The 2018 election cycle was referred to as a “Rainbow Wave” because of the record number of LGBTQ+ candidates seeking and winning elective office. The backlash toward the LGBTQ+ community during the first Trump administration, at the local and national level, invigorated queer candidates to run for office. Then, in 2020 and 2022, news headlines again called the election cycles a “Rainbow Wave” (Debussy Reference Debussy2020; Lavietes Reference Lavietes2022). According to the Victory Institute, the 2024 election marked a 1.1% increase in LGBTQ+ candidates compared to 2020, however, it was also a 4.8% decrease compared to candidates in 2022. Further, among LGBTQ+ candidates, the share of lesbian candidates dropped nearly 10 percentage points, from 26.7% of all LGBTQ+ candidates in 2020 to only 16.1% in 2024. At the same time, the group of LGBTQ+ candidates in 2024 were the most racially diverse in history, with 37.6% being people of color and just over 15% not identifying as cisgender (LGBTQ+ Victory Fund 2024).
While the 2024 election cycle was not marked as another Rainbow Wave, at least by major news outlets, LGBTQ+ candidates made important gains in representation, including several historical “firsts” in their states (Prager Reference Prager2024). In this Critical Perspectives essay, I review these historical firsts and position queer women in the context of changes in women’s representation in state legislatures in 2024 more broadly. Building from this, I argue that we should conceptualize legislatures as workplaces to understand the experiences of LGBTQ+ legislators navigating institutions they were not intended to occupy. Specifically, legislatures are not only raced-gendered institutions (Hawkesworth Reference Hawkesworth2003) but are also cisheteropatriarchal by promoting and normalizing cisgender identity, masculinity, and heteronormativity.
We can see evidence of legislatures as cisheteropatriarchal as the US House of Representatives and state legislatures introduce anti-trans bathroom policies to inhibit newly elected trans members from using restrooms (Chatfield Reference Chatfield2024; Murib Reference Murib2019). If we conceptualize legislatures as cisheteropatriarchal institutions, we can also understand the limits of translating descriptive representation into substantive representation. Operating in a hostile environment does not only have implications for the possibilities of substantive representation: it can also reduce the prospects for greater descriptive representation if it incites backlash within a legislature (Haider-Markel Reference Haider-Markel2007).
Historical “Firsts” in 2024
The 2024 election saw several important historical “firsts” with the election of LGBTQ+ candidates for the first time to certain chambers, or even to state-wide office. Trailblazing candidates who break the proverbial glass ceiling, or rainbow ceiling so to speak, can be symbolically empowering for the LGBTQ+ community. This is particularly important as tracking voter registration and turnout rates of the LGBTQ+ community is difficult (Strode and Flores Reference Strode and Flores2021), even if drag queens and kings can help with Get Out The Vote efforts (Kammerer and Michelson Reference Edward and and Melissa2022). Three historical firsts occurred in the US House of Representatives: Sarah McBride of Delaware became the first out transgender member of Congress, Julie Johnson of Texas became the first LGBTQ+ elected official from a Southern state, and Emily Randall of Washington is the first queer Latina elected to Congress (Prager Reference Prager2024).
State legislatures also saw several historical firsts. Three states elected out trans legislators for the first time: Kim Coco Iwamoto was elected to the Hawaii House of Representatives, Aime Wichtendahl was elected to the Iowa General Assembly, and Wick Thomas was elected to the Missouri General Assembly. Legislators Thomas and Iwamoto were not only the first out trans individuals elected to their state legislatures, but also the first out trans elected officials for any state or federal elective office in Hawaii and Missouri (Prager Reference Prager2024). In addition, RaShaun Kemp is the first out gay Black man elected to Georgia’s Senate, and the Wisconsin State Assembly has its first Black LGBTQ+ legislator with the election of Amaad Rivera-Wagner (Prager Reference Prager2024).
