An illustration of two people, a man and a woman, arguing
In reality, I’ve been avoiding my family because of their homophobia (Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

At a family gathering a few years ago, an advert came on the TV showing a bunch of men in heels and booty shorts dancing to The Pussycat Dolls.

Most people found it entertaining and harmless. My family, on the other hand, found it ‘disgusting’. It was ‘too gay’, ‘inappropriate’ and ‘just plain wrong’. 

I already felt alienated by them at that point, but those comments were the nail in the coffin for me. I hadn’t told them I was queer, but now I knew what they thought of me.

So, I decided to start avoiding them.

Nobody really questioned my excuses. Instead, they just adjusted to the fact that I’m not around much. I started receiving fewer and fewer invites to regular gatherings, and it’s got to the point where I’m not even kept up to date with important things like births and deaths in the family. 

Even so, I’ll still get the occasional message letting me know of a meet up. When that happens, I just come up with an excuse.

And, since March, that’s been a hell of a lot easier.

‘Sorry,’ I’ve been saying, ‘your socially-distanced barbecue or pint at the pub sounds lovely, but I really couldn’t risk the train journey.’ 

This isn’t actually a complete lie because I haven’t taken any public transport since April – they live in Surrey while I’m in central London – but it definitely isn’t the whole truth, either.

In reality, I’ve been avoiding my family because of their homophobia. Lockdown has just given me a tangible excuse.

In 2013, I came out as queer to my close friends. But I’ve still never felt comfortable to fully open up about my sexuality to my family.

This is because, throughout my childhood and teenage years, I put up with their jokes and snide remarks about queer people. I couldn’t stand to sit there and listen to their beliefs that queer people had somehow been ‘raised wrong’ or were mentally ill.

Once, my uncle even suggested that a colleague of his should be fired for being transgender. He works in a ‘conventionally male’ workplace, and so the suggestion that he should accept a trans female colleague was ‘political correctness gone mad.’ He was irate.

Surely, something as big as a pandemic should show us that humankind ought to be allies to one another, regardless of who we kiss or what’s in our pants

Whenever something like that is said, I feel profoundly uncomfortable. Part of me wants to shut them down, to explain to them how offensive and ignorant they’re being. But another part of me knows I would be ridiculed – possibly even ostracised – for speaking up. 

I’m not sure what would happen if I let them know who I really am. I imagine they’d be more ashamed than anything. Their acceptance and my authenticity are a rock and a hard place that I find myself stuck between, and I’ve never had the guts to choose one over the other.

I hope I will be able to one day, for my own sake.  

For the most part, though, I’ve just kept my contact with them to a bare minimum. I see them maybe a few times a year at most – usually around Christmas or during the summer holidays. But when I do see them, all those old feelings come flooding back.

Deep down, I think my family have an idea that I’m queer. It’s a sort of unspoken rule that nobody mentions it – kind of like an affair or an unfortunately large pimple. We’ve each just quietly accepted that I will never feel comfortable enough to introduce them to a partner, or tell them about friends or activities that they might consider improper.

I think their views are partly a product of their time, but also partly due to their own insecurities towards change. They’re very conservative people, and any sort of progress that threatens their ‘normal’ worldview just doesn’t fly. 

In a way, I was hoping this pandemic might change people’s outlook. Surely, something as big as this should show us that humankind ought to be allies to one another, regardless of who we kiss or what’s in our pants. Sadly, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Recent accounts from people who’ve had to move back home during the coronavirus crisis show that queer individuals often feel uncomfortable in family spaces.

A study by UCL and Sussex university found that 69% of LGBTQ people had experienced depressive symptoms during this time, and almost one in 10 people felt unsafe in their homes.

Transgender people, in particular, struggle with being misgendered and having their identities completely ignored by parents. 

In some extreme cases, living as a queer person around family can actually be physically dangerous. In fact, it’s so common for LGBTQ people to face rejection from family members that one charity actually advised them not to come out if they’d had to move back with potentially abusive relatives during this time. 

In my own case, I am fortunate enough to live in a house with other queer people who love and accept me. They’re like a whole new family. 

Being locked down with them hasn’t just been bearable, it’s actually been enjoyable. So, as strange as it may sound, I’m in no rush to get back to normality just yet.

Do you have a story that you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing james.besanvalle@metro.co.uk.

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