Moving Toward Queer Liberation: A Trans and Queer Therapist’s Perspective

Introduction

As a trans and queer therapist, I have walked beside my community through valleys of struggle and climbed the peaks of resilience. For many years, I have witnessed the quiet, often unseen revolutions in therapy rooms, homes, and the spaces where we gather. Queer liberation is not a distant ideal or a political slogan; it is the beating heart of our collective journey—a force that pulses through every act of healing, every reclaiming of self, and every breath we take in defiance of systems that seek to define us. Liberation is the reclamation of our bodies, minds, and stories from the clutches of oppression. It is the act of standing in our own truth, even when that truth shakes the very foundations of the world around us.

In my practice, I’ve seen how healing, growth, and change are revolutionary acts. Each moment of self-discovery is a thread we weave into the tapestry of our liberation. And it’s not just personal—this is communal. We are bound together, our individual liberation intertwined with the liberation of our trans* and queer siblings. When one of us breaks free from the confines of internalized shame or fear, we create space for others to do the same. We dismantle not only the walls around us but the ones within us. This is the work of dismantling the systems that have held us captive—capitalism, cisheteronormativity, and the deep-rooted structures of marginalization.

Make no mistake—liberation is not a solitary pursuit. It does not happen in isolation. Like ripples in water, when we tend to our own healing, those waves extend outward, touching everyone around us. As we free ourselves from the weight of internalized oppression, we open the door to community care. In that care, we cultivate something powerful—a growing body of collective wisdom, a shared understanding of what it means to live authentically, in all the beautiful complexity of our queer and trans* lives. This is the foundation upon which we can build a world that is not merely about survival but about thriving, joy, and liberation in its truest form.

Yet, for all its power, queer liberation remains a term too often spoken about without being fully understood. It lingers in the air like a promise—a promise we can sometimes see but rarely touch. Many hear it, but few have the chance to explore its full depth. What does queer liberation truly mean? How does it shape our path toward mental, emotional, and social freedom?

In this post, I want to unravel these questions, to dig into what queer liberation means—historically, politically, and personally. I invite you to walk with me as we explore the threads of this powerful concept, and in doing so, discover how it can guide us on our journey toward freedom. Whether you are a therapist, a client, or someone seeking to understand trans* and queer liberation practices, my hope is that this exploration will offer clarity, inspire action, and illuminate the path toward a more liberated world for us all.

Queer Liberation Theory

Queer liberation theory is not merely an intellectual framework; it is the blueprint for the world we are daring to build. Rooted in the lessons of the gay liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s, it holds the torch that lights the way forward, burning through the tangled thicket of oppression. But queer liberation is not content with the goals of its predecessors. No, it seeks to dig deeper, to tear at the roots of capitalism, to defy the allure of respectability, and to dismantle the structures that have commodified our identities and kept us bound to systems of power that were never built for us (Mulé, 2012).

This theory is the hammer that shatters the notion that we must strive for acceptance within the very systems that oppress us. We are not here to be assimilated, to be moulded into a version of ourselves palatable to the capitalist machine. Queer liberation theory asks us to dream bigger, to imagine a world where our worth is not measured by the currency of respectability, but by the richness of our diversity and the strength of our collective resistance. We are not commodities to be chased and shot dead on the open range of political discourse. We are revolutionaries, reclaiming our place in the world—not as products of a system, but as creators of something entirely new (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

