Abstract
Intimate partner violence (IPV) is prevalent among young gay and bisexual men (YGBM) and is associated with physical and mental health problems, as well as deleterious psychosocial conditions. Most previous studies of IPV among YGBM have been quantitative in nature and have not examined the numerous subtypes of IPV, the chronicity of IPV experiences, and how is IPV manifested in the context of these same-sex relationships. Thus, a qualitative approach may be useful in exploring these multidimensional and understudied experiences. The present qualitative study sought to (a) explore dimensions of IPV victimization, perpetration, and bidirectional IPV among a sample of (n = 26) YGBM living in New York City and (b) explore the chronicity of IPV experiences among these YGBM. Participants were recruited from an ongoing cohort study of YGBM. Participants completed semistructured interviews that included questions about IPV victimization, perpetration, and bidirectional IPV. A modified version of the consensual qualitative research method was used to analyze the data. The YGBM in this study reported numerous forms of physical, psychological, sexual, and financial IPV victimization and perpetration. Bidirectional experiences of IPV were common. The various subtypes of IPV victimization and perpetration are explored in detail in this manuscript. In addition, many participants reported multiple experiences of abuse within the same relationship, and some participants experienced a pattern of abusive relationships over time. This study corroborates findings from quantitative studies, which indicate that IPV is a prevalent and significant health problem among YGBM, and one that warrants additional attention from researchers, practitioners, and policy-makers. Furthermore, this study adds rich qualitative data to the existing literature—data that can be used to help develop and refine future measures of IPV that are tailored for use with YGBM.
There is a growing body of research which indicates that intimate partner violence (IPV) is prevalent among young gay and bisexual men (YGBM; Breiding et al., 2015; Freedner et al., 2002; Koblin et al., 2006; Kubicek et al., 2015, 2016; Mustanski et al., 2014; Stephenson et al., 2010; Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Barton, et al., 2015; Wong et al., 2010). Although the prevalence rates vary due to differences in IPV measurement (e.g., psychological, physical, and/or sexual IPV) and varying recall periods (e.g., last year, lifetime), estimates of lifetime IPV victimization have ranged from approximately 41% (Wong et al., 2010) to 57% (Freedner et al., 2002). While fewer studies have assessed lifetime IPV perpetration among YGBM, prevalence estimates have ranged from 12% (Wong et al., 2010) to 31% (Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Barton, et al., 2015). In addition, previous studies have observed that bidirectional IPV (i.e., those reporting experiences of both victimization and perpetration) may also be common among YGBM, with estimates ranging from 25% (Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Barton, et al., 2015) to more than 65% (Kubicek et al., 2016).
Past research has demonstrated that IPV is associated with mental health and psychosocial problems, such as depression and gay-related stigma, among YGBM (Stults et al., 2019; Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Barton, et al., 2015). Previous studies have also found that IPV is associated with increased substance use (Stephenson et al., 2010; Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Kapadia, & Halkitis, 2015; Wong et al., 2010) and sexual risk behaviors (Stults et al., 2016). In addition, one previous study found that IPV victimization was linked to suicide risk among YGBM (Mustanski et al., 2014). Together these findings indicate that IPV is a significant health problem among YGBM, a population burdened by mental and physical health disparities (Institute of Medicine, 2011).
Most of the aforementioned studies of IPV among YGBM are quantitative in nature and use a small number of broadly worded survey items to measure IPV. Indeed, as of this writing, only one study has used a comprehensive measure of IPV (i.e., the Revised Conflict Tactics scale) to assess the frequency of specific IPV behaviors among YGBM (Kubicek et al., 2016). While contributing valuable data to the literature on IPV among YGBM, this mixed-methods study used a quantitative measure of IPV that was designed for use with heterosexual women and men. Thus, it may not capture IPV experiences that are unique to same-sex relationships. In addition, while the researchers provide narrative data from their YGBM participants, they only report the qualitative data that correspond with the dimensions of their quantitative measure, potentially failing to capture how IPV manifests in the context of same-sex relationships. Given that most measures of IPV are intended for use with heterosexual people, a qualitative approach may be useful in assessing same-sex IPV. While there have been a few qualitative studies of IPV among gay and bisexual men, they have mostly focused on older men (Andrasik et al., 2013; Oliffe et al., 2014; Raghavan et al., 2019), men living outside of the United States (Hall et al., 2020; Santaya & Walters, 2011), and men living with HIV (Andrasik et al., 2013).
The comprehensiveness of the existing literature on IPV among YGBM is constrained by several limitations. First, many studies focus only on experiences of physical victimization, failing to assess other forms of IPV victimization and perpetration (i.e., psychological, sexual, and financial). Indeed, no study to date has explored all of the potential subtypes of physical, psychological, sexual, and financial victimization and perpetration among YGBM, thereby limiting our understanding of how IPV manifests in the same-sex relationships of YGBM. Second, few studies have examined the chronicity of IPV experiences among YGBM. As a result, it is unknown whether YGBM primarily experience isolated incidents of IPV, if they experience multiple incidents of IPV within the same relationship, and/or if they experience a pattern of multiple abusive relationships across time. Understanding the chronicity of IPV experiences among YGBM may help to inform IPV-prevention efforts. Third, the existing literature is mostly comprised of data from quantitative studies, preventing a more nuanced understanding of these experiences among YGBM. Indeed, a qualitative approach may allow for a more in-depth exploration of the experiences of YGBM, as it allows participants’ own words to illustrate the patterns and themes that emerge from the data. Thus, a qualitative study of the dimensions and chronicity of IPV victimization and perpetration among YGBM is warranted.
Study Aims
The present study seeks to address the aforementioned gaps in the current knowledge base via the following study aims: (a) to explore various dimensions of IPV victimization, perpetration, and bidirectional IPV among a sample of (n = 26) YGBM living in New York City (NYC) and (b) explore the chronicity of IPV experiences among these YGBM.
Method
Procedure and Participants
This study used a purposive sampling method. Participants for the present study were recruited from Project 18 (P18), a cohort study of (n = 665) young men who have sex with men (YMSM) in NYC that began recruitment in 2009. Full details about the referring study can be found in previously published manuscripts (Halkitis et al., 2018; Halkitis et al., 2013). Briefly, to be eligible for the referring study, participants had to (a) be age 18 or 19 at the time of enrollment in the referring study, (b) be born biologically male, (c) have had sex with a male partner in the previous 6 months, and (d) report a HIV-negative serostatus at the time of enrollment. The preceding eligibility criteria were relevant for the aims of the referring study from which participants for the present study were recruited.
Participants from the referring study who agreed to be contacted by email about additional research opportunities were sent information about the present study. To be eligible for the present study, participants had to (a) be enrolled in the referring study, (b) self-report IPV victimization or perpetration in last 5 years, (c) identify as gay/bisexual and cisgender male, and (d) agree to complete an in-person interview in the NYC area. A total of (n = 144) participants from the referring study completed an online screening for the present study. A total of (n = 26) participants were eligible and scheduled to participate in the present study. By recruiting participants from an existing cohort study of YMSM in NYC, we were able to efficiently identify potential participants that: (a) were likely to meet our eligibility criteria and (b) would be interested in participating in the proposed research.