Centering Queer Women in Women’s Representation
In addition to these historical firsts, following the November 2024 election, women now hold a majority of seats in three state legislatures: Colorado, Nevada, and New Mexico. While Nevada was the first state where women hold a majority of seats simultaneously in the upper and lower chambers, women have achieved parity or are the majority in five additional chambers as of April 2025: the Arizona Senate (53.3%), California Senate (52.5%), Colorado General Assembly (58.5%), New Mexico House of Representatives (62.9%), and the Oregon House of Representatives (50%) (CAWP). These changes vary by state (Dittmar Reference Dittmar2025), but it is also important to understand which women are contributing to these changes beyond partisanship.
As noted above, the percentage of candidates identifying as lesbian decreased in 2024 compared to 2020. However, candidates who identify as bisexual, pansexual, queer, and asexual increased in comparison (LGBTQ+ Victory Fund 2024). When we account for the intersection of sexual orientation, gender identity, and race, we gain a more nuanced understanding of women’s representation and gains or losses in state legislatures.
I coupled the Center for American Women and Politics (CAWP) Women Elected Officials Database with the LGBTQ+ Victory Institute’s “Out for America Map” to understand the variation in queer women’s gains in representation after the 2024 election cycle. The Victory Institute is the best available dataset on LGTBQ+ elected officials in the United States and tracks the number of LGBTQ+ officials — based on public, self-identification — across multiple levels of government and office types. I also relied on Ballotpedia to confirm legislator information as needed.
In the Colorado General Assembly, women make up 58.5% of the chamber (38 of 65 members). A notable 10.5% of those women (4 of 38) are queer, including Lindsay Gilchrist (D-8), who was newly elected in 2024. In the Nevada General Assembly, women hold 26 of 42 seats (61.9%), including one queer legislator (3.8%, or 1 of 26), Cecilia L. González (D-16), a bisexual Latina and Asian American/Pacific Islander. In the Nevada Senate, women also make up 61.9% (13 of 21 seats). One of the 13 women is queer: Senator Melanie Scheible (D-9). In the New Mexico House of Representatives, 44 of 70 representatives are women (62.9%), three of whom are queer (6.8%), including Marianna Anaya (D-18), a Latina newly elected in 2024. In the New Mexico Senate, 6.3% of women legislators are queer (1 of 16).
Queer women are contributing to gender parity in other legislatures as well. In the Arizona Senate, 16 of 30 senators are women (53.3%), but 6.25% of women senators are queer (1 of 16). Analise Ortiz (D-24), who identifies as a pansexual Latina and previously served in the Arizona House of Representatives, was newly elected to the Senate in 2024. For the first time after the 2024 election, women hold a majority of seats in the California Senate (52.5%, or 21 of 40). Three of the 21 senators (14.3%) are queer and Latina. Two of these senators were newly elected in 2024: Sasha Renée Pérez (D-25) and Sabrina Cervantes (D-31), who was previously an Assemblymember. Lastly, women hold 50% of seats (30 of 60) in the Oregon House of Representatives, including Dacia Grayber (D-28), who identifies as queer and is white.
To be sure, the election of these LGBTQ+ officials is certainly remarkable and noteworthy. Prior research in political science has begun to understand voter preference for LGBTQ+ candidates (Magni and Reynolds Reference Magni and Reynolds2021) and candidates’ experiences running for office (Magni and Imse Reference Magni and Imse2023). However, political science has yet to fully understand the experiences of queer legislators once in office (Haider-Markel Reference Haider-Markel2010). We also know relatively little about how current LGBTQ+ legislators might serve as role models to motivate other members of the LGBTQ+ community to run for elective office — or whether their experiences in office might serve instead as a deterrent due to transphobic and/or homophobic backlash.
Cisheteropatriarchal Institutions
Legislatures in the United States are raced-gendered institutions in that constructions of race, masculinity, and femininity are ingrained in the institution’s norms and procedures (Brown Reference Brown2014; Dittmar Reference Dittmar2021; Hawkesworth Reference Hawkesworth2003). I argue that legislatures are also cisheteropatriarchal institutions that promote and normalize male heterosexuality and cisgender identity by marginalizing identities outside of the gender-binary (Alim et al. Reference Alim, Lee, Carris and Williams2020; Brant and Butcher Reference Brant and Butcher2022). The intersection of the identity of LGBTQ+ legislators may fundamentally change the institution symbolically and substantively when they are elected to an institution of which they were not intended to be a part (Mansbridge Reference Mansbridge1999; Pitkin Reference Pitkin1967). These conflicting dynamics mean that LGBTQ+ legislators must perform multiple acts of representation by representing the interests of all their communities simultaneously as well as their own interests as LGBTQ+ individuals (Beckwith Reference Beckwith, Robinson and Escobar-Lemmon2014; Brown Reference Brown2025).
