Colonial Dysphoria, or why we are exhausted.

The concept of "colonial dysphoria," a pivotal element in my dissertation, has illuminated the grueling dissonance between self-perception and institutional understanding, particularly concerning trans identities within university contexts. This critical reflection serves as a bridge, connecting the complex experiences of trans-Latinx students to the broader narratives of queer and trans Palestinian antagonism amid the ongoing genocide in Gaza.

In my research, colonial dysphoria emerged as a powerful force, shaping an exhaustive mechanism where individuals continuously grapple with their self-perception versus how authoritative institutions and programs perceive them in the context of trans inclusion. My dissertation, "Learning to Be: Trans-Latinidad, Race, Indigeneity, and Inclusion," was more than an academic endeavor; it was an exploration into the lives of trans individuals who navigate the turbulent waters of identity in spaces that have been historically resistant to change and complicit to settler colonial projects.

The university's understanding of trans identities often stood in stark contrast to the lived experiences of trans-Latinx students. This mismatch, this dysphoria, between the learning to be and existing, went beyond mere cultural misunderstandings – it was rooted in a colonial legacy that imposed rigid, Eurocentric views on gender and race, disregarding the rich and complex understanding of self across Indigenous and Afro-Latinidades. It was a relentless cycle of misrecognition that fostered a hostile environment for those whose existence challenged the binary, the normative, the institutionally sanctioned, and legible forms of being.

As I teach my intro course on "queer/trans-Latinx studies," in the context of a Palestinian genocide, it becomes increasingly clear that the struggle of trans-Latinx students against colonial gender norms within the university are not an isolated phenomenon. There is a haunting parallel in the queer and trans Palestinian sense of antagonism, particularly in the context of students responses to current events. In the context of Palestinian liberation, queer/trans individuals confront a form of colonial dysphoria where their complex identities are doubly erased. Coloniality not only suppresses their Palestinian identity but also enforces rigid gender binaries, negating the validity of their queer/trans selves. This creates a profound dissonance within queer/trans Palestinians as they navigate the external forces of occupation that aim to erase their cultural and national identities and the internalized expectations of a liberation struggle that often demands conformity to heteronormative ideals.

The concept of colonial dysphoria, becomes starkly relevant here—it encapsulates the psychological and existential struggle of existing within a world that continuously fails to recognize the full spectrum of one's identity. This layered antagonism reflects the broader dynamics of coloniality that systematically invalidates and marginalizes those living at the intersection of multiple oppressed identities.

I now see colonial dysphoria as bringing into focus not only the experiences of trans-Latinx students but also the shared struggles of marginalized trans and queer identities worldwide. It has offered me a unique perspective on the global implications of this phenomenon. In recognizing these parallels, I am reminded that the work is ongoing, and the need for decolonial methodologies is ever-present. As educators, we must commit to an educational philosophy that sees, hears, and affirms a decolonial ethics, challenging the ever-present forces of coloniality in our institutions that do not allow people to simply exist.