At its heart, queer liberation theory critiques the insidious ways in which capitalism sinks its claws into our identities, commodifying our existence and shaping our futures to fit its own narrative. The more we conform, the further we drift from our true selves. It is a system that thrives on inequality, that feeds off division, and that seeks to make us believe that to be seen, we must first be broken down, repackaged, and sold. But queer liberation theory sees through this lie. It asks us not to seek acceptance, but to resist. To resist the pressure to conform, to resist the call to be respectable, to resist the notion that we must change ourselves to be worthy of love, dignity, and liberation (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Drawing from feminist political economy, queer liberation theory critiques how capitalism exploits our identities, turning us into commodities. But queer liberation is more than resistance. It demands something transformational—where the goal is not just to survive but to thrive in a world we are shaping with our own hands (Mulé, 2012; Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Queer liberation theory is a call to unshackle ourselves from the chains of capitalism and the systems that feed it. It demands solidarity across movements, recognizing that our liberation is bound up with the liberation of all oppressed peoples. We cannot be free until we have torn down the walls that divide us—whether those walls are built from class, race, gender, or sexuality. Queer liberation theory asks us to embrace the fluidity of identity, to honour the ambiguity that capitalism seeks to erase, and to build movements that demand transformation.

This is not a polite request for a seat at the table. It is the dismantling of the table itself, the reconstruction of a world where we all sit freely—not as guests, but as creators of a new reality that honours the full spectrum of our queer existence.

Historical Context

The gay liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s was a spark—a defiant blaze that lit up the night and illuminated the path forward. Born in the heat of resistance, it was a bold declaration that queer people would no longer be made small by societal shame. The Stonewall Riots of 1969 stand as the moment when the match was struck, igniting a fire that could not be contained. Queer communities fought back against police oppression, and in doing so, they ignited more than just a movement—they ignited hope (Mulé, 2012; Spector, 2020).

But the flames of the gay liberation movement, while powerful, did not touch all corners of our communities. Even as the streets filled with those demanding pride, dignity, and visibility, many voices were left unheard. The early architects of this movement, though courageous and bold, often built their activism on the narrow pillars of race, class, and gender identity, privileging a few while leaving others in the shadows. Too often, the narrative of gay liberation centred the white, middle-class, cisgender experience, leaving Black and brown bodies, trans* and gender-nonconforming individuals, and those struggling in poverty standing at the periphery (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Yet, from those shadows, new voices began to rise. They rose with the full knowledge that no liberation can be real, no freedom can be true, unless it embraces all of us. Queer liberation theory emerged to widen the lens, to make space for the multiplicity of identities and experiences that had long been silenced. It understands that liberation cannot come if it is partial or selective. Queer liberation is about more than the right to be seen—it is about the right to be seen fully, in all our messy, complicated, intersecting identities. It acknowledges that we do not exist in neat categories; we exist at the intersections of race, class, gender, and sexuality, and it is at these intersections where our liberation must take root and flourish (Mulé, 2012; Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Queer liberation theory transcends the limitations of the past by forging a new path, one that honours the diversity of our experiences. It is a reminder that our fight is not just against homophobia, but against all systems that seek to oppress us—racism, classism, transphobia, and beyond. It is a call for solidarity across marginalized groups, recognizing that our struggles are interconnected and our liberation is bound up in one another’s (Lorde, 1984).

Queer Liberation vs. Assimilation

At the heart of queer liberation lies a defiant rejection of assimilation—a refusal to be smoothed into the narrow moulds of capitalist society. Assimilation is the quiet erasure of our queerness, the whispered promise that if we conform, if we make ourselves small enough, palatable enough, we will be allowed to exist. But existence is not enough. Queer liberation demands more. It demands that we not simply survive within the confines of a world built on heteronormativity and capitalism—it demands that we tear down those very confines, brick by brick, and create something new (Almeida, 2019).

Assimilation asks us to trade our vibrancy for muted tones, to water down our identities until they are safe enough for consumption. But queer liberation is the refusal of that bargain. It is the fierce understanding that true freedom can never be found by playing by the rules of systems built to oppress us. Queer liberation teaches us that we must resist—not only the overt pressures of conformity but also the subtle allure of respectability. We are told that by blending in, by softening our edges, we will be welcomed into the fold. But what is the value of that welcome if it comes at the cost of our authenticity? (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Capitalism, ever the shape-shifter, has found ways to commodify even our resistance. It packages our pride into rainbow-branded merchandise and sells it back to us as if our liberation could be bought in stores. But queer liberation theory sees through the glossy marketing campaigns and empty promises of corporate sponsorship. It understands that our freedom cannot be measured by how well we conform to the capitalist marketplace. True liberation is not about fitting into the world as it is—it is about transforming that world from the ground up (Almeida, 2019).

