THEGAYUK

Category: Comment

  • COMMENT | You can’t fix stupid; but we can hold ourselves accountable for our actions!

    COMMENT | You can’t fix stupid; but we can hold ourselves accountable for our actions!

    Well hello there! It’s nice to see you again. I must start this column with an apology. I’ve been in a bit of a strange rut over the last few weeks and I’ve not really wanted to write as much as I have been doing over the last few months. I guess I’ve had a bit of writer’s block. I’ve had ideas of what I want to write, but every time I’ve sat down to do it, I’ve come to a bit of standstill. I must do better – urgh, that sounds like a school report from when I was younger; “Al is well-liked and a big personality in the classroom, but when it comes to academics – he must do better”, and you know what, they were right. I must do better. I’ve always got some cock and bull scheme on the back burner or in the back of mind, and I always say I’m going to do something, and it never happens. It’s become a bit of a running joke with me. I need to do something to hold myself accountable for my actions and what I say.

    I had big dreams for 2020. Like many others, I had some many plans for this year and like most, they’re not turning out the way I planned. Admittedly, there have been some outside influences that have caused this. I had plans to move to Manchester in May 2020, and well, Miss Rona had other plans. But as we see light at the end of the tunnel, I guess its now time to start re-evaluating what I want from life and whether it still is what I want from my life. It is. I spent a few days over there in September and had the best time catching up with old friends, making new friends and discovering just how much of an incredible city it is.

    “Why Manchester?”; you may ask – why not? There is something really special about it for me. It reminds me a lot of London. A multi-cultural, inclusive and accepting hub of excitement. There is always something going on and always something new to explore. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Leeds is great, but after a while of living life there, it became monotonous. It’s the same bars, with the same people in the same order as last Saturday night. It’s predictable. We know that we’re going to start in Queens Court, and we all know that we’re going up doing slut-drops in the Viaduct Showbar. It’s not just about the drinking and the scene for me; I just think I’ve got a better chance of reinventing myself over there. I don’t have the emotional baggage that I do in somewhere like Leeds or London.

    Maybe I’ve been watching too many episodes of the Real Housewives of Cheshire whilst being in lockdown? OK. I just want to be best friends with Dawn Ward and Seema Malhotra. A gay can dream, right? I may joke about it, but actually; some of these Reality TV Stars can be great role models, because they prove that if you work hard, then you can have it all. You can achieve your goals. Having it all doesn’t mean having to sacrifice something else to get it. I don’t necessarily want to be a Housewife of Cheshire, although I would make a great one. I want to have an identity and a legacy.

    I want to go back to accountability. How do we keep ourselves accountable? Everyone is accountable in our jobs. I’m accountable for the words that I write, and the opinions that I voice in these columns. Ultimately, I think accountability is much more than just admitting to ourselves when we’ve made a mistake. That’s quite a narrow-minded perception of it, I think. True accountability is owning everything that happens in your life. it means that you are responsible for your attitude, actions, relationships and communications. It also means that you inevitably hold other people to account for their actions. 

    This doesn’t always work in your favour, as I’ve come to realise. You can’t hold other people accountable for their actions if they don’t want to. Sometimes, it’s not always a two-way street, and I’m now at the age where I want to be more selective who I want to associate with. If you can’t hold yourself accountable for your actions, then I’m not going to waste myself holding you to account.

    If you don’t understand what true accountability is, then we risk missing the point altogether and shaming each other for our actions. Whether that’s a choice of who we date, sleep with or choose to associate with. How we look? How we present ourselves to the outside world. As a community, we are far too quick to pass judgement on other people. When we think we are holding other people to account, what we are sometimes doing is shaming them. If we’re holding ourselves to account, then we shouldn’t have time to try and do that to other people. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

    “Take five minutes of your day today to think about what you want to achieve, how you are going to achieve it and how are we going to measure that success“

    We can’t change the world on our own, and quite simply, some people don’t want to be helped. So – let’s just take a step back and focus on ourselves. Take five minutes of your day today to think about what you want to achieve, how you are going to achieve it and how are we going to measure that success.

    I’ve three things that I want to do in the next few months. I want to lose some more weight, I’ve lost 5 stone since Christmas already, but I want to lose a little bit more. I know I’m never going to have the perfect body or a six-pack, but I want to feel more confident in my own body. I want to flirt with a handsome guy in a bar, and him not to take pity on me for being a bigger size and flirt back. I need to give up the cigarettes. It’s the one thing I’ve been saying I want to do for years, but I’ve been very successful with it. I know that If I do then it’s going to help with the weight loss, and the third objective – the big move to Manchester. If I don’t escape Leeds then I think I might go insane. I yearn for independence again and being in charge of my own life.

    These things are what I’m using to hold myself accountable because these are three of the main things that only I can do. I can’t make someone else quit smoking for me, although that would be pretty nice actually! I’ve started posting more pictures of my Instagram account to show my journey. It reminds me then how much I’ve changed the way I look over the last twelve months. I won’t be postings thirst traps anytime soon though boys. I mean, yes, 2020 has been shit for everybody, but that’s no reason for us to put our personal development on hold. We’ve all got to develop and grow, so let’s do it more positively.

    Having it all isn’t easy, but anything is possible if you are prepared to work for it.

    Now; where did I put those emergency cigs?

  • Now you make an Audi Quattro out of Lego and we’re all in

    Now you make an Audi Quattro out of Lego and we’re all in

    Audi’s legendary Quattro model is 40 years old this year. Just let that sink in for a bit because I am sure that if you are as old as I am and now on the wrong side of 45, you will remember the various adverts narrated by Geoffrey Palmer and have vivid memories of various Audi models in snow-covered roads doing the impossible.

    THEGAYUK was invited to take part in the Audi Quattro Lego challenge. An opportunity for motoring journalists to really show how quick their motoring sections fingers were at building the Lego Speedline Quattro kit. The fastest build won the Audi UR from Audi’s heritage fleet for a week. A prize worth winning.

    THEGAYUK or more importantly, I, did not do so well. I didn’t even make it into the top 10. I almost made it there with a 36 minutes but then I’d noticed I’d fitted the doors wrongly, hadn’t applied the window decal and more annoyingly I’d failed to make the rear spoiler properly. 

    The rear spoiler being my Achilles heel and almost resulting in the Audi having a kitchen sink drama with it being thrown across the dining room towards the sink. Building Lego against the clock is stressful and I’ve done CPR!

    Once I’d corrected my errors our time failed to make it into the top 10 leader board but that was OK because what I had here was a fine Lego car to play with instead and it is a fine piece of kit from Lego. The most pleasurable piece of this build was none of it was designed specifically for the Audi. It’s all parts available from Lego and found in various Lego kits. Unlike some of their bigger models that use pre-moulded parts for a car like the Fiat 500, this was simply Lego and more enjoyable for it. More so because put together, the Lego Audi Quattro made a for a fine example.

