Inclusive, affirming sex therapy
LGBTQ sexuality is not a variation to be corrected, nor a question to be solved: it is a full and complete way of living desire, love, and intimacy. Too often, lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer, or questioning people arrive in consultation after having been treated, elsewhere, as a special case. My stance is the opposite: inclusive sex therapy begins from the principle that every orientation and every identity is legitimate, and that there is nothing more to “explain” than a heterosexual person would have to.
Being affirming means several concrete things. I do not expect you to justify who you are or who you desire. I do not treat your identity as the presumed cause of what brings you here. And I rely on your words: your name, your pronouns, your own vocabulary for intimacy. The work then focuses on what truly concerns you—pleasure, communication within the couple, a drop in desire, pain, exploration—without your orientation becoming the default subject. This is the very posture Tristan Jeangène Vilmer defends in episode #144, when he invites us to reinvent men’s sexuality in all its diversity: cis, trans, bi, gay, non-binary.
Questioning your orientation, at your own pace
Many people move through a period of questioning their orientation or identity without knowing where to set it down. Am I bi? A lesbian? Is this “a phase”? Do I have to choose? Let me say this right away: doubt is not a problem to be resolved urgently, and you don’t need a definitive label to have the right to exist. An orientation can be discovered late, evolve, or grow more nuanced; none of that invalidates what you feel today.
No imposed label
In session, I push no one to name themselves. Some people need a word in order to feel they exist; others feel cramped by any category, and that is just as valid. The work is about making room for your truth in the moment, exploring your attractions without a verdict, and distinguishing what stems from genuine desire from what is merely a fear inherited from the gaze of others. LGBTQ sexuality is also lived in this freedom: moving at your own pace, with no timetable and no proof to provide.
Queer and sapphic sexualities
Stepping outside the heterosexual model also means stepping outside its scripts. When penetrative sex is no longer the implicit reference, a question returns: what “counts” as sex? The answer is freeing, because it opens things up. Queer sexualities reinvent intimacy beyond the norms: they invent their own definitions of pleasure, of foreplay that is no longer fore-anything, of rhythm and roles. This is the whole subject of the “Sexo Queer” series with Gwen Ecalle and Morgane Beauvais (episodes #163 and #164), which unfolds this richness in two parts.
On the side of sapphic sexualities, love and eroticism between women are often built far from formatted images—and sometimes against them. Lou and Léo, in episode #18 about their Sapphosutra project, describe precisely how to reclaim a desire and a set of gestures for which no ready-made scenario exists. This blank page can be intimidating, but it is an invitation: to move toward an exploration of practices that truly reflects you, where desire leads the dance rather than an imposed model.
Bisexuality: dismantling the clichés
Bisexuality remains surrounded by preconceptions, including within LGBTQ communities. You hear it described as “a stage” before a choice, as “indecision,” or reduced to a question of faithfulness—as if loving more than one gender meant loving several people at once. None of these clichés hold up. Bisexuality is a stable, complete orientation; it depends neither on a history of relationships nor on a quota of experiences to be validated.
These stereotypes carry a real cost: invisibility, the feeling of never being “enough” on either side, and sometimes erasure within a relationship perceived from the outside as straight or as gay. This is precisely what Geneviève Lejeune discusses in episode #49, devoted to bisexuality in women. Putting words to this experience is already a way of loosening the grip, and of reclaiming the right to fully inhabit your LGBTQ sexuality without having to fit into a box to reassure others.
Specific challenges: minority stress, safety, coming out
Living an LGBTQ sexuality in a society that is still largely heteronormative carries a psychological cost that research calls minority stress: the chronic stress tied to stigmatization, to constant vigilance, to the internalization of negative messages received from childhood on. It says nothing about your strength: it speaks to what you carry on top. In consultation, distinguishing it from what belongs to your own personal history is often a relief—because what weighs on you is not always “you,” it is sometimes the weight of the surrounding gaze.
Coming out and safety
Coming out is neither an obligation nor a rite of passage. Whom you reveal yourself to, when, and in what context: all of that belongs to you, and your safety always comes first. Some people live openly; others move forward circle by circle, and that is legitimate. In intimacy, these issues also touch on consent and trust: being able to voice your limits, your desires, your areas of vulnerability is part of a fulfilling sexuality, whatever your orientation. My role is not to rush you, but to offer you a space where you can set these questions down without fear of being judged.
Finding a safe therapist
Finding a professional with whom you feel truly safe changes everything. A safe setting comes down to more than good intentions: it is recognized by concrete signs. The person respects your pronouns and your vocabulary; they do not treat your orientation or identity as a symptom; they do not put you in the position of having to educate or reassure them. You should be able to talk about your intimate life without censorship or translation.
Never hesitate to ask questions before committing: asking whether the practice is inclusive and affirming is perfectly legitimate, and an at-ease answer is already a good sign. You also have the right to leave if something doesn’t suit you: good support exists, and seeking it out isn’t demanding—it’s healthy. This is the whole point of my work: making the consultation a place where your LGBTQ sexuality is welcomed as a given, so we can finally talk about what truly matters to you.
Frequently asked questions
How do I find an inclusive sexologist?
Look for a practice that presents itself as inclusive and affirming, that respects your pronouns and your vocabulary, and that does not treat your orientation as a symptom. You have the right to ask these questions before a first appointment: an at-ease answer is already a good sign. And if it isn’t a good fit, you can look elsewhere: that’s healthy.
How do I know if I’m bi?
There is no test and no quota of experiences to validate. Bisexuality refers to a possible attraction toward more than one gender, and it remains a complete orientation even if you’ve only had relationships with one. Doubt invalidates nothing: you have the right to move at your own pace, without having to prove anything or stick a definitive label on yourself.
Is questioning your orientation “just a phase”?
Not necessarily, and in any case it doesn’t have to be settled urgently. An orientation can be discovered late, evolve, or grow more nuanced over the course of life; none of that invalidates what you feel today. The goal of therapy is not to make you choose a word, but to make room for your truth in the moment.
What is affirming sex therapy?
It’s an approach that begins from the principle that all orientations and identities are legitimate. Concretely, you aren’t expected to justify who you are, your identity isn’t used as the presumed cause of what brings you in, and the work focuses on what truly concerns you: desire, pleasure, communication, exploration.
What is minority stress?
It’s the chronic stress tied to living an LGBTQ sexuality in a heteronormative society: constant vigilance, stigmatization, internalized negative messages. It says nothing about your strength; it speaks to what you carry on top. In consultation, distinguishing it from your personal history often brings real relief.
Am I obliged to come out?
No. Coming out is neither an obligation nor a rite of passage. Whom you reveal yourself to, when, and in what context belongs to you, and your safety always comes first. Some people live openly, others move forward circle by circle: both are perfectly legitimate.