Coming out

It’s awfully nice of Facebook to add a new Life Event to sit alongside Job Changes, House Moves etc. to show the date that I “came out”. But it doesn’t work like that. There’s the day I first went to a gay bar, the day I told a friend, the day I told my parents. And then when I first told a work colleague, all of these were in the days before anti-discrimination legislation.

And even now, the process never ends. I start a new contract, when do I mention that I’m married to a man? Fair enough if I’m working with someone for a while, but what about on a business trip and I’m out for drinks with someone I’m unlikely to ever see again? If they casually ask if I’m married, how much do I say? I go to the barbers, he asks what I’m up at the weekend, do I mention my husband? The immigration officer asks who I’m travelling with, I have to weigh up if this is a country that will recognise my marriage or just say “a friend”.

The good news is that it’s getting easier, and most people don’t blink. But it isn’t always the case, particularly in some other countries. And there’s always that little bit of stress as you weigh up the possibilities.

I’d always encourage a young LGBT person to come out - it is so good for your mental health. But once you start, it never stops.

...and on the occasions I choose not to say anything about my relationship, to the cab driver, the barber or the Head of HR in a European capital, a little bit inside me dies. And I beat myself up afterwards. Why didn’t I have the confidence to talk about my relationship? Why didn’t I trust the person I was talking to? Or is there something, deep inside me, that still thinks that my relationship is something to hide or something shameful? And I think: we’re not quite there yet. Or, maybe, I’m not quite there yet.