THEGAYUK

Category: Comment

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY | Goes to Prison

    THE UNDATEABLE GAY | Goes to Prison

    This week, The Undateable Gay goes to prison… Not as an inmate, but to run a social event for gay and bi prisoners.

    jraffin / Pixabay

    When I was first invited to visit a male prison and do an interactive social group with the LGBT community inside, I sh*t myself and nearly didn’t commit to the project.

    What the fuck was I going to talk about? Yes, I grew up on quite a rough council estate where crime was high but luckily I’d avoided prison, unlike many of the boys I grew up with.

    The closest I’d ever been on the wrong side of the law was the time I got thrown into the police cells at Brighton nick for being drunk and disorderly. But that’s a story for another day.

    As I pulled up at the prison, it was very daunting. There was this massive building in front of my eyes, surrounded by barbed wire. It was lucky I’d taken a couple of Imodium that morning, let me tell you.

    I was given a tour when I first arrived and it’s very surprising how much it actually looked like the Bad Girls set. I was scared of bumping into any real-life prisoners. I wasn’t sure what the rough, macho, non-gay ones would make of this mincing homo.

    As 2 pm came closer, it was time for me to be escorted to the chapel to begin my LGBT group with the gay prisoners. Yes, it was being held in the chapel. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

    As I was being taken into the chapel, an officer stopped me at the main doors and asked for my name. I obligingly gave it and she announced I wasn’t on the list so I couldn’t gain entry.

    Looking very confused, another officer came to my rescue.

    “He’s not a prisoner. He’s the guest speaker!”

    Realising her mistake, she let me through but I couldn’t help blurting out, “Do I look like a prisoner?”

    I sat down in the chapel after I’d organised the chairs into a circle, a la Alcoholics Anonymous style. My only other option was a straight line and that was far too formal for my liking.

    Sweaty palms and heart palpitations, I saw the big hand heading towards the 2. I didn’t know what to expect. I’d been told I had a man who murdered his husband and an arsonist, among others.

    As they entered, my butterflies escaped through the bars. The husband killer came in and shook my hand, whilst hugging me and kissing me on the cheek. The rest made similar entrances and greetings and automatically put me at ease.

    I’d been far too focused on the fact that I was in a prison and forgotten that in reality, I was just talking to fellow human beings who also happen to be gay. And just so happen to have made mistakes.

    Each person had their own individuality and within seconds, I’d forgotten I was even inside a prison. We talked, we laughed and we discussed sex. A LOT.

    After an hour, a prison buffet was bought into the room for us. It looked bloody delicious. Even though I must confess I was a little wary of eating it after being told it had been prepared by the prisoners in the prison kitchen.

    One of the gay prisoners, Mike, who I took quite a shine to (and he to me), assured me that as long as I wasn’t a paedophile, the food was quite safe to eat. I told him I was guilty of many things, but that wasn’t one of them.

    Whilst shoving a prison-issued cheese roll into my gob, a big Zimbabwean prisoner came and grabbed me by the arm,

    “You look so good! My cell number is 427 if you want to come back later!”

    I nearly choked on my cheese roll and managed to choke out the words,

    “I think you’d split me in two!” which was met with roars of laughter from the whole group. His tight grey jogging bottoms left little to the imagination and it was clear to see he was MORE than well endowed.

    They talked about their lives and it left me feeling rather humbled. Yes, I got bullied at school for being gay but on the whole, I’ve been widely accepted by my family and friends. But some of these men have been abandoned by their families for being homosexual. One of the men was even imprisoned in Russia for attending a gay pride event. It certainly opened my eyes.

    I think it was refreshing for them to be a part of this social group and be able to freely express themselves and their sexuality without any fear.

    Before I was leaving, the prisoners were begging me to go back. They loved our afternoon and it went on much longer than I expected.

    After three hours, the officers were having to chuck me out because we had gone on for far too long and I was putting out the schedules. But it was honestly one of the best experiences of my life. Much better than any money I’ve ever raised for charity. Actually doing a random act, something worthwhile on the front line, from one gay boy to my fellow LGBT community.

    My final words were from Mike.

    “I get out in seven weeks. How can I contact you?”

    I quite fancied him. He was just my type so it would have been rude to discriminate against him just because he’s in prison. So I made sure to tell him how to contact me.

  • Here’s everything LGBT+ couples who are considering surrogacy need to know

    Here’s everything LGBT+ couples who are considering surrogacy need to know

    Surrogacy for LGBT+ couples – What you need to know

    © DGLimages Depositphotos

    For those in the LGBT+ community, creating a family is not straightforward. Biology and the law have to both be considered long before a baby is conceived.

    Surrogacy is now very much de rigueur, and, in the last five years, the UK has seen an exponential increase in the number of Parental Order applications following surrogate births. My firm is only too aware of this, as we have a vast number of clients from the LGBT+ community choosing to start their families through surrogacy.

    The law governing surrogacy dates in part from the 1980s when attitudes towards surrogacy itself, and the LGBT+ community, were vastly different from what they are today. The law reforms announced by the Law Commission and The Scottish Law Commission on 6 June 2019 are therefore very much welcomed by all involved, but particularly by LGBT+ families.

    What are the laws now?

    © DGLimages Depositphotos

    As it stands now, when a child is born through a surrogacy arrangement, whether they are born here in the UK, or abroad, if the intended parents wish to live with the child in the UK, then an application must be made in the UK courts for a Parental Order. The Parental Order will then extinguish the legal status of the birth mother (and her spouse if she has one) and confer legal parentage on the intended parents. Without that order, the birth mother will remain legally responsible for that child. The intended parents, who in reality are the only parents the child knows, have no legal standing to make crucial decisions, such as consent to medical procedures for their child, as they have no Parental Responsibility.

    It will also change the UK birth certificate to ensure that the intended parents’ details are instead recorded.

    In order to be eligible to apply for a Parental Order, at least one of the intended parents must be domiciled in the UK, at least one of the intended parents must have a biological connection to the child, the child must live with the intended parents, they must be over 18, have made the application within 6 months of the child’s birth, have the surrogate’s (and her spouse’s) consent and only reasonable expenses must have been paid to the surrogate. Since January 2019 it is now possible for single people to apply for a Parental Order, but the above criterion must still apply and those separated can utilise recent ground-breaking caselaw, achieved by this firm, that if intended parents are separated an order can still be achieved as ‘living’ together can apply to two homes.

