JEANNETTE
When I was about 12 or 13 I developed a massive crush on a teacher. Thinking back I remember distinctly in the morning getting ready for school and I thought ‘Oh my god, I’m gay.’ But as the thought flew through my mind I shut it off and told myself ‘No. That’s not possible.’ High school was difficult. I shut my feelings down a lot. I would join in with my friends saying ‘Oh I have a crush on this guy’ when really I was attracted to my female teachers. I tried dating guys after school, but I never clicked with anyone. Then I fell for a friend and had that ‘Aha’ moment of ‘OK, this is why it’s not working with guys’ and I couldn’t ignore my feelings anymore.
I was about 27 when I started to tell people that I was gay. I needed a lot of counselling to come to terms with it; it was a pretty painful time. I had imagined that I would run into all these issues – my friends would stop talking to me, my family would hate me, but it was all in my head. When I actually started telling people they were like ‘Oh, cool.’ I never had the conversation with my parents, I just dropped hints. They picked it up eventually. I think I told my mum ‘I’m dating this girl’ and my mum was like ‘Oh, OK. As long as you’re happy.’ It was a non-event really. I was my own worst enemy; dealing with my own internalised homophobia was the biggest obstacle. My parents didn’t think gay people were bad, but at family functions there were throw away comments from others, like ’poofter’ and ’faggot’. I thought it was horrible but didn’t say anything; though I took all of it in. I thought that if I came out, they’d talk about me like that. So to cover myself when I was younger I would look at gay people and say things like ‘Oh, gross’. At school there had been a girl that took her girlfriend to graduation and all the other kids were like ‘Why would you do that? Wait until school’s over at least’. I would join in, saying it was gross. Just to fit in.
In a moment of rebellion I got one of my sisters to do me a tattoo of a love heart with rainbow stripes through it on my foot. She asked me at the time ‘Does this mean what I think it means? I kind of had a feeling.’ I went home and showed my mum and she baulked more at the fact that it was another tattoo than that it was a rainbow tattoo. After a while my mum started buying me key rings, iron on transfers, stickers and so on with rainbow motifs – I think as a way of saying that she understood and that it was ok.
Strangely, whilst I didn’t want people to make a fuss, I did want people to acknowledge my struggle; show some interest because it had taken me a long time to get to this point. Acknowledge that it was hard for me to tell them. Tell me they were proud of me.
The morning of the postal vote result was interesting because I was at work. I work in a physio clinic and we had a busy waiting room. I was trying to check my phone and watch the news, but I had to do it subtly because I’ve had people in the clinic make comments about LGBT rights before and I’ve not been able to respond because I’m at work. I am the only gay in the village at work so I felt a little isolated. It was really heart-warming when the result came. I think I went and had a little cry. I didn’t want to hear any negativity from patients so I changed the channel as soon as the result was announced.
The first time I went along to a GALSWA rehearsal the whole drive there I was like ‘I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to go in’, I’m really introverted and shy and I felt really anxious. But when I walked in there was this energy. They all seemed to really love each other and they were hugging and chatting. It was overwhelming but everyone was so welcoming and I’m so pleased I stuck it out. I don’t think I’ve met as many lovely, accepting and kind people in one space before. It really shows me that people that have been through hard times are often the most warm and welcoming. Learning people’s stories over the last three years has been so interesting. They’re all so unique.
In 2016 when I first joined I made some special connections quite quickly. That year my brother had been diagnosed with melanoma and he was getting sicker and sicker. Choir was my safe space. He passed away on a Tuesday and on the Thursday my mum asked if I would still be going to choir. I decided I would, as I felt comfortable there and it would take my mind off things. The following Thursday was the funeral and I went again that night. I was fine until the end when one of the members asked to sing ‘Home’. We got into a circle and held hands, and out of nowhere I burst into tears and couldn’t stop. My friends held my hands and hugged me and it was exactly what I needed. It was like therapy. I realised then how grateful I was to be a part of this community. I’d only been there a few months but I felt really loved.
I was about 27 when I started to tell people that I was gay. I needed a lot of counselling to come to terms with it; it was a pretty painful time. I had imagined that I would run into all these issues – my friends would stop talking to me, my family would hate me, but it was all in my head. When I actually started telling people they were like ‘Oh, cool.’ I never had the conversation with my parents, I just dropped hints. They picked it up eventually. I think I told my mum ‘I’m dating this girl’ and my mum was like ‘Oh, OK. As long as you’re happy.’ It was a non-event really. I was my own worst enemy; dealing with my own internalised homophobia was the biggest obstacle. My parents didn’t think gay people were bad, but at family functions there were throw away comments from others, like ’poofter’ and ’faggot’. I thought it was horrible but didn’t say anything; though I took all of it in. I thought that if I came out, they’d talk about me like that. So to cover myself when I was younger I would look at gay people and say things like ‘Oh, gross’. At school there had been a girl that took her girlfriend to graduation and all the other kids were like ‘Why would you do that? Wait until school’s over at least’. I would join in, saying it was gross. Just to fit in.
In a moment of rebellion I got one of my sisters to do me a tattoo of a love heart with rainbow stripes through it on my foot. She asked me at the time ‘Does this mean what I think it means? I kind of had a feeling.’ I went home and showed my mum and she baulked more at the fact that it was another tattoo than that it was a rainbow tattoo. After a while my mum started buying me key rings, iron on transfers, stickers and so on with rainbow motifs – I think as a way of saying that she understood and that it was ok.
Strangely, whilst I didn’t want people to make a fuss, I did want people to acknowledge my struggle; show some interest because it had taken me a long time to get to this point. Acknowledge that it was hard for me to tell them. Tell me they were proud of me.
The morning of the postal vote result was interesting because I was at work. I work in a physio clinic and we had a busy waiting room. I was trying to check my phone and watch the news, but I had to do it subtly because I’ve had people in the clinic make comments about LGBT rights before and I’ve not been able to respond because I’m at work. I am the only gay in the village at work so I felt a little isolated. It was really heart-warming when the result came. I think I went and had a little cry. I didn’t want to hear any negativity from patients so I changed the channel as soon as the result was announced.
The first time I went along to a GALSWA rehearsal the whole drive there I was like ‘I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to go in’, I’m really introverted and shy and I felt really anxious. But when I walked in there was this energy. They all seemed to really love each other and they were hugging and chatting. It was overwhelming but everyone was so welcoming and I’m so pleased I stuck it out. I don’t think I’ve met as many lovely, accepting and kind people in one space before. It really shows me that people that have been through hard times are often the most warm and welcoming. Learning people’s stories over the last three years has been so interesting. They’re all so unique.
In 2016 when I first joined I made some special connections quite quickly. That year my brother had been diagnosed with melanoma and he was getting sicker and sicker. Choir was my safe space. He passed away on a Tuesday and on the Thursday my mum asked if I would still be going to choir. I decided I would, as I felt comfortable there and it would take my mind off things. The following Thursday was the funeral and I went again that night. I was fine until the end when one of the members asked to sing ‘Home’. We got into a circle and held hands, and out of nowhere I burst into tears and couldn’t stop. My friends held my hands and hugged me and it was exactly what I needed. It was like therapy. I realised then how grateful I was to be a part of this community. I’d only been there a few months but I felt really loved.