    (C) STUART M BIRD

    The build starts with the construction of the chassis and builds up quickly from there. Attention to detail is quite fun with the gear lever and handbrake handle items added inside. Outside there are the usual attributes associated with Group B rally cars with bulges and wings. 

    Lego does a range of cars for almost every motoring enthusiast. Their kits are well worth looking at.

  • On Bi Visibility Day 2020: People need to get over these bisexual MYTHS already

    On Bi Visibility Day 2020: People need to get over these bisexual MYTHS already

    You wouldn’t think that in 2019 myths about bisexuality would still exist… but oh boy do they! We asked readers who identify as bisexual what comments gave them complete attacks of the eye roll and oh boy did the myths come rolling in…

    So listen up peeps – take note – these are the myths about bisexuality that we need to destroy in 2020!

    Why do gay men take the attitude that bi is just a transitional sexual status … the whole “bi now; gay later” attitude?

    Patrick

    That I want to have sex with everyone. Yikes, and ick NO. We’re not sexual Velociraptors FFS.

    Maggie

    You can be black and bi, white and bi, Asian and Bi and all that’s in between. Bi isn’t binary.

    Thomas

    That bisexuals only like cis men and women. I’m a bi and trans man, and that tells me is that the speaker doesn’t view me as an actual man, or sees bisexuals as inherently genital focused, or both.

    Cato

    That we get laid than more people.

    Sam

    The idea that we will eventually “pick a side” and become either straight or gay.

    ANON

    That bisexuals are oversexed and can not have a monogamous relationship.

    Dave

    We’re not a god-damned trend. This is our life, respect that.

    Jenny

    You can still be bi- even if you’re in a hetero or gay relationship

    AJ

    We don’t have to 50/50 either way. It’s cool to be 70 % more attracted to the same sex and 30 % the other way… Still bisexual!

    Paul

    You can be trans, non-binary and genderfluid and you can be bi… Your gender expression doesn’t affect or dictate your sexuality

    Pam

  • COMMENT | My worst day of school was always the “first day back”

    COMMENT | My worst day of school was always the “first day back”

    If you ever want to know why I can always manage to put my foot in it – at any given opportunity, it goes way back to the multitude of “first-days”

    The last week of August was always hell.

    Except the one between primary and secondary school. That’s because I had, at the age of 10, decided that I didn’t want to follow the rest of my primary school classmates down the normal route of going to the secondary school that ours was a feeder for. Why? Well, every day of my existence at my primary school was filled with homophobic bullying. You see, I was unlike all of the other boys.

    I played with the girls, I despised sports but was surprisingly good at skipping.

    In my first month of primary school, I decided, that the boys’ uniform was far too bland and that the girls’ socks were much more in keeping with my sensibilities. Obviously, as a five-year-old, I had no means of obtaining my own pair of the crochet patterned socks, but I did notice a pair in the lost property. I’ve always had an eye for detail and a bargain bin. I snuck in one lunchtime and, I didn’t steal, I borrowed them.

    I wore them proudly into the schoolyard, leaning up against the playground wall. I was working it. As far as I was concerned, I was the pretty minx in my mother’s magazines. That was the day my bully-free school days ended.

    Whoever said your childhood years are the happiest of your life, clearly wasn’t a queer kid. You grow up quickly when you face that much hate.

    Each “first day back” after the summer holidays became agony. That last week of the summer holiday, was the cruellest. I eeked out every last moment of freedom. Oh yes, I loved getting the new pencil case (from Woolworths) and matching it with my lunchbox (I was never allowed the My Little Pony one, due to fears of exacerbating the bullying problem). I’ve always been a strong believer in creating a brand, but despite my new classroom accessories – I, personally, was never allowed to rebrand. First day back would be groundhog day.

    Then there was the summer of change, between primary and secondary. It was a summer of hope. I was going to go to a new school. Nothing to do with my old one. No one from my primary was going to go. Whilst my former classmates adhered to the feeder system,  I went my own road, backed by my ever, increasingly worried parents.

    But I was one of those damned queer kids that just wouldn’t or actually couldn’t conform. Once again I found myself hanging around with the girls, but not the Mean Girls – these were the year’s before it was “trendy” to have a gay best friend (even though I wasn’t out – or accepting of my own sexuality.

    My football skills were woefully inadequate and the drama block was a magnet.

    I was Baking Off before Bake Off.

    By the end of the first day, I was literally dumped in a bin by a fifth former. That week I was “bin boy”, but soon that gave way to a slew of name-calling. One day my class decided to play “Did you hear?”. It was like an earlier version of Twitter. Someone would start a rumour and whisper into the ear of the next person. That day’s rumour – as I walked towards the form room, was that I had killed myself over the weekend. As I got closer, those rumours had flesh to bone added, the way I had dispensed with myself and how tragic it was for my family. People in class kept this pretence up most of the morning.

    I just didn’t have the skills to deal with bullying. The “tell the teacher” mantra was inadequate and in the days of Section 28 – teachers just didn’t know how to deal with homophobic bullying.

    I showed my taunters that it hurt. I now wish I hadn’t… I wish I had owned every name thrown at me and with a rye smile and a naughty side eye added, “and?”

    Inside I’m crippled.

    I’m always that ten-year-old in my mind – constantly worried about being binned again.

    Perhaps if RuPaul’s Drag Race had started a decade (or two) earlier I could have learned to read each and every person who called me a poof, a queer, a pervert or gay lord. I think that fear of new situations has remained with me, even into adulthood. The only way I seem to be able to get through the situation is to say something… anything… usually something totally inappropriate.

    You see, inside I’m crippled. I’m always that ten-year-old in my mind – constantly worried about being binned again. So I use humour and self-deprecation as a way of dealing with new situations. You see, life gives us constant New Days – or First Day Backs and now… I can always be counted upon to say the most inappropriate things at the right time.

  • DOMESTIC VIOLENCE | Am I A Survivor Yet?

    Well, what if ‘she’ wasn’t a she at all? For too long, the male victims of domestic violence have been just as ridiculed and silenced as women.

    I was nineteen years old, and the only care I had in this world was whether I could afford to go out drinking three nights that week or just the one. I had a lovely little life, a full-time job in a shop, money coming in, and good friends until I went on a night out in Manchester. It’s so melodramatic to say, but it’s true – that night changed my entire life. That night, I met a guy, who I will call He/Him. He was cheeky and confident and broad, and I fancied the pants off him. I ended up back in his bedroom with a group of his mates, all chilling and listening to music until I ended up dropping off to sleep. Nothing happened, and in the morning he took me back to my friend’s house. I left Manchester later that day, and we vowed that we would keep in touch.