Table 1 summarizes the sociodemographic characteristics of the sample. Briefly, the participants in the present study ranged from 23 to 28 years old (M = 26.4). The sample was racially and ethnically diverse, with most of the samples identifying as non-White. Specifically, (n = 16) identified as Black, (n = 4) as biracial/multiracial, (n = 3) as White, (n = 2) as Latino, and (n = 1) as Asian or Pacific Islander (API). In addition, most participants identified as gay (n = 21).
Sociodemographic Characteristics of (n = 26) Young Gay and Bisexual Men With Last 5-Year Intimate Partner Violence.
Note. API = Asian or Pacific Islander.
During the study visit, participants confirmed their study eligibility and provided written informed consent. Next, participants provided self-reported sociodemographic information. Finally, participants completed semistructured interviews that were conducted by the first author. The interview protocol was comprised of open-ended prompts regarding experiences of IPV (Please tell me about the relationship in which you first experienced IPV), as well as questions about the types of IPV experienced (What forms of IPV were you a victim/perpetrator of—verbal, psychological, physical, and/or sexual?), the chronicity of IPV experiences (To what extent have you experienced IPV in any subsequent relationships?), and other relevant experiences. The interview protocol permitted the interviewer to ask follow-up questions, to probe for additional information, and to clarify participants’ responses. The protocol also allowed the interviewer to follow relevant lines of inquiry that were introduced by the participants during the interview. The interviews were audio recorded for transcription purposes and took approximately 1 hr to complete. Participants received US$40 for their participation.
Analysis
Prior to analysis, the audio-recorded interviews were transcribed by a paid transcription service, and the transcripts were verified for accuracy by the coding team, a team of five research staff. A modified version of the consensual qualitative research (CQR) method was used to analyze the data (Hill et al., 1997, 2005). This approach has been used in other studies of YGBM and is particularly appropriate for studies using semistructured interview protocols (Griffin et al., 2018; Stults, 2019). Indeed, the CQR method is indicated for studies of potentially stigmatized populations (i.e., YGBM) or behaviors (i.e., IPV), as it specifies that prior to coding or analyzing the qualitative data, the research team must begin with discussions of potential biases toward the behaviors or population being studied. After completing these discussions, the team developed a preliminary codebook that corresponded to the larger domains outlined in the semistructured interview protocol.
The team members independently coded the transcripts using the Atlas.TI software. After the team coded a batch of four transcripts, they met to discuss the addition of new codes and the collapsing or deletion of the existing codes. After several iterations of this process, the codebook was finalized and two staff independently coded each transcript to ensure that the finalized codebook was applied to all transcripts. Once all of the transcripts were independently coded by two researchers, they met to reach consensus on any coding disagreements. If consensus could not be reached, a third team member, acting as an auditor, was consulted and helped to resolve the disagreement.
Atlas
TI was used to tabulate the frequency of codes across all transcripts as well as identify and extract quotations. Codes pertaining to the dimensions and chronicity of IPV will hereafter be referred to as categories. The frequency of each category is displayed in Table 2. Labels that summarize the frequency of each category will be used in the manuscript. The category labels are defined as general (appearing in all or nearly all transcripts), typical (appearing in more than half), variant (appearing in less than half), and rare (appearing in one to two).
Frequency of Intimate Partner Violence Categories Among (n = 26) Young Gay and Bisexual Men With Last 5-Year Intimate Partner Violence.
Note. IPV = Intimate partner violence.
Results
Within the domains of IPV victimization and perpetration, four groups of categories emerged: physical, psychological, sexual, and financial. The majority of participants (65%) described experiences in which they were both the victim and perpetrator of IPV. These quotations were categorized as bidirectional IPV and will be explored further below. Also, a group of categories emerged that described the chronicity of IPV experiences. In the following subsections, category frequencies will be reported for each category, and exemplar participant quotations will be presented. Categories are presented based on the frequency with which they occurred in the sample.
Psychological Victimization
Within the group of categories pertaining to psychological victimization, 14 categories emerged: verbal abuse, manipulation, autonomy loss/theft, cheating, stonewalling, gaslighting, lying, isolating, identity-related slurs, threats, social media use, entrapment, stalking, and threatened/actual embarrassment/shaming.
Verbal abuse
More than half of the participants (n = 21) reported experiencing verbal abuse (e.g., name calling) from their partner, making it a typical response. One participant discussed how his partner used his experience growing up in Jamaica against him: Coming from Jamaica, where I dealt with a lot of homophobes, he said I should have stayed [there] so that they would have killed me. He knew the struggles I’ve had in Jamaica and how hard it was, especially to come here, and he said that. That was really hurtful. (26, Black, gay)
A second participant recalled an instance when his partner made malicious remarks about his troubled family history: He told me my mom didn’t want me anymore. I was going to be an addict just like my mom . . . I wasn’t going to be anything . . . And they were just things that were very hurtful for me. (25, biracial, gay)
A third participant described how his partner would regularly make hurtful comments about his weight: One instance, I was with his family, and he told me to stop eating, like, not to eat dessert because it wouldn’t be good for me. He commented a lot about my weight, like “Don’t eat that. Don’t eat this. You’re not losing weight. Did you work out today?” It came to the point where every day he would just question, “Why are you eating that? Take the stairs.” At a certain point, I had to tell him to stop talking about my weight and let me just fucking live. (27, Latino, gay)
Manipulation
Most participants (n = 20) described manipulation as a form of psychological victimization, making it a typical response. One participant described his partner’s manipulative behavior as a daily occurrence: In our day to day life, he needed to be in control of the kitchen, or furnishing the apartment. He would manipulate me into paying for this very expensive furniture because he needed to have it a certain way . . . I would do the cooking, he would criticize it. I would do the laundry, he would criticize it. And then I would say, “Okay. Well let’s each do our own separate laundry.” And then he would say, “You’re so selfish” . . . He was very manipulative. (27, White, gay)
Another participant discussed how a former partner promised to come out to his friends and family, only to learn that it was a ploy: He told me he loved me. [He told me] he might come out for me. For me, someone coming out is a very big thing. So, I felt like, oh my God, he’s gonna come out to his family, his friends for me, oh my God. He loves me. He really loves me.“ But that was just another way for, I guess, for him to get in my pants. (26, biracial, gay)
A third participant characterized what he perceived to be ongoing manipulation by examining his partner’s underlying motivation: I guess what made it okay was the fact that he was nice, but his intentions weren’t . . . That’s where manipulation comes into play, because you’re not necessarily aware of what’s going on. (27, Black, gay)
Autonomy loss/theft
Half of the participants interviewed (n = 13) described a loss or theft of their autonomy, making it a typical response. One participant discussed how any efforts to maintain some independence were interpreted by his partner as abandonment: I think in retrospect it was just a really unhealthy relationship in how codependent it kind of became. And I think more so on his part . . . when I tried to have my own life, it was I was abandoning him. (23, White, bisexual)
While another participant described feeling compelled to conform to his partner’s expectations, and losing his sense of self in the process: I found myself changing a lot in order to mold to what he wanted. And in that, I lost a lot of myself, and so much of my identity was wrapped into that relationship. So even when my friends were saying it’s toxic, you need to get out of it, I couldn’t find myself getting out of it because it had become so embedded with who I was at the time. (26, Black, gay)
Cheating
Nearly half of the participants (n = 12) discussed cheating as a form of psychological victimization, making it a variant response. One participant described how his partner would criticize his self-esteem and covertly threaten to break up with him after having been caught cheating: With him, when it came to the cheating part, he found a way to manipulate what he was doing. He would try [to] reverse it. He would go, “This is a friend” or “I wasn’t cheating” . . . So you’re just being paranoid. You have low confidence. I don’t like dudes who have low self-esteem. Like you have no confidence in me,” and I’m just like, “I caught you walking out of McDonald’s holding hands with another dude, I’ve seen you on Snapchat holding hands with another person . . . I’m not stupid. I know what you’re doing.” (26, Black, gay)