LGBTQ+ rights, particularly trans rights, are under threat across the United States. LGBTQ+ legislators must maneuver a workplace in which their colleagues can publicly introduce policies that are a fundamental attack on their existence as a human being. Legislatures need to be conceptualized as workplaces. Certainly, legislatures can be more or less attractive places of employment through schedule, pay, and benefits (Squire Reference Squire1988). However, if you cannot have the dignity of using your preferred bathroom at your work, why would any trans and LGBTQ+ individuals seek employment there? Albeit that is the point. To signal “you’re not welcome here” (Chatfield Reference Chatfield2024).
When we understand legislatures as workplaces that are raced-gendered and cisheteropatriarchal institutions, we can see why seeking elective office may be attractive to LGBTQ+ individuals. At the same time, we can better comprehend the experiences of LGBTQ+ legislators once in office, as well as the potential limits of translating descriptive representation into substantive representation. For example, Representative Zooey Zephyr is the first out trans woman elected to the Montana House of Representatives. In late 2024, Representative Zephyr’s Republican colleague, Jerry Schillinger, introduced a rule to require state legislators to use restrooms of their sex assigned at birth. Fortunately, the rule failed to pass (Yurcaba Reference Yurcaba2024). However, this was not the case in the US House of Representatives. In November 2024, Representative Sarah McBride (D-DE) became the first out trans person elected to Congress. Soon after McBride’s election, Representative Nancy Mace (R-SC) introduced a rule to stating, “all single-sex facilities—such as restrooms, changing rooms, and locker rooms—are reserved for individuals of that biological sex” (Yurcaba Reference Yurcaba2025). Representative Mace didn’t stop there; she has since repeatedly used transphobic slurs in hearings and has also purposefully misgendered Representative McBride (Lim Reference Lim2025).
Representative Mace’s obsession with Representative McBride, while weird, does not seem to faze Representative McBride. In an interview with 19th News, Representative McBride says she will not take the bait on responding to every transphobic comment and letting the Republican party dictate her policy focus. Instead, she stated: “We have to reclaim the narrative and the humanity in the public’s mind of trans people… The most good that I think I can do is to be a full human being, to not be siloed and reduced to only one part of who I am, as proud as I am of that part” (Rummler Reference Rummler2025). Notably, Representative McBride did not join her Democratic colleagues on the House floor to speak against a bill to ban trans girls from playing women’s sports and has accepted the House bathroom rule. However, her approach has upset some members of the LGBTQ+ community. In response, Representative McBride said: “I understand that when you are first, people viscerally live through your highs, and therefore they also viscerally feel the lows. So I get why people responded that way… I’m a person. I’m doing the best I can. I am not here to be a martyr. I’m here to be a member of Congress” (Rummler Reference Rummler2025).
In contrast, Representative Zephyr seems to be taking a different approach. In 2023, she was censured by her Republican colleagues for speaking against a bill prohibiting gender-affirming care and was banned from speaking on the floor. More recently in March 2025, Representative Zephyr gave an impassioned speech against legislation that would allow parents to sue drag performers for harming their children. Similar to the anti-trans bathroom bill, several of her Republican colleagues again joined her to defeat this legislation (Wiggins Reference Wiggins2025).
When we situate the responses of Representatives McBride and Zephyr to their transphobic colleagues in the context of navigating cisheteropatriarchal institutions, we can better understand the limits of translating descriptive representation into substantive representation. It can be isolating to be the “first” in a workplace you were never meant to be a part of and to simultaneously face open attacks on your personhood by your colleagues. For some, like Representative Zephyr, the answer is to challenge these institutions and advance the rights of the LGBTQ+ community. For others, like Representative McBride, the goal is to become part of these institutions and balance the policy aims of multiple communities.