    We visited each other once, maybe twice, before I decided I was going to spend the weekend with him in Manchester. There was a party at his place that weekend, and we were all dropping ecstasy like it was going out of style. In fact, a few years later it did go out of style, giving way to an assemblage of other drugs. The next morning I woke up next to him without any memory of the night before, how I’d gotten into bed, or how I was undressed. I should have known there and then. He told me, without an ounce of indignity, that we’d had sex while I was talking to two women who lived in the bedroom wall.

    I laughed.

    Laughed.

    I was nineteen. I can’t recollect what my thoughts on this were at the time, but apparently I saw nothing wrong in this. Now, over a decade later, I know what word I would use to describe this event.

    I don’t know what possessed me. I was having a good time, and I felt freer than I’d ever felt in my life, and I remember saying to him, “I don’t want to go home”, he said “Well, don’t.”

    I didn’t.

    I called my parents and informed them I wasn’t going to come home, and that I’d come back to collect my things. I had absolutely no thought in my mind of what this would do to my Mum and Dad, left in Liverpool wondering what their young son was up to in another city.

    The relationship continued to be fun, and I took more and more ecstasy, replacing alcohol almost completely on nights out. I hadn’t noticed the subtle ways in which he’d already begun to control me: “you don’t need to work, I can look after you”, “don’t wear that, wear this”, “what if you did your hair like this instead”. I got a job anyway as a supervisor in a now-defunct clothing store in Stretford Arndale. The job didn’t last long because of what happened next.

    We were out on a Sunday afternoon in a pub near the house. His friends were there, laughing and joking, and he said something sexual about me. I was mortified, because it was in front of everyone, and they all thought it was normal. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember feeling not just embarrassed, but defenceless. I excused myself and went outside to call my Mum. I explained to her that I wasn’t enjoying Manchester any more and that I wanted to come home.

    After I finished the call, I turned around and there he was – the angriest face on a man that I think I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know what he had to be angry about, and I was about to go back inside when he started shouting. I didn’t know what else to do so I ran off toward the house. I wasn’t used to confrontations. He chased after me, caught me on the main road, bashed my head five times into the metal poles of a fence, and stood over me shouting more abuse.

    Crying, I somehow managed to get to my feet and start running again. I thought I was being clever by taking some back roads toward the house, but these only led back onto the main road where he was waiting. He pushed me to the ground, I remember my jeans ripping, my front teeth scraping the floor, and him shouting “What? What are you looking at?” to two by-passers. They didn’t stop to help. The next part is a haze. I think one of his friends caught up and dragged him off toward the house. I followed some time after. I got to the mirror in the bathroom and saw blood all over my face and head. His friend told me to “wipe it off, he can’t see the blood on you”. I told him he was going to have to look at what he’d done.

    Then, he did something very clever. He came downstairs, took one look at me, started crying, took a knife from the kitchen and went out. Well, that was it. How could I leave a man, clearly emotional, on the streets with a knife, scared that he’d hurt himself. Needless to say, after hours of looking, I found him back at home. Unharmed.

    The next day he apologised. He apologised the next day after each occasion, even after the time he put me in the hospital with suspected broken ribs. They weren’t broken, and I was released with a few pamphlets on domestic violence. I threw them in the bin on the way to the police station to give a false statement to the kindest man I’d met. He told me there was no need to lie, there was no need to do anything but tell the truth and be happy again. I told him it was just two lads fighting, and in the morning he was released.

    Domestic violence isn’t just physical, we all know that; it’s the deliberate emotional and psychological demolition of a person.

    I was one of those people. I was smacked about and strangled and kicked, and had knives to my throat, but I was also told I couldn’t have dinner if I questioned his love for me, that I’d need to “think of what it would do to the relationship” if I learned to drive, or got a job again, the threats that his slightly-dodgy brother would do something to me, my friends or my family if I left.

    There was one last comment, the final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, one tiny little comment that made me think ‘you are never going to change.’

    He was talking to his friends in the living room about his ex-boyfriend, who once had sucked water up the hoover that he’d spilt, probably in a rush to do it before getting a smack for being clumsy. And he said, I can hear it now clear as a bell: “He got a hiding for that, I can tell you.”

    It clicked. I wasn’t the only one. I wasn’t the first, and I wasn’t going to be the last. But right then I decided that I wasn’t going to be the one right now.

    Now, I’d left multiple times with the help of friends. But a good friend of mine at the time came all the way from Liverpool to collect me and take me back. I packed my small amount of belongings and I left. You might think this is the end of the story, but it’s not.

    For months, I used to call and text and really long to go back to what I knew. I was beyond any level of damage that I, or my friends, knew how to handle. I’d go out every night drinking and not want to go home, I’d meet men and want them to hurt me. I felt nothing until I felt pain.

    Over ten years later, I sit writing this as a man looking back on a boy he used to know. I feared for that boy’s safety, and more than that, his life.

    He didn’t ask to be a victim of domestic violence, but he chose to survive it. He grew up, and he learned his own worth. True, the wind still blows the dirt and dust and uncovers some ancient archaeological history of that period in his life, but in the main he’s healthy and happy. Those who’ve lived through violent relationships are survivors only in the sense that they are no longer in that situation. You can’t, however, survive a memory that is always with you. You live alongside it. It’s your ghost.

    Over a year ago… I was in an ex’s bedroom, and we had an argument. He turned nasty, and his voice and face completely changed, I thought: “this is it. This is it all over again.” He didn’t hit me, and instead, he looked concerned. It took me a while to realise I was freezing cold and shaking all over. Now, before this, I’d always thought of myself as stronger than ever. But this was a reminder that I am not healed.

    In the years since then I’ve heard ridiculous questions, “why didn’t you just leave? Why didn’t you hit him back? You’re a man too, so it’s not really domestic abuse, is it?”

    Well… you try leaving someone who has made you feel like they’re the only person you can depend on. You lift up your hands and make them into a fist against someone you know you’re physically no match for, and you feel like you love. You try having your food taken off you, being beaten for having a smart mouth, and being told you can only do certain things and speak to certain people. Trust me, it really is domestic abuse. It’s no less of a crime, no less of a heart-breaking, world-shattering situation to have been in just because I’m a man too.

    All of the black eyes and cuts and bruised bones he gave me during those twelve months are healed, but the psychological and emotional scars are too deep to heal completely. I’m always questioning: am I a survivor yet or not? ?️‍?

    @sean_watkin

    For help or advice call Mankind on 01823 334244 or Men’s Advice Line on 0808 8010327

    This article was taken from Issue 20 – download our magazine app now and never miss a future issue and was very published on our website in May 2016. It has been updated with new and relative links.

  • COMMENT | Are you really an ally?; “It’s become clear that passive acceptance of the LGBT+ community is very different from being an active ally who fights to support LGBT+ inclusion”

    COMMENT | Are you really an ally?; “It’s become clear that passive acceptance of the LGBT+ community is very different from being an active ally who fights to support LGBT+ inclusion”

    I think I’ve been rather lucky in my 28 years on this planet, that I have surrounded myself by decent people and I’ve been lucky to know a lot of people that consider themselves to be “allies” of the gay LGBTQ+ community. It isn’t a bad thing by any means – I spend 90 per cent of my time around straight people. I work in a very straight environment and the lockdown has meant that I haven’t spent much time on the scene.

