Ramblings on libraries and life upon the wicked stage

I’m gay.

Two words, very easy to type. In theory very easy to say. And yet not. 

I have known I’m gay for at least 25 years, but it has taken a very long time for me to get anywhere near to saying it openly. Until recently, I had told very few people indeed. Over the past year or so, I have tried to hint – for example, I often wear a ring with Pride stripes – but these hints have apparently been far too subtle!

Some people moan about others coming out: “why do they have to tell everyone?” And I get it. My sexuality makes zero difference to most people. The only folks who should be in any way affected are those who have any interest in romantic or physical intimacy with me. For the vast majority of the population, my sexual identity does not affect their life one bit. So why tell anyone? And why say it now in such a public way? I will try to explain. But warning, this will get rambling and may not actually answer the question. So feel free to bail on this post now.

The past and the present

This is not something new. It took me a long time to admit to myself that I am gay, and much longer to accept that this is not something that is wrong with me. And this meant that for a long time, telling anyone felt like a confession, an admission of some sort of failure or wrongdoing. Now, it is still oddly scary to share this truth, but as I have gradually spoken to or messaged people, it has felt like a heavy load is being lifted.

I am from the British generation that grew up under Section 28, which was in force from the time I was 10 years old until after I finished secondary education. Under this rule, local authorities (including schools) were banned from promoting homosexuality (whatever ‘promoting homosexuality’ means) and particularly prohibited from teaching the “acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship”. There was to be silence on all such matters. But the thing is, we knew this was a rule. It wasn’t as though Section 28 meant that kids didn’t know homosexuality existed. Rather, it meant that we knew we weren’t allowed to be told about it, and therefore surely it must be incredibly wrong. Can you imagine how that would make a young person who suspected that there was even a chance they might be attracted to people of the same sex feel?

Now, I see this idea coming back. Most notably in the USA, where various states are seeing a move to ban even the mention of homosexuality in schools. This is often under the guise of protecting the kids. The frankly ridiculous notion that having an awareness that gay people exist will suddenly make them gay. Knowing how Section 28 affected my generation (all of us, regardless of sexual orientation), this worries me greatly. The rapid erosion of rights of and respect for trans people which we are also seeing is even more concerning.

And then there’s religion. I grew up in a Christian home. My parents never forced me to believe or to follow, I made that choice myself in my teenage years. I don’t think I knew until I went to university that “the church” viewed homosexuality as wrong, but it was certainly made abundantly clear then. The first people I “came out” to were Christian friends at university, and that was partly because I thought this was something that needed to be fixed or somehow dealt with, perhaps to be prayed away. To their credit, the friends I told did not alter their opinion of me at all, and although I soon learned that conversion therapy existed, nobody tried to make me do it.

Much more recently, I moved from one church to another. There were many reasons for this. One was that I wanted to find somewhere that would be accepting and affirming of all, regardless of sexual or gender identity (or anything else). I am glad to say that I have found such a place. And yet… I have been going there for quite some time now, and until the last month or so, could count the number of people there who knew I am gay on one hand. I knew that there would be no judgement, no suggestion that this should be covered up or frowned upon, and yet I still did not feel able to say the words. 

I used to believe that my sexuality was something that can be changed, even something that should be changed, and I know I would find many who would agree with that position. But I don’t see things that way any longer. I know it is not a choice and view it as part of the person I am, an intrinsic part of how I am made.

Over the last year, I have started to attend a monthly Open Table service. These services are run by and for LGBTQ+ people, their loved ones and their allies, and they welcome everyone. Although I have been terrible at getting to know people there, I have found these services very helpful. And in sharing on social media that I have been attending, I made a small attempt at being more open.

I do theatre. Mostly musical theatre. In theory at least, one of the environments where gender and sexual diversity are most accepted. And yet, even in that circle, most people don’t know. If they have guessed, they certainly haven’t said anything to me. Sometimes, I wish I had a less stereotypically gay hobby (passion?), as it worries me that the stereotype puts straight men off being involved with theatre, but it gives me joy, so what does it matter? 

I am single and have been single for a long time. So does my sexuality really make any difference to my life? Yes. Yes, it does make a difference. The words I hear, the things I see, the way I feel about myself, these are all affected by my sexuality and, crucially, by others’ reactions to sexuality in general. But they are also affected by my faith, my political viewpoint, my health and so much more. The fact that I’m gay is a part of me, and a part of me I no longer want to conceal, but it is not the whole of me. No person should be defined simply by one aspect of their self. I am gay. I am a Christian. I am an actor who sings. I am a librarian. I am a storyteller. I am many other things besides.

Saying it

Does all of this start to explain why I’m speaking up now? Why I’m “coming out” in my mid 40s? Possibly not. Perhaps it can’t really be explained. Part of it is this: the world feels like it is getting a bit darker at the moment. Intolerance and hatred are rising. We see it most blatantly across the Atlantic, where laws are being enacted to clamp down on the rights of those whose gender or sexual identities don’t fit the traditional narrative. But over here in Britain, it is happening too. Newspapers, politicians and public figures seem to be emboldened to speak out against the “other”. To blame societal problems on those who don’t speak, look or act like the norm. Whether that be immigrants, transgender people or people who, like me, are gay. 

It felt that continuing to hide who I am is no longer possible. Now is the time that I need to speak up and say that I exist, that my dignity is equal to everyone else, and that those with fewer rights than me deserve to be lifted up, not beaten down. I do envy the younger generations who seem able to say these things much more easily – that they can is definitely an encouraging sign that things have moved forward, and more reason to be determined that things should not move backwards again.

I am also aware that there have been times when how I have chosen to deal with my sexuality, or rather how I have chosen not to deal with it, has hurt people. Hopefully, being “out” means I can’t do that again. And times when knowing this about me might change your understanding of things that I say.

Less nobly, keeping a secret is hard. Keeping something bottled up inside takes effort. At times, it can be exhausting. And I have realised that this is a secret that doesn’t need to be kept and a truth that doesn’t need to be bottled up. So for my own sake, I’m not keeping this hidden any longer. It’s hardly going to be the topic of every conversation I have (there are so many other things to talk about!), but it is now a fact that is out there in the light of day.

So. I’m gay. For you, this almost certainly changes nothing. For me, too, nothing changes. But saying it makes all the difference. 

Brave?

I leave you with this video cover of Sara Bareilles’ song Brave, which she wrote in response to a friend struggling to come out. It feels like I have been singing this song to myself for years now – I am finally letting “the words fall out honestly”.