The road of assimilation may seem tempting, offering the illusion of safety and acceptance. But it is a hollow path, one that leads us not to freedom but to a deeper entanglement with the very systems that harm us. Queer liberation asks us to trust in the radical power of our identities, in the unapologetic expression of who we are. It calls on us to reject the confines of assimilation and to imagine a world where our worth is not measured by how well we conform to societal norms but by our ability to live fully, freely, and joyfully in the richness of our queerness.

True liberation is found not in adapting to the system, but in resisting it. It is found in building new frameworks for identity and existence—ones that are not shaped by capitalism or heteronormativity but are rooted in justice, compassion, and the full expression of our humanity. We cannot settle for acceptance within a system that thrives on inequality. Instead, we must create spaces where our identities are celebrated for their complexity, not diluted for their digestibility.

This is the challenge of queer liberation theory: to refuse the safety of assimilation and instead embrace the transformative potential of resistance. It is the radical act of existing in a world that demands our erasure. It is the radical act of living in the fullness of our queerness, knowing that true freedom lies not in conformity but in the power of our defiance (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Solidarity Across Movements

Queer liberation is not an isolated struggle, but a thread woven into the vast tapestry of justice. Our liberation is bound up with the liberation of all oppressed peoples—because the forces that seek to suppress our queerness are the same forces that wield racism, sexism, classism, and colonialism as tools of domination. Queer liberation theory knows this truth: that no single movement can rise alone. Our freedom is a collective endeavour, one that calls us to stand shoulder to shoulder with movements for racial justice, feminist liberation, and the dismantling of colonialism (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Solidarity is the lifeblood of liberation. It is the heartbeat that pulses beneath the surface of every movement that seeks to upend oppression. And in that pulse, we find a rhythm that connects us across our different struggles. The struggles faced by Black, Indigenous, and racialized communities against systemic racism, the fight for gender equality and bodily autonomy in feminist movements, the decolonial efforts to reclaim land and sovereignty from centuries of imperialism—all of these movements are not separate from queer liberation. They are intertwined, like roots growing deep into the soil, nourishing and supporting one another. Queer liberation understands that to be free, we must dismantle the entire system, not just the parts that oppress us as queer individuals, but the parts that harm us as racialized, gendered, and colonized bodies (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Queer liberation is, at its core, an intersectional framework. It asks us to recognize the complexity of our identities, to see how queerness is not something that exists in isolation but is layered with race, class, gender, and history. It calls us to acknowledge that the forces that oppress us do not act in isolation either. Racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, and economic inequality—these are all parts of the same machine, grinding away at our dignity, our safety, and our right to live fully as ourselves. And so, in our fight for queer liberation, we must join hands with others whose lives are also caught in the gears of this machine. Together, we can bring the entire structure to a halt (Almeida, 2019).

But solidarity is more than just standing beside one another; it is the act of collective care, the radical belief that we must take care of each other as fiercely as we fight for each other. Solidarity is found in the small moments, in the quiet acts of love and support that sustain us through the long, hard work of resistance. It is in the healing justice that queer liberation calls for—the understanding that liberation is not just about tearing down oppressive structures, but about building new ones that are rooted in care, in safety, in the redistribution of resources. It is about ensuring that those who have been most marginalized are given the space and the tools to heal, to grow, and to thrive (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Redistribution of resources, too, is central to this solidarity. Queer liberation theory asks us to challenge not just the overt systems of oppression but the economic structures that underpin them. Capitalism thrives on inequality—on hoarding wealth in the hands of the few while the many struggle to survive. In our fight for liberation, we must demand the redistribution of those resources. We must envision a world where wealth and power are not concentrated, but shared, where access to healthcare, education, housing, and safety are universal rights, not privileges reserved for the wealthy or the powerful (Almeida, 2019).