    The glaring fault with the Parental Order process is the requirement to have to apply for it in the first place. From the moment of birth, up until that Order is granted, the child, and the intended parents live in limbo. Speak to any surrogate and they will tell you that they want to carry the child to enable other people (often LGBT+ people), who can’t have a child in the usual way, to have a family. They do not want to be legally responsible for that child, yet the law keeps them entwined despite (usually) no biological connection and no intention to be so responsible. The surrogate bears the child for the intended parents on trust that they will make that application for a Parental Order which will then extinguish her legal responsibilities.

    As for the intended parents, until that Order is made, they are, in the eyes of the law, not legally related to their child. Yet in reality they wanted the child, they love the child and they care for the child. Why should that child, and the intended parents, be in that limbo position? It leaves many risks, that Wills and insurances can mitigate, but the uncertainty of 100% protection during this period is difficult for all the parties.

    Proposed new laws

    The Law Commission and The Scottish Law Commission have recognised this failure and have committed to reforming the law. The consultation into surrogacy law is currently open until September 2019 and their proposals include a new pathway to parenthood which would recognise the intended parents as the legal parents from birth. With the new pathway, the ‘work’ would be done pre-conception. This would include finding the surrogate, medical checks, enhanced criminal records checks, independent legal advice and implications counselling for all parties, then a written surrogacy agreement and an assessment of the welfare of the child. Once the child is born, the intended parents will be the legal parents (without the need to make a court application) subject to the birth mother objecting within a defined period. If the surrogate does object, then the intended parents would need to make an application for a Parental Order in the usual way.

    However, this new pathway would not be applicable to international surrogacy arrangements. Instead, the proposal is that recognition would be on a “country by country” basis and that there should be a streamlining and shortening of the process of obtaining a passport or a visa for the child born overseas so that that process begins before birth.

    These proposed reforms to the current surrogacy legislation have been welcomed by the LGBT+ community as well as by the community of surrogates. The proposed reforms will enable the law to reflect the reality of these new families and ensure that the child is legally protected and cared for by their intended parents from the moment of birth.

    Karen Holden, Founder at A City Law Firm

  • COMMENT | Why I’m going to be naked at this year’s Amsterdam Pride

    COMMENT | Why I’m going to be naked at this year’s Amsterdam Pride

    The Netherlands. July 25th. Over 40 degrees. This is the hottest day in the history of the Netherlands.

    And this is happening just a couple of days before the start of Amsterdam’s Pride Week, the largest gay event in the Netherlands and one of the largest in the world.

    The world-famous “Canal Parade”, which occurs every year along the Amsterdam canals, with 80 boats and over half a million spectators, is the highlight of Amsterdam’s Pride week, which will take place between July 27th and August 4th. The theme chosen for this year was “Remember the Past, Create the Future,” an obvious reference to the Stonewall’s riots, happened exactly 50 years ago and which mark a turning point in the history of the LGBTQ + movement.

    Different events will take place throughout the week, such as the Pride Walk, the Drag Olympics, exhibitions, films, concerts, STI tests and many, many parties throughout the city.

    In addition to the official events, many companies are also supporting this cause and will be fighting side by side with us. A good example of this is Polette, a well-known eyewear brand, which I agreed to collaborate with. The brand invited 6 people, me included, to share our experiences while members of the LGBTQ + community.

    The other five people and I agreed to undress emotionally so that we could share our experiences, but also literally. The six of us together, without any shame, will undress, be body painted in different colours and form a human rainbow flag. This human rainbow flag will walk on August 2, from 6 pm, from Amsterdam Central Station to the iconic Dam Square in the historic centre of Amsterdam. Allow me to invite you to join us in case you are planning a visit to Amsterdam on these dates.

    If not, you will be able to watch the documentary which will be released shortly after.

    The question remains: Are Gay Pride celebrations still necessary? According to the latest annual report from the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transsexual and Intersex Association (ILGA), 70 states around the world continue to criminalize same-sex consensual relations. LGBTQ + community members continue to be fired for the simple reason that they are different, people still have to think twice before going hand in hand with their partners in public, as well as plan their vacations taking into consideration which countries should be avoided for safety reasons, not forgetting the unpleasant experience of having to “get out of the closet” to their families and friends. Based on these facts, the answer – at least for me – is obvious: Yes, this is still necessary!

    Miguel Martins
    (Mister Senior Netherlands 2018 3rd Runner-Up / Winner Public Choice / Winner Best Talent)

  • 6 totally easy ways you can be a great ally to the non-binary community

    6 totally easy ways you can be a great ally to the non-binary community

    Six ways we can all become a better ally to our gender non-conforming siblings.

    Not everything is binary… kerplode / Pixabay

    In 2018, I happened upon this Tweet during Trans Awareness week and it got me thinking…

    “Also on twitter, stop assuming people’s pronouns based on their profile pic and your binary stereotypes.

    “Read their profile. Check their pronouns. Don’t assume.

    “And while you’re there, put your own pronouns in your profile.

    “Normalise that shit ✨#TransAwarenessWeek

    — Thal (@thalestral) November 12, 2018

    Let me tell you about my own gender expression before we go on. I don’t think of myself as a “man” because I don’t really fit into what society expects of men. When I was a child all I wanted to do was be called a girl, wear high heels, my mum’s dresses and sing Petula Clark’s ‘Downtown’ on repeat.

    I was a Grade A queer/trans kid. As an adult I couldn’t admit that to anyone outside my immediate family. I was so shamed by this behaviour – and bullied mercilessly at school when I chose to wear the white, patterned “girls’” socks instead of the regulation grey socks for boys.

    Nowadays, I dress in typically masculine clothes, I have a boyfriend, I have short hair and people assume that I’m a man and a gay one at that. I respec the privileges that, for the most part, that assumed identity affords me. But, it never really feels right when someone refers to me in that way.

    That said, I don’t mind if people use the pronouns him/his or he when they refer to me.

    Although it does jar me if someone calls me a man.

    Weird? Right?

    I also don’t mind it if I’m referred to with female pronouns.