    The term “Ally” gets banded about quite a lot in modern society. It’s a term that can be used to describe many different kinds of relationships. Whether these are business relationships. Countries are geopolitical allies. Even enemies can become allies in the face of a common goal. Today; it’s used to describe somebody who supports a group that they are not a part of.

    The gay community has had several significant allies over the decades since the Stonewall Riots. From celebrities to politicians. From Karen next door to your third cousin who you’ve not seen since you were a child; but it’s become clear that passive acceptance of the LGBT+ community is very different to being an active ally who fights to support LGBT+ inclusion.

    However, in 2020, it seems that our allies in government are becoming few and far between and that is a worrying thing. There are two things that I cannot abide in this world. Hypocrites and Members of the Conservative Party. Unfortunately, these things seem to go together. Allow me to get political for just a few minutes if you will.

    Case in point; Matt Hancock. Early this week, our Health Secretary, who has done a shambolic job at protecting this country from the COVID pandemic, was asked by Kay Burley about whether Tony Abbott, ex-Australian Prime Minister and the man who was tipped for the top job at negotiating post-Brexit trade deals and his views about women, the LGBTQ+ community and the elderly was an appropriate person to represent us on the world stage. During this extremely awkward exchange, Hancock seemingly excused Abbot’s comments because he is an “expert on trade”. Oh, dear.

    Hancock argued at first that he didn’t think that Abbot was a homophobe or a misogynist by saying, “I don’t believe that is true, I haven’t seen any of his (comments)”. Burley, as sharp as ever, fired back “I just told you what he said, I’m sure you don’t support some of his comments, he’s a homophobe and a misogynist”. Hancock’s response was “He’s also an expert in trade”. I mean – come on. You claim to by an ally to the gay community. You wear an NHS Pride Pin on your lapel, and you are still defending someone because “he’s an expert on trade”. The two things don’t go together. It’s like saying that Harold Shipman was a serial killer, but he was an excellent doctor. By not condemning Abbot for his views, then he is endorsing them. He’s also saying that women and the LGBTQ+ community are less valued than trade negotiations.

    Hancock isn’t the only hypocrite in government. Our supposed Prime Minister and I use the word supposed because it’s clear that Dominic Cummings is running the country, after all; why didn’t Cummings get fired for breaking lockdown rules to travel 240 miles to test his eyesight at Barnard Castle? I’m being pedantic, but it’s a fair point to make. We are sacrificed so much for 3 months. We put our lives on hold, but he was given a free pass because it was; “The right thing to do”.

    Then there’s Boris. Oh Boris. Boris Johnson has a long record of controversial comments about women, gay people and ethnic minorities. He is the man who has refused to apologise for calling gay men “tank-topped bum boys”, compared Muslim women to “letterboxes” and labelling black Africans “Picanninnines” with “watermelon smiles”. All quotes from Boris himself. He’s said that they were satirical or taken out of context – but should this be an excuse? – no, because he has chosen to use that language.

    We’ve got Liz Truss, Minister for Women and Equalities, trying to roll back rights for Trans people by making things harder to transition, and protecting safe spaces for women. Cabinet members like Pritti Patel, who actively voted against gay marriage. These people may say that they are our “Allies”, but they are far from it – and it is a scary place to be for the LGBTQ+ community. Remember, that we are not even 20 years out of Section 28, and there is every chance that something like that could be brought back. Oh, and that ban on conversion therapy – we’re still waiting. If you are curious as to how your MP voted on social issues, there is a great website which shows you exactly who vote for what. It’s there in black and white. Either they vote against, or even worse – “we’re not present”. It’s a kick in the teeth.

    Those of us that call out hypocrisy or call out social injustice are often demonised as “woke”. The work “woke” actually means that you are aware of social issues and calling them out; but the right wing has demonised the word and, like the term “Politically Correct”, it now means the complete opposite.  Criticising woke culture is actually just another way of the right playing the victim card, rather than actually acknowledging the bigger picture and attempting to make a change.  The funny thing is though, when those that complain and attack us, when they are challenged on why they feel that way, they don’t actually have a cohesive argument. They rely on a feeling or something that isn’t tangible. To me, it’s not about left or right, being woke or whatever. It’s about common decency to each other.

    Somebody I follow on Twitter posted the following statement and it sums up our government perfectly; “The test of being an #LGBTQI ally isn’t whether you’ll add rainbow colours to your logo in June. The test is, will you stand up for us when we are attacked? Will you distance yourself from those who demean us? Will, you still be our ally when it’s no longer convenient” – and that says it all. The Government clearly do not care about the LGBT community, and we are at a greater risk of having our rights revoked, this means we have to fight and shout louder that we are here, and we deserve to have the same rights as straight people.

    The test of being an #LGBTQI ally isn’t whether you’ll add rainbow colours to your logo in June. The test is, will you stand up for us when we are attacked? Will you distance yourself from those who demean us? Will, you still be our ally when it’s no longer convenient”

    MATTHEW HODSON

    Views like Abbott’s, and those who wish to demean and defame the LGBTQ+ community should be challenged, because we do not deserve to be second class citizens to others. It’s easy to say that you support the LGBTQ+ community because you like to go to gay bars, or you love watching RuPauls Drag Race. But when the chips are down, will you there to support us in our time of need?

    When our government consider bringing back Section 28. When same-sex marriages are no longer allowed because they are not traditional. Or when Trans women are forced to use men’s bathrooms, because they are not seen as women. It’s then you will prove yourself as an ally.

    We may need you soon as you think. When the UK finally transitions out of the EU on New Year’s Eve, the UK will no longer be bound to EU laws such as the European Charter that bans discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation.

    Our true allies are those who are challenging them and continue to challenge because, in the end, that’s how we educate future generations. It’s not that we’re some left-wing, woke-community. We just want what we deserve; acceptance and equality.

  • COMMENT | I like “Dancing on My Own”; some people are taken aback by that

    COMMENT | I like “Dancing on My Own”; some people are taken aback by that

    “I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the guy your taking home – I keep dancing on my own”.

    This article serves two purposes. It’s both a reflection on one of the greatest pop songs ever written and a larger, more encompassing commentary about independence and quite literally dancing on my own.

    The song, “Dancing on My Own” is quite simply an inherently sad, gay disco anthem – or as I like to call them, a Sad Banger. Written for Swedish songstress Robyn for her 2010 album Body Talk, the anthem features hammer drill throbbing synths and electronic percussion whilst incorporating elements of electro and disco. It can be more easily described as a heartbreak anthem. Its lyrics speak of a person who is alone in a club watching their ex-lover, or someone that they are in love with kissing, or getting with another person – relatable – we’ve all been through that.