While another participant discussed how he felt compelled to stay with a partner who repeatedly had sex with his friends: It [drew] me back. Every time I’d be done, he would cheat on me with somebody close to me and then I would come back somehow. (25, Black, bisexual)
Stonewalling
Nearly half of the participants interviewed (n = 11) described stonewalling (i.e., refusal to interact or engage), making it a variant response. One participant described how his partner would shut down during conflicts, ending any opportunity to resolve the conflict: I think he just kind of shut down, but you could tell there was a lot of anger there. So there was never any shouting or anything like that . . . And then we didn’t talk about anything else. (23, White, bisexual)
While another participant described his partner’s stonewalling behavior as unintentionally harmful: Occasionally if something was bothering him he would sort of close off and I don’t think he meant that to hurt me. I think that’s just his way of processing. But it obviously was very hurtful. (27, biracial, gay)
Gaslighting
Nearly half of all the participants (n = 11) described gaslighting (i.e., being manipulated to doubt your own memory, etc.) as a form of psychological victimization, making it a variant response. One participant described exchanging falsehoods with his partner to avoid escalating matters, only to later question his own understanding of the truth: I think that a lot of that comes from me being gas lit at the end of that relationship . . . I knew [one] thing happened, but I had to say that this other thing happened so that he wouldn’t kill himself. So then I questioned myself, like what is the truth? What really happened in this situation? (23, White, bisexual)
While another participant described his partner’s use of emotional displays and verbal arguments to make him question his own understanding of himself and his role in their conflict: Well, one of the things he liked doing was crying. He puts on this show to make you feel sorry for him and make you [question] yourself and wonder if you were wrong when he’s done. I’d always be like, “Okay, am I wrong?” And apologize for what I’m not doing or what I haven’t done. Then he would get you to feel like you were the evil person in the relationship. He got you thinking, or double thinking about what happened, although you knew in fact that he was in the wrong, but then you start questioning yourself because of how good he is at it. (26, Black, gay)
Lying
Less than half of the participants (n = 9) characterized lying as a form of psychological victimization, making it a variant response. One participant described lying as the primary problem in his relationship with his partner: You’re lying to me. You’re dead cold in my face and you’re lying to me—that was the big issue. (26, Black, gay)
While other participants discussed how their partners lied about their encounters with other men, which sometimes led to physical violence: Then we started arguing because he was doing shady things behind the scenes and the things that he would tell me wouldn’t add up, so there was of course arguments and we would kind of tussle with each other. (25, Black, gay)
Isolating
Less than half of the participants (n = 8) described being isolated from their friends and family, making it a variant response. One participant discussed how being separated from his friend group led to him being isolated during the relationship and without friends after the relationship ended: [We were] always hanging out with his friends, and not hanging out with my friends. His friends became my friends. And it was almost like an isolation from my social group. Which I think is a really insidious form of a power dynamic in a relationship. And I realized that after the fact because all of his friends became my friends. But then when the relationship ended, I had no friends. (23, White, bisexual)
Another participant described how being separated from his friends and family led to a power imbalance in his relationship: He would not hang out with me if I wanted to hang out with my friends, as a group. But then, would insist that I hang out with him and his friends. So, that kind of imbalance in the relationship was really weird . . . He really didn’t want me to hang out with anyone but him and his friends. He wanted me at home. He wanted me with him, with his family, with his friends. He kind of wanted to control my life. (27, Latino, gay)
Identity-related slurs
Several participants (n = 8) reported that their partner used identity-related slurs against them, making it a variant response. Such slurs were rooted in participants’ sexual orientation (n = 6) or in their race (n = 2). For example, one participant recalled a time when his partner became verbally aggressive upon hearing that he would not be coming over to spend the night with him: He said, “You need to get here because you said you were gonna sleep over two times and you need to be here ” . . . then he got really nasty with me. Like, calling me motherfucker, calling me a faggot like, “Oh, you fucking dirty faggot.” I’m like, you’re doing all of this because I said I can’t come right now? (26, biracial, gay) Another participant discussed how his partner would use homophobic slurs to describe him to others: There was some frats and stuff like that, and he became friends with some of them, and he started telling them that I was gay. And the whole time, he would keep his sexuality hidden. The first instance that he called me faggot I was surprised. It made no sense to me. I was like, “You’re a faggot, too.” That was my first instinct. Like, what the hell is your problem? (27, Latino, gay)
A third participant stated that his partner would often use racist slurs against him: He would [call me] sort of infantile names. Occasionally somewhat racist. He was white. He had tossed around the n-word a couple of times. (27, Black, gay)
Threats
Several participants (n = 7) reported that their partners had verbally threatened them, making it a variant response. One participant described how his partner was possessive over their relationship and would use threats to maintain control of him: It would just be situations like, “Oh if I caught you with this person, or if I caught you in this situation, I’d F you up.” (26, Black, gay)
A second participant discussed how his partner was closeted, and that he would regularly use threats to keep him from disclosing his identity to others: I can say with confidence he did threaten me. There was a couple of times where he kind of was worried that I would out him. So, he kind of threatened me in that sense. Just like, “Don’t fucking do it. Don’t tell anyone. Shut the fuck up. Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone.” (27, Latino, gay)
Social media use
A few participants (n = 5) described psychological victimization related to social media use, making it a variant response. One participant discussed how a former partner would postsexually suggestive comments and videos on social media, only to later deny their meaning: He would literally post about dudes he would have sex with [or] “some dude is going to do this to me or that to me.” And I would see it because I had friends that followed him [on social media]. So, I would easily see what he was posting and I would confront him about it. He would lie, he would say, “I’m doing it for the haters.” (26, Black, gay)
Entrapment
A few participants (n = 4) mentioned entrapment as a form of psychological victimization, make it a variant response. In some cases, entrapment was primarily psychological: I had tried to break up with him. And this was not the first time I had tried to break up with him. . . every time I tried to break up with him, he was like, “No, I’ll change. No, I’ll do better”. . . So, it was almost like I was forced to stay in that relationship. That’s when I should have known that this was rather unhealthy. Because I felt like I had to stay in this relationship . . . I felt like he would not do well without me. (23, White, bisexual)
While in other instances, entrapment was both a psychological act of making a partner feel imprisoned as well as a physical act of blocking their partner from leaving: There were moments where I wanna leave, and he would block me, block me from leaving. Beg me, and beg me, and beg me to stay. It did get to the point where a couple times I had to call 9-1-1 so someone would get there and let me leave. (28, Black, gay)
Stalking
A few participants (n = 4) discussed being stalked by a partner as a form of psychological victimization, making it a variant response. One participant described being stalked immediately after a breakup with his former partner: He was stalking me, he was literally stalking me. I would look out the window from my school. . . and his car would be parked in front of the school. He’d call me and be like, “Oh, I see you, you’re in the backyard right now.” And I was like, “What the fuck?” It got scary. There was once, he came into my school looking for me, because I didn’t answer him for a week. (26, Latino, gay)
Threatened/actual embarrassment/shaming
A few participants (n = 3) reported threatened or actual embarrassment as a form of psychological victimization, making it a variant response. However, only one participant was threatened to be outed as gay by a partner: He would definitely throw that in my face a lot, like, “Let me tell your cousin, let me tell your mom” . . . So I did have that fear that he was gonna out me, but he never did, thank God. There were threats. Sometimes he would say, “Oh, let me call your mom right now and tell her that you been sucking my dick.” (26, Latino, gay)
Physical Victimization
Within the group of categories pertaining to physical victimization, 10 categories emerged: pushing, hitting/slapping/punching, injury, wrestling, kicking, biting, object thrown at/near participant, vehicle used as weapon, object used as weapon, and choking.