    I’m pretty relaxed about the pronouns that are used to describe me.

    But for some, words really matter. So here’s some advice to help us all become better allies to our non-binary, gender non-conforming siblings.

    Open your ears and mind

    via GIPHY

    It seems that we’ve all got our lives set to transmit only. We need more receiving in our lives. So when someone is telling you something about them, listen.

    Leave your assumptions at the door

    via GIPHY

    Someone once wisely told me, “Assumptions are the mother of all fuck-ups” – and they were completely right. How often have you assumed something about a situation only to find that nothing was as you imagined? Pretty often, right?

    Your assumptions are based on your own life experience. It doesn’t take into account other people’s experience. So leave your assumptions at the door and again, open your mind.

    Respect pronouns

    rawpixel / Pixabay

    If a person tells you what their preferred pronoun is, accept it don’t fight it. It’s what they’ve asked you to call them. The decision is effectively out of your hands. It’s the same as when someone tells you their name. You accept it and it becomes part of their identity. Well, pronouns are the same.

    Accept that there are lots of different pronouns

    via GIPHY

    Some non-binary, gender fluid and gender non-conforming folks use a number of different pronouns. Some popular ones are: Zim/Zer and Ze, they/them and theirs or even thon, which was actually added to the dictionary in 1964. They as a singular pronoun has been used for centuries.It’s not particularly new, it’s not trend based, it’s just getting a lot of media attention at the moment.

    Stop normalising gender norms

    via GIPHY

    Blue for boys, Pink for girls… gender stereotyping is all so the 1950s and really doesn’t work for today’s society. No one likes living in a predefined box and we don’t live in a black and white world. There’s a whole rainbow out there.

    Gender norms and stereotypes, when adhered to, just keeps society attached to a patriarchal system that’s almost impossible to climb and doesn’t work for all of us, particularly LGBT+ people. So lets bin it shall we?

    Write your own pronouns

    via GIPHY

    Normalise the conversation surrounding pronouns. Write your preferred pronouns in your social media profiles. As @thalestral says on Twitter, “normalise that shit”.

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY | Gives a Girl a go…

    THE UNDATEABLE GAY | Gives a Girl a go…

    I wasn’t always gay you know. Well, that’s not technically true. My mother always says she knew I was a homosexual from birth. Apparently, I came out doing cartwheels and singing songs from Phantom of the Opera.

    sasint / Pixabay FILE PHOTO

    Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating that slightly but you get the gist. Another giveaway was probably stealing my sister’s dolls and then crying when she wouldn’t let us take it in turns to push the doll’s pram.

    But I’ve digressed here. Gone off the beaten track. Pardon the pun. Where was I? Oh yes, I’d just made the slightly untrue statement that I wasn’t always gay. What is more truthful to say, is that I wasn’t always out to the world.

    And I did that old trick that I’m sure all gay boys are guilty of, especially from my era of the 1980s and 1990s. I pretended that I was bisexual because, to me, it made it seem less scary than saying, ‘Hey I’m a fully fledged 100% penis loving homosexual!’

    So in my quest to prove I wasn’t a fully fledged homo and only a Bi, I decided that I would have to try a girl out for size.

    I used to steal copies of The Daily Sport from the local newsagent. I was a paperboy in my youth you know. I don’t for the life of me know why I stole The Daily Sport.

    Well, I do actually. I was still pretending not to be a pouf. So I thought stealing a paper that had tits in it made me look like a hard man to the boys on my estate. But all I was really doing was trying to impress the boys because I was fantasising about them!

    I’ve kissed quite a few girls in my time, I’ll have you know. It was easy to stick your tongue down their throats. I just pretended it was our postman who I fancied or my P.E. teacher. My P.E. teacher, OH MY DAYS,  I can still remember his face now.

    He was a beautiful man. And he was the reason I could never stand up straight in a pair of shorts during my school years. Every time I saw him, I got a stonking great hard on and had to do my best impression of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame to hide it.

    After a while though, the girls I were kissing weren’t just happy with a snog anymore. We were 16 now and they wanted something other than my tongue inside them. ‘Oh god’, I thought. ‘What was I do?’, I may have kissed them. But never had I felt a hard-on as a result.

    My first attempt at sexual intercourse was with a girl called Tina. I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d sprinkled rose petals all over the bed in my attempt to make it romantic. Yes, I know.

    Rose petals.

    Sheer cheese.

    I’d watched too many episodes of The Bold and the Beautiful during the 1990s.

    And, not surprisingly, it also had an ending like a melodramatic soap opera. We kissed. She got naked on the bed. And then I whipped my clothes off and whapped a condom on.

    Yes, I managed to get hard! I thank the Lord for my vivid imagination. Because that was not Tina on the bed. It was Tinhead from Brookside.

    Just as I was about to make my MARK, (yes, pun intended), Tinhead, sorry I mean Tina, grabbed my arm and pushed me off.

    “I’m sorry! I can’t do it with you. I’m a lesbian!” Oh, the irony.

    My next attempt at proving my bisexuality was with a girl called Hayley. We went camping together. My first time with a girl, under the stars, in a tent, out in a field. I thought this would be so romantic.

    “As I toasted a marshmallow over the campfire for her, I felt her hand caress my thigh. I was nearly as soft and gooey as the marshmallow but along came my vivid imagination once more.

    “And, as if by magic, Hayley was Hunter from Gladiators“.

    Mini Mark was poised, raised and ready for action. I felt Hayley undo my flies. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. If a girl touches my penis, I’ll be scarred for life, I told myself.

    To stop her wandering hands, and to take her attention away from my penis, I got two fingers and put them up her skirt. I heard her groan, but meanwhile, I was trying to stop myself from gagging.

    I felt like I was prodding a raw fillet steak and to this day, I always have to have my meat well cooked. My bisexual days were over.

    100% Gay man had been erected. Pun intended.

  • Here’s why you shouldn’t buy Rainbow Flags on the street at Pride

    Here’s why you shouldn’t buy Rainbow Flags on the street at Pride

    Pride season is well underway here in the UK – and you’ll notice that street peddlers are selling rainbow merch, but before you buy anything from them, here’s why you shouldn’t

    rihaij / Pixabay

    They don’t support the local pride

    More often than not the street peddlers (not the sellers inside the pride event) don’t support the pride events at which they are selling at. None of that money they take goes back into supporting the pride or local LGBT+ charities. Not a penny. They pay an incredibly small sum of money to the government for a license which allows them to pop up all over the country. None of that money goes back into Pride.

