Communities
Today, the Welsh Government has launched a public consultation on the upcoming LGBTQ+ Action Plan.
The consultation offers organisations and members of the public the chance to have your say on the Plan as it stands, to suggest improvements and provide your experience into the process.
The action plan includes a list of actions the Welsh Government and partners should take to further LGBTQ+ equality and improve the experiences of LGBTQ+ people in Wales.
Over the past year, individuals and representatives from LGBTQ+ organisations such as Pride Cymru, Glitter Cymru and Stonewall Cymru have been listening to the experiences of LGBTQ+ people from across Wales, to further understand the challenges, discrimination and inequalities that still exist and what should be included in the Plan in order to best progress LGBTQ+ equality and our rights. These experiences were fed into an Independent Expert Panel Report which informed the Government’s LGBTQ+ Action Plan.
Davinia-Louise Green, Director of Stonewall Cymru said of the Plan:
'This Pride season alone has shown how we can’t become complacent in the journey to full LGBTQ+ equality. Since devolution, we have seen some key milestones for advancing LGBTQ+ equality; from the launch of the Welsh Gender Service to ensuring that the new curriculum is LGBTQ+ inclusive. However, as our research and the recent news headlines sadly show, we still have a long way to go until everyone can be free to be who they are.
It has been inspiring to work alongside so many knowledgeable and passionate LGBTQ+ leaders in informing this plan. We are proud to say that this Plan has come as a direct result of conversations had with LGBTQ+ people from across Wales. Over the coming months, Stonewall Cymru will now focus on scrutinising the Plan and discussing it with people invested in furthering the rights of LGBTQ+ people across Wales. It is an exciting time for LGBTQ+ policy in Wales.'
The Plan itself is broad and provides recommendations in areas including: education, arts and culture, workplace, hate crime and community cohesion, and health and social care. The Plan represents a real opportunity to progress LGBTQ+ inclusion and rights across all areas of Government.
Stonewall Cymru are glad that the majority of the recommendations developed as part of the Independent Expert Group are included in the report, including: providing recognition to non-binary people throughout Wales; a commitment to review the Gender Identity pathway for children and young people; and providing strategic, comprehensive investment in professional learning and training on designing a fully LGBTQ-inclusive curriculum. It’s great to see the comprehensive 61 actions set out and it’s now important that LGBTQ+ people and allies in Wales have their say on them.
All details on the draft Plan, the Independent Panel report and how you can respond to the consultation are available on the Welsh Government’s website.
Netflix’s new documentary Pray Away follows the actions of Exodus, a religious group who told LGBTQ+ members – and their families – that they could change who they were.
This important film follows survivors and former leaders of the group, many of whom have now renounced the ‘church’.
While it can be easy to think of conversion practices as something of the past, they can – and do – still happen to lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer, intersex and ace people across the United Kingdom today.
So, what actually are conversion practices?
Conversion practices are any intervention that seeks to change a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity. Conversion practices work towards one goal, and that goal is to ‘cure’ someone from being lesbian, gay, bi, trans, ace, intersex and/or queer.
Conversion practices are one-directional: the intention is to get a person to change or cancel their sexual orientation or gender identity. This is the opposite of appropriate, affirming and healthy therapy or counselling, which will support an individual who is exploring their sexual orientation or gender identity whatever the outcome may be.
Why do we need a ban?
LGBTQIA+ people don’t need to be cured, and interventions that seek to make a person straight or cisgender can and do cause significant long-term harm to victims. Conversion practice is abuse, and it must be banned, in every setting and for everyone subjected to it.
Without a ban, conversion practices will continue to put our communities at risk of lifelong psychological damage. The National LGBT Survey 2018 found that 7% of LGBT+ people have been offered or undergone conversion therapy. Trans respondents were almost twice as likely to have undergone or been offered conversion therapy (13%), while asexual people were also at a higher risk of being offered or undergoing conversion therapy (10%).
Where are conversion practices happening in the UK?