Pushing
More than half of the participants (n = 17) reported that they were pushed by a partner, making it a typical response. One participant recalled how his partner pushed his head in an aggressive manner after he confronted him about suspected cheating: I saw on his phone that he was talking to someone else, and I confronted him . . . he got mad at me for digging through his phone . . . he just grabbed my head and just pushed my head away, and he mushed my face. (26, Latino, gay) Another participant described being pushed while his partner was drunk: So that night when he got drunk, we did get physical, a lot of pushing and tugging there and our friends had to break us up. (26, Black, gay)
Hitting/slapping/punching
More than half of the participants (n = 16) reported that they were hit, slapped, or punched by a partner, making it a typical response. One participant described being slapped so hard that it resulted in bruises: I remember he slapped me so hard, like threw my head, and it was so red. I remember feeling like it bruised the next day, and I was like, “Look what you did to me. Look what you fucking did. There’s bruises everywhere.” (28, Asian/API, gay)
Another participant described how a verbal argument escalated and led to him being punched by his partner: About six months in, I remember he just exploded, and I remember we were in his car . . . I asked him to take me home, I said, “I don’t want to continue this argument, I just want to go home.” And he stopped in the park and I went to reach for my phone in the console area and he started punching me. (27, Black, gay) While a third participant discussed being slapped and hit as a regular occurrence in his relationship with his partner: Every day, he would slap me in the back of the head, or he’d push me, he always . . . Yeah, he was mean. (26, Latino, gay)
Injury
Just under half of the participants (n = 10) reported physical injury as a result of physical victimization, making it a variant response. One participant recalled how his friends staged an intervention due to how frequently he was injured by his fiancé: I’m here with a freaking engagement ring, with my eye fucked up. So I went to school, and all my friends, they locked me in my math class and people were outside blocking the door. They’re like, “You need to get out of that. We’re scared, your arm is always fucked up, you’re limping, you’re always bruised up, your hands are messed up. There’s always something wrong.” (26, Latino, gay)
Several other participants succinctly described being left bloodied and bruised after altercations with their partners: There were injuries as well, it was just like bleeding. (28, biracial, gay) I bruised really hard that day. (28, Asian/API, gay) I broke my arm fighting with him one time. (25, biracial, gay)
Wrestling
Less than half of the participants (n = 8) reported wrestling or tussling with a partner, making it a variant response. One participant described how he would engage in wrestling in order to maintain a certain image in his partner’s eyes: A lot of it was defensive, but part of me kind of wanted to keep up with him just so he doesn’t feel like I’m a pushover. So, when he wanted to wrestle, I would get really rough and wrestle with him. (27, Latino, gay)
While another participant discussed how an argument led to wrestling which in turn led to their first sexual encounter: Then we have a confrontation and we sort of fight again. But I don’t know if he was enjoying wrestling or not . . . I don’t practice aggression or anything. But for the sake of this actual moment it turned into this tussle that then turned to a sexual moment, which was our first sexual moment together. (26, Black, bisexual)
Kicking
Several participants (n = 6) reported that they were kicked by a partner, making it a variant response. One participant described being discretely kicked by his partner while in the presence of a mutual friend: One time, I was sitting kind of across from him, and there was a table between us . . . We were talking with my friend, and I don’t know how, he just got a sudden flash of anger that he kicked me really hard and held it there [in the groin area], and it was so painful. (27, Latino, gay)
Biting
A few participants (n = 3) reported being bitten when discussing physical victimization, making it a variant response: I was trying to stop him. I wrapped my arms around him and I had him tucked behind me so his head was back there. I had him tucked behind me like “stop.” Next thing I know, all I feel is a pinch on my back. I didn’t realize he actually bit my back and ripped my skin all the way to the white meat and I have a scar there. (25, Black, bisexual)
Object thrown at/near participant
A few participants (n = 3) reported that their partner had thrown objects at or near them, making it a variant response. Each participant, however, stated that these instances occurred during bidirectional altercations. For example, one participant described a particularly contentious argument: He slapped me and I hit him back, and then I dragged him, because he fell on the floor. And then he tried throw a small table at me, and then I just got out of the way and I just left him on the floor. (25, Black, gay)
Vehicle used as weapon
A few participants (n = 3) reported that their partners had used a vehicle to threaten them, making it a variant response. One participant, who had earlier discussed being punched and thrown out of his partner’s car during an argument, described how his partner then pursued him with his vehicle: I was definitely scared, terrified even, that I just wanted him to walk away from the situation. Because I started to walk away from the car very quickly and he followed me . . . that’s when he tried to run me over with his car . . . but he claimed afterwards that he wasn’t trying to hit me, it just so happens that his car swerved at me in such a specific way. (27, Black, gay)
Object used as weapon
A few participants (n = 3) reported that their partners had used other objects as weapons, making it a variant response. One participant recounted how his partner used a block of ice as a weapon against him during an altercation on their roof: So we’re cursing each other out, we’re arguing, and then he grabs this block of ice and just cracks it over my head. (26, Latino, gay)
Choking
Two participants reported being choked by their partner, making it a rare response. One participant recalled being shoved against a wall by his throat: We start fighting again. He’s pushing on me, grabbing my throat. He grabbed my throat and pushed me against the wall. (26, Latino, gay).
Sexual Victimization
Within the group of categories pertaining to sexual victimization, six categories emerged: sex too rough/aggressive, implicit pressure, explicit pressure, nonconsensual sex, forced penetration, and attempted sexual assault.