    Pride stalls pay the prides

    Sellers and organisations who are at pride events officially pay the pride to be there. This means that their pitch fee has gone into helping maintain that pride. It’s a vital revenue raiser for pride. Let’s support the official retailers and sellers, rather than those who are just profiteering off the pride movement.

    Over priced

    Swindon and Wiltshire Pride 2015

    At one pride we heard that street peddlers were selling Rainbow pride flags for £10 to £20 (in London!)- which is a complete rip-off, especially when inside the Pride stalls area you’re likely to find rainbow flags going on sale much less than that.

    Don’t pay their over inflated prices! Better still why not go online first and get yourself a bargain! You can order all sorts of pride flags from our retail partner, THEPRIDESHOP.co.uk.

    They don’t have the range

    TuendeBede / Pixabay

    It’s all rainbow – and as pretty as that is if you don’t see your identity represented there’s the issue of erasure. Bisexuals, pansexuals, trans, asexual and non-binary people matter too. So check out inside the pride for a proper LGBT+ stall that will sell the full range of LGBT+ flags.

    Not members of the LGBT+ community

    Whilst we’re at it, wouldn’t it be great if Pride was a time to support LGBT+ and queer companies. The corporate world is on full jump on the pride bandwagon at the moment, which on one hand is a positive step, but don’t forget to support your queer business family. Those gift and merchandise sellers inside pride parks and event spaces are usually owned and operated by LGBT+ people. Show them your love this pride season.

  • COMMENT | The Pain of Pride Month

    COMMENT | The Pain of Pride Month

    This year is an important year for our LGBTQ+ community. It’s fifty years since the Stonewall riots this Pride Month, so this should be a June to celebrate more than ever.


    We’re only nine days in but we’ve already had many disgusting stories in the headlines where LGBTQ+ people have been targeted and hurt because of their sexuality or gender identity. We have had companies hiding behind rainbow branding, actively damage our community. At the time of writing, it’s the 9th of June and I have a handful of examples of high profile stories. This doesn’t count the small, unreported moments – the couples holding hands who get glared at, the LGBTQ+ people who are told by strangers (and even people they know) that “being gay isn’t normal,” and the ignorant, uneducated comments faced by LGBTQ+ people every single day.

    The main concern this Pride Month is that every single company seems to take on our rainbow flag in an attempt to “be cool,” but they don’t seem to think about what it actually means. The rainbow is more than just a flag. It flies as a visual representation of the beauty and diversity of our collective community/family. We wear it as a badge of honour in memory and respect of those who fought for us and paved the way for our equality. Now it is cheapened by this mass adoption every June by companies who tend to only bring it out for a few weeks a year and then forget it ever happened. If companies can’t respect our community or contribute to us in any way then they don’t deserve the right to use it to drive their own corporate gain.

    This year we have had the Home Office using the rainbow colours all over their social media while trying to deport Ken Macharia. Ken has lived here in the UK for a decade after escaping from Kenya where homosexuality is illegal and he could have been imprisoned (by law) or beaten or even murdered by anyone who took umbrage to him living his truth.

    Ken had been detained and threatened with deportation last November when it was ruled that he could live his life openly in Kenya despite the dangerous possibilities that actually faced him back there. He was allowed to go but was summoned to the Home Office on Thursday 6th June where he, once again, faced deportation. Thankfully, Ken was allowed to stay in the UK but he still isn’t completely safe and could still face deportation again at a later date.

    Youtube has been another company that have hurt LGBTQ+ people during a recent ongoing saga with Carlos Maza and Stephen Crowder. Maza is a writer for Vox, a left-wing news site while Crowder is an inflammatory, right-wing YouTuber who hosts “Louder with Crowder” on the video platform with an audience of millions.

    The story unfolded when Maza posted a thread on Twitter, exposing the abuse he had been facing from Crowder who had consistently called him vile names and made outrageous accusations about him for being gay and Latino for years. Maza rightfully called for YouTube to acknowledge the abuse and to do something about Crowder.

     

    YouTube wrote back a few days later with:

    “Our teams spent the last few days conducting an in-depth review of the videos flagged to us and while we found the language that was clearly hurtful, the videos as posted don’t violate our policies.”

    This decision sparked outrage and soon after, YouTube decided to reverse their position again and demonetise Crowder with a statement saying:

    “Update on our continued review. We have suspended this channel’s monetization. We came to this decision because a pattern of egregious actions has harmed the broader community and is against out Youtube Partner Program Policies.”

    Shockingly, it appears that Youtube may have been planning this for a while and Crowder’s demonetisation might not have even been anything to do with Maza’s tweets. Instead, with the announcement crossing over with the timing of this very public drama, Maza has ended up facing all the backlash and is suffering, even more, hate and harassment. Whatever YouTube’s reasoning – whether it was pre-determined or because of Maza and the backlash, their handling of events have made things much worse. Even high profile people like Grandpa Munster ahem I mean, Ted Cruz, have got involved: You can read more about this interesting take on events here.

    https://twitter.com/munroebergdorf/status/997060069480165376

    Most recently the NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children) had launched a campaign with trans-activist Munroe Bergdorf. On Wednesday 5th June, Bergdorf spoke out about her excitement to help play a part in an important role:

    “The wellbeing and empowerment of LGBTQIA+ identifying children is something that I have been passionate about throughout my career as an activist. I’m excited to have the opportunity to let more kinds know that they are not along in how they feel. There are people who care, people who can help and people who have been through the same things as you, so PLEASE don’t suffer in silence.”

    https://twitter.com/MunroeBergdorf/status/1136337166387355648

    However, soon after she spoke out about her involvement, anti-trans activists, including a Times journalist and other Twitter users became involved, accusing Bergdorf of being “dangerous,” a “porn model,” and they threatened to cancel their direct debits to the charity if they allowed their association with her to continue.