Often people are surprised at how close a victim of conversion practices is to the person or organisation who conducted it. The Government’s National LGBT Survey (2018) found that one in five (19%) of those who had conversion therapy were offered it through healthcare and medical settings, 16% were subjected to it by a parent, guardian or family member, and a further one in ten (9%) from a member of their community.
But by a large margin, most victims of conversion practices went through it in a faith setting. Over half (51%) of those subjected to a form of conversion practices reported it was conducted by a faith organisation or group.
Why must conversion practices be banned in faith settings?
With such a high proportion of conversion practices taking place in faith settings, it’s vital that these would be included in a ban of conversion practices.
Some LGBTQIA+ people take years to reflect on and explore their sexual orientation and/or gender identity, and many rely on the help of therapists, psychologists, and religious leaders or communities to support them through that process. Spiritual exploration or counselling in an open and affirming manner can be a massive support for a person.
But, if spiritual guidance, counselling or prayer takes the form of coercing a person to cure themselves of their sexual orientation or gender identity, this is not exploration or counselling. It is conversion practice, and it is abuse.
It is important to be clear that a ban is not about restricting prayer or criminalising regular religious or faith-based activity. There is no question that freedom of religion or belief is a crucial and fundamental right, and one which is a central and cherished part of life for many LGBTQIA+ people. But there is no freedom or right that grants a licence to harm, abuse or torture another person.
How can you help ban conversion practices in the UK?
More than three years ago, the Government promised to ban conversion practices, and later this year they will publish a consultation into what that Bill will include.
A conversion practices ban will only be effective if it covers every single LGBTQIA+ person, both adults and children, and in every setting – including religious and faith-based settings.
All LGBTQ+ people deserve to be protected from abuse. Find out how you can support a ban on conversion practices that leaves no one behind.
Bi Cymru/Wales was founded in 2007 by bi people in Wales who felt that their issues and voices are often missing or overlooked in LGBTQIA+ spaces. We came out of a workshop held at BiCon UK held when BiCon came to the University of South Wales in Trefforest in 2007.
We work with and for all people attracted to more than one gender, whatever label they use, or if they use no label. Embracing the diversity within bi communities is an integral part of our identity and at the core of our work.
Since we were founded bi people talked to us at Swansea Pride and Pride Cymru and volunteered to help found local groups Bi Swansea and Bi Cardiff in 2009.
We meet monthly in Cardiff and Swansea as discussion and peer support groups. Since COVID-19 we have been meeting every two weeks online. We also run campaigns on key bi issues, events for Bi Visibility Day and other key dates, deliver bi training, and run an annual BiFest Wales event with workshops, social space and events, community stalls, and an alternative live music event.
Providing spaces where people can be their whole selves as bi people is vital to our wellbeing and acceptance.
We create safe spaces, where bi people can feel comfortable and confident to be themselves. Members often talk to us about feeling they do not belong in either straight or gay spaces and feel alone and isolated. Evidence shows that bi people are often only welcome in gay spaces if they are single or have a same-sex partner, and only welcome in straight spaces if they are single or have an opposite-sex partner. This leads many to hiding their orientation or feeling their orientation is not taken seriously. Providing spaces where people can be their whole selves as bi people is vital to our wellbeing and acceptance in Welsh and UK society.
The lack of bi spaces and of understanding of bi people and issues leads to many members feeling they have found a space with us where they can finally be themselves and be welcome as themselves. This sense of freedom to be ourselves, part of a community, and not alone and isolated as a bi person is a key part of wellbeing and all our groups and events.
As we reopen, we are keeping the mix of online meetings and face-to-face groups, so everyone can access the support and community they need.
Adding Zoom meetings has allowed us to support and engage bi people in rural areas of Wales, in areas without a local bi group, and for bi parents, carers, and some disabled people. However, some members have found online meets inaccessible for them. As we reopen, we are keeping the mix of online meetings and face-to-face groups, so everyone can access the support and community they need.