Sex too rough/aggressive
Several participants (n = 9) reported sexual experiences that were too rough or aggressive, making it a variant response. One participant described minor injuries as a result of overly rough sex: Sometimes even with sex too, it would get aggressive and stuff, too aggressive. I’ve had finger marks on my neck, which is so embarrassing. (26, Latino, gay)
Another participant described excessively aggressive anal sex with a former partner: Sex was always an issue in our relationship, as well. Both of us were more tops than bottoms, and we would both kind of [take] turns. But, when I was being penetrated, it was like, really aggressive. I wouldn’t describe it as abuse. But, definitely not necessarily something I was comfortable with. (27, White, gay)
Implicit pressure
Several participants (n = 8) had discussed experiencing implicit pressure to have sex. One participant described feeling pressured to have sex whenever they were in a conducive setting at the risk of losing his partner: I think it was just because he wasn’t out and we were both living with our families at the time. So, it was the expectation that if he invited me over, we were going to have sex. Because there was no real other place for us to do that essentially . . . And I think just in terms of coercion, I just always felt like that was just kind of the agreement. And should I deviate from that, the relationship will end. (23, White, bisexual)
While another participant described being shamed for not wanting to or being able to have sex more often: He would make me feel bad about not wanting to have sex all the time, or not wanting to do stuff all the time. And there were times where I couldn’t even. I would do it, and I felt disgusting the whole time. It felt like, “I don’t wanna do this, but I’m doing it to shut him up.” (26, Latino, gay)
Explicit pressure
Several participants (n = 6) reported being explicitly pressured to perform certain sex acts. One participant described being pressured to be the receptive anal partner with a partner: And then he was like, “Well, bend over.” And I’m like, “Oh, no. I’m not doing that. No, I’m not doing that.” . . . He got angry. He was like, “Oh, so, what did you come over here for then?” (26, biracial, gay)
While another participant described being repeatedly pushed to have sex: More so me not wanting to [have sex], but doing it because [he was] asking over and over. (25, biracial, gay)
Nonconsensual sex
Some participants (n = 6) reported being the victims of nonconsensual sex with a former partner, making it a variant response. In one instance, the participant was assaulted during his sleep: I was sleeping, so he just pulled my pants down and ya know, did whatever . . . We didn’t talk about doing that, and [he] just did that. And I was upset, I was highly upset. (27, Black, bisexual)
Another participant reported a similar experience that occurred after drinking: I was just really tired and had been drinking and I fell asleep and the next morning I didn’t even really remember that we had had sex and we were talking and he’s like, “Yeah, don’t fall asleep during sex again.” I was like, “Oh, shit, sorry.” He’s like, “Yeah, I mean like I finished anyway.” I was like, “What?” He’s like, “Yeah, it was only like five or ten minutes.” (27, biracial, gay)
Forced penetration
A few participants (n = 4) experienced forced penetration, making it a variant response. One participant described being digitally penetrated by a former partner without his consent: There was this moment where he just started fingering me without talking to me about it. And then he got really into it and I felt he was gonna finish soon. So, I just kind of let it happen. Because I felt just to get that over with was the best thing to do. (23, White, bisexual)
Attempted sexual assault
A few participants (n = 2) reported an attempted sexual assault while with a sexual partner, making it a rare response. One participant described an incident that began as consensual, and ended non-consensual: At this point we’re standing and putting clothes on and then at that moment, he throws me on the bed. He’s like, “We are having sex.” And I’m like, “I want you to really think about what you’re doing right now. We’ve been out all night, think about the actions you’re taking.” And I remember speaking about this so lucidly and just being like, “You understand that currently you’re aggressing me for not wanting to have sex.” I was like, “I don’t want to use the R-word, but essentially it’s what you’re doing.” (27, biracial, gay)
Financial Victimization
Within the group of categories pertaining to financial victimization, five categories emerged: financial exploitation, damaged property, housing related, kicked out, and employment related.
Financial exploitation
Several participants (n = 8) reported being the victim of financial exploitation, making it a variant response. One participant described being pressured to buy expensive things for his partner: Like he would always ask for like expensive stuff and if I told him no, he would criticize everything about me. It was more like, “You’re a broke ass nigga” . . . His idea of a relationship was, “You have to buy me expensive things. You have to like prove that you want me and you have to prove that you like me.” I couldn’t spend my own money on myself. I had to spend it on him. “You don’t like me, I’m wasting my time, I got dudes that wanna buy me this that and the third.” (26, Black, gay)
Another participant described having his identity stolen and exploited by a former partner: Yeah, without my permission, [he would] just use my name and address, running credit cards and stuff. Going out and helping the guy who he’s with to use my name to buy things. (26, Black, gay)
Damaged property
A few participants (n = 3) reported that their property had been damaged by their partner, making it a variant response. One participant described how his partner damaged his phone: And then he grabbed my phone and he threw it out the car. . . (27, Black, gay)
Housing related
A few participants (n = 3) reported housing-related financial victimization, making it a variant response. One participant described the potential legal difficulties of evicting a former cohabitating partner: It was just kind of like, if I churn the butter by pursuing legal action, he could’ve made it hell for me to get my apartment back, or to get my things in my apartment. So, it was kind of like, let’s just see if he’ll leave on his own first. (27, White, gay)
Kicked out
A few participants (n = 3) reported being kicked out of their home by a cohabitating partner, making it a rare response. One participant described being violently kicked out by his former partner: [He was] running around the apartment, screaming at me and saying, “You need to get out.” And I was like, “I can go stay with a friend for a few days. Let me go to work. I’ll come back and pack and I’ll give you some space to kind of figure out whatever.” And he just kept screaming, “Get out. Get out.” And I was like, “I need to get some things.” And he started following me around the apartment. He was within an inch of me, kind of like these glazed over psychosis eyes, which were scary as fuck . . . I was next to the wall in the living room and he shoved me against the wall and kind of pinned me down and started screaming, “Get out and give me your keys”. . . it kind of got to the point where I was like, “Okay. You hit me, I’m leaving.” So, I said to him, “We’re done here.” And I just walked out of the apartment and he slammed the door behind me, screaming. I walked out into the street with nowhere to go. (27, White, gay)
Employment related
Only two participants reported employment-related financial victimization, making it a rare response. One participant discussed how his partner’s jealousy interfered with his ability to collaborate on a work project with his best friend: My partner at the time was saying that it seemed like I was dating two people, because I was talking to my best friend every day. Because not only is he my best friend, he’s also my writing partner, and sort of my editor, for a project that I’ve been working on for quite a while. And having that communication sort of being cut off in order to not make him upset was really difficult as well. (26, Black, gay)
Psychological Perpetration
Within the group of categories pertaining to psychological perpetration, 11 categories emerged: verbal abuse, manipulation, cheating, social media use, threatened/actual embarrassment, stonewalling, lying, isolating, stalking, and entrapment.
Verbal abuse
Nearly half of all participants (n = 12) reported perpetration of verbal abuse with a least one of their intimate partners, making it a variant response.