    Bergdorf replied that she has “never shot porn in [her] life,” and saying that “demonising those who do, isn’t okay either.” She had posed for Playboy in 2018 but the shoot was actually very tasteful and the images captured were strong, beautiful and empowering for Bergdorf who also spoke about her experiences as a trans woman in the accompanying article. Not a single one of those photos could be considered pornographic; in fact, they were more akin to the edgy fashion modelling one would expect from a fashion magazine.

    Despite this, the NSPCC has dropped Bergdorf’s campaign and turned their backs on her saying,

    “Munroe Bergdorf has supported the most recent phase of Childline’s campaign which aims to support children with LGBTQ+ concerns. Munroe has been referred to as a Childline Ambassador. At no point has she been an ambassador for the charity. She will have no ongoing relationship with Childline or the NSPCC. The NSPCC does not support, endorse of authorise any personal statements made by any celebrities who contribute to campaigns.”

    This sends a cold and dangerous message to the people this campaign is meant to help. By leaving Bergdorf behind and refusing to acknowledge her is cruel. How can LGBTQ+ children trust a charity who might treat them so nonchalantly? This is a cruel betrayal of not only Bergdorf but of the entire LGBTQ+ community. Especially the trans community who currently suffer the same kind of hatred through misinformation and lack of education that the gay community faced in the 80s. I spoke about this before in a previous article. You can read more about it here:

    The most heartbreaking part of this is that it comes at the same time Childline, which works closely with the NSPCC, confirmed that over the last twelve months they have dealt with over 6,000 counselling sessions with children and young people about LGBTQ+ issues.
    Birmingham Live revealed that almost 800 calls were made to the Birmingham branch of Childline and some children have even been told to “kill themselves” because of their sexuality. These are some of the loneliest, most desperate and vulnerable children and they are being failed.

    What kind of message does it send when in the news we see our very existence as a daily hot topic for debate. We are bombarded with people digging their noses into every inch of our lives, deciding whether we’re “appropriate” enough to exist or not. We see the protests in Birmingham  over LGBTQ+ inclusive education and are told by strangers online that we are “mentally ill,” that “we are not normal,” and that we are “disgusting.”

    Despite the fact that relationship education is becoming mandatory by law, and an injunction taken out which restricted parents protesting outside the schools, they still continue just outside the restriction zone. The protests led by Shakeel Afsar, who doesn’t even have children at the school, have recently been endorsed by Roger Godsif – Labour’s MP for Birmingham Hall Green.

    The protests were also defended by Shabana Mahmood back when they first started in March.

    On 30th May, a lesbian couple was brutally attacked on a bus by a gang of young men – aged between 15-18 – all because they wouldn’t kiss for their entertainment. This attack wasn’t just a homophobia based hate crime. It was a misogynist hate crime too, just because the two women didn’t want to “entertain” the young men. It’s a horrendous, heartbreaking story. Luckily the women involved have remained resilient and refuse to back down and be scared. The heroines have spoken out and intend to continue to live proudly and visibly.

    But that wasn’t the only hate crime this week. On Saturday 8th June, a performance of Rotterdam was cancelled due to some of the actors being victims of a hate crime. Rotterdam is a play about a young lesbian who is about to come out to her family in an email but before she can send it, her girlfriend tells her that she identifies as a male and wants to start living as a man. It’s about how they begin to navigate their relationship and love for each other. It’s a wonderful, modern story that deserves to be told and clearly has reason to be heard.

    Sadly, we can’t hide from the fact that our community are the target of so much hatred in the current political climate in which this extreme right-wing attitude is legitimised and even fuelled by people like Donald Trump with his transgender military ban and the proposal of bills that mean it’s legal to discriminate against LGBTQ+ people in the workplace, etc.

    In the UK, Brexit Party member, Ann Widdecombe, stated that it’s entirely possible that maybe one-day science will cure homosexuality and Tory Leadership candidate, Esther McVey stuck up for the parent’s protesting against LGBTQ+ inclusive education by saying “parent’s know what’s best for their children.”

    The Brexit Party did unexpectedly well at the recent EU elections and McVey stands a good chance of becoming our next PM.

    What does this say about the future? Nothing positive. That’s what. All that we can take away from this is that on this fiftieth anniversary of Stonewall, we must all adopt some Stonewall spirit and keep fighting. It is an undeniably terrifying and uncertain time to be LGBTQ+ but we must be brave enough to remain visible and dignified. We must live honestly, love openly and not let them silence us.

  • COMMENT | Will we ever be able to live without plastic?

    COMMENT | Will we ever be able to live without plastic?

    Plastic. The savour of our modern times. A material that will keep produce clean and safe. A substance that can be made into all sorts of shapes for safe storage of items around the home and garden, garage and office.

    Plastic is everywhere. It’s a very useable material. It’s also incredibly long lived and is thrown away by the ton every minute of the day.

    Have you tried to go plastic free? I’ll be honest, I haven’t. Until suppliers stop using it, I can’t stop using it. That said, I do recycle what l can. I even wash it before I pop it in the bin. Sounds like common-sense but you’ll be surprised by how many people don’t!

    Home owners are being targeted by their use but so too are car manufacturers. They are seen as some of the worlds worst polluters. Trouble is, they are not. Attend any car launch, read any motoring journal and they all talk about “sustainability” and use of recycled plastics. 

    Volvo are pioneering this movement the hardest at the moment. They are going for and trying to use more and more recycled plastics in their manufacture.

    Twenty years ago, being seen as green and environmental loving was loved by all but then it sort of slipped out of favour. 

    And vehicle manufactures have been quick to develop new working ways. VW also had a go back when the Mk3 Golf was new. 60 parts were made with recycling in mind when the car came to the end of its life. Some of it was black plastic. Ironic then that your black pots from the garden centre can’t be recycled but that’s for another day.

    So you can’t really blame the manufacturer of cars for the terrible use and waste in motor manufacturing. A setting where plastic waste is rife is within the healthcare settings. It is astonishing just how much gets thrown away. 

    While there is a need for plastic in the sterile settings, some of it isn’t needed. Catheter care and associated parts NEED to be sterile but not all the parts for enteral feeding, for example do.

    In setting up a feed, there are eight plastic parts. All of these get thrown away. They are all rather small and one to one, quite insignificant. Now times that by 1000 enteral feed users and it soon mounts up. But there are more users out there than 1000. So you can see the problem. And then there are the several plastic syringes that are used by each patient.