An extra benefit of bringing bi people together is widening understanding of bisexuality and bi issues. Our training, public events, and campaigns provide a platform for bi people’s voices and issues, which are usually missing in LGBTQIA+ work. By working with other organisations, including Pride Cymru and Stonewall Cymru, biphobia and bi issues are becoming more visible and part of the work of these organisations. The view that a person is defined by their current relationship and that bi people are gay or straight depending on the gender of the person they are dating is changing slowly, with bi people becoming more recognised as consistently bi, not defined by our relationships. Working with public, private and third sector organisations deepens understanding of these issues and recognition of bi people and our issues.
As part of the UK bi family, we also bring bi people and allies from Wales together with our wider community through key events such as Bi Pride UK and BiCon UK. We connect together through Bi Community News and Biscuit. And we link internationally through the bi steering group of ILGA and the international Bi+ group and event organisers’ network. These connections provide a vital link to a wider community, beyond the Welsh borders.
Bringing bi people and allies together for both workshops and social spaces is vital for bi people to develop community, tackle isolation, and provide peer support.
We are looking forward to being able to have BiFest Wales again on a Saturday in May in 2022. Bringing bi people and allies together for both workshops and social spaces is vital for bi people to develop community, tackle isolation, and provide peer support. We have been missing this opportunity to celebrate our bi family, alongside providing an opportunity for key discussions and change to challenge biphobia, bi erasure, and bi exclusion in Wales. Our voices are often unheard and bringing people together is important to hearing and acting on our voices, experiences, and issues.
‘Whenever I remembered the treatment I’d had, I would start physically shaking,’ – survivors of conversion practices share their experiences.
Shockingly, conversion practices remain legal in the UK. And while this remains the case, LGBTQ+ people are at risk of harm. According to the Government's LGBT Survey, 7% of LGBT+ people have been offered conversion therapy, rising to 13% of trans people and 10% of asexual people.
Behind those cold numbers are real people – many of whom still carry with them the long-lasting emotional scars of being made to feel broken. Of being told that who they are is wrong, and that they need to be ‘fixed’ or ‘cured’.
Below, seven survivors share their harrowing experiences of this degrading practice – and the lasting damage it has had on them.
1. “The guilt around my sexuality is hard to shake.”
‘I went into total denial about my sexuality and embraced the idea that I had been “cured”. At the same time, my mental health bombed and my self-harm increased dramatically. In 2009, I tried to kill myself.
“It was only last year, aged 38, I finally accepted that I am gay. Even today, when I know that God loves me for who I am, the guilt around my sexuality is so hard to shake.’
George – a gay woman in her 30s
2. “It is still difficult to see how I am worthy of love.”
‘My pastor, along with his wife and a counsellor, did all they could to convince me that it was wrong to be trans. Even though I’m unsure what I believe anymore, I still live with the fear that I will go to hell.
One of the most destructive impacts was that I began to believe I was unlovable. After all, if I was being told that even God couldn't bear who I am, then it was, and sometimes still is, difficult to see how I am worthy of love.’
Liam – a trans man in his 30s
3. “I started to wonder if the therapist was right.”
‘It took years for me to seek mental health support again, in case the same thing happened. I started to feel hatred towards myself and a fear of engaging with people who might have supported me – whether that was the LGBT community or the South Asian community.
And I became insecure in my relationship. I started to wonder if the therapist was right: had I been used by my partner? Or groomed? That took a long time to overcome.’
Amir – a gay man in his 20s
4. “I have a difficult time with relationships, and intimacy scares me.”
‘Today I struggle with trauma, PTSD, and an eating disorder which are all linked to my conversion therapy experiences.
I have a difficult time with relationships, and intimacy scares me. A lot of people can’t comprehend what it’s like to have experiences like mine, even LGBT people. My parents still don’t understand why I didn’t want to have conversion therapy, or why it was so damaging. They think all therapy is a good thing.’
Eli – a gay man in his 20s
5. “I’d still have flashbacks from my sessions 40 years later.”
‘Whenever I remembered the treatment I’d had, I would start physically shaking. In that sense you could say that the therapy “worked”, in that it affected my body. But, in terms of my mind, and my thoughts, it only made me hate myself more.
