Little queer kid.

Where do we start? I think I used to write here as an escape. Looking back at where I was mentally, the idea of being in a long-term relationship, cohabiting and spending a lot of time with a single person felt like I was trapped. Through no fault of theirs, or mine, I needed a release and so I’d turn to writing and exploring.

However, in the last year things have fundamentally shifted for me. Last month I text my ex to celebrate our first year apart, not because I want anything other than to acknowledge how much we’ve both grown since choosing to go our separate ways. 

And because of a new found freedom, I haven’t felt the need to write because instead I’ve been trying to make a change in the world. I’ve written about my job, I’ve written about politics and there have been a number of posts about pride too.

I would like to talk about just one of those things.

Earlier this year, a politician in my hometown of Yeovil voted against a law which will make sure that we teach our children about LGBT+ relationships and that they exist. A few months later, another politician in the same region stated that one day science may cure homosexuality.

Across the UK, we’ve seen a rise in anti-LGBT+ sentiment – whether that’s parents protesting about the above bill that will ensure we teach our children that being LGBT+ is okay, or the rise in hate crimes against the LGBT+ community.

A lot of this is more complex, but I think comes from the divisions which have been stoked by the debate about Brexit. And in that, people are asserting their right to hold their own opinions as if they’re gospel as if they cannot be questioned. Whether that’s views on equality throughout society, or on single issues such as Brexit.

In protest to politicians in the West Country, I wanted to counter this horrid and misguided rhetoric that teaching kids that LGBT+ relations exist and are okay will make kids gay, that somehow this was part of the ‘gay agenda’. So earlier this year I started to think about what this could look like.

Because it isn’t in cities such as London where Pride is desperately needed, but in the villages, towns and cities throughout our country where whilst LGBT+ people exist, they have no space to thrive. And surprisingly, the South West has the largest LGB population outside of London.

Last Saturday, 31 August I gave a rallying call, stood atop a ladder with a megaphone at the inaugural Yeovil Pride. What follows is a more articulate version of that rallying call, edited into a readable format.

When I was a teenage, growing up in Yeovil, there was not a rainbow in sight. I would often walk home from school on my own and try to figure out my identity. I’d pray to God to give me a sign that would validate who I was, but my requests were always unanswered. For a time there was a gay night at the local pub, but by the time I was old enough, it had closed.

This year marks 50-years since the Stonewall Uprisings in New York. It was a moment that would go onto be considered a catalyst in the fight for LGBT+ liberation. And in this world where walls are being put up, and bridges being torn down, it’s at this moment we need to do the opposite – breaking down barriers and reaching our across society. It’s towns like Yeovil where LGBT+ kids need to see that our community is visible and proud.

I started to think about Yeovil Pride earlier this year and it was soon clear that there were like-minded people wanting to make Yeovil Pride happen. It was great honour for me to be elected as Chair of Yeovil Pride and stand before you today. Thank you for coming and being a part of Yeovil’s history.

To the businesses and organisations in Yeovil who have supported us, your small gestures have really made a difference. To anyone who donated to our crowdfunder, where we raised over £1,000 to make today happen, thank you. But most of all, I want to thank our volunteers – some of whom have travelled to be here. We came together less than a month ago, that they have made this happen.

We will be back next year, bigger and better, showing LGBT+ people that Yeovil is a town for them to be themselves, and to be loved by the community.

If you had told me back then, when I was a teenage, that I’d have my best friends and my family here celebrating with me, I wouldn’t have believed you. So to the little queer kid I was, walking home trying to figure out my identity, and to all queer people trying to figure out who they are, I have three things to say; It gets better, happy Pride, this is for you.

You can find out more about Yeovil Pride at yeovilpride.co.uk.