Solidarity across movements means that we do not fight alone. It means that when we raise our voices for queer liberation, we raise them for racial justice, for feminist freedom, for decolonial sovereignty. We understand that our struggles are connected, that our victories are shared, that our liberation is collective. This is the heart of queer liberation: it is not a solitary journey, but a collective uprising, a shared act of resistance that calls us to stand together, fight together, and, ultimately, be free together.

Political Economy of Queerness

The political economy of queerness sits at the very heart of our fight for liberation, a truth too often buried beneath the weight of neoliberal promises. Capitalism has always been a master of disguise, wrapping itself in the rhetoric of progress, convincing us that inclusion is possible within its rigid frameworks. But queer liberation theory cuts through this illusion with a sharp, unwavering clarity. It reminds us that capitalism was never designed to hold us—queer, trans*, or otherwise—in its arms. Instead, it thrives on our marginalization, feeding on the inequalities it creates and perpetuates. For those of us who live at the intersections of queerness, race, gender, and class, capitalism is not just an economic system—it is an engine of oppression (Mulé, 2012).

Capitalism, at its core, is built on extraction—of labour, of resources, of life itself. It commodifies our identities, turning our queerness into something to be packaged, marketed, and sold back to us in rainbow-coloured boxes. It celebrates Pride Month not as a call to resist, but as an opportunity to sell. In the capitalist marketplace, queerness becomes another product, something to be consumed. But queer liberation theory sees beyond the rainbow flags and corporate sponsorships. It calls for us to see capitalism for what it truly is: a system that exploits our bodies and our identities, that profits from our marginalization while simultaneously offering us crumbs of inclusion (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

This system, with its endless hunger for profit, does not care about our liberation. It cares only about what we can provide it—whether that’s our labour, our creativity, or our very lives. Queer individuals—especially those who are racialized, disabled, poor, or otherwise marginalized—are disproportionately affected by capitalism’s inequalities. We are pushed to the fringes, expected to survive on the scraps left behind by the wealthy and powerful. For many of us, the promise of capitalism is a lie—a system that rewards only those who fit its narrow, privileged mould, leaving the rest of us to struggle under its weight (Mulé, 2012).

Queer liberation theory refuses to settle for mere survival. It advocates for a radical restructuring of our economic systems, a transformation that goes far beyond token gestures of inclusion. It demands that we examine the ways in which capitalism exploits us, how it creates and perpetuates cycles of poverty, how it uses our bodies as tools for profit, and how it leaves our most vulnerable behind. It calls for the redistribution of wealth—not as an act of charity, but as a necessary step toward justice. Wealth hoarded by the few must be reclaimed by the many, ensuring that queer, racialized, and marginalized communities have access to the resources they need—not just to survive, but to thrive (Almeida, 2019).

Neoliberal capitalism tries to convince us that freedom is found in the marketplace, that if we only work hard enough, we too can climb the ladder of success. But queer liberation theory sees the truth: this ladder was never meant for us. It was built on the backs of the oppressed, and its rungs are out of reach for those who refuse to conform to its norms. Our liberation is not found in climbing this ladder—it is found in tearing it down and building something new from the ground up, where no one is left behind. Where our worth is not measured by our productivity or ability to generate profit, but by our shared humanity and collective wellbeing (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

In this new vision, wealth is not concentrated in the hands of the few, but shared among all. Healthcare, housing, education—these are not privileges, but rights, accessible to every person, regardless of who they are or where they come from. Queer liberation theory asks us to imagine an economy not driven by profit, but by care, community, and justice. It calls for a world where the most vulnerable among us are no longer cast aside, but held at the centre, their needs guiding the way forward. This is the political economy of queerness: an economy where wealth is not hoarded but shared, where every person has the resources they need to live with dignity and freedom.