    MTV News journalist James Montgomery noted the “thoroughly sad song talks about Robyn losing her man to another woman, but also about the notion of feeling alone in a crowded room, of being lost and unloved and having no choice but to be okay with these things”. It’s the second half of the statement that I wanted to look at a little bit further. Unlike some of Robyn’s Sad-Bangers, “Dancing on My Own” offers the listener very little hope of things ever getting better. You could say that “With Every Heartbeat”, offers a faint little bit of grim optimism to the listener – “Dancing on My Own” offers none of it, thus reflecting the stark reality of relationships and life that we don’t always get what we want.

    More recently Robyn has gone on to elaborate on the theme of the lyric further by saying; “People have so many expectations when they go out, so many wishes about what their night is going to be: if they are going to meet that person, have a fun time with their friends, have a good high, hear good music”. Isn’t this what going out is all about for most people – as people, we long for interaction with other people. For those that are single, it’s the best opportunity to meet someone and develop a real connection of personality – something that in the age of Grindr and Tinder you scarcely find. Robyn then goes on to say; “People get drunk and turn into themselves in away, and they go experience some kind of emotion. But it’s not always about fun. There’s a destructive side to it.”

    I think we can all relate to this last statement. Well, I don’t know about you, but I can. For me, at the end of a long week, going out dancing is a great way to unwind and let my hair down. I look forward to my Saturday nights in the Viaduct Showbar, one of the bars on the Leeds Gay Scene, throwing a few shapes on the dancefloor, whether that being with a few friends, or just by myself. Yeah, I go out by myself. A lot of people might be taken aback by that. I enjoy being independent and for me, this is an extension of my personality. I just cannot refuse the sound of a four-on-the-floor disco beat. Does that make me weird for going clubbing by myself? Is it something you should do with your friends? I must admit that I’ve had some strange looks and comments for going out by myself. I probably come off as a loner. People are probably right for assuming that. I’m incredibly independent, and I have been for a long time. It stems from growing up from feeling a little bit left out from life, friendship groups and events – it’s a reaction to being ostracised by people for who I am.

    To me, it’s a sign of defiance that I’m not going to conform to what your opinion thinks, and what society thinks – it’s a bit of a fuck you really isn’t it?

    I’m a very independent person, and I think that sometimes can be both a blessing and a curse. I’m perfectly happy with being by myself ninety per cent of the time. It means I can look after, and take care of myself, but it also means that I’m not that great at asking for help – which I can completely agree with. I don’t like to ask for help, whether that’s with work, or in my personal life. I have an attitude about me that things don’t keep me down for long and I can bounce back from setbacks pretty quickly, I also struggle to see my weaknesses sometimes. I think it also makes a kinder person because if we use our independence the right way, we can ensure that our lives are taken care off, and extend that further the wide community – but ultimately the problem with being so independent is that it will only reach myself. It doesn’t go very much further than that. They often say that there is a power within a partnership, and I agree with that.

    If you’ve been as independent as I’ve been for so long, you struggle to let people in. It’s difficult to incorporate other people in your life, and relinquish some of the control, because you’re scared, and there is a niggling feeling at the back of your mind that you are ultimately going to be let down. But, we’re not made for doing life by ourselves, and I’m realising that that now as I hurtle towards my thirties. Our greatest strength lies in partnering with others and doing it as a team.

    The destructive side comes with the alcohol I guess.

    It’s widely regarded that increasing alcohol consumption leads to a negative impact on mental health. Alcohol can be linked to people becoming aggressive, anxious or depressed when they’re drunk. There has been a number of occasions where I’ll admit I’ve had a bit too much to drink and it’s lead to me feeling depressed, worthless and other feelings of pain, that we try to mask in our day to day lives – it brings things back to the surface. Alcohol goes one of two ways for me – I either become a very lovable drunk, or I go a bit crazy, often ending up sat on the floor somewhere, an emotional wreck, having to be put into a taxi by a friend, or bouncer.

    I guess that’s why myself and so many people can relate to “Dancing on My Own”. The lyrics are universal. How many times have you been on the dancefloor of a club dancing with a guy and flirting with them, only for a few minutes later you turn around and see them with their tongue down someone else’s throat? I remember this oh so very clearly. I remember being out with a friend not so long ago, who I had a bit a crush on. We had a few drinks before going to a club. We were flirting, all very lovely. I remember going to the bar in this club and turning around and seeing this bloke on the dancefloor with his arms around another woman making out on the dancefloor. My heart sank for a minute.

    It was like a gut punch to the stomach.

    Your brain will then go on to analyse every word, every communication you’ve ever had with that person within the next thirty seconds. What do I do now? Do I leave? Do I go back up to them and break it up? Do I get back at them by flirting with someone else to spite them? Ultimately, it’s the understanding that you’re not going to be the person he takes home that night. You’ve given it your all to get the man – but it’s just not going to happen – maybe he’s just not that into you – and it’s okay.

    Like Robyn sings in the chorus; “I’m right over here – why can’t you see me?” – sometimes you’re crying out for somebody to notice you and give you that boost of self-confidence you crave. But such as life, you can’t always get what you want – and then you just keep dancing – stuck in a never-ending loop until you find what you’re looking for. Ultimately, you accept this as par for the course, and you learn to deal with it in your own way – whether that ends up with a booty call, or a Grindr hook up at some ungodly hour of the night – but the pain doesn’t go away. You’ll remember that gut punch for the rest of your life, and whilst being single you’ll constantly be reminded of that. It’s not a one-off feeling I can guarantee you. You will feel it every time you go out as a singleton. You will be through this every single Saturday night until you meet the one.

    As much as “Dancing on My Own” is both painful and true to life at the same time – there is something very therapeutic about singing that chorus as loud as you possibly can be surrounded by hundreds of other people. It’s a song that everyone will sing along with because everybody’s been through the exact same situation. It’s a universal message that nobody is averse to. It’s a massive fuck you to everybody that has made you feel inferior, hurt you, or even broken your heart. Remember that the next time you listen to it – or hear on a crowded dancefloor whenever we are allowed to. Turn the lyrics on its head and think of it as an anthem of empowerment and let the power of music help you through the hard times.

  • COMMENT | Returning to the Scene of the Crime; why Two-Night Stands aren’t a good idea.

    COMMENT | Returning to the Scene of the Crime; why Two-Night Stands aren’t a good idea.

    A one-night stand is supposed to be just that. One night. One night of half-decent sex with a guy who disappears into the night never to be seen again. I’ve never been a massive fan of the one-night stands; however, over the last couple of years, I’ve had a couple of outstanding ones where I’ve kind of wished it could happen again. You know; the kind of sex that you would rate at least an 8/10. On the flip side though, there’s been a couple which hasn’t been particularly exciting or rememberable. It’s actually these that you remember more; but they’re all for the wrong reasons.

