Standing under the neon blue lights that warm the outer perimeters of a nightclub could be a person suffering with internal conflict. A girl with curly hair, yet pale, ivory skin, may wonder whether people are aware that her father is a British-Caribbean man when they ask to touch her afro, which they insist is “like black people hair.”

Another patron, alone with his thoughts, perhaps mesmerised by the neutral hum of the buzzing cyan lettering above his head that reads “SAFE SPACE, NO HATE”. In his trance, he would loudly yearn for the same neutrality as he looks at his ethnic and Caucasian brethren dancing separately on the dance floor.

Whether they be he, she or they, the “mixed race” racial identity is no less visible than the flashing lights in a gay bar, but somehow is less acknowledged. Those who “pass for white” have assumptions made about their ethnic backgrounds; and those who are visibly non-white may feel that their appearance is so rarely represented in the media that their features become fetishised. LGBTQ+ spaces are supposed to be safe, no judgement zones, though in recent years there are noticeable racial biases that are being called out and shaping the experiences of some.

Racism

One may wander countless online dating apps and find racist ideologies embedded in the online bios of the LGBTQ+; “no fats, no femmes, no Asians” is one of the more commonly encountered specifications. People within LGBTQ+ spheres often have no qualms in determining and displaying their preferences when it comes to finding a sexual partner. However, this fad only seems to be announced from behind a screen, as people often fear their preference can be interpreted as racism.

Matthew Cooper, 22, a student from Oakham in the East Midlands, said: “As a white gay man, I encourage people to realise that if you prefer white skin over all others, it shows how you perceive people of colour. Much of the gay community categorically rules out entire races.”

But, when these preferences take the form of a “mixed-race” person, one who is connected to white heritage, it seems that the hate takes a halt and the barrier for word vomit is taken down. People spew prejudice rhetoric as though it is complimentary, making note of “attractive ‘black features’”. In turn, this means that when a person of ambiguous ethnicity enters an LGBTQ+ space, they may be treated without sensitivity and regarded as a sexual object.

Suggestions regarding my lips and supposed heightened ability to perform oral sex were incoherently linked together

I am one of a group of people who find themselves frequently confused and anxious because of the treatment of people of colour in large cities where LGBTQ+ groups lack many mixed-race members. In a school in Hull, I navigated and dodged insults that flew through corridors in their flocks. “Gay boy” and “p*ki”, were but a few assumptive insults. Escaping these environments to find identity within the gay community – at the same neon blue club – was a blessing, though my experiences often felt unsettling. And, while the following encounters are not exclusive to the gay community, highlighting issues within supposed safe spaces is the ultimate goal.

Otis (left) with his brother Arron, growing up in Hull

As a gay, “mixed-race” man, my experiences on Grindr were often brutishly and unapologetically racist; men would compliment me on my skin tone, big lips and curly hair in a sexual manner. The community welcomed my differing identity with open arms, but when these men were alone, they dished out inappropriate comments like firing shots. Suggestions regarding my lips and supposed heightened ability to perform oral sex were incoherently linked together despite the lack of correlation. Often, this would be followed up with the proposition that we make “mixed-race babies together” – another example of the fetishisation of the “mixed” figure. Though not directly offensive in its declaration, flirtatious whisperings aimed at “mixed-race” LGBTQ+ people are seldom considered to be complimentary by the recipients of such messages.

Aaron Mountford-Myles, 30, a finance application analyst in Manchester, said: “[My eyes have opened] to institutionalised racism. Casual remarks which I used to ignore are not as funny anymore.”

Does my worth increase if you label me white in a reassuring tone?

If not sexual in the approach, assumptions have often been made. A date over wine was further intoxicated as I was told “but, you’re basically white” because my skin tone is lighter than most. Does it matter? Does my worth increase if you label me white in a reassuring tone? It seems strange that such an accepting environment, one which has fought against prejudice, remains problematic in its approach to difference.

Identity

Similarly to the white feminist movement, which has been called out by high-profile celebrities (see the Nicki Minaj v Taylor Swift feud of 2015), the white LGBTQ+ group is an influential group which has, in my case, caused issues. Though for some, the experience has been much more positive. I spoke to more LGBTQ+ people of colour to get a full-picture of their experiences in predominantly white, UK, LGBTQ+ cultures.

Jacob Gardner, 22, a volunteer from Wakefield, said: “As a mixed-race gay man, my experience within the LGBTQ+ community has not been dependent on my race. It has been mainly positive, but I would be lying if I said that I have not experienced a racial bias for or against people of colour.

“I have encountered gays who are less attracted to guys of colour. I have encountered gays who are more attracted to guys of colour [which] I guess works in my favour.”

On the topic of inappropriate comments made in online dating spaces, Jacob notes that many of the sexual stereotypes actually exist outside of LGBTQ+ groups: “I have been asked [about the size of my penis] more times than I would have liked. However, this stereotype stems beyond the gay community.”

Contrary to these instances, Jacob believes his racial identity is not an issue: “But, I have never felt that the colour of my skin has ever been negatively used against me. I have been able to be myself without prejudice from either fellow gays or lesbians.”

However, this is not always the case.

Ashley Bailey, 23, a retail customer assistant from Leeds, said: “Being mixed race makes you stand out more.”

They would ask about my genitalia, size and ask for pictures

As she continues, Ashley notes that while standing out can be a good thing, it may often draw unwanted attention: “I’m a transgender female, and I used to use Tinder. [I didn’t know any of the] guys in person, but they would mention the fact that I’m black. They would ask about my genitalia, size and ask for pictures. [I’ve had people] comment on my ‘black girl booty’. It’s gross and weird and way too personal.

“I’m not sure if it’s because I’m transgender or how I look, but I get this daily.”

The unfortunate reality of being a person of colour in the LGBTQ+ community is that there is always an over-sexualisation of appearance. The non-white figure is often unwanted or intended for only sexual purposes. Though the community may welcome us through their doors, the experiences of these PoC, and those of myself, show an unfortunate difference in treatment to that of white people. The “mixed-race” and PoC body must be respected and understood, rather than treated like an exotic sexual endeavour, which is why there is still progress to be made in these spaces.