    And then it gets worse when it comes to pill popping. Many healthcare settings have large A4 sized blister packs. Each pack contains 28 pockets and often hold just 1 pill. Now, take a hospital ward of 26 beds and the average of each patient being on 3 meds 4 times a day. That’s 312 A4 packets of clear plastic thrown away each month. Now times that per the hospital average of 10 wards and it adds up to tons of wastage. 

    Sadly hospitals and other healthcare settings neither have the staff, time or funding to develop a policy for recycling. It’s not a simple case of throwing it into a big recycling bin. All patient identifying date has to be removed first for confidentiality.

    Imagine removing 312 stickers! It’s no fun. And then there are the blister packs that you have at home, backed by foil.

    So before you go ripping into the manufacturer of the motor vehicle as the killer of the planet, think about what you are doing as you pop out that paracetamol from that non-recyclable plastic and foil blister pack. 

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY: The Lucky Escape, when your date turns out to be a thug

    THE UNDATEABLE GAY: The Lucky Escape, when your date turns out to be a thug

    I’m taking you back to 2009 for this tale of dating mayhem. A time when I was just about to graduate from university. I didn’t venture far from home for my degree. I attended Brunel in the, how can I put this delicately, slightly dodgy area of Uxbridge. I’ve always been a bit of a homebird you see, or as some would say, a Mummy’s boy.

    sl3p3r / Pixabay

    To get me through my degree (and to keep me in Savvy B), I had a job in a lovely little gay pub. The Culvert it was called. Some of you may remember it. It’s no longer there unfortunately, which is very sad as it was always such a busy pub. But alas, this is the way a lot of the local gay pubs are going. R.I.P. The Culvert.

    Being the young, cock hungry gay boy that I was, this was the perfect job for me. It was like being an obese bloke in a cake shop. So many to choose from but which one to choose?

    This one night, a very handsome bloke caught my eye. My god, I can remember him like it was yesterday. He was drop dead gorgeous. He had a mop of curly brown hair and the most dazzling brown eyes. But alas, he appeared to be straight.

    It was quite common to get straights in the pub. They often came for a quiet pint or they were accompanying a gaggle of gay mates. But oh well, I thought, at least it gives me a bit of eye candy for the evening. Some people call it perving, I call it appreciating fine art.

    Well, to my surprise, when I approached this straight, handsome man to take his drink order, he placed his hand on top of mine and seductively asked for a pint of Stella. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he stroked my hand.

    I pulled my hand away from his stroke and I came over all unnecessary. I started to pull his pint, hoping it wouldn’t be the only thing I was pulling that evening.

    I lost all concentration. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His pint of Stella frothed over rather dramatically and dribbled down my trousers. Well, I think it was the Stella that was dribbling down my trousers.

    I felt my face flush. I mean, not that you could tell as I was well and truly fake tanned up.

    “I hope that’s not the only spillage I witness tonight!”, this cheeky handsome chappy shouted across the bar.

    As I handed him his dripping pint of Stella, I felt a bit of sweat on my brow. Panicking I’d have a streaky fake tan moment, I quickly dabbed it and he held out his hand. I shook it.

    “Aaron”, he introduced himself.

    “I’ve not seen you here before.” I started the conversation.

    “I’m visiting from Windsor.”

    He’s a long way from home, I thought. Especially for a pint of Stella.

    “You’re beautiful!” He told me. Sweet talking me he was, but boy did it work. I was putty in his hands.

    “Thank you.” Uncharacteristically, I went shy.

    He stayed standing at the bar all evening, not taking his eyes off me. We made lots of conversation, getting to know each other.

    “Do you live local?” He enquired.

    “Just around the corner”, I replied.

    “Not far for US to go after you’ve finished then.”

    How forward, I thought to myself. Not that I was opposed to the idea, you understand. The answer would certainly be yes. This fit, handsome stranger was definitely coming back to my house.

    As closing time approached, I could feel a little movement beginning in my trouser department. Mini Mark was getting a little excited at the thought of a night of passion with the man from Windsor.

    I rang the final bell to announce it was last orders. That was always my favourite part of working in a pub. It made me feel like I was Peggy Mitchell.

    “I’ll wait for you outside”, said the Windsor fitty as he leant over the bar and attached his lips to mine. Yes, he kissed me.

    My tongue hang out the corner of my lip and drooped down to my chin, Beethoven style, as I watched him walk outside.

    I don’t think I’ve ever mopped a floor as quickly as I did that night. I was like Mr Muscle on speed. Desperate to get out of that pub and make my way into this boy’s boxers.

    As I said goodnight to my colleagues, I rushed out the door and got the shock of my life. I arrived outside just in time to see my potential shag being bundled into a police car. My jaw dropped quicker than a whore’s drawers. I saw Aaron look up at me as the police officer pushed him inside the car, his hand on his head.

    In complete shock, still catching flies, I looked up at the bouncer.

    “What happened to that boy?”

    “He came out and accused one of the regulars of staring at him, called him a poof and then punched him!”

    My eyes widened. I went home on my own that night and have never been so glad to have missed out on a shag.

  • COMMENT | Out to Lunch with William Burroughs

    It was summer 1991, I think, when sharing a joint on a brick fire escape after a night of acid-tapped cartoon lunacy, my friend Steve exhaled smoke into the Manchester morning and casually asked if I’d heard of a writer called William Burroughs.

    I hadn’t, but that moment has stayed with me as the dawn of what was to become a deep and unremitting love for the man J.G. Ballard called “True genius and first mythographer of the mid-twentieth century”. Steve passed the joint and disappeared indoors – momentarily leaving me staring, rabbit-eyed, into the headlights of reality – before returning with a tatty, nicotine-thumbed paperback. “Read this,” he said, thrusting the book at me. “You’ll love it.”

    Naked Lunch: odd title, I thought, flipping the book from cover to blurb to cover again. What is this, some kind of naturists’ cookbook? I turned to the introduction and read:

    “I awoke from The Sickness at the age of forty-five, calm and sane, and in reasonably good health except for a weakened liver and the look of borrowed flesh common to all who survive The Sickness … Most survivors do not remember the delirium in detail. I apparently took detailed notes on sickness and delirium. I have no precise memory of writing the notes which have now been published under the title Naked Lunch. The title was suggested by Jack Kerouac. I did not understand what the title meant until my recent recovery. The title means exactly what the words say: NAKED Lunch – a frozen moment when everyone sees what is on the end of every fork.”

