The Fight Beyond the Flow: The Queer Battle for Visibility in Debate

Aiden Buchanan | 4 min read

Debate is supposed to be a space for growth, understanding, and mutual intellectual stimulation; the most important part of debate is finding your voice and learning how to use it. However, for many students the activity is entirely different. It's a constant battle for visibility and a struggle for existence in a place that claims inclusivity, especially for those who don’t fit into the narrative of “who debate is for.” 

Queer debaters are not asking for special treatment—they are simply asking to be seen. And yet, for many, debate has become a place where identity is weaponized. “I go by they/them pronouns,” one student wrote, “but I was called ‘ma’am’ and ‘she’ by a judge. I corrected him—he didn’t care. He kept misgendering me until the round was over.” Queer debaters are simply asking to be seen in the world; debate should be the first place to accept them, but for these students, debate can feel like a place where identity is either erased or weaponized. One student shared with us that their own partner called them the f-slur “Not once or twice, but down 100 pages” and that a judge marked them down for “sounding too feminine.” 

Herein lies the issue: these students are constantly being told, indirectly or directly, that they do not belong. Whether it be snide comments from teammates, exclusion during trips, or judgment of competitors, judges, or coaches when students make queer-centered arguments. There are two distinct types of homophobia that occur often in the debate space. 

First, peer-based. This form is characterized by competitors or teammates committing micro- and sometimes macro-aggressions. Students told us that they “never felt comfortable with my roommates, especially since many of them openly show their discomfort to share a room with me.” These kinds of aggressions are extremely common and often go unnoticed or ignored.  

Second, authority figure-based. This form is characterized by coaches or judges imposing their bias against queerness. A student told us about a scenario where he “wrote a K aff… about my queerness. I ran it, and I got 30 spokes; it felt great. But when I went back to my coach, he didn’t think I should have run it and… told me it was stupid that I was included in the debate space.” 

Both of these aren’t just bad experiences—they’re structural problems. When judges misgender students and face no consequences, when slurs are tolerated in team environments, and when coaches dismiss identity-based arguments as “too much,” we are watching a system fail its vulnerable participants.

These stories are not isolated incidents; they are a reminder, nay, a warning. Debate can be transformational, but only if it’s safe. Only if we are willing to listen to those who have been ignored. Until then, we will lose the diverse voices that make us who we are.