The treatment didn’t stop, or even decrease, my feelings of dysphoria. I struggled with it for decades. It was only when I retired early – aged 55 – that I felt I could live openly as myself. And while things got so much better, I’d still have flashbacks from my aversion therapy sessions 40 years later.’
Carolyn – a trans woman in her 70s
6. “My therapy sessions put the shame and self-hatred I felt into overdrive.”
‘Conversion therapy stole precious time I could have spent exploring my sexuality, learning about myself, and building my relationship with my parents. At a certain point I thought I had become asexual, and this felt like an accomplishment.
It also took away my self-confidence. Because if I had truly believed that conversion therapy was right, what else was I wrong about? My therapy sessions put the shame and self-hatred I felt as a teenager into overdrive. I felt responsible for changing myself, and if I didn’t manage this, then I would have failed yet again.’
Joe – a gay man in in his 30s
7. “Dating has been impossible at times ... sometimes I have felt physically sick.”
‘My pastor taught me to be afraid of the secular world and even of Christians with more liberal views. I’ve also found it difficult to become part of the LGBT community, since I was taught to fear LGBT people.
Dating has been impossible at times – sometimes I have felt physically sick when starting a relationship because the feelings of “I shouldn't be here” come back so strongly.’
Emily – a gay woman in her 30s
Some names have been changed.
All of these stories can be read in full on the Ban Conversion Therapy website.
If you’ve been impacted by any of the issues discussed this article, visit the Ban Conversion Therapy website for a list of support services.
All LGBTQ+ people deserve to be protected from abuse. Find out how you can support a ban on conversion practices that leaves no one behind.
When I think about being Black and queer, the first thing that comes to mind is the incredible and intriguing presence that Black queer people have.
There is a powerful air of ownership, profound confidence, the bold audacity to reclaim the word queer and revel in our Black history. I think that comes after accepting our identity is still seen as an oxymoron in today’s society.
In my life, I’ve questioned whether I am Black ‘enough’ to occupy Black spaces, appear queer ‘enough’ to belong with the rest of the LGBTQ+ community – and if I am ‘enough’ of either in Black queer spaces.
For many Black people and people of colour, conversations around LGBTQ+ identities are still taboo in the family home and community – any acknowledgement of LGBTQ+ identities may be met with a disapproving side-eye, presenting the notion that we do not talk about being queerness. That we must hide it and keep it a secret.
The silence around LGBTQ+ identities within the Black community is a direct impact of slavery. After the abolition of slavery, formerly enslaved people faced an unemployment pandemic. In order to be accepted into a hostile society, Black people had to assimilate by being compliant, controlled and reserved. Today, we still see Black people being unlawfully killed by law enforcement – we are perceived as a threat because of our clothes, our music, or simply because we are Black.
It’s been passed down through the generations to keep your head down, stay out of trouble and most importantly, try not to be seen – because this could make the difference between life and death. But this has led to a devastating mindset: ‘We are already seen as different, why would you draw more attention to yourself by also being gay?’ As if being gay is a justified reason to be targeted.
All of this, along with a distinct lack of Black LGBTQ+ representation anywhere in society while I was growing up, has contributed to some of the problems I’ve faced. I was a late bloomer who came out at 24, using the label ‘bisexual’. For many years before that, I dressed ‘safe’, not too feminine, but not too tomboyish, butch or stud to raise any eyebrows. It was only after coming out and accepting my identity that I began venturing into LGBTQ+ bars, cabarets, and a wide variety of Pride events across the UK.
Even still, I was always conscious of biphobia and bi-erasure in LGBTQ+ scenes. I would be cautious about mentioning I was bi when dating either sex, for fear of rejection from predominately lesbian and gay-centric scenes, or fetishisation from straight cis men. It was only after researching more about Black queer culture that I discovered the term ‘queer’ – and with it a label I could confidently identify with. So, how does it feel to be Black and queer? D’antae Johnson explained it perfectly when they wrote: ‘A common misconception people have about Black queer people is that we must always be Black first. Personally, there is no first, both identities influence me equally.’
Although both parts of my identity are massively impacted by racism, homophobia and biphobia/bi-erasure, they also bring me so much joy.