Conclusion
The 2024 election cycle was not another “Rainbow Wave” for LGBTQ+ candidates, but it was certainly historic. Although the LGBTQ+ community has made electoral gains, their ability to substantively represent women’s, trans, and other queer interests hinges on the extent to which they will be required to operate in a hostile environment. The implications of operating in a hostile environment goes beyond substantive representation — it can have implications for descriptive representation if it incites policy and personal backlash within a legislature. However, if a workplace is so hostile and threatening to their safety, why would trans and LGBTQ+ legislators choose to stay?
The question of retention, or willingness to seek reelection, is important for future research and advocacy. A sense of belonging and well-being (Butcher and Haynes Reference Butcher and Haynes2024) and the feeling that you are making a difference in your work (Brant Reference Brant2024) can make legislators more likely to pursue reelection. In this regard, caucuses may help. Legislators can organize intra-institutionally into caucuses to advocate or raise awareness for issues. Often, caucuses in state legislatures involve legislators organizing around an identity, such as forming a women’s caucus or Black caucus (Brown et al. Reference Brown, Clark, Mahoney and Strawbridge2023; Holman and Mahoney Reference Holman and Mahoney2019; Mahoney Reference Mahoney2018).
Caucuses serve an important role in how legislators organize and represent themselves within the legislature. As the number of LGBTQ+ legislators have increased in recent years, they have begun to form LGBTQ+ caucuses across state legislatures. However, not all state legislatures have an LGBTQ+ caucus and the formation of this specific type of caucus has yet to be systematically analyzed by scholars. Early indications, however, show that these caucuses tend to be organized differently than other identity-based caucuses, because the majority of members tend to be allies rather than LGBTQ+ themselves. These dynamics point to a rich agenda for future research on legislatures as cisheteropatriarchal institutions, exploring how gender, race, and sexuality shape political representation in all its facets.
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The 2018 election cycle was referred to as a “Rainbow Wave” because of the record number of LGBTQ+ candidates seeking and winning elective office. The backlash toward the LGBTQ+ community during the first Trump administration, at the local and national level, invigorated queer candidates to run for office. Then, in 2020 and 2022, news headlines again called the election cycles a “Rainbow Wave” (Debussy Reference Debussy2020; Lavietes Reference Lavietes2022). According to the Victory Institute, the 2024 election marked a 1.1% increase in LGBTQ+ candidates compared to 2020, however, it was also a 4.8% decrease compared to candidates in 2022. Further, among LGBTQ+ candidates, the share of lesbian candidates dropped nearly 10 percentage points, from 26.7% of all LGBTQ+ candidates in 2020 to only 16.1% in 2024. At the same time, the group of LGBTQ+ candidates in 2024 were the most racially diverse in history, with 37.6% being people of color and just over 15% not identifying as cisgender (LGBTQ+ Victory Fund 2024).
While the 2024 election cycle was not marked as another Rainbow Wave, at least by major news outlets, LGBTQ+ candidates made important gains in representation, including several historical “firsts” in their states (Prager Reference Prager2024). In this Critical Perspectives essay, I review these historical firsts and position queer women in the context of changes in women’s representation in state legislatures in 2024 more broadly. Building from this, I argue that we should conceptualize legislatures as workplaces to understand the experiences of LGBTQ+ legislators navigating institutions they were not intended to occupy. Specifically, legislatures are not only raced-gendered institutions (Hawkesworth Reference Hawkesworth2003) but are also cisheteropatriarchal by promoting and normalizing cisgender identity, masculinity, and heteronormativity.
We can see evidence of legislatures as cisheteropatriarchal as the US House of Representatives and state legislatures introduce anti-trans bathroom policies to inhibit newly elected trans members from using restrooms (Chatfield Reference Chatfield2024; Murib Reference Murib2019). If we conceptualize legislatures as cisheteropatriarchal institutions, we can also understand the limits of translating descriptive representation into substantive representation. Operating in a hostile environment does not only have implications for the possibilities of substantive representation: it can also reduce the prospects for greater descriptive representation if it incites backlash within a legislature (Haider-Markel Reference Haider-Markel2007).