Liberation Psychology and Queer Liberation

Liberation psychology stands as a beacon in the fog of oppression, illuminating the truth that our struggles are not born from within us, but are shaped and fuelled by the systems around us. It calls on us to see mental health not as an isolated, individual experience, but as something deeply intertwined with the sociopolitical world we inhabit. In this light, queer liberation theory draws from the wellspring of liberation psychology, offering a powerful lens through which we can understand the mental health challenges faced by queer individuals—not as personal failings, but as the inevitable scars left by capitalism, white supremacy, and heteronormativity (Martín-Baró, 1994; Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Oppressive systems weigh on the mind, the body, and the spirit. They carve deep wounds into our psyches, telling us that we are not enough, that we do not belong, that we must hide the fullness of who we are to survive. For many queer individuals, the struggle with mental health is not just a battle against anxiety, depression, or trauma; it is a battle against a world that tells us our queerness is a burden, that our identities are problems to be solved. Liberation psychology and queer liberation theory reject this narrative. They call us to reject the notion that the challenges we face are ours alone, asking instead that we trace the roots of our pain back to the systems that have planted them (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

This is the power of liberation psychology: it shifts the focus from the individual to the collective, from the internal to the external. It reminds us that mental health does not exist in a vacuum but is shaped by the political and social forces that press down on us. The weight of capitalism, the violence of white supremacy, the straitjacket of heteronormativity—these are the forces that crush our spirit, and these are the forces we must dismantle if we are to reclaim our mental health, our autonomy, and our lives (Martín-Baró, 1994).

Queer liberation theory picks up this thread and weaves it into the tapestry of our struggle. It reminds us that healing is not just a personal journey—it is a political act. To reclaim our mental health, to find peace within ourselves, is to resist the systems that seek to strip us of our power. Each step we take toward healing is a step toward liberation. Each moment of self-acceptance, each act of community care, is a rebellion against the forces that would have us believe we are unworthy of love, safety, and freedom (Almeida, 2019).

As therapists, we are not mere bystanders in this struggle. We are guides, walking alongside our clients as they navigate the complex terrain of their mental health, pointing out the structures of oppression that stand in their way. We are tasked with helping them see that their pain is not a reflection of their worth, but a reflection of a world that has failed to hold them. And in this work, we are also engaged in our own process of liberation. For every client who reclaims their life from the clutches of capitalism, white supremacy, and heteronormativity, we too are liberated. Every breakthrough, every moment of healing, ripples out into the world, making it just a little bit freer, a little bit more just (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Liberation psychology asks us to break the chains of individualism that keep us locked in our struggles, isolated and alone. It asks us to see that our liberation is collective, that our mental health is bound up with the mental health of our communities. When we work toward healing ourselves, we are also healing the generations before us, the generations to come, and the communities around us. Queer liberation theory extends this vision, urging us to remember that our fight is not just for ourselves, but for the entire world we inhabit. Our healing is not separate from our liberation—it is the foundation upon which it is built.

In the end, queer liberation is about more than just survival. It is about flourishing in a world that has tried to make us invisible. It is about reclaiming our minds and our bodies from the forces that seek to control them. It is about finding freedom in the act of healing, and in doing so, creating the conditions for a new world to emerge—one where mental health is not a privilege, but a right, and where liberation is not a dream, but a reality (Martín-Baró, 1994; Almeida, 2019).

Queer Liberation as a Path to Collective Freedom

Queer liberation is a journey that extends far beyond the boundaries of the self. It is not a solitary path we walk alone, but a shared journey, weaving through the lives of everyone we encounter, growing stronger with each step taken together. When we heal, when we shed the layers of internalized shame, fear, and doubt, we are not simply reclaiming our personal freedom. We are contributing to something much greater—a collective wisdom, a communal strength that nourishes our entire community. Each individual’s growth is a flame that illuminates the way forward for others, a spark that lights the fire of collective liberation (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Our personal liberation is the foundation upon which collective freedom is built. It is in the moments of healing, in the moments when we reclaim our power, that we begin to see how deeply interconnected we are. When one of us breaks free from the chains of oppression, it becomes possible for others to do the same. And in that freedom, we create space for collective care, for shared healing. We recognize that the struggles we face as queer individuals are not ours alone. They are bound up with the struggles of our communities, and our liberation cannot be complete until we have dismantled the systems that seek to oppress us all—capitalism, white supremacy, cisheteronormativity (Almeida, 2019).