     “What the fuck is this?” I said, burnt synapses trying hard to connect. Steve smiled, sane as he could muster. “Read it,” he repeated, snatching the joint from me. “You’ll love it.”

    William Seward Burroughs II (1914-1997) – a Harvard man: junkie, queer, outlaw, writer. The Priest, they called him, El Hombre Invisible, Old Bull Lee. His books have been praised as radical satire, pilloried as pornographic, appropriated by other gods for their own sybaritic sermons. His ideas, language and imagery have infiltrated popular culture through his influence and collaborations in literature, film, music and art. David Bowie, Anthony Burgess, David Cronenberg, Patti Smith… so many have paid tribute to the Burroughs method.

    I read the rest of Naked Lunch that afternoon in a foetal curl; couldn’t put it down. I couldn’t be sure what I was reading wasn’t just residual damage from the previous night, didn’t know if I was still hallucinating. An acid comedown is a strange place to encounter near-eastern Mugwumps gorging themselves on slender youths, the “talking asshole” routine, Doctor Benway and the black meat, or A.J.’s annual party, where an appreciative, ejaculating audience watches red-haired, green-eyed Johnny get fucked by his girlfriend with a giant metal dildo – Steely Dan III from Yokohama.

    This stuff was written in the 50s, for Christ’s sake, how the hell did they get it past the censor? Truth is they didn’t – not at first. After it was finally published in the US, Naked Lunch was put on trial for obscenity. But that was way back in Boston in 65, and anyhoo…

    After Naked Lunch, I devoured just about everything by or about Burroughs I could lay my fevered mind on: slid through the early confessional narratives of Junkie and Queer; waded knee-deep in the experimental cut-ups of the Soft Machine/Ticket that Exploded/Nova Express trilogy (notebooks, Bill, put ‘em away for later); masturbated to the lyrical alien sex of The Wild Boys; marvelled at the malarial masterpiece Cities of the Red Night; and absorbed, agog, Ted Morgan’s seminal biography Literary Outlaw.

    Here was a man whose life jumped from the page every bit as unconventional and dangerous and as funny as anything he had written. His life and his art weren’t just intertwined, as with most writers, they were conjoined twins pickled in apomorphine. The lifelong on/off heroin addiction, the accidental killing of his wife during a drunken party trick in Mexico, the subsequent exile in Tangiers, Paris and London…  JUNK SICK routines and vacant lot scenes of CONTROL, parasitic possession and WORD as VIRUS appear again and again, in ever evolving mutations, across the body of his life and work.

    Not for Burroughs the easy journey of write what you know. “In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas… a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been explored,” he once said. For this guy, words were the beginning not the end of writing, and he illustrated this in his endless, sometimes exasperating experiments with just how far, and in what forms, language can go.

    I didn’t truly understand the power of Burroughs’ words until I first heard his voice: that St Louis drawl – the cracked mumblings – the gnarled fingers talk of a prophet with no easy message. When I first heard him speak, it was on a flickering, badly recorded video – The Final Academy Documents – of a reading he gave from The Place of Dead Roads at Manchester’s Hacienda club in 1982. This was a double whammy for me. The Hacienda was my club of choice in the early 90s, and when I learnt Bill once graced that piercing-cold warehouse with his presence, suddenly I didn’t feel so frozen on the dance floor. And that voice – oh, that voice – crackling from the past – had me fixed to the spot; grinning homunculus in the palm of a bony hand.

    Burroughs came to see his work both as a search for immortality (figuratively and literally) and as an attempt to exorcise the ‘Ugly Spirit’ he believed had possessed him and caused the death of his wife when he shot her through the forehead. He later admitted in the introduction to Queer (written in 1951but not published until 1985): “I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I would never have become a writer but for Joan’s death, and to a realization of the extent to which this event has motivated and formulated my writing. I live with the constant threat of possession, from Control. So the death of Joan brought me in contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and manoeuvred me into a lifelong struggle, in which I have had no choice except to write my way out.”

    To focus only on the profoundly wretched aspects of Burroughs’ life, however, is to miss much of a writer who was also an arch humorist, with a switchblade wit that could cut through bone. The man could be wildly funny, and if you find that hard to believe, read Twilight’s Last Gleamings, where Doctor Benway (one of Burroughs’ most popular and recurring characters) drunkenly operates on a patient on a sinking ship; or Roosevelt After Inauguration, where the incumbent president celebrates his victory by forcing the Supreme Court to have sex with a baboon. And if you don’t fall about laughing then seek medical attention, for it is my diagnosis that you are dead already.

    For my money, Burroughs’ acerbic wit was put to best use when he turned his ire on evils perpetrated by the big three: religion, government and big business. After all, this was the man who lashed out at the shits of the world with The Last Words of Hassan I Sabbah in 1981:

    “Listen to my last words, anywhere! 
    Listen all you boards, governments, syndicates, nations of the world,
    And you, powers behind what filth deals consummated in what lavatories,
    To take what is not yours,
    To sell out your sons forever! To sell the ground from unborn feet forever? For Eve-R
    Listen to my last words, any world! Listen if you value the bodies
    for which you would sell all souls forever!
    I bear no sick words junk words love words forgive words from Jesus
    I have not come to explain or tidy up
    What am I doing over here with the workers, the gooks, the apes, the dogs,     the errand boys, the human animals? 
    Why don’t I come over with the board, and drink Coca-Cola and make it?”

    Those words resonate today as powerful and as prescient as they ever were. It would be fascinating to hear what Burroughs would have to say about the ills of today, to see what he’d make of Trump in The Whitehouse (baboon, anyone?), of a planet going to hell in a religious handcart, of a population more and more willing to sacrifice their personal freedoms and inalienable human rights to social media.

    It would be fascinating to know if he felt the weight of being right when he wrote “the blood, and bones, and brains of a hundred million more or less… went down the drain in green piss! So you on the boards could use bodies, and minds, and souls that were not yours, are not yours, and never will be yours… These words are not premature, these words maybe too late.”