Maybe like something like you’re stupid or . . . derogatory terms . . . But obviously probably called him the B-word and I might say the F-word every now and then. (25, Black, gay)
Other participants did not just use hurtful language, but specifically directed their verbal abuse to have a greater impact: I would get frustrated and so I would say, “F you,” a couple of the times. And because he’s a dancer, he has a thing against food, to the point that he lost a lot of weight really quickly. And I told him that he looked a little sickly. And he broke down and started crying because of that. (26, Black, gay)
Manipulation
Several participants (n = 5) reported being manipulative toward their partner, making it a variant response. One participant recalled finding his future partner, who was closeted, on a same-sex dating site. After recognizing him on the website, the participant stated that he would keep it a secret if he agreed to take him on a date: I was on a dating site and I ended up finding his page . . . I actually wrote him and was like, “Haha I caught you!” And then he was like, “Fuck you, I caught you too then.” And I was like, “well [people] are still going to love me, but people are gonna talk shit about you. The only way I won’t tell is if you go on a date with me.” (26, Latino, gay)
Cheating
Several participants (n = 5) reported that they cheated on their partners as a form of psychological perpetration, making it a variant response. One participant discussed that his partner often accused him of cheating, which eventually led him to cheat out of spite: It was mostly cheating and trust issues and stuff like that. Basically, it was just trust issues. The more that he kept saying that I was [cheating], the more that I did. (28, biracial, gay)
Another participant described how his partner was emotionally unavailable, leaving him to look for emotional connections with other men: I get tired of being lonely, tired of being ignored and stuff, so you know, I just start talking to a guy, just for the attention. (25, Black, bisexual)
Another participant described exaggerating an injury resulting from an altercation with his partner, to get his sympathy: I remember him opening the door, and I remember he slammed it. Then I fell on the first step, and I think I scraped my knee and ripped my pants. I was like “Look, I’m bloody. You fucking pushed me, you fucking asshole.” I remember just trying to guilt trip him to want to open the door and take care of me. (28, Asian/API, gay)
Social media use
Few participants (n = 3) reported that they utilized social media in an abusive manner toward their partners, making it a variant response. For example, one participant described how he would break into his partner’s social media account to search his messages: I had his MySpace password and I remember that I snooped too. Which is like—if you’re doing something that’s not okay and you find information that’s also not okay, is anyone in the right? . . . Now that I have this information that I did bad things to get, how do I try and hold you to a moral standard? (28, White, gay)
Threatened/actual embarrassment
A few participants (n = 3) reported that they threatened to or actually sought to embarrass a partner, making it a variant response. One participant discussed how he intentionally approached his partner’s apartment while his father was outside to embarrass him for being seen with a male romantic partner: He was in my car, talking on the phone to one of his friends about some dude he had sex with [in the past]. And I was still sitting in the car when he was speaking about this. So, I moved my car to drive in front of his apartment [where] his dad was outside. He didn’t want to be seen with me. That was my way [of getting back at him]. (26, Black, gay)
Stonewalling
Stonewalling was reported by two participants, making it a rare response. For example, one participant discussed how he would often disengage when his partner would try to have a conversation with him: We were walking somewhere and then we were having a conversation about something. Then he’s talking and I’m honestly not listening, I’m laughing because it’s funny. I wasn’t paying attention because he’s just talking, running his mouth. (28, Black, gay)
Lying
One participant described lying as a form of psychological perpetration, making it a rare response: Sometimes I would say that I’m doing something, like I’m talking to someone, just to piss him off, which wasn’t right. Things like that. . . [saying] I’m doing things that I’m not. (28, Black, gay)
Isolating
Only one participant reported that he attempted to isolate his partner from his social network, making it a rare response: He was going to a bar with his friends, and I was like, “No, don’t leave me. I really need you here with me today, and I’m feeling really sad. And I don’t want you to go.” (23, White, bisexual)
Stalking
Stalking was reported by only one participant, making it a rare response. The participant described stalking his partner after their relationship had ended: I remember one time I came to his place. I was knocking on the door. I kept banging on it and banging on it. Then he opened it up and I saw another guy in the room. I remember I slapped him and he pushed me. The guy got up and left. He wasn’t taking into consideration the possibility that I might look through his phone or the possibility that I might show up at his door or the possibility that I might run into him on the street. But then again, it’s like we were broken up at the time, so why would I expect him to do that? (28, Asian/API, gay)
Entrapment
Entrapment was only reported by one participant, making it a rare response. This participant recounted a time when he refused to let his partner leave the apartment during a heated argument: He was bending down to get his clothes to put them on to leave, and I slammed the door with force because I’m like, “You’re not leaving the house . . . I’m closing the door. You’re going to stay right here and we’re going to talk about it. (25, Black, gay)
Physical Perpetration
Within the group of categories pertaining to physical perpetration, eight categories emerged: hitting/slapping/punching, pushing, wrestling, injury, object used as weapon, object thrown at/near partner, kicking, and gun/knife used.
Hitting/slapping/punching
Nearly one third of all the participants (n = 9) reported that they hit, slapped, or punched a partner, making it a variant response. One participant described how he began hitting his partner early in their relationship, often triggered by small incidents: The first month or two into it, that’s the first time I put my hands on him, and it was for the stupidest things. He would be a little bit louder than me in an argument, and then I would just start hitting him. I remember one time I was driving and I was hitting him. I had to pull over, and I still hit him after I pulled over. (26, Black, bisexual)
While other participants described hitting their partners in response to being hit first: There was a time where he had shoved me and after that I just got fed up and I swung at him because I was not going to take him hitting me this many times and not doing anything . . . So, I quickly turned and I punched him in the face. (26, Black, gay)
Pushing
Nearly one third of all the participants (n = 8) described pushing their partner, making it a variant response. One participant described his motivation for pushing his partner: It was kind of like, if I’m angry at you, I’m going to just take you and throw you against the wall. (25, Black, gay)
Another participant described pushing his partner due to his partner’s perceived cheating: I just remember hearing his texts go off. I was just like pushing him out of my door, and I was like, “What are you doing? What are you doing in my apartment? What are you doing here with your texts going off for your other guys?” (28, Asian/API, gay)
Wrestling
Several participants (n = 5) described wrestling their partner, making it a variant response, usually in the context of a larger physical altercation. One participant described how perceived cheating led to him wrestling his partner: I saw the other guy in his room and just barged in slapping him . . . then we ended up wrestling on the floor. I just remember straddling him and trying to hit his face and him trying to grab my hands . . . [He] was like “Stop. Are you going to stop?” and [I] was like, “No, I’m going to fight you.” (28, Asian/API, gay)
Injury
Several participants (n = 5) reported that they injured their partner during physical altercations, making it a variant response. While these altercations resulted in their partner’s injury, each occurred in either a bidirectional altercation or in self-defense. For example, one participant described how he struck his partner to escape a physically threatening argument: I was trying to leave, and he wouldn’t let me go. I pushed him out the way, and he grabbed my neck, threw me down, and was choking me. And the way I had to get away from him was to get an iron and hit him in the head, until there was blood. (28, Black, gay)
Object used as weapon
