LGBTQ+ people are there in England and Wales?” could only be answered with a vague shrug of the shoulders. There were no accurate, verifiable statistics.?

Maybe this is a bit unfair. Gay, lesbian and bi people have at least had statistical estimates at the size of their population. But if gay, lesbian and bi people were hidden, trans and non-binary people have been invisible. And as anyone that works in data will tell you, it is simply not impossible to meet the needs of a population if you don’t have any verifiable information about them.??

LGBTQ+ people face worse health outcomes, less support in schools, higher rates of mental health issues, and higher rates of assault than their straight cis peers. We have also been a hidden population until very recently. These things aren’t unrelated. When we collect information in a way that excludes marginalised people, we only serve to reinforce existing power imbalances. And so, it’s no wonder that the needs of the LGBTQ+ community have been continually unrecognised and under resourced.?

When we collect information in a way that excludes marginalised people, we only serve to reinforce existing power imbalances. And so, it’s no wonder that the needs of the LGBTQ+ community have been continually unrecognised and under resourced.?

This is why capturing data about LGBTQ+ people in the census matters. It allows for a much stronger case to be built in calling for more resources, more funding, and more representation. It’s also a significant step for intersectionality, as very few existing studies have addressed race, age, and economic differences in the health and quality of life for LGBTQ+ people - and so the crucial understanding of how these categories overlap is pretty much unknown. The census is a noteworthy step forward in progressing our understanding in this field.?

But it’s also important to acknowledge that it is just that: a step.?

One piece in an ever-evolving puzzle?

Trans adults – making up just 0.5% of the population in the UK - face a persistent and horrifying climate of hatred in civic discussion, in press and in media. In the context of a hostile environment, it’s important to note that there will of course be a sizeable proportion of LGBTQ+ people for whom it will not have been safe to disclose their identity in this decade’s census. A figure now exists, but it’s still an underrepresentation. And we have a long way to go before everyone in our community feels safe to be fully who they are.?

There is a thread in LGBTQ+ conversation that visibility is a necessary precondition to liberation. In some ways, it’s true: in a society where homophobia, transphobia exist, one in which LGBTQ+ identities have been historically erased, visibility can be an act of protest. Visibility can also create a ripple effect, inspiring confidence and empowerment in others to feel they can be themselves. When you’ve historically been told (by being excluded from data) that “you don’t exist and you don’t matter”, it can feel pretty good to leverage cold hard statistics as an incontrovertible rebuttal.?

When you’ve historically been told... that “you don’t exist and you don’t matter”, it can feel pretty good to leverage cold hard statistics as an incontrovertible rebuttal.?

But visible doesn’t always mean empowered, or even safe. You need only consider the experiences of trans people in the UK to disprove the assumption that visibility leads to liberation. Yes, the long-overdue inclusion in census data is a significant step forward. But LGBTQ people and communities matter not because we now exist as data, but because we exist. And we have always existed. I hope this goes down in our collective and LGBTQ+ history as an important step in the right direction, but let’s not be complacent: we are not all the way there yet.?

This article is authored by?Aisling Sheehy, Digital Communications Officer at Guy's & St Thomas' Foundation.