But this journey requires more than just personal work. It demands a commitment to collective action, a recognition that liberation is not just something we achieve for ourselves but something we build together. In this sense, queer liberation is both a radical act of self-care and a revolutionary commitment to community care. The two are inseparable. Our personal healing is a step toward dismantling the oppressive structures that hold us down, and our commitment to collective care ensures that no one is left behind on this journey (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Through community care, we can resist the isolation that systems of oppression impose on us. We can reject the narratives that tell us we are alone in our struggles. When we come together in spaces of care, when we offer support, understanding, and love to one another, we are actively resisting the forces that seek to divide us. We are creating new structures, rooted in compassion and solidarity, that stand in opposition to the cold, isolating forces of capitalism and systemic oppression (Almeida, 2019).

And as we build these spaces of collective care, we are also reclaiming our autonomy. We are rejecting the idea that our worth is determined by how well we conform to the systems of power that surround us. Instead, we are defining our own worth—on our own terms, in our own communities. This reclamation of autonomy is a powerful act of resistance. It is the first step in tearing down the structures that oppress us, and it is the foundation upon which our collective freedom will stand.

The journey toward queer liberation is a call to both personal and collective transformation. It asks us to look inward, to heal the wounds we carry, and to extend that healing outward, into our communities, into the world. It asks us to remember that our liberation is intertwined with the liberation of others, that our freedom is collective, that it cannot exist in isolation. As we continue this journey, we must carry with us the knowledge that each act of care, each step toward healing, is a step toward a future where liberation is not just a possibility but a reality for us all (Afuape & Hughes, 2016).

Our care work, both personal and communal, is the fire that will guide us forward. It is through this work that we contribute to the growing body of collective wisdom, the shared knowledge that has been passed down through generations of queer resistance. This wisdom, born from our struggles and triumphs, is what will carry us toward a future that is more just, more free, more alive with possibility. Together, we are forging a path toward a more liberated world, one where we are free not just from the shackles of oppression, but free to dream, to thrive, and to live in the fullness of our queer and trans* selves.

Conclusion: The Call of Liberation

Queer liberation is not a distant dream but a living, breathing process—one that begins with each of us and extends out into our communities, touching everything it encounters. It is the spark that ignites our personal transformation and the flame that fuels our collective uprising. With each step toward healing, we dismantle the oppressive structures that have sought to contain us. With each act of care, we nourish the shared wisdom of our people—a wisdom that has grown in strength, passed from generation to generation, through every struggle, every triumph.

As we move forward on this journey, we are not alone. We are bound to one another by the shared vision of a world free from the shackles of capitalism, white supremacy, and cisheteronormativity—a world where our queerness is not a source of shame, but a wellspring of power. Our liberation is both a personal reclamation and a collective revolution. And as we continue to rise—quietly, powerfully, and together—we light the way for others to follow.

So let this be our call: to heal, to care, to resist, and to build. For in doing so, we not only create a more just and liberated future—we create a world in which we all can truly thrive.

References

Afuape, T., & Hughes, G. (2016). Liberation Practices: Towards Emotional Wellbeing Through Dialogue. Routledge.

Almeida, R. V. (2019). Liberation Based Healing Practices. The Institute for Family Services.

Martín-Baró, I. (1994). Writings for a Liberation Psychology. Harvard University Press.

Mulé, N. J. (2012). Queering Social Work Education. Journal of Progressive Human Services.

Spector, M. (2020). Helping Queer Clients Become Their Own Liberators. Affirmative Couch.