Of course, I can’t speak for all Black queer people or queer people of colour. But for me, being Black and queer are synonymous. Although both parts of my identity are massively impacted by racism, homophobia and biphobia/bi-erasure, they also bring me so much joy. I want to acknowledge the incredible icons that have paved the way for people like me to forcefully take up space, celebrate our uniqueness and become leaders and role models within our own right.
The evolution of technology and accessibility of social media also means that today, there is a plethora of Black representation. There are more Black and Asian publishers, writers, lead actors, TV presenters, directors, and CEOs. We can showcase and recognise Black men like Lil Nas X, an astounding artist who perfectly incorporates gender fluidity in his music, videos, and fashion. There has been a surge of Black queer influencers on platforms such as TikTok, YouTube and Instagram, where our communities are able to thrive.
To be Black and queer is to be powerful.
It goes without saying that queerness is deeply personal. After all, the word ‘queer’ perfectly encompasses the intersectional experiences and fluid identities make us who we are. To be Black and queer is to transcend heteronormative and binary ideals. Most importantly, to be Black and queer is to be powerful.
Visit our Black History Month Hub.
October 11 is National Coming Out Day – but for most LGBTQ+ people, coming out is an ongoing process. In this essay, Stonewall’s Creative Manager, Max Hartley, describes their own journey towards coming out as trans.
I’m Max. And this National Coming Out Day, I’m coming out as trans. Getting to this stage has been a long and winding journey from childhood until today, at 28. For me, ‘coming out’ has taken a few different forms over the years – including tearfully telling my Mum I ‘wasn’t straight’ at age 14, letting university friends know I was a lesbian, and opening up about being non-binary when I started working at Stonewall a couple of years ago.
It’s easy to think that coming out several times means somebody is confused, indecisive, or that they will eventually identify their final ‘correct’ or ‘actual’ identity. But to me, feeling able to come out more than once has always reflected something positive about my own happiness and self-knowledge. It means I’ve learnt, accepted and started to celebrate something new about myself, and that I’ve built up the confidence to share it with the people around me.
The period before coming out to the people closest to me has always been characterised by fear and worry. Many LGBTQ+ people will have experienced this – struggling to sleep after hours spent considering the dozen ways a relative might react to your news – will they be proud? Anxious? Furious? We’re forced to confront the fact that no level of preparation on our side can ensure that we’ll be accepted for who we are. Coming out is always a risk.
LGBTQ+ people have to come out consistently; in different contexts and when they meet new people.
And it’s often said that coming out isn’t a one-time thing – in fact, LGBTQ+ people have to come out consistently; in different contexts and when they meet new people. Because stereotypes and strict categorisations about LGBTQ+ people are still commonplace, some people find that they’re always assumed to be straight or cis. Often bi people are assumed to be straight or gay, depending on their partner. Having to come out simply to correct other people’s incorrect assumptions can be exhausting, particularly if it’s happening regularly and your identity hasn’t changed.
But under better circumstances – when you have news you’re excited to share – coming out can be transformative. Getting the chance to live more authentically means that many LGBTQ+ people see coming out as a major milestone in their lives. And while not every coming out conversation I’ve had has made me feel celebrated in the moment, afterwards I’ve always felt liberated, relieved, and proud of myself for taking a leap of faith.
Personal circumstances also play a crucial role in determining whether you feel able to come out, and to what extent. I knew I was non-binary long before I told anybody outside my close friendship group. I used to work in an industry that prides itself on inclusivity, but where I felt I’d be more widely accepted as a gay person than a trans person. So when I was read as a lesbian, I didn’t contradict my colleagues. I knew that coming out as non-binary would lead to more than a few awkward conversations and a mishmash of pronouns that would have made me feel more embarrassed and self-conscious than sticking with a label that is widely understood. Deciding who to be out to, and when, involved constantly weighing up the potential risks and rewards.
I was finally able to reflect on what it would mean not just to be ‘fine’ with my body – but to like it.
