My Sexuality Does Not Define Me: A Speech On Labels & Homophobia

This is an edited and extended version of a speech I gave at the Knox celebration of the 2015 International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia (known as IDAHOBIT day now, but called IDAHOT back then). I have left all the details, such as my age and schooling, as they were in the speech. I am posting this because it summarises my feelings about my sexuality and the way I have lived with it. This, I believe, will help you, the reader, understand more about where I'm coming from as I write on this blog now and in the future.

Note: for long time readers of the blog, I have often referred to my partner as Finn. That is not his real name. I chose it as a pseudonym to protect his privacy as well as if things didn't work out, it would be easier to discuss that. However, we've been together four and a half years now, and he's not going anywhere. His name is Adam.

Hello all,

My name is James Gardiner, a 20 year old man who identifies as gay. But I don't think that's the most interesting thing about me. I also have Asperger's Syndrome, but what's more interesting is that I'm in my final year of Professional and Creative Writing and have a blog named, rather aptly I think, 'Not A Sexy Vampire'.

Those are all far more interesting things about me, things that I would happily label myself as. Gay is a wide-ranging label but it doesn't define me. However, it has almost become the thing that defined me several times now.

In those moments where I have considered suicide, it becomes the most defining thing about me.

In those moments when I'm on the train resting my head on Adam's shoulder, and I get glared it, it becomes the thing that defines me. 

Nowadays, I am able to shrug this off, but I haven't always been so lucky. A couple of years ago, I was at a Catholic All Boys' high school. My parents had decided on single-sex education thinking that it would offer less distraction, i.e. girls., allowing me to focus on my school work. They clearly didn't see the signs.

Anyway, homophobic insults were commonplace in this environment. In first year, I was accused of trying to kiss a boy in my class. Which I hadn't. We'd worked together on a group project and he'd been lazy and annoying. Even when he left school at the end of that year, the rumours persisted. It became something of a running joke.

Meanwhile, the school itself was an example of institutionalised homophobia. In the six years I attended that school, my class on religious education only mentioned the topic of sexuality once, and that was in a pamphlet examining the pros and cons of gay marriage with a definite focus on the latter. Instead, we watched The Passion Of The Christ. Ironically, religious education was my best subject. I treated the Bible as a literary novel to be analysed and understood.

My high school years became a difficult experience, with the casual everyday homophobia of the other students coupled with the institutionalised homophobia of the school itself. To a young man coming to my terms with my sexuality, this was far from an ideal environment.

Home wasn't much better as I was confronted with mixed and confusing signals. One Saturday, Mum said to me, "One day, you'll get married to a woman or a man, if you're that way inclined". I was filled with hope. The very next day, we were discussing my messy cluttered room and my brother said all gay people are very tidy. Mum responded, "Well, we know James isn't gay then. Thank goodness". Dad also occasionally emphasised that I must become a better person or I'd never find a wife. It was an oppressive environment.

Now, I'd like to clarify this. I have never really thought of myself as a victim or, my preferred term, survivor of homophobia. I was never actively attacked for my sexuality. No-one ever said to me you're disgusting, you're an abomination, that I was nothing because of who I loved. You hear about those stories but they never happened to me.

But I have known homophobia. I am a survivor of homophobia. Even just those tiny things that happened to me are homophobic. Because even though they seem like tiny, insignificant remarks, they nearly took my life.

For years, I hated myself because I was attracted to people at my school and that was wrong. I tried to change it, to ignore it, to bury it, but nothing worked. It couldn't work. This was part of me and it was never, ever going to change.

It all came to a head one night when I was watching Prayers For Bobby. In this, a young man kills himself because he's unable to deal with the world, and his mother's, homophobia. I was shocked to find that I related to this. I became terrified that I would fall into a depressive spell, like I had done so many times before. Except unlike the others, one day, I wouldn't be able to find a way out of it. I would allow the darkness to overwhelm me.

After much consideration, I decided to come out to my Mum that night. It became the moment I knew, the moment that everything seemed crystal clear. I came out to her and, after some minor difficulties, she and the rest of the family have accepted me wholeheartedly. I have even made my family obsessed with some particularly gay things like Eurovision.

It wasn't my coming out that hurt, nor the casual homophobia. It had been the stress and lead-up to that moment. And this would have been a whole lot easier if the casual homophobia and oppressive attitudes had never been present.

I was lucky. I had support from the Knox Council through my participation in peer support groups like Free 2 Be Me and eMerge (where I met my partner) and a loving family and friends. Quite a lot of people aren't that lucky. They face this homophobia and are unable to deal with it. That is why IDAHOT day matters to me.

It is about not only the elimination of outright homophobia, but also the wider societal change needed in regards to those smaller, just as damaging moments, of institutionalised and casual homophobia, transphobia and biphobia. It is through the destruction of these attitudes that people can be defined as people which aren't just gay or bisexual or asexual or transgender or any of the other labels. We cannot let people go to the grave believing that their sexuality or gender identity defines them. They are far more interesting than that.

Thanks for listening and hope you enjoy the rest of your IDAHOT day.