I remember the first time I ever came out to anyone, the first time I acknowledged being gay publicly so clearly. On T.V. you see these long periods of anguish where the character wonders how other people are going to react, what are the right words and so on. There are very few scenes as wholesome as Nick coming out to his mum on Heartstopper. That particular scene, it filled me with both warmth and sadness. I watched it enjoying the story and finding myself wishing that experience had been mine.
For me, It was when I was 13, sat in a French class and the teacher was elsewhere, I’m not sure where, but the lesson had just finished. For those that remember, in the 90’s and early 00’s, calling someone gay was the height of schoolyard wit and hilarity and there wasn’t a student of the time who wouldn’t have been called gay for some ridiculous reason. This day, I had obviously done something that deemed the label and one of my classmates cried out “You’re Gay.” The accepted responses at this time would have included, “Nuhuh!”, “No, you are!” and “Fuck off!” but today wasn’t that day. Perhaps it was having endured an hour of learning another language, but something in my brain wanted to find a different response, a better response. So, I walked out the classroom shouting “Yeah! So what!” I know what you're thinking, I was so eloquent, almost Shakespearean in my use of imagery and metre.
Walking out of the room, I remember being in disbelief as to having said that. I mean I knew I was gay, but I hadn’t even thought about telling anyone else. I just knew that when watching Buffy, I was far more interested in Xander, Spike or even Giles, than Buffy or Willow (Again, this was peak television of the day). But that was it, I was now out, it was done. Wasn't it? Well no. For the next week, I remember different people coming up to me in school asking me, was it true, am I really gay, did I really say that. Then it slowly died down until one teacher, who probably though they were doing the right thing, decided to talk to me about it, about my future, and even mentioned “the armed forces are quite accepting you know” and that "they had a certain quota to fill". I remember feeling like this meant I didn't have much of a future. In fairness I didn’t realise it at the time, but the teacher was actually being quite brave in their own way, as this was in the middle of Section 28, a bill that ran from 1988 – 2003, preventing any discussion about anything gay or lesbian based in schools. However, it still felt quite labelling at the time, pushing me into a stereotype.
As the years went on, I received my fair share of comments from “aren’t you brave” to “batty boy” and of course "bums to the walls lads". This was pretty standard for schools, and there was little the schools would do about it so I didn’t even bother trying. I was the recipient of a small amount of abuse or bullying and ended up doing what I could to remove myself from the situations, albeit, somewhat unsuccessfully. It was a battle somedays and a mere annoyance others. I was lucky enough to have a good circle of friends, and though my sexuality, was used as “banter”, jokes, and such like, neither they nor I really understood the impact it would have on me, and I felt, for the most part, accepted. So life had this odd mix of being challenging and stressful but not really knowing why. I was sure, however, that once I left school, things would be different and easier.
In my teens I had a couple of jobs, including working as a kitchen porter and working in a small local shop, and I even ended up working in Blockbuster for a few years when I turned 18. Each time, there was an anxiety with starting the new job and in particular meeting new people. I told myself this is normal. But this would happen when I met new people outside of work too. I even went to free parties and raves, and at the time I had a pretty goth / emo aesthetic, long hair, dark clothes, so told myself that was where my discomfort was coming from, I just looked different.
Where I lived was quite rural so there wasn’t really a “gay scene”, so I would only really meet people that appeared straight. It took me a long time for me to realise that every time I was meeting new people, I was on the alert for how they would react to me. I was ever ready to try my best to fit with the expectations of any social situation. Those I trusted more, I would relax around and be more myself, but I was always noting new people, acting more “straight” around some and playing the “pronoun game” when asked about my personal life. The pronoun game being where you dodge giving any definitive pronouns to questions but in response to “do you have a girlfriend?" you would respond with things like “there is someone I like.” I later found out that adjusting how you present based on those around you is called “Code-switching” and it’s common with in the queer community. We do it because we fear the repercussions of others finding out who we are.
There was a period where the idea of going out at all filled me with dread. I had a few friends that pushed me to go out, and I would, but I wouldn't always feel very comfortable. When some of them moved on, I become more isolated for a while. Stayed at home, watched a lot of terrible television, played video games and ignored much of the outside world. I was scared to go out there on my own and built myself a fortress where no-one could hurt me. Leaving mainly to go to work, or to get food. It took while, and a huge loss, for me to even consider getting back out into the world... not that many people would have know that at the time.
I would love to say that I have worked through this entirely, but it's still something that sits with me and crops up from time to time. When I am out, I do consider the safety of myself and those I’m with. There is a part of me, however, that does now relish in some new circumstances, throwing the “husband” bomb into the conversation when people have made assumptions, there is the other part of me, that always stays vigilant. Just the other day, I was on the train with my husband, and there were a lot of football supporters, rather brash, rather drunk, and chanting some lewd chants. I “straightened” up and tried not to appear too gay. Did I judge them, well I guess I did a bit as chances are it wasn’t going to be a problem, but I didn’t feel safe, and so I made myself invisible, or at least camouflaged as a straight person.
I am happily out and proud about my sexuality for the most part, but it’s always a consideration. This is to say nothing about the rest of my queerness. This is something that is common place for a lot of queer people, and more than one of my friends and clients have expressed feelings about not being able to be open with family, or at work about gender, sexuality or relationship statuses. It’s a constant anxiety that sits there, quite low level for a lot of queer people. Whether you are gay, bi, trans, non-binary, poly, demi, ace, aro or anyone under the queer umbrella, you still worry about being judged, rejected or even hurt.
You may see queer people who are bold, brash and beautifully uninhibited and think, why can’t I be like that, how do they do it, why am I so scared? And the idea of going to somewhere like pride or and queer event fills you with dread. You know what, it doesn’t feel fair when you see that. But there likely be times when they feel just as anxious, just as scared and feel the need to hide part of themselves also. There is a collective trauma that queer people share. Sadly, in the UK at least, that is a trauma that is getting worse again, with people’s identities being political fodder, it makes it hard to feel safe or supported. That fear of coming out or being outed feels ever more present, sat there, at work, at school, on the train or bus, even for some, in our own homes, it can sit there, and ever present companion.
This constant input of being vigilant or “hypervigilance” can make us start feeling negatively about ourselves. We can hate who we are, wish we were someone else, be ashamed of things about us. We can withdraw from life, hide from the world just to try and feel safe, and, in the worst cases, it can lead to some people hurting themselves or committing suicide.
Counselling can help with some of that. Part of it is learning where those feelings come from in us, and what they are trying to do. Often they are trying to protect us. It's also about working out what to do with the difficult feelings and how to understand why there are there. Some of it will be looking at what it is that is instigating these feelings. And some of the work will likely be looking at who you want to be in the world and who you can get there. There is no right way to do counselling and it will be a journey unique to you, but it really can make a difference.
Is there anything you can do now? Well, firstly let me assure you, you are not alone in this. It can feel like we are, and sometimes feels very isolating, as if there is no-one who will understand, so it can be hard to reach out at all. With that, please do reach out. Often the hardest step, but it is the one that will start he process of helping and healing the most, whether it is to someone close to you, or someone in a professional capacity.
Ultimately, with this, I wanted to share my experience to show that there is support out there and, as I have just said, you truly aren’t alone. It was only when I sought my own therapy that I really began to deal with any of this, and started to feel far more confident in who I was and far more capable to be in the world. And the whole experience lead me to follow a passion to become a counsellor. Something that had been there for years. Perhaps it may help you too, whether with me, or someone else.
If you do have any questions or would like to discuss how therapy might be able to you, then please do reach out. kevyn.hedgehog@gmail.com
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