Growing up gay in the 90s was incredibly difficult. In 1998, I was 16 and living in east London, only out to my parents, my sister and a few friends I had made online. I’d already been the target of homophobic bullying and didn’t feel safe coming out to the rest of the world.
I was lucky to live in a loving and supportive home. It was also a political household; my dad, in particular, was always active in expressing his beliefs and principles. Both my parents stood for things, cared about others – and they cared about me.
At school, however, jokes about Aids were a daily occurrence and I felt deeply alone. One so-called friend told me: ‘If you turn out to be gay, I will beat it out of you.’ Like many victims of bullying, I sometimes assumed that I was the problem.
When I came out to my parents, it was at a time when, in Britain, gay men were still discussed as a threat to the concept of family. Politicians and others openly viewed being gay as shameful, wrong or dangerous. While I knew my parents loved and supported me, I still believed I could not have as good a life as other people. I could be turned away from shops, targeted with violence, or legally sacked from my job. And even when I tried to balance this with the idea of finding someone to love, I knew that any relationship I had would not be seen as worthy of legal equality by the state or much of society. Amid all the love and support my mum showed me when I came out, she also said, sadly: “Your life will be hard.”
It was in this context that a feature was published in the Guardian about parents who expressed their sadness, regret, disappointment or shame about having gay kids. It wasn’t malicious – it was just real people sharing their stories – but it felt like yet another example of the shame associated with people like me. And it clearly hit a nerve with my dad.
About a week later, on 13 July 1998, my dad placed a copy of the paper in front of me and asked me to turn to the letters page. I saw an anonymous letter headed “Our gay son” and, with a lump in my throat, I read: “The reaction of the parents in your article in no way reflects that of my wife and I when our son came out to us earlier this year. Our reaction was one of pride and respect. He came out to us in an intelligent, mature and sensitive way and demonstrated an understanding of his sexuality way beyond that of many heterosexual men and women of his age … his parents have no expectations of him other than he is the person he is, and that happens to be a gay young man.”
I knew it was my dad who had written it and, while I already knew my parents loved and supported me, it showed that they cared deeply about other people’s children too. I felt immense pride – and also a sense of possibility. It was the first time I had seen someone close to me take action on behalf of lesbian, gay and bisexual people, and it was inspiring.
Until that point, my number one subject at school had been geography. I took great reassurance in seeing the world as rocks and rivers, devoid of morality, social pressures and people. But, after reading the letter, my perspective quickly began to shift. I started thinking about politics, which I went on to study at university, and how I could make a difference in society.
My dad taught me to present a the case for a better, different world. It became the driving force behind my career, kicking off two decades of campaigning for social change. In that time, I’ve tackled important and controversial social issues, from equal marriage and assisted dying to loneliness and wealth inequality.
Today, I work as the codirector of campaigns for the NGO Global Witness, helping to uncover the systems of power and exploitation that drive the climate catastrophe. My job is to push for the real and lasting change our planet urgently needs.
My career has not always been easy. Fighting for justice takes its toll, and success isn’t guaranteed. In my more hopeless moments, I still call my dad for advice. More than 25 years after he wrote that letter, his principled, pragmatic and compassionate approach continues to encourage me.
My personal life has not been easy either, but it is nowhere near as hard as we all feared, not least because of my wonderful parents. Recently, my dad told me that the letter was written to me, and it just happened to be published in a newspaper. I don’t think he imagined it would change the course of my life – but he still keeps it safely in his desk drawer.
