Why Some LGBTQ+ Philadelphians Can’t ‘Climb’

Christian Williams, of North Philadelphia’s Francisville neighborhood, thought he was moving forward.

With more than a decade of experience across higher education and international development, he had built the kind of career that should lead to stability and upward mobility. Instead, over the past two years, that sense of progress has unraveled.

“I felt like I was taking one step forward…ended up taking two, maybe three steps back,” he said. “Now I’m just trying to get back to where I was before.”

After a layoff during the COVID-19 pandemic and a short-lived role in Philadelphia that he described as a toxic work environment, Williams has been searching for stable employment. Multiple rounds of interviews have led nowhere. In some cases, he said, opportunities simply disappeared.

“I’ve had two, three, four conversations…and then I just get completely ghosted,” he said, describing a process that often involves presenting ideas and doing unpaid work with no response.

At the same time, a housing disruption forced Williams and his partner to move after their building was sold, adding financial strain to an already unstable situation. Rising rent in neighborhoods like Francisville and Fairmount have made it harder to stay close to work, transit, and community.

“You have all of your finances figured out… and then everything shifts,” he said.

The financial pressure extends beyond job searching. From rising energy costs to the expense of getting to interviews, the day-to-day cost of staying afloat has added up.

“Those memories don’t pay the bills,” he said, reflecting on a career filled with accomplishments that have yet to translate into stability.

His experience reflects a broader reality for many LGBTQ+ people in Philadelphia: the path to economic mobility isn’t just difficult — it can feel like it’s moving in reverse.

Williams’s story reflects a broader national trend. Across the country, 47% of LGBTQ+ people of color live in a low-income household, compared to 36% of white LGBTQ+ adults, according to the Williams Institute.

Tools like the Opportunity Atlas show how geography shaped long-term outcomes such as income and employment. But they don’t capture identity, leaving gaps in understanding how LGBTQ+ individuals experience economic mobility.

As a result, researchers often rely on national studies. Data from the Williams Institute shows that LGBTQ+ people of color face higher poverty rates than white LGBTQ+ people across several states, including Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania and Rhode Island.

In cities like Philadelphia, those structural barriers intersect with local realities — rising housing costs, limited job pipelines, and industries that rely heavily on networks and connections.

A system built for others

For some LGBTQ+ professionals, the issue isn’t just instability — it’s stagnation. A Philadelphia-based government relations professional, who asked not to be named, for fear of professional repercussions, described feeling “stuck” despite years of experience and a master’s degree. Despite strong qualifications, they said opportunities for advancement have remained limited, particularly within a field they perceived as dominated by straight, cisgender white men.

Even within their current role, they said opportunities for advancement have been limited. After applying for internal promotions, they were passed over.

In professional settings, success can also require adjusting how one presents.

“In work settings, I use ‘he/him’ pronouns because I know what I need to present as to work successfully,” the professional said.

Beyond identity, they pointed to structural constraints within the job market itself. In their field, opportunities are limited and highly competitive.

“There’s like six companies that hire for my type of role…and maybe one of us will get it,” they said.

Over time, those constraints reshape expectations, not just about career growth, but about what success looks like.

“I’ve seen people climb that ladder and then yank it up behind them,” they said.

Christian Williams described a similar sense of limitation in his own career.

“I do feel stuck,” Williams said. “A lot of the jobs in this city in my field are very much for straight, cis white men.”

What the data reveals and what it misses

Advocates say these experiences reflect broader systemic challenges. According to Zach Wilcha, CEO of the Independence Business Alliance (IBA), there are still significant gaps in the understanding of how LGBTQ+ individuals experience economic mobility at the local level.

“One problem we have in understanding our community’s professional barriers is that there haven’t been mechanisms for collecting this information locally,” Wilcha said.

What data does exist points to stark disparities — particularly for transgender individuals. Through the organization’s TransWork program, which focuses on economic uplift for trans and gender nonconforming people, Wilcha said between 15% and 25% of a few hundred participants have not had a job in the past year.

“Nearly everyone who signs up is under-employed and/or working in environments where they don’t feel safe or affirmed,” he said.

Even for LGBTQ+ professionals who are employed, advancement remains a challenge. Wilcha pointed to what some researchers describe as a “glass closet” or “broken ladder” — where individuals can enter the workforce but struggle to move up.

“We have a very small population of folks that are involved with the IBA who are C-suite decision makers from queer communities,” he said.

Barriers extend beyond the workplace. Shifting federal policies, including those affecting health coverage and legal identification for transgender individuals, can directly impact economic stability.

“With these concerns, it’s difficult to be able to move up in the workplace,” Wilcha said.

At the same time, broader economic factors — from the cost of doing business to Philadelphia’s complex tax structure — also shape opportunity, particularly for those pursuing entrepreneurship as an alternative to traditional career paths.

Taken together, these experiences point to something larger than individual setbacks. Economic mobility is often framed as a matter of effort — education, hard work and persistence. But for many LGBTQ+ individuals, the systems that shape opportunity can present additional barriers, from hiring practices and professional networks to housing access and workplace culture.

For Williams, geography has also played a role. Much of his experience is in global development and higher education — fields with more opportunities in cities like Washington, D.C., or New York.

“I’ve been able to find jobs I’m qualified for — sometimes overqualified for — but I haven’t found the right fit here,” he said.

Without strong local networks tied to those industries, breaking into the Philadelphia job market has been an additional challenge.

For now, the focus is on rebuilding — finding stability, recalibrating and continuing to search for opportunities that align with his experience.

“I’m just trying to find a reason to keep hoping,” Williams said.

Together, their experiences highlight a gap between expectation and reality — one that is difficult to measure, but increasingly visible. They also raise a broader question: what does upward mobility actually look like when the systems designed to support it don’t fully account for who you are?

This article first was published by Philadelphia Gay News. It is part of a national initiative exploring how geography, policy, and local conditions influence access to opportunity. Find more stories at economicopportunitylab.com.