this topic has been on my mind for a while. increasingly, we find ourselves living in a time when creating inclusive and safer spaces feels more relevant—and more risky—than ever. it is central to my work as a clinical counsellor, somatic practitioner, and sex therapist. inside and outside the therapy room, i consistently observe how deeply safety, belonging, and embodiment are shaped by gender and sexual norms.
for folks who are trans, non-binary, queer, Two-Spirit, or questioning, everyday spaces can carry an undercurrent of risk. gender and sexually diverse folks may face misunderstanding, misgendering, judgement, or harm. i witness this professionally with clients, and also in my personal life with those whom i love.
this blog post explores what it means to create inclusive and safer spaces for folks of all genders and sexualities. we’re looking at abundance more than scarcity, and love over fear. it’s not about shutting some people out in order to let others in. rather, it’s about expanding the space so that everyone feels welcome and included.
why inclusive spaces matter
when spaces exclude, people must expend extra energy simply to exist within them. they may self-monitor, decide how much of themselves to reveal, or prepare for potential harm. alternatively, they may not enter the space at all.
sometimes i hear folks resist diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. when i hear that, i recall a question that lawyer and activist stacey abrams once posed: “which part are you against – the diversity, the equity, or the inclusion?” inclusion is an enriching experience. it allows us to go beyond the limits of our own understanding, and make space for new ways of seeing and being.
research consistently shows that queer and trans communities experience higher rates of sexual violence, medical trauma, discrimination, and mental health stressors. within this context, inclusive spaces act as protective factors. they can reduce isolation, increase help-seeking, and support nervous system regulation. inclusion initiatives communicate: you belong here, you are welcome, and you do not need to defend your existence. what could be more trauma-informed than that?
understanding safety vs. safer spaces
physical space is not the only way to communicate safety. language is another way we work with it. no space can ever guarantee complete safety. harm still occurs, even with the best intentions. for this reason, many practitioners and community organizers use the term safer spaces. this term acknowledges that power dynamics can and do influence interactions. awareness and accountability matter more than perfection, however. we can’t account for all outcomes, but we can do our best.
trauma-informed spaces prioritize commitment, transparency, consent, choice, and repair. they recognize, rather than ignore, that power dynamics exist. to create more inclusive spaces, we might ask: does everyone at the table have a voice? does everyone have equal opportunity to take up space?
it’s not that mistake don’t happen—they do. it’s that safer spaces develop ways to respond when ruptures inevitably occur. as a friend and colleague of mine says, “it’s not about the rupture; it’s about the repair.”
gender, sexuality, and language evolve
gender and sexuality are ever-evolving concepts. they are shaped by culture, history, experience, and relationship. inclusive spaces recognize this and avoid rigid assumptions. for example, heterosexuality being “normal”; gender being determined by appearance; or everyone fitting neatly into binaries are ideas that can be examined and challenged. inclusion allows for ambiguity, fluidity, exploration, and self-definition. folks can identify who they are—and make space for that identity to evolve over time.
language evolves, too. for example, back in the early 2000s i completed my undergraduate degree in women’s studies. these days, that same degree is called women’s and gender studies. this reflects the fact that everyone has a gender, and welcomes everyone to explore how cultural assumptions and lived experience shape our understanding of gender. like gender and sexuality, we do well when we allow language to reflect new understandings.
examples of inclusive language practices include: sharing pronouns; correcting mistakes without defensiveness; and avoiding assumptions about bodies, relationships, or identities. i know that people get afraid of “doing it wrong” or making mistakes. repair is what matters. a simple acknowledgement and correction works better than over-apologizing or explaining. it’s ok to keep it moving.
embodiment and consent in inclusive spaces
inclusion is not only cognitive; it’s also somatic and embodied. people sense safety or threat in their bodies before they can articulate it. nervous system cues of relative safety include: deep breaths; ease of movement; a felt sense of welcoming. trauma-informed spaces also consider sensory factors like lighting, sound, seating, pacing, and privacy. they attend to bodily autonomy—allowing folks to opt out, take breaks, or engage at their own pace.
this approach builds trust over time. from personal experience, i can say that learning how to regulate the nervous system is a valuable skill. our ability to recognize when we’re calm and open—and when we’re not—makes us more effective, and ultimately safer humans as we show up for inclusion.
inclusion as a trauma-informed practice
true inclusion is quiet, consistent, and relational. it doesn’t quit when things get tough, nor when there’s critical feedback. it’s less about saying the “right” thing and more about staying open to dialogue, learning, and change. in many ways, learning to be more inclusive and accountable is also about letting go of perfectionism.
creating inclusive and safer spaces requires humility. it asks us to notice where we feel defensive, uncertain, or afraid of getting it wrong—and to stay engaged anyway. when we build spaces with care, consent, and curiosity, they become places where everyone, including ourselves, can show up more fully.
inclusion and safety in life and work
in my clinical counselling, somatic, and sex therapy work, creating inclusive and safer spaces is a daily practice. it shows up in how consent is woven into sessions, how language is held, and how power is named. it’s a work in progress.
do i get it wrong? often. are my efforts perfect? actually, never. what i can say is that, over time, i’ve gotten better at staying with the ideals of inclusion. i try to remain committed to learning, growing, and evolving, even when it’s tough. when people feel safe enough to be fully present, they can begin to explore healing. when spaces honour gender diversity and sexual complexity, folks are more able to access agency, curiosity, joy, and connection.
inclusive spaces are built moment by moment. through listening, repair, embodied awareness, and ongoing learning, we reduce harm and support belonging. this work isn’t about perfection. it’s about commitment—to dignity, consent, and the ongoing unfolding of who we are, individually and collectively.
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