And when the pandemic hit, my circumstances, like everyone’s, changed again. Being furloughed gave me more time to think about myself and my future than ever before. Without the usual distractions, I was finally able to reflect on what it would mean not just to be ‘fine’ with my body – but to like it. And to admit that, in order to get there, I wanted to transition medically.
Just over a year ago, I was prescribed hormones. I had support from my close circle, and took courage in the fact that I could stop taking testosterone at any time. Trans people are constantly warned that they could regret medical transition and cause ‘irreversible damage’ to their bodies. And, despite the evidence of happy trans people all around me, some of those pervasive narratives were still lodged in the back of my mind.
I still came out slowly, taking each obstacle one at a time, and gradually introducing my new name.
But in a surprise to probably no one, I didn’t regret anything. Seeing changes in my face, body and voice didn’t make me feel alienated from myself – they made me realise that I’d been feeling alienated from my body since puberty and had simply learnt to cope with it. After that, coming out became easier – but I still did it slowly, taking each obstacle one at a time, and gradually introducing my new name. I waited six months after starting hormones to tell lots of people, because I wanted to be armed with an explanation as to how I could be ‘sure’ that medical transition was right for me.
Today, I’m coming out to the rest of the world as trans because I feel ‘sure’ – or ‘sure enough’. Lots of LGBTQ+ people will relate to this need to feel certain that their identities will stick – that they’re not a ‘phase’ – before they come out. But I hope this won’t be the yardstick for future generations. I hope that LGBTQ+ people can come out, as themselves, as many times as they wish. And that in future we’re able to embrace our identities whether they’re static and final, or shifting and fluid – and be met with a rapturous reception when we do.
Visit our Coming Out hub.
Conversion practices are a damaging and degrading practice that tries to change, "cure", or suppress people's sexual orientation and/or gender identity.
It leaves lasting scars on LGBTQ+ survivors – but not everyone fully understands what it is. Below, we look at seven things about the practice that you might not know about.
1. It’s still happening in the UK
Conversion practices aren't a thing of the past. Since conversion practices are still legal in the UK, it can – and does – still happen to LGBTQ+ people today, often preying on those who are most in need of support and community.
2. It can take many forms
The term ‘conversion practices’ covers a vast array of pseudo-psychological practices, from talking therapies – that encourage a person to believe that their sexual orientation, gender identity, or gender expression is somehow wrong, disordered, or potentially ‘sinful’ – to physical abuse, beatings, or the use of so-called ‘corrective rape’.
3. It’s more prevalent than you might think
Conversion practices impact more people than you’d think. In fact, 7% of LGBTQ+ people in the UK have been offered or undergone conversion therapy.
4. It impacts people of all ages
While you might think that only people from an older generation are exposed to conversion practices, this isn’t at all the case. People of all ages can – and often do – experience it.
5. It impacts some groups more often than others
LGBTQ+ people of colour are twice as likely to undergo conversion therapy, trans people are nearly twice as likely to be targeted, and asexual people are also at higher risk.
6. It has a significant and long-lasting impact on survivors
While no study has ever determined that conversion practices are successful, there is significant evidence that it can be fatal, and survivors carry the resulting trauma throughout their lives. A 2024 study found that nearly 1 in 6 (16%) LGBTQ+ young people reported being threatened with or subjected to conversion practices, and this was associated with higher rates of mental health concerns.
7. Seeking support can seem impossible
For those who have experienced conversion practices, speaking out and seeking support can seem impossible. The trauma they’ve endured and the fear of upsetting their families or communities will mean that many will keep their pain to themselves and face it alone. It doesn’t have to be this way – but we need the Government to implement a full legislative ban and provide support for victims and survivors.
All LGBTQ+ people deserve to be protected from abuse. Find out more.
National Coming Out Day was first celebrated in 1988. Over 30 years later, it’s still in our calendars – but why do we need it?
National Coming Out Day is an annual celebration which takes place on 11 October every year. It was first celebrated on the one-year anniversary of the 1987 National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights – a date chosen to honour the bravery of LGBTQ+ individuals who decide to come out and live openly. Although it started off as an American awareness day, the meaning of National Coming Out Day is still highly relevant to LGBTQ+ communities across the world today.