    It is twenty years since William Seward Burroughs died from complications following a heart attack at 6:50 p.m. August 2, 1997.

    Feels like yesterday. But for a writer who was rarely linear, time passes in both directions. His last words were reportedly a quote from his long-term friend and collaborator, the artist Brion Gysin: “Back in no time.” Three days before, Burroughs wrote in his final journal entry: “Thinking is not enough. Nothing is. There is no final enough of wisdom, experience – any fucking thing. No Holy Grail, No Final Satori, no final solution. Just conflict. Only thing can resolve conflict is love, like I felt for Fletch and Ruski, Spooner and Calico [his cats]. Pure love.”

    I agree with the latter part.

  • The Freaks’ Roll-Call: Changing Perceptions of Sexual Deviancy

    The Freaks’ Roll-Call: Changing Perceptions of Sexual Deviancy

    For my 18th birthday, in 1986, I was given what most would consider some unusual coming-of-age presents: a wooden hatstand, a crystal whisky decanter, a book on the occult…

    My extended family are an odd bunch at the best of times, but of all the gifts I unwrapped that day, the most bizarre – the only one I still possess – was the one my aunt gave me: A Dictionary of Mental Health by Richard B Fisher. What that says about me, I don’t know, but they say people give gifts they want themselves, so…

    It is admittedly a fascinating book: a guide through the twin mind fields of psychiatry and psychology – a mostly balanced study for its time – and one of the most useful dictionaries I’ve ever owned. Not that I’m neurotic or a hypochondriac, but over the years A Dictionary of Mental Health has saved me countless hours on psychiatrists’ couches. Thanks to that oft-thumbed paperback, I know I’m neither neurotic nor hypochondriac, I don’t have dipsomania and I can’t claim to be suffering from Tourette’s syndrome. I am, however, according to the dictates of this dictionary, a sexual deviant.

    Ah, well. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.

    Published in 1980, at a time when the right-wing tabloid press casually associated homosexuals with paedophiles, when casual racism was mainstream comedy, when mental well-being meant “pull your bloody socks up”, A Dictionary of Mental Health helpfully lists the main areas of sexual deviancy (or paraphilia as it is also called) as:

    • Bestiality (no argument)
    • Exhibitionism (only when I’m drunk)
    • Fetishism (I don’t know, does the smell of wild garlic count?)
    • Frigidity and impotence (only when I’m drunk)
    • Homosexuality (even in my sleep)
    • Masturbation (even in my sleep)
    • Paedophilia (again, no argument)
    • Sadomasochism (not even in my sleep)
    • Trans-sexuality and transvestism (whatever floats your boat)

    Perhaps voyeurism, necrophilia and – oh, I don’t know – frottage weren’t nominated that year, but there it is, in a golden envelope: I am a pervert of many colours. It feels unnerving that in my formative years, when I was coming to terms with and exploring my sexuality, the psychiatric world could pigeonhole me alongside paedophilia and bestiality (which A Dictionary of Mental Health laughingly describes as “said to occur frequently among boys in farming communities”). It’s a Freudian slap in the face – and there’s a dirty old man with a lot to answer for. Just because you fancied your mum, Sigmund, doesn’t mean we all do. Besides, I grew up in a farming community and I can assure you…

    To define sexual deviancy it is, of course, necessary to provide a definition of sexual normalcy, and again A Dictionary… comes through with a description so ridiculous it is neither accurate nor helpful: “sexual activity which sub-serves reproduction”. This accounts for the inclusion of masturbation on the list, which makes perverts of us all, but excludes the possibility of, say, a transvestite satisfactorily impregnating their wife or partner. And since when was failing to get it up a form of deviancy? We all have our off days.

    To classify sexual deviancy as any form of sexual activity not intended to produce a baby is to miss a fundamental point: sex is – or at least should be – something to be enjoyed, and not merely a biological duty. Moreover, to define sexual deviancy in purely clinical terms fails to take account of both perceived cultural differences and changes in public opinion. Public perceptions have often resulted in changes in attitude long before psychiatry and/or psychology and the law have woken up in bed together with no idea of how they got there. Besides which, “sexual deviancy” is a pejorative term often used interchangeably with “perversion” – and to deviate from something is not to pervert it, anymore than to travel into town on the bus is to abuse the train.

    In fairness to Mr Fisher and his dictionary, he does point out that many textbooks on psychiatry rightly regard any such association as unjustified, and goes on to say “to describe any [italics mine] sexual practices as perverse… is a mischievous holdover from the intensely moralistic psychology enshrined by Freud and his followers.” Perhaps I should be a little more forgiving in my treatment of A Dictionary of Mental Health. After all, times have indeed changed and 1980 was a long time ago – wasn’t it?

    In 2012, the psychiatric world finally caught up with the assumed zeitgeist when a study by clinical psychologist James Cantor, “Is Homosexuality a Paraphilia? The Evidence For and Against”, conveniently discovered that while homosexuality shared certain features with other paraphilias, they appeared to differ on “sex ratio, fraternal birth order, handedness, IQ and cognitive profile, and neuro-anatomy.” Or, to put it country simple, I’m more likely to:

    • Get more sex (excellent)
    • Be the first born (I am)
    • Be left-handed (I am)
    • Be more intelligent (I’ve got a masters, fuck you)
    • Have a different brain structure to your run-of the mill deviant (well, I did take a lot of acid in the 90s)

    As a result of his findings, Cantor suggested treating homosexuality as distinct from other sexual deviancy categories (which I guess is a roundabout way of saying “sorry, we fucked up again”), but regarded his own conclusions as “quite tentative” given the current limited understanding of paraphilias.

    Ah, well. Psychiatry is a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.

    These days sexual deviancy is classified by the American Psychiatric Association as “the experience of sexual arousal to atypical objects, situations or individuals.” Hmm. Well, maybe. This broader definition conveniently sidesteps the lack of consensus as to the difference between unusual sexual desires and what we might call deviancy, but again fails to address what that difference is. We’ve come a long way, true, but it seems we’re only halfway there.

    So there it is: almost fifty years after homosexuality was decriminalised in the UK, I am – in one psychiatric category, at least – officially off the deviancy list. I can only live in hope for some sort of apology to follow.

    As for the rest of you freaks, you’ll just have to wait your turn.