Where Are My People? Queer in Architecture: Beyond Binaries

Chris Daemmrich, Assoc. AIA, NOMA (he/him)
Michelle Barrett, NOMA (she/her)
My-Anh Nguyen, AIA, NOMA, LEED Green Associate (they/he)
Kendall A. Nicholson, Ed.D., Assoc. AIA, NOMA (he/him)

October 18, 2024

Architecture is often regarded as a reflection of societal values, materializing the norms, hierarchies, and exclusions of the cultures that produce it. Architects are world makers. Viewed through a queer lens, architecture reveals its role in reinforcing or disrupting binary categories of identity—particularly gender and sexuality. However, queerness does not exist in isolation from other axes of identity like race, socio-economic status, and gender, which shape both our individual and collective experiences of space. Where Are My People? Queer in Architecture attempts to illuminate the ways in which power operates across these intersections, revealing how certain bodies and communities are made visible or invisible in the spaces we shape. Engagement with queer scholars allows us to explore how queerness intersects with race, gender, and class, and how architecture can either reinforce or resist oppressive norms.

To better understand how architecture intersects with queerness we must first acknowledge that architecture is not neutral. As Michel Foucault argues, space is a site of power, where bodies are disciplined and regulated by social norms. In this context, architecture can become a tool of surveillance, determining who is allowed to occupy certain spaces and under what conditions. Foucault’s concept of heterotopia—spaces that exist outside societal norms and create alternative ways of being—offers a powerful framework for imagining how queer spaces can resist the dominant structures of power that regulate race, gender, and class. Queer spaces, whether they are community centers, art galleries, or protest sites, can serve as heterotopias that challenge the norms of the surrounding society. 

Public restrooms, for example, are designed around the binary division of gender, forcing individuals to conform to strict gender norms. Judith Butler’s theory of performativity explains how these spaces compel people to repeatedly enact gender roles in ways that reinforce the gender binary. The architecture of bathrooms becomes not just functional, but disciplinary, regulating the bodies that enter and exit them and marginalizing those who do not conform to binary norms. Bathrooms, as a key site of conflict for transgender and non-binary people, reveal how architecture can both reflect and challenge socio-economic disparities. In wealthier, and more liberal spaces, such as corporate offices, selective universities, and high-end restaurants, gender-neutral bathrooms are becoming more common, reflecting a growing recognition of non-binary identities. However, in lower-income and more politically conservative areas, access to safe and inclusive bathrooms remains limited, or may even be rendered illegal by state law. This disparity highlights how socio-economic status shapes one’s access to queer-friendly spaces, with wealthier individuals having greater freedom to move through spaces that recognize their identities while poorer queer people are often forced into spaces that marginalize or endanger them.

In addition to gender and class, race plays an equally significant role in determining how people move through, occupy, and are excluded from various spaces. A historic examination of the urban built environment reveals how cities like New York were structured to segregate Black communities from White communities, reinforcing racial hierarchies. In his writings about Harlem, the notable queer author, poet, and activist James Baldwin describes how the architecture of the city maintained racial boundaries, with certain neighborhoods becoming almost exclusively Black while others remained predominantly white. For Baldwin, the city’s architecture mirrored the racial oppression and economic inequality that defined the United States, highlighting how space itself can be a site of racialized violence and exclusion. Queer people, especially queer people of color, are disproportionately affected by poverty, homelessness, and housing insecurity. The lack of affordable housing and the gentrification of historically queer neighborhoods have forced many queer people out of the urban spaces they once called home. Baldwin’s critique of urban renewal projects in New York City articulate how these projects often displaced Black communities in the name of progress. Today, similar forces of gentrification are displacing queer communities, particularly those with lower incomes, from cities like San Francisco and New York. The architecture of these cities—through luxury developments, zoning laws, and exclusionary legislation—reinforces economic inequality, making it harder for marginalized queer people to find safe and affordable housing.

Contemporary work by scholars like Amy Sueyoshi reveal how race and queerness intersect, often calling attention to the marginalization of queer people of color in public environments. Sueyoshi explores how queer Asian Americans have historically been excluded not only from mainstream White society, but also from LGBTQ+ spaces that often center whiteness. The architecture of queer nightlife, for example, has frequently reinforced racial and gender hierarchies, with certain clubs and bars catering exclusively to cisgender White men while disenfranchising queer people of color. This exclusion is not just social but spatial. Architecture is a practice and as such the physical design of space often determines who feels welcomed and who feels alienated. Building on the intersections of race and sexuality, Juana Rodriguez’s work on queer Latinx experiences highlights how public spaces are often sites of both visibility and vulnerability for queer people of color. Rodriguez describes how queer Latinx people often gather in public parks or other outdoor spaces that provide a sense of community but also expose them to surveillance and policing. The architecture of these spaces, from the design of pavilions, landscape, and lighting, to the visibility of police presence, shapes whether these spaces feel safe or threatening. Rodriguez’s insights underscore the need to interrogate the architecture of public spaces so that they offer refuge and support to marginalized communities rather than perpetuating systems of control inherent in “traditional” architecture. 

Contemporary queer theory encourages us to think critically about how architecture can be reimagined to create more inclusive spaces that recognize the diversity of queer experiences. The contributions of lesbian, poet, professor, and activist, Audre Lorde, offers a framework for imagining more inclusive architectural spaces. Lorde argued that difference should be celebrated rather than suppressed, and this philosophy can be applied to the design of architectural spaces. Rather than shaping spaces that assume a normative user—whether based on gender, race, or class—architects can design with a profound consideration of multiple identities. This means creating spaces that are flexible, adaptive, and responsive to the needs of diverse communities. Housing, for instance, should not be limited to nuclear family structures, but should accommodate chosen families, multigenerational living, and communal arrangements that reflect the realities of queer and marginalized communities.

Ultimately, the intersection of architecture and queer space demands that we think critically about how power operates in the shaping and design of public and private spaces. That being said, the intersection of architecture and queerness is not just about individual buildings or spaces but about how entire urban environments are designed and governed. By creating spaces that defy traditionally enforced boundaries of race, gender, and class, architects can contribute to the creation of more just and equitable ways of making architecture. The change must start within the design community. It is in our offices and studios where we can begin to imagine new possibilities for designing spaces that liberate everyone. As we engage with these ideas, LGBTQIA+ architects and their straight allies will contribute to a more inclusive and just built environment that reflects the intersections of our diverse human experiences.