Historical “Firsts” in 2024
The 2024 election saw several important historical “firsts” with the election of LGBTQ+ candidates for the first time to certain chambers, or even to state-wide office. Trailblazing candidates who break the proverbial glass ceiling, or rainbow ceiling so to speak, can be symbolically empowering for the LGBTQ+ community. This is particularly important as tracking voter registration and turnout rates of the LGBTQ+ community is difficult (Strode and Flores Reference Strode and Flores2021), even if drag queens and kings can help with Get Out The Vote efforts (Kammerer and Michelson Reference Edward and and Melissa2022). Three historical firsts occurred in the US House of Representatives: Sarah McBride of Delaware became the first out transgender member of Congress, Julie Johnson of Texas became the first LGBTQ+ elected official from a Southern state, and Emily Randall of Washington is the first queer Latina elected to Congress (Prager Reference Prager2024).
State legislatures also saw several historical firsts. Three states elected out trans legislators for the first time: Kim Coco Iwamoto was elected to the Hawaii House of Representatives, Aime Wichtendahl was elected to the Iowa General Assembly, and Wick Thomas was elected to the Missouri General Assembly. Legislators Thomas and Iwamoto were not only the first out trans individuals elected to their state legislatures, but also the first out trans elected officials for any state or federal elective office in Hawaii and Missouri (Prager Reference Prager2024). In addition, RaShaun Kemp is the first out gay Black man elected to Georgia’s Senate, and the Wisconsin State Assembly has its first Black LGBTQ+ legislator with the election of Amaad Rivera-Wagner (Prager Reference Prager2024).
Centering Queer Women in Women’s Representation
In addition to these historical firsts, following the November 2024 election, women now hold a majority of seats in three state legislatures: Colorado, Nevada, and New Mexico. While Nevada was the first state where women hold a majority of seats simultaneously in the upper and lower chambers, women have achieved parity or are the majority in five additional chambers as of April 2025: the Arizona Senate (53.3%), California Senate (52.5%), Colorado General Assembly (58.5%), New Mexico House of Representatives (62.9%), and the Oregon House of Representatives (50%) (CAWP). These changes vary by state (Dittmar Reference Dittmar2025), but it is also important to understand which women are contributing to these changes beyond partisanship.
As noted above, the percentage of candidates identifying as lesbian decreased in 2024 compared to 2020. However, candidates who identify as bisexual, pansexual, queer, and asexual increased in comparison (LGBTQ+ Victory Fund 2024). When we account for the intersection of sexual orientation, gender identity, and race, we gain a more nuanced understanding of women’s representation and gains or losses in state legislatures.
I coupled the Center for American Women and Politics (CAWP) Women Elected Officials Database with the LGBTQ+ Victory Institute’s “Out for America Map” to understand the variation in queer women’s gains in representation after the 2024 election cycle. The Victory Institute is the best available dataset on LGTBQ+ elected officials in the United States and tracks the number of LGBTQ+ officials — based on public, self-identification — across multiple levels of government and office types. I also relied on Ballotpedia to confirm legislator information as needed.
In the Colorado General Assembly, women make up 58.5% of the chamber (38 of 65 members). A notable 10.5% of those women (4 of 38) are queer, including Lindsay Gilchrist (D-8), who was newly elected in 2024. In the Nevada General Assembly, women hold 26 of 42 seats (61.9%), including one queer legislator (3.8%, or 1 of 26), Cecilia L. González (D-16), a bisexual Latina and Asian American/Pacific Islander. In the Nevada Senate, women also make up 61.9% (13 of 21 seats). One of the 13 women is queer: Senator Melanie Scheible (D-9). In the New Mexico House of Representatives, 44 of 70 representatives are women (62.9%), three of whom are queer (6.8%), including Marianna Anaya (D-18), a Latina newly elected in 2024. In the New Mexico Senate, 6.3% of women legislators are queer (1 of 16).