    The first guy on paper was right up my street. Cocky, confident, good kisser and had Geordie accent. The foreplay was excellent; he knew just exactly how to get me going; that was until it came to the deed. I’m by no means a power-bottom, however, I know how to be a good bottom, but if you’ve got a top that doesn’t know what they’re doing, then you’re in a situation that will probably end badly. This guy has watched too much hardcore porn and just attempted to shove it in there. No lube. Just strapped up and went in there. Come on. If you’re going to do it, at least do it properly. Safe to say that it was extremely uncomfortable, and I made him stop until he had lubed up. If it’s going to be successful, then both muscles need to be lubed up properly. These millennial bulls. Young, dumb and well. Attempt number two was no better. I’ll give him credit; he knew how to get me going. That Geordie accent turned me on, and he made the sexiest faces. He even remembered a few of my kinks, which he was more than happy to do.

    The second guy, I don’t know really why I went there for a second time. The first one wasn’t all that great. He couldn’t keep it up, and he wanted to make it all about me. I’m not like that at all. I’m that self-conscious about myself I would rather spend the time pleasuring the other guy and making him feel good – I’m good at that. He didn’t kiss or do anything remotely resembling foreplay, and then to top he expected me to top him then. Oh, dear. This wasn’t thought through properly. Again, on paper, he was my type, but when push came to shove it just didn’t work.

    I usually don’t go back to the scene of the crime more than once, but I thought well maybe they might have changed. How wrong I was. They say a leopard never changes their spots and you really can’t polish a turd.

    Fuck me badly once, shame on you – fuck me badly twice then shame on me. As I said before, I guess I went into the second hook up with a thought that they might be different, and they might have stepped up their game. Oh, how very naïve of me. I often wonder why I went there again. Was it convenience?

    I’m not stupid. I know that not every guy that I meet is going to be a perfect match in the bedroom, and you’re going to meet guys who aren’t quite the right fit, and I’ve accepted that as par for the course. Maybe I’ve become so dependent on casual sex and the need to have some fulfilment; I’ll get anything that I can regardless of who it is. I used to frequent the saunas when they were open after a few drinks, and the horn is particularly strong. I’ve met some great guys in them and had some great times. I must be some kind of masochist to go back to the scene of the crime on more than one occasion.

    CREDIT: kirza-bigstock

    I didn’t used to be like that at all. Sex used to scare the shit out of me, and I guess it all stems back to my first time. Everyone can remember their first time, right? I certainly do. They say that your first time I always the worst – well you weren’t wrong there.

    I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a May bank holiday and I made sure he knew it was my first time and I just really wanted to experiment and see what happens. He was also a lot older than me – he was in his late 30s – maybe early 40s. I was as nervous as hell. What I didn’t know that he was hung like a horse – and there was a lot of girth. I mean a lot. It was like a wall of flesh. I remember going down on him, and I didn’t know what to do at all. I’d only seen someone give head from porn – and that was always so rough and so I kind of thought well that must be what you do – so that’s what I did. Yeah. That wasn’t what you’re supposed to do. Well, not at first anyway. I won’t go into the full details – but I think it’s safe to say it wasn’t a great experience. I remember thinking at the time – well if that’s sex, then I don’t want to ever go through that again!

    So, I didn’t for a long time after that; I didn’t have any form of sexual activity that is beyond making out with someone. Even at university, I didn’t have a lot of sex. When I moved to London in 2010, I thought this is the opportunity to have loads of sex and it just never happened for me. I used to go out clubbing on a weekend with friends, finding a cute guy on the dancefloor; maybe make out with them, but then I’d push them away and leave it there.

    I think that first experience impacted me. For some reason – I developed a fear of sex. 

    Maybe it was PTFD, Post Traumatic Fuck Disorder, but even then, I don’t think my first was all that traumatic. It was awkward and uncomfortable, yes, but traumatic – I don’t think so. Maybe I’d spent so much time watching porn whatever I did was going to be a let-down.

    As I’ve aged and become more confident sexually, I guess I’ve become more reliant on that being a part of my life. In my last column, I wrote about me trying to reinvent myself and part of the way I’ve decided to do that is by cutting out the casual sex. I’ve deleted all forms of dating and hook-ups apps from my phone and over the next few months as I get my life back into order, I’m going to avoid it. I’m not in the headspace for a relationship right now, and I’m certainly not in the place to be sleeping about. I’ve got to focus on me. Analysing it in my head, I’ve come to the realisation that I’ve got an issue with other men – putting them before myself. That’s not healthy, is it? I’m sure I’m not alone in all of this. Intimacy issues are common amongst many people – you’ve just got to work out what you want from it.  

    I need to take a break from other gay men. I’ve said this numerous times before, but I can’t seem to shake it from my head. Being gay is far from easy. You spend all that time as a young gay kid being bullied then when you finally come out of the closet and finally when you head on to the scene; it happens again. You get bullied by other gay men for being a specific type of gay. You’re too tall or too short. You’re too young or too old. You’re too skinny or too fat. You’re too hairy or too smooth. You’re also too fem to be a top, or too masc to be a bottom. All this is coming from a community who keep telling you to be yourself.

    Maybe we’re too hard on ourselves in general? We are all determined to have that romantic love story, but not all of them have to be trilogies. Sometimes a short story will suffice. We can’t spend our lives stuck in the past. The past is like an anchor that is holding us back; we’ve sometimes got to let that go to become who you will be because at the end of the day, the most exciting, the most challenging, and the most significant relationship that you will ever have is the one with yourself. Don’t waste too much time looking over past mistakes. I’m a firm believer that if you’re going to make a mistake in life. Don’t just do it once. Do it a few times, just to make sure you’ve learnt the lesson! By god, I’ve learnt those lessons now. Maybe our mistakes are what determines our fate? Because without them; what would shape our lives?

  • COMMENT | Reinvention – It’s not just for Madonna, we all have the power to change ourselves

    They say that Madonna is the queen of reinvention. She’s been a dance-floor cowgirl, an ABBA-inspired disco diva, an erotic sex kitten, a rebel heart, and most recently, Madame X.

    In a career spanning four decades, one thing that Madonna has never been uninspiring. She is the queen of reinvention, so if Madonna can do it, then why can’t I?

    Sometimes you’ve got to make some changes; because as Real Housewife of O.C., Heather “Pretentious-Pants” Dubrow says; “If everybody around you is telling your dead, it’s probably time to lie down”.

    I’ve been frank about the problems that I’ve had with my confidence and body image over the last ten years, and as the sun goes down on another glorious weekend in God’s own country, I’ve decided that I’ve got the make the changes I need, to get to where I want to be in my life. There is always going to be times in your life when you’re going to want, or need, to reinvent yourself. People go through significant changes in their lives. Be it moving on from an old relationship, moving to a new house, losing a loved one or moving jobs.