A few participants (n = 4) reported that they used some other object as a weapon against a partner, making it a variant response. One participant described using typically innocuous objects as weapons during a particularly violent altercation: We were fighting like it was a gang war. We were hitting each other with anything we could find, punching each other. I had this metal box that I use and had cigarettes in . . . it had this thing that when you open it, it would stick out. So I opened that and I was stabbing him with it in his back. It was bad. (26, Latino, gay)
Object thrown at/near partner
A few participants (n = 4) reported throwing an object at or near their partner, making it a variant response. One participant described throwing an object directly at his partner with the intention of hitting them: Something was getting to me. I don’t know what it was. But I would hit him. I threw a cigarette at him in his face before. I hit him, I threw ashtrays at him. (26, Latino, gay)
Another participant described throwing things without the intention of hitting his partner: I was throwing food and just throwing his lamps and books on the floor and towards his direction. Not actually trying to aim at him, but just towards the wall and stuff like that, and it being thrown at me. (28, Asian/API, gay)
Kicking
Few participants (n = 3) described kicking a partner, making it a variant response. All described kicking their partner in the context of a larger physical altercation, such as in the following quote: I tried to walk away. He was like, “Oh, give me one last kiss.” And then I’m like, “No.” So, I shoved him and he shoved me and I hit my head against the wall. And he’s like, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . .” and I don’t know what got into me, but I kicked him in his knee . . . and he was like, “What the hell? You see you have a problem?” (26, Latino, gay)
Gun/knife used
Only one participant discussed using a knife or gun against a partner, making it a rare response: I charged at him with a knife one time. (27, Black, bisexual)
Bidirectional IPV
As stated previously, the majority of participants (n = 17) described experiences of bidirectional violence, making it a typical response. Some participants described how neither partner was exclusively the victim or perpetrator of violence, rather the partners alternated perpetrating acts of aggression that resulted in bidirectional IPV: Once he hit me once, it became, “Okay, he’s good. . . Okay, he’s gonna stay.” But then I also was like, “Well, if you’re gonna hit me, I’m gonna hit you.” So it became an ongoing battle in our relationship. It was everyday. Who’s gonna yell at who first? Who’s gonna hit each other first? (26, Latino, gay)
Other participants described how most incidents of IPV in their relationship were bidirectional in nature, such that both partners were perpetrating and victimized by acts of violence and aggression: It’s kind of like when someone hits you, you hit them back and then you keep going back and forth, and then it escalates. So you were dragging him, and then from there, [we were] actually putting hands and feet on each other. (25, Black, gay)
IPV Chronicity
Within the group of categories pertaining to IPV chronicity, five categories emerged: multiple incidents in one relationship, IPV in more than one relationship, IPV ended relationship, IPV in only one relationship, and isolated incident.
Multiple incidents in same relationship
A majority of participants (n = 17) described multiple incidents of IPV in the same relationship, making it a typical response. One participant had a very clear recollection of the frequency of IPV in his former relationship: That probably lasted for four, five months, maybe even close to six months. . . Out of those experiences, four [fights]. Four big ones. Those are very vivid in my head. (28, Asian/API, gay)
IPV in more than one relationship
More than half of all the participants (n = 16) reported that they experienced IPV in more than one relationship, making it a typical response. Few quotes succinctly summarized this pattern of IPV experiences across multiple relationships, as most participants described experiences of IPV relationship-by-relationship. However, one participant summarized difficulties with relationships thusly:
Other participants summarized the chronicity of IPV experiences in their former relationships: It was constant. It was years of fighting with him . . . As friends we’re good, but he was a horrible partner. He was bad, he would beat the shit out of me all the time. Even sexually, he would go too far. (26, Latino, gay)
Another participant succinctly summarized the paradox of chronic IPV: We loved each other and we hit each other all the time. (26, Latino, gay)
IPV-ended relationship
Almost half of all the participants (n = 11) reported that IPV was a primary contributor to the end of their relationship, making it a variant response. One participant described how surprised he was that his relationship had become violent, and how disappointed he was to end the relationship as a result of it: It was kind of shocking because, when you get into a relationship with somebody, you don’t think “okay, we’re going to end up fighting to the death and trying to hurt each other.” That’s like the last thing that anybody would think, but like I said it was shocking to me and I was kind of hurt because it’s like I really, really, really, really, really liked the kid and to go through all of that, especially like so soon, I was kind of just like “what am I doing.” So I just had to just leave the situation alone. I just never looked back. (25, Black, gay)
Some participants described how they jointly realized that the only way to end the violence and aggression was to end the relationship: I felt bad. [We] used to keep doing it to each other until we both just had to end it. (26, biracial, gay)
Other participants discussed unilaterally ending their relationship due to ongoing IPV: We went out of town over Labor Day weekend and he was just a complete dick the whole time. Aggressive, shaming me, whining, and this was a nice trip that I had paid for us to enjoy our time together. And I was just like, I can’t take this anymore. So then I ended it with him. (27, White, gay)
IPV in only one relationship
Several participants (n = 7) reported that they only experienced IPV in one relationship, making it a variant response. One participant discussed the stark comparison between his abusive relationship and his other relationships: In no other relationships have I ever experienced any of that. Every past relationship I had before him was perfectly fine. We had arguments but it didn’t come to a point where it was very verbally [abusive]. (26, Black, gay)
Another participant described his only abusive relationship concisely: [That was] the first and the only one. (26, Black, gay)
Isolated incident
Some participants (n = 6) reported isolated incidents of IPV, making it a variant response. Three of the five incidents occurred in the context of alcohol intoxication: Once I had hit my partner while I was drunk . . . We discussed it, we analyzed it, and since then it has not been a repeat offense. It was out of the ordinary behavior. I’ve never done that before. (27, Black, gay) I’ve had like 10 years of experience with men. It hasn’t been an easy ride . . . A lot of men put their issues on me, and I don’t know, I wish I could say I’ve had a positive experience. (27, Black, gay)
Discussion
This study sought to explore dimensions of IPV victimization and perpetration among a sample of (n = 26) YGBM living in NYC. It also sought to assess bidirectional experiences of IPV as well as the chronicity of IPV experiences. The YGBM in this study reported a range of different types of IPV victimization, including various forms of physical, psychological, sexual, and financial abuse. Psychological victimization was reported by nearly all participants (n = 25) and the most commonly reported forms included verbal abuse (e.g., name calling), manipulation, and autonomy loss/theft. Most participants (n = 21) reported some form of physical victimization and the most commonly reported forms included hitting, slapping, punching, and pushing. Nearly one third (n = 8) reported injury as a result of physical victimization experiences. While relatively less common, half of all participants (n = 13) reported some form of sexual victimization, including 6 men who reported nonconsensual sex and 4 who reported forced penetration. In addition, more than one third (n = 10) of all participants reported some type of financial victimization.
With respect to IPV perpetration, more than two thirds of the sample (n = 18) reported some form of psychological perpetration, with verbal abuse, manipulation, and cheating being the most commonly reported. More than half of the participants (n = 14) reported physical perpetration and the most commonly reported forms were hitting, slapping, punching, and pushing. Relatively few participants reported sexual (n = 3) and financial perpetration (n = 4). However, the most commonly reported forms were implicit sexual pressure and damaged property respectively.
