LIZ
I was born in Cardiff. I have one younger sister and one older. We were a close knit family. I remember my childhood with real joy, great memories. I had good mates growing up. I spent a lot of time with my sisters too. I remember scooting down these sheer cliff faces on tea trays. We were given the freedom to play – we were trusted and we repaid that trust. My parents allowed us to express ourselves. There was a strictness, but it was about knowing boundaries, not oppression.
We moved around a bit, including moving back to Wales from England when I was 13. It’s led me to not invest in a connection with someone unless the relationship really means something to me. I’m a very independent person anyway.
There was never any sense that I was doing the wrong thing, but my father was not particularly open to people being gay. It was never verbalised but I think it came from a space of wanting the best for me and how it might limit me. Or maybe a loss of control. But other than that my close family were all really accepting and probably twigged it early. I knew from a young age. There was a woman that used to come round regularly to deliver the Avon catalogue and I remember at about five thinking ‘You’re just lovely!’ and that was when I knew. I never questioned that I was. I made some choices that went against that, but I always knew.
There was no formal coming out as such but then as a family us sisters weren’t chasing or dating boys so it wasn’t a big part of how we expressed who we were. So I never thought it needed announcing. I really look forward to an era when we no longer need to ‘come out’. Why should anyone have to sit around a table with family and get anxiety about telling them how they are going to live their life? I don’t judge anyone that does because I know it’s necessary, but I look forward to a time when people can just live their lives. I’ve never gone around with a metaphorical banner saying ‘Come on then, ask me’ because I think one of the ways towards better acceptance is to just be yourself and make people realise through the normalcy of life that that part of you doesn’t matter.
I got married to a man when I started in the police in London. We connected. It’s part of my life that doesn’t seem like me but it was. I think I wanted to explore whether it was something that would give me contentment or fulfilment. It wasn’t even a sense of confusion. I am just intuitive and when someone comes along as a human that I feel a connection with, I value it and I invest in that person. But the marriage just wasn’t the right thing. In fairness to all parties, it had to end. Knowing that I was a lesbian meant that I just couldn’t invest fully in the person and it wouldn’t have been fair. My first significant relationship with a woman was after that marriage.
I met an Australian woman whilst still working in the police in London. We clicked. We decided there would be better opportunities for us in Perth. I got a permanent residency and we came over. Our relationship lasted around three years once we were here, then we split. We had entered a civil partnership in London that wasn’t recognised here. We went through so much hassle to get the authorities to recognise that we were breaking up legally, so that we could get closure. You just feel so stressed because nobody’s listening. You write these emails in your best English but nothing happens. So there was sadness that the relationship hadn’t worked and then having to fight to legally be separated just threw in another spanner.
My parents usually end up liking my partners more than they like me. My dad loves talking to people and conversing. My mum is just all heart and love; gets the family albums out and goes all in. Because my times going back to Wales were not that frequent I have some great memories of her making my partners feel at home. She’s always non-judgemental and embracing. She’s the sort of mother you know you can rely on. There was no one I was nervous about introducing to my parents. If they were the right person for me then I would introduce them and if they weren’t, I wouldn’t introduce them.
My wife is the conductor of GALSWA. I joined the choir in 2015 and I thought ‘Oh she’s lovely’ but she was married with kids. She spoke to me one day about moving between sections of the choir. She says that at that moment she felt a connection with me. So a couple of weeks later, she created an exercise asking people to ‘Walk around the room singing a song and as you pass everyone look into their eyes’. We were walking around and as we walked past each other we looked into each other’s eyes and she said she felt a connection on a real soul level. I did too but I wasn’t so open to all that then. I didn’t really understand it but I felt ‘My god that was really beautiful’. That evening she friended me on Facebook and we had these really long chats and a friendship grew from there. I proposed to Claire on a holiday to London where she was meeting my family. We got married at Bibra Lake in September last year.
I really love the concerts at choir. I see singing as a chance to open your mouth and shout – preferably in tune – without being told to shut up. We don’t often get the chance in life.
We moved around a bit, including moving back to Wales from England when I was 13. It’s led me to not invest in a connection with someone unless the relationship really means something to me. I’m a very independent person anyway.
There was never any sense that I was doing the wrong thing, but my father was not particularly open to people being gay. It was never verbalised but I think it came from a space of wanting the best for me and how it might limit me. Or maybe a loss of control. But other than that my close family were all really accepting and probably twigged it early. I knew from a young age. There was a woman that used to come round regularly to deliver the Avon catalogue and I remember at about five thinking ‘You’re just lovely!’ and that was when I knew. I never questioned that I was. I made some choices that went against that, but I always knew.
There was no formal coming out as such but then as a family us sisters weren’t chasing or dating boys so it wasn’t a big part of how we expressed who we were. So I never thought it needed announcing. I really look forward to an era when we no longer need to ‘come out’. Why should anyone have to sit around a table with family and get anxiety about telling them how they are going to live their life? I don’t judge anyone that does because I know it’s necessary, but I look forward to a time when people can just live their lives. I’ve never gone around with a metaphorical banner saying ‘Come on then, ask me’ because I think one of the ways towards better acceptance is to just be yourself and make people realise through the normalcy of life that that part of you doesn’t matter.
I got married to a man when I started in the police in London. We connected. It’s part of my life that doesn’t seem like me but it was. I think I wanted to explore whether it was something that would give me contentment or fulfilment. It wasn’t even a sense of confusion. I am just intuitive and when someone comes along as a human that I feel a connection with, I value it and I invest in that person. But the marriage just wasn’t the right thing. In fairness to all parties, it had to end. Knowing that I was a lesbian meant that I just couldn’t invest fully in the person and it wouldn’t have been fair. My first significant relationship with a woman was after that marriage.
I met an Australian woman whilst still working in the police in London. We clicked. We decided there would be better opportunities for us in Perth. I got a permanent residency and we came over. Our relationship lasted around three years once we were here, then we split. We had entered a civil partnership in London that wasn’t recognised here. We went through so much hassle to get the authorities to recognise that we were breaking up legally, so that we could get closure. You just feel so stressed because nobody’s listening. You write these emails in your best English but nothing happens. So there was sadness that the relationship hadn’t worked and then having to fight to legally be separated just threw in another spanner.
My parents usually end up liking my partners more than they like me. My dad loves talking to people and conversing. My mum is just all heart and love; gets the family albums out and goes all in. Because my times going back to Wales were not that frequent I have some great memories of her making my partners feel at home. She’s always non-judgemental and embracing. She’s the sort of mother you know you can rely on. There was no one I was nervous about introducing to my parents. If they were the right person for me then I would introduce them and if they weren’t, I wouldn’t introduce them.
My wife is the conductor of GALSWA. I joined the choir in 2015 and I thought ‘Oh she’s lovely’ but she was married with kids. She spoke to me one day about moving between sections of the choir. She says that at that moment she felt a connection with me. So a couple of weeks later, she created an exercise asking people to ‘Walk around the room singing a song and as you pass everyone look into their eyes’. We were walking around and as we walked past each other we looked into each other’s eyes and she said she felt a connection on a real soul level. I did too but I wasn’t so open to all that then. I didn’t really understand it but I felt ‘My god that was really beautiful’. That evening she friended me on Facebook and we had these really long chats and a friendship grew from there. I proposed to Claire on a holiday to London where she was meeting my family. We got married at Bibra Lake in September last year.
I really love the concerts at choir. I see singing as a chance to open your mouth and shout – preferably in tune – without being told to shut up. We don’t often get the chance in life.