Queer women are contributing to gender parity in other legislatures as well. In the Arizona Senate, 16 of 30 senators are women (53.3%), but 6.25% of women senators are queer (1 of 16). Analise Ortiz (D-24), who identifies as a pansexual Latina and previously served in the Arizona House of Representatives, was newly elected to the Senate in 2024. For the first time after the 2024 election, women hold a majority of seats in the California Senate (52.5%, or 21 of 40). Three of the 21 senators (14.3%) are queer and Latina. Two of these senators were newly elected in 2024: Sasha Renée Pérez (D-25) and Sabrina Cervantes (D-31), who was previously an Assemblymember. Lastly, women hold 50% of seats (30 of 60) in the Oregon House of Representatives, including Dacia Grayber (D-28), who identifies as queer and is white.
To be sure, the election of these LGBTQ+ officials is certainly remarkable and noteworthy. Prior research in political science has begun to understand voter preference for LGBTQ+ candidates (Magni and Reynolds Reference Magni and Reynolds2021) and candidates’ experiences running for office (Magni and Imse Reference Magni and Imse2023). However, political science has yet to fully understand the experiences of queer legislators once in office (Haider-Markel Reference Haider-Markel2010). We also know relatively little about how current LGBTQ+ legislators might serve as role models to motivate other members of the LGBTQ+ community to run for elective office — or whether their experiences in office might serve instead as a deterrent due to transphobic and/or homophobic backlash.
Cisheteropatriarchal Institutions
Legislatures in the United States are raced-gendered institutions in that constructions of race, masculinity, and femininity are ingrained in the institution’s norms and procedures (Brown Reference Brown2014; Dittmar Reference Dittmar2021; Hawkesworth Reference Hawkesworth2003). I argue that legislatures are also cisheteropatriarchal institutions that promote and normalize male heterosexuality and cisgender identity by marginalizing identities outside of the gender-binary (Alim et al. Reference Alim, Lee, Carris and Williams2020; Brant and Butcher Reference Brant and Butcher2022). The intersection of the identity of LGBTQ+ legislators may fundamentally change the institution symbolically and substantively when they are elected to an institution of which they were not intended to be a part (Mansbridge Reference Mansbridge1999; Pitkin Reference Pitkin1967). These conflicting dynamics mean that LGBTQ+ legislators must perform multiple acts of representation by representing the interests of all their communities simultaneously as well as their own interests as LGBTQ+ individuals (Beckwith Reference Beckwith, Robinson and Escobar-Lemmon2014; Brown Reference Brown2025).
LGBTQ+ rights, particularly trans rights, are under threat across the United States. LGBTQ+ legislators must maneuver a workplace in which their colleagues can publicly introduce policies that are a fundamental attack on their existence as a human being. Legislatures need to be conceptualized as workplaces. Certainly, legislatures can be more or less attractive places of employment through schedule, pay, and benefits (Squire Reference Squire1988). However, if you cannot have the dignity of using your preferred bathroom at your work, why would any trans and LGBTQ+ individuals seek employment there? Albeit that is the point. To signal “you’re not welcome here” (Chatfield Reference Chatfield2024).
When we understand legislatures as workplaces that are raced-gendered and cisheteropatriarchal institutions, we can see why seeking elective office may be attractive to LGBTQ+ individuals. At the same time, we can better comprehend the experiences of LGBTQ+ legislators once in office, as well as the potential limits of translating descriptive representation into substantive representation. For example, Representative Zooey Zephyr is the first out trans woman elected to the Montana House of Representatives. In late 2024, Representative Zephyr’s Republican colleague, Jerry Schillinger, introduced a rule to require state legislators to use restrooms of their sex assigned at birth. Fortunately, the rule failed to pass (Yurcaba Reference Yurcaba2024). However, this was not the case in the US House of Representatives. In November 2024, Representative Sarah McBride (D-DE) became the first out trans person elected to Congress. Soon after McBride’s election, Representative Nancy Mace (R-SC) introduced a rule to stating, “all single-sex facilities—such as restrooms, changing rooms, and locker rooms—are reserved for individuals of that biological sex” (Yurcaba Reference Yurcaba2025). Representative Mace didn’t stop there; she has since repeatedly used transphobic slurs in hearings and has also purposefully misgendered Representative McBride (Lim Reference Lim2025).