Coming out is a unique experience for each LGBTQ+ person. It’s not a one-time event; many LGBTQ+ individuals who come out to their closest friends and family may later come out at work or school, to their extended family, or to casual acquaintances.
For some, coming out is no longer a big deal – it can be a simple matter of correcting someone’s assumptions about you, or introducing your partner. For others, coming out is still a huge challenge. The very real fear of facing discrimination, bullying, or judgement can cause LGBTQ+ people to stay ‘in the closet’, struggling with anxiety while they strive to be themselves.
While coming out can be daunting and scary, it can also be the first time that LGBTQ+ individuals are able to be truly open with the people closest to them.
Talking about coming out and sharing our stories can help to strengthen our community and support one another with this experience. While coming out can be daunting and scary, it can also be the first time that LGBTQ+ individuals are able to be truly open with the people closest to them.
Over the last few decades since National Coming Out Day was first recognised, we’ve seen huge progress for the LGBTQ+ community, with legislation on same-sex marriage, discrimination laws, and educational reforms all helping to protect and support LGBTQ+ people.
However, these legal developments don’t mean that the fight for LGBTQ+ rights is over. In the UK, we continue to see LGBTQ+ people suffer from attacks, hate, and abuse. Across the world, LGBTQ+ people are still campaigning for laws and attitudes alike to change. For many, coming out can be dangerous – or simply not an option.
National Coming Out Day isn’t a day to force LGBTQ+ people to come out, or to shame people who haven’t done so. It’s a day to celebrate the beauty of being true to yourself, for having the courage to share an important part of your life with others, and for celebrating those who may come out to you. Rather than being perceived as exposing yourself or confessing something, we should see coming out as a marker of coming into your identity, and allowing others to share in that knowledge. National Coming Out Day should also be a day to acknowledge the difficulties of coming out, and to remember that it’s still not something all LGBTQ+ people can safely do.
Today, some would argue that coming out (and having a day to celebrate it) is unnecessary. It’s true that no one should have to come out, and that not coming out doesn’t mean that you’re “hiding” or “lying”. In an ideal world, being straight and/or cis wouldn’t be perceived as default, and no one would make any assumptions about anyone’s sexual orientation or gender identity.
But for so many in our communities, that day is still a long way off. Coming out has always been an important part of LGBTQ+ history.
For those who are questioning their identities or living in an unwelcoming environment, seeing someone come out – whether it’s a YouTuber, a family member, a teacher or your best friend – can offer a feeling of hope, solidarity, and reassurance.
Celebrating National Coming Out Day is an important way to raise the visibility of our communities.
Whether you identify as LGBTQ+ or an ally, celebrating National Coming Out Day is an important way to raise the visibility of our communities: reminding us all of the ongoing struggles LGBTQ+ people face just for being themselves, but also of the joy and pride of being openly LGBTQ+.
Read more on coming out.
We asked 7 ace people what they wish allies knew about their identities – here’s what they told us.
1. You don’t have to experience zero sexual attraction to be a part of the ace community. Demisexual and greysexual people belong in the community.
“Broadly speaking, a demisexual person is someone who only feels sexual attraction to someone after they feel an emotional bond. Demisexuality fits in to the ace spectrum. I can feel romantic feelings towards someone without there having to be sexual feelings there.”
“A lot of grey aces describe feeling sexual attraction on occasion, having a very low sex drive but enjoying sex occasionally, or feeling completely ambivalent about sex. Despite having an incredibly strong emotional attraction to my partners, I began to realise over time that, while I craved physical intimacy, I didn’t crave sexual intimacy. If I found out today that I would never have sexual contact with another human being ever again, it would have exactly zero impact on my life.”
2. People on the ace spectrum don’t want your pity. Just because they may feel sexual attraction in different ways, doesn’t mean they don’t feel excitement!
“For me, the idea of locking lips with multiple fitties in just one night makes me feel intensely uncomfortable at most, or at the very least bored. There’s no excitement in it, whereas when I do sporadically feel attraction to someone, I feel it EVERYWHERE – like someone