Consistent with the findings from past quantitative research studies (Kubicek et al., 2016; Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Barton, et al., 2015), approximately two thirds of the sample reported bidirectional experiences of IPV (n = 17), indicating that YGBM are not exclusively victims or perpetrators of abuse, but rather many have engaged in and experienced both. In addition, more than half of the samples reported that they experienced multiple IPV incidents in the same relationship (n = 17) and that IPV occurred in more than one relationship (n = 16), suggesting that patterns of abuse often persist within the same relationship and that YGBM may experience a pattern of abusive relationships across time.
While this study’s findings regarding the relative frequency of physical and psychological victimization are consistent with the literature pertaining to both heterosexual and same-sex IPV (Craft & Serovich, 2005; Finneran & Stephenson, 2013; Houston & McKirnan, 2007; Mason et al., 2014; Pantalone et al., 2012; Woodyatt & Stephenson, 2016), this study adds to the existing literature by examining the chronicity of various forms of psychological, physical, sexual, and financial victimization and perpetration. By utilizing a qualitative approach, the present study moves beyond a quantitative description of IPV experiences and adds detailed narrative information about the experiences of same-sex IPV among YGBM. One such finding to emerge from this study was the observation that many of the episodes of IPV that were discussed contained multiple forms of physical, psychological, sexual, and/or financial abuse, and many were bidirectional in nature. Also, the participants in this study reported fewer and less varied experiences of IPV perpetration, with few endorsing sexual or financial perpetration. While this finding may accurately reflect the relatively lower frequency of perpetration behaviors engaged in by the study’s participants, it may also be influenced by social desirability bias. Said otherwise, participants may have underreported past perpetration behaviors, especially those related to sexual aggression.
In addition, previous studies have used samples comprised of older adult gay and bisexual men. As of this writing, this is one of the first studies to employ a qualitative approach to explore IPV in a sample comprised exclusively of YGBM. This distinction is important, as previous studies have sought to understand how IPV may manifest differently in the context of same-sex relationships. However, gay and bisexual men are not a homogeneous group, and there may be generational differences that influence how IPV manifests in the relationships of gay and bisexual men from different generations. For example, a previous study found that threatening to disclose a partner’s sexual identity was a commonly reported form of psychological IPV (Woodyatt & Stephenson, 2016). In this study, however, few participants reported being the victim or perpetrator of such outing behavior. This finding suggests that there may be some differences in how this new generation of YGBM, who came of age during a more tolerant sociopolitical context, experience IPV. Similarly, only four participants reported being the victim of identity-related slurs (e.g., “faggot”) and none reported perpetrating such verbal abuse in this study, suggesting potential generational differences.
Furthermore, this is one of the first studies to explore the chronicity of IPV experiences among YGBM. Most previous studies of IPV among YGBM have been quantitative in methodology and have used IPV measures that did not capture individual- or relationship-level information about IPV chronicity. The few studies that have used measures that capture chronicity (e.g., the Conflict Tactics scale) often later collapse the data for analytic purposes. In contrast, by allowing participants’ qualitative narratives to inform the subsequent analyses, the present study was able to provide information on individual- and relationship-level chronicity, thereby significantly buttressing the existing literature on IPV among YGBM.
Implications
These findings have several implications for intervention efforts and future research. First, given that YGBM experience a wide range of IPV experiences, many of which correspond with the existing IPV measures (e.g., pushing), and some that depart from the existing measures (e.g., social media use as a form of psychological abuse), it is imperative to develop a measure of IPV that is tailored to the unique experiences of YGBM. We hope that our rich qualitative findings, taken together with previously validated measures of IPV, such as the Revised Conflict Tactics scale (Straus et al., 1996) and the IPV-GBM scale (Stephenson & Finneran, 2013), can be used to inform such a measure. Second, the existing IPV intervention and prevention efforts should address all of the ways that YGBM experience relationship violence and abuse, including potentially overlooked aspects of IPV (e.g., financial abuse), in their programming. Third, while not the focus of the present work, future qualitative studies should explore potential individual-, relationship-, and structural-level correlates of IPV among YGBM. Specifically, future researchers should consider examining how various factors identified in quantitative studies of IPV among YGBM, such as substance use, mental health problems, stigma, and childhood abuse, relate to experiences of IPV in this population using a qualitative approach, as it allows for a deeper exploration of these potentially complex and dynamic relationships (Stephenson et al., 2010; Stults et al., 2019; Stults, Javdani, Greenbaum, Kapadia, & Halkitis, 2015; Wong et al., 2010). In addition, given that the relevant IPV literature is limited but growing, future researchers should continue to employ rigorous quantitative and/or mixed methods to examine the aforementioned relationships.
Strengths and Limitations
The present study has several noteworthy strengths. First, it adds rich, qualitative data to a literature that is mostly comprised of quantitative studies. Second, while most studies of IPV among YGBM focus primarily on physical IPV victimization, this study explored numerous forms of physical, psychological, sexual, and financial IPV and depicted a far more complex and dynamic pattern of behaviors than described in previous studies. In addition, while previous studies of IPV have utilized samples of older, mostly White gay and bisexual men, this study is strengthened by a younger, demographically diverse sample of gay and bisexual men.
The strengths of the present study should be considered in lights of several limitations. First, social desirability bias and/or legal concerns may have limited our ability to collect data about certain types of IPV perpetration, namely sexual IPV perpetration. Historical incidents of sexual assault have been highly publicized in the months preceding the implementation of this study and may have affected participants’ willingness to discuss such behaviors. Second, while the sample was informed by the study’s aims to explore IPV among YGBM, it is not a representative sample of all YGBM. Specifically, the sample in the present study represents a relatively narrow age range. As such, these findings may not generalize to gay and bisexual men of other ages. Also, this sample is drawn exclusively from the NYC metropolitan area, thus these findings may not generalize to YGBM in nonurban settings. In addition, given that the sample is comprised of YGBM who endorsed IPV in the last 5 years during the screening process, the relative frequency of IPV experiences (e.g., psychological victimization being most common) may not generalize to YGBM more broadly. Finally, although not by design, all participants only described experiences of IPV in dissolved relationships, rather than in their current relationships. This suggests that YGBM who are currently in abusive relationships may avoid participating in studies of IPV, possibly due to fear of partner retaliation.
Conclusion
In sum, IPV is a significant health problem among YGBM and one that warrants additional attention from researchers, clinicians, and policy-makers. YGBM experience and engage in numerous types of physical, psychological, sexual, and financial victimization and perpetration. Also, many YGBM have engaged in bidirectional IPV, defying the static victim/perpetrator profiles that are commonly portrayed in the media and widely held by lay audiences. Finally, rather than isolated incidents, many YGBM experience IPV as a pattern of abuse within the same relationship as well as a relational pattern in multiple relationships over time.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the participants of this study, as well as their colleagues at the Center for Health, Identity, Behavior, and Prevention Studies (CHIBPS) and the Rutgers School of Public Health.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