Representative Mace’s obsession with Representative McBride, while weird, does not seem to faze Representative McBride. In an interview with 19th News, Representative McBride says she will not take the bait on responding to every transphobic comment and letting the Republican party dictate her policy focus. Instead, she stated: “We have to reclaim the narrative and the humanity in the public’s mind of trans people… The most good that I think I can do is to be a full human being, to not be siloed and reduced to only one part of who I am, as proud as I am of that part” (Rummler Reference Rummler2025). Notably, Representative McBride did not join her Democratic colleagues on the House floor to speak against a bill to ban trans girls from playing women’s sports and has accepted the House bathroom rule. However, her approach has upset some members of the LGBTQ+ community. In response, Representative McBride said: “I understand that when you are first, people viscerally live through your highs, and therefore they also viscerally feel the lows. So I get why people responded that way… I’m a person. I’m doing the best I can. I am not here to be a martyr. I’m here to be a member of Congress” (Rummler Reference Rummler2025).
In contrast, Representative Zephyr seems to be taking a different approach. In 2023, she was censured by her Republican colleagues for speaking against a bill prohibiting gender-affirming care and was banned from speaking on the floor. More recently in March 2025, Representative Zephyr gave an impassioned speech against legislation that would allow parents to sue drag performers for harming their children. Similar to the anti-trans bathroom bill, several of her Republican colleagues again joined her to defeat this legislation (Wiggins Reference Wiggins2025).
When we situate the responses of Representatives McBride and Zephyr to their transphobic colleagues in the context of navigating cisheteropatriarchal institutions, we can better understand the limits of translating descriptive representation into substantive representation. It can be isolating to be the “first” in a workplace you were never meant to be a part of and to simultaneously face open attacks on your personhood by your colleagues. For some, like Representative Zephyr, the answer is to challenge these institutions and advance the rights of the LGBTQ+ community. For others, like Representative McBride, the goal is to become part of these institutions and balance the policy aims of multiple communities.
Conclusion
The 2024 election cycle was not another “Rainbow Wave” for LGBTQ+ candidates, but it was certainly historic. Although the LGBTQ+ community has made electoral gains, their ability to substantively represent women’s, trans, and other queer interests hinges on the extent to which they will be required to operate in a hostile environment. The implications of operating in a hostile environment goes beyond substantive representation — it can have implications for descriptive representation if it incites policy and personal backlash within a legislature. However, if a workplace is so hostile and threatening to their safety, why would trans and LGBTQ+ legislators choose to stay?
The question of retention, or willingness to seek reelection, is important for future research and advocacy. A sense of belonging and well-being (Butcher and Haynes Reference Butcher and Haynes2024) and the feeling that you are making a difference in your work (Brant Reference Brant2024) can make legislators more likely to pursue reelection. In this regard, caucuses may help. Legislators can organize intra-institutionally into caucuses to advocate or raise awareness for issues. Often, caucuses in state legislatures involve legislators organizing around an identity, such as forming a women’s caucus or Black caucus (Brown et al. Reference Brown, Clark, Mahoney and Strawbridge2023; Holman and Mahoney Reference Holman and Mahoney2019; Mahoney Reference Mahoney2018).
Caucuses serve an important role in how legislators organize and represent themselves within the legislature. As the number of LGBTQ+ legislators have increased in recent years, they have begun to form LGBTQ+ caucuses across state legislatures. However, not all state legislatures have an LGBTQ+ caucus and the formation of this specific type of caucus has yet to be systematically analyzed by scholars. Early indications, however, show that these caucuses tend to be organized differently than other identity-based caucuses, because the majority of members tend to be allies rather than LGBTQ+ themselves. These dynamics point to a rich agenda for future research on legislatures as cisheteropatriarchal institutions, exploring how gender, race, and sexuality shape political representation in all its facets.