    I’m moving on from an old relationship – myself.

    When something terrible happens in your life, you’ve got three choices. You can let it define you, let it destroy you or you can let it strengthen you. As far as I’m concerned, reinvention is all about making changes to your life to make you happy – you’re not doing it for anybody else. If you are, then maybe you should take a second to wonder why.

    I know why I want to change. I’ve got a stage in my life where I want more for myself. I want to be more assertive and have more confidence. I want to be able to walk into a room and own it because for so long I’ve been the booby prize that nobody wants. To reinvent yourself, you need to have an idea of who you want to be. You can get inspiration from anyone, be it a friend or family member who you look up to. Cast members of the Real Housewives inspire me. I want to have the assertive, quick tongue of Bethenny Frankel, and be able to call out the bullshit like Lisa Rinna. Have the confidence of the Gina Liano. These are qualities that I want to have, and while they may not be the role-models people have in mind, the traits that make them influential individuals.

    I need to make changes in my life. The first thing I’m going to do is pack in the cigarettes. They are one of my significant fixes in my life. Every time I get stressed or need to escape from something for a few minutes, I reach for the fags. They are my crux. The number of times throughout the week I say; “right, this is my last packet”, then twenty minutes later, I’m down the local off licence asking for twenty John Player Special. I’ve tried all sorts to quit. I’ve been attempting the vape, the patches, and the gum and they don’t seem to be doing the trick. I’ve decided I’m going to try some hypnotherapy and see if that helps me. I’m always open to trying new things; maybe this will be the thing that finally helps.

    I’m making a more conscious effort to eat healthier, and I’m going to start working out harder in the gym to get some more weight off. I’ve always had an unhealthy relationship with food, and again, that’s something that I need to take a real hard look at, because If I’m not eating right, then how the hell am I going to get the weight off in the gym. The COVID lockdown played a massive toll on my mental health, and I fell back into some particularly bad habits. It’s time for me to snap the fuck out of it and sort my shit out. If I feel better about myself, then that will shine through.

    I hope that if I make these changes and improvements to my life, then it will eventually spill into my love life, and I may find that perfect relationship that I’ve been yearning for, for so long.

    The thing about reinvention is that some people think it’s about tossing out the old new and starting entirely anew, like a blank canvas. I don’t believe that is 100 per cent accurate. To me, the power of reinvention lies within the knowledge of everything that you’ve been through—using that to leverage a new persona. You don’t need to start from scratch – there’s another version of you already there. You just need to find a way to tap into it.

  • COMMENT | “Straight men are an enigma for gay men. We want what we can’t have, and we go through periods of having feelings for people we shouldn’t”

    COMMENT | “Straight men are an enigma for gay men. We want what we can’t have, and we go through periods of having feelings for people we shouldn’t”

    Falling in love with the wrong person can be a difficult and painful thing to experience. For members of our community, this can be even hard because unrequited love is always the worst. I know many of you out there will have been through this at least once in your life. I’ve been through it too, on more than one occasion. You could say that I’m a masochist. I put my heart through that much trauma I’m surprised I’ve not given myself a heart attack.

    The first one was very traumatic. It lasted for about four years, and ultimately it cost me a lot. I lost close friends. I lost my integrity, and it also took a real toll on my mental health. I’ve always been honest with you; this time, I’m going to be brutal. For some, this will be a difficult read, but I think for some of you, you’ll be able to relate and if this helps one person to understand that this is a normal part of life, then I’ve achieved what I wanted to when I started writing this.

    It seems to be a rite of passage for gay men to fall in love with straight men and there is undoubtedly a social stigma that comes with it, that should it ever become public knowledge, is difficult to shake. People don’t seem to grasp that you cannot help who you genuinely fall in love with, it’s not a choice you make, it’s a feeling you struggle with for months, sometimes even years and it sends you into a spiral that you have no control over. You’re made out to be a predator because it was always you that initiated everything. The other person hasn’t done anything wrong. You are a walking devil.

    When you are in the thick of it you think about that person every single day; there is not a day goes by where you feel your life could be so much different. A part of you in your head tells you to grow the fuck up and move on, put him out of your life, and deal with it. But it’s your heart that overrides that situation, hanging on every word they say. Over analysing a simple text message, seeing how many ways you can take it, has he dropped a hint that maybe he feels the same way about you? You drive yourself insane. It did me.

    It’s been a long, and difficult road to get over that guy. It’s not been easy. It’s difficult to watch people around you fawn all over them and boost their ego, while you are wanting to scream across the room, screaming inside because you what they’re doing is breaking your heart. Your heart races a thousand beats per minute. They just don’t see it, or do they? Are they thriving off the attention they’re receiving? Are they playing a sick game with you; that twists and turns your insides, and manipulates your head without you comprehending?

    The hardest part is covering. You do your best to hide in public when you’re around your friend, you laugh off the jokes that deep-down inside is tearing you apart. You watch them play their games, and you just want to scream stop. The worst thing about it is that people can’t see inside your heads. They can see this smooth and sometimes icy exterior. They don’t know your hurting inside. You try to tell your “close” friends about it, but they don’t seem to understand, they just see the blatant front they’re putting on. They don’t honestly believe that someone is capable of doing these things you’re telling them. You start to see these people in a different light. People become blindsided. They only believe what they want you to see.

    You try to block it out with new relationships, but in the end, you end up committing self-sabotage, because you know that deep down inside that this person is nothing compared to the guy you want but can’t have. You mess around and hurt perfectly lovely guys because they’re not him. You can’t shake what you feel for him, something else comes and smacks you round the face that proves you are still in fact madly in love with them; or at least you think you are.

    In the end, you don’t blame them for feeling that way. They don’t want you to change their opinions about them. You’re made to feel like an outsider. People who you thought were close, best friends even, you look at them differently. You don’t know how to deal with it. You want to run. Run far away as possible. When you’re in the grasp of an obsession, sometimes it’s the only possible escape. The strength comes from staying and fronting it out. When you’ve mastered this, then you can begin to say to yourself that you’ve got this. It’s at this point you can start to reclaim control.

    Looking back now, this was a period of my life when I desperate to be loved, and this went on for four years until I got truly over him. I’ve not had any interaction with him for about five years now. It’s times like these when I re-evaluate the past and my life. I start to think about how I’ve changed. If I saw this guy again, five years on, and being the more developed and mature person, I am now, what would I say to him? I guess I would say; ‘Cheers; I learned from that experience, and It’s made me a more resilient person’. I have come through this experience, and I’ve closed the door on this part of my life, and going forward in my life, it’s going to make me a more well-rounded person, and it’s going to impact my relationship with men.

    When the lines between friendship and romance become blurred, hearts and minds can be hurt.
    FILE PHOTO: When the lines between friendship and romance become blurred, hearts and minds can be hurt.
    Photo by Helena Lopes on Pexels.com

    Straight men are an enigma for gay men. We want what we can’t have, and we go through periods of having feelings for people we shouldn’t. These feelings aren’t just a one-time thing. They can come out of the left-field sometimes. About a year ago, I reconnected with an old friend that I’d not spoken to for a very long time, and certain feelings have started to resurface. There’s a certain sexual tension between this new guy and me, and we’ve made out on a couple of occasions when we’ve been drunk. It’s unrealistic for it to be anything more than this, and I know this. The rational part of my brain understands and accepts this, it’s the other side that sometimes has a louder voice. We have to learn not to listen to that side as much and focus on living in a present state of rationality. I think the more I’ve grown as a person, the stronger I’ve become, and I see things in a completely different light.

    I look back on this saga with mixed emotions. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. I look back with a sensible, level head that I’ve got now thinking “Wow, Al; you were an absolute IDIOT”. Why did I waste the best part of a year on a guy that was not even worth my time; get some self-worth and some self-respect? Why did I do it? I guess I could say I was young. Frontal lobes aren’t developed. I had zero self-esteem. Maybe a part of me didn’t see that I was worth more? Perhaps I was yearning from the attention and acceptance that I couldn’t see everything with clarity. I also look back and think; this guy really did a number on my head – but; in the long run, it probably did me a huge favour. It’s made me stronger.

    I now know what I am worth and what I want in a relationship and a romantic partner. I don’t want somebody who is going to give me the run-around, fuck with my head and always hurt me; and nobody should settle for this. We are worth more. So if you are in a similar situation to the one I’ve been in, then give yourself the time to heal and remember your worth, because you are ten times the person that he will ever be and remember; you will get over it, and you will be a much more resilient person for it.

  • 5 reasons we still need pride

    5 reasons we still need pride

    I’ve written a few times now about Pride, the Gay Community and what being LGBTQ+ in the modern world means. Since lockdown, and with most Prides around the world being either cancelled or postponed, this seems like an opportune moment to go back to basics.

    From resetting the environment, through to resetting our lives. Lockdown has presented a unique opportunity to reflect and maybe find a better way.

    A lack of ‘Pride’ events in the UK reminds us of why they are still important. Yes, they are a celebration, yes, they are a protest, yes, they are ‘messy’, and yes, they are connecting. Pride can be all of those things and whatever else you want it to be if you keep these 5 things in mind.

    Knowledge is power

    monochrome photo of resist signage
    Photo by Sides Imagery on Pexels.com

    At Pride events up and down the country I am always learning new things about what is going on with our LGBTQ+ family across the globe and closer to home. Issues with suitable care for LGBTQ+ needs in care homes, issues with gender recognition and support, mental health and support for coming out related challenges – all sorts. We could all just live in our very nice little UK bubble, or we could expand our horizons. Explore worlds outside our own and see the world through other’s eyes. Hear about their world, their lived experiences and maybe do what we can to make it a little easier for them as it has been ‘easier’ for many of us.

    People say, “why do we need ‘specialist’ services for LGBT people”, and to them I say I pray you never need to use them. While the challenges our community faces are similar to others, they can often be specifically unique and complex. And if you have ever been in that sort of situation, even remotely or seen it ‘third party’, you would understand immediately why you can’t have a generalist supporting that person, it has to be someone that gets the pain, gets the anguish, and can provide the right support to the right person.

    Reflection is learning

    man wearing black crew neck shirt reading book
    Photo by Oladimeji Ajegbile on Pexels.com

    Like it or not you, LGBTQ+ person reading this, enjoy your life today thanks to the work and sacrifice of others. From basic civil rights to allow you to not go to jail for just being you through to fighting stigma and educating the wider public. You can ignore it, you can play it down, you can revel in the ‘safe’ UK and that is your right to do so. But maybe, just maybe, take the opportunity both during pride and outside of it, to go and speak to some of those people that fought for your nice life.

    At my own local pride, Essex, their online pride gave a brilliant segment on LGBT history in Chelmsford and Essex. From the first ‘celebrity’ local gay man through the history of the bars and local charities. I learnt more from that reflective video that I ever would have had access to via word of mouth.

    Pride is an opportunity to reflect. Give thanks and enjoy all the things that those that came before us could not. They fought for your right to be free, to challenge and to party (or not). Either way it is your choice and that’s a choice you enjoy because of them. So, remembering them through Pride, is the very least we can do.  

    To challenge is to evolve

    At Pride events up and down the country, and indeed some in other countries, if you open yourself up to it you can expand your mind. Challenge your preconceptions of the world. And learn so much more about the human experience.

    Personally, I’ve learnt so much about gender, mental health, sexual identity, sexual expression, community, history and the world through the LGBTQ+ community. Every single pride has a community element to it – some more than others. Have you explored these sides of it? The art festival at Brighton, the community networking events at Manchester, the local charity support stands at Essex (to name but a few).

    If you want to see new ideas, examples of the challenges we face, and some amazing examples of community and the real face of humanity, go and see some these events, charities and organisations.

    Participation is community

    white and multicolored love is love banner
    Photo by 42 North on Pexels.com

    Pride brings people together. LGBTQ+ or not, it brings everyone out and raises awareness. We are here, we have a rich and diverse culture, and we are most certainly not going anywhere.

    When the Pulse nightclub in Orlando was attacked, I was there at the vigil in Soho. I had not seen the community mobilise so quickly before and had never seen so many people out to remember those we lost outside of pride. That, plus the vigil at Manchester Pride and various other events have been golden examples of how we are very much a community. And like a community it has its problems, it isn’t perfect and there are aspects of it to love and hate. But the fact remains, it is a community. We all have the same things in common and there is more of what unites us, than divides us.

    It could be worse

    It sounds like one of those hollow statements, but it really is true. Legal rights don’t just appear, they are granted through hard work and determine and as quickly as they can be granted, they can be taken away. We are lucky in the UK because of things like democracy, a free press and an independent judiciary. But not everywhere enjoys that.

    While I’m not suggesting the UK is heading towards being the next China, even some of the basic fundamentals that mean nothing to you may mean the world to someone who is being denied them. Someone who, every single moment of every single day, is being reminded that they are not a human in the eyes of the law/their employer/the police etc.

    If you can’t picture what that feels like, good. I hope you never have to. But that doesn’t take away from the need to ensure that until we live in that perfect world that we all want, we do what we can to remember, respond and remind everyone that we are here, we are human beings and we will not go back to the days of criminalisation and marginalisation.

    I’m not saying you need to be a card carrying, flag waving front and centre member of the community. Instead, make pride what you want of it. A moment of personal reflection and appreciation all the way through to a front and centre card carrying, flag waving member of the community.

    It is what you make of it, just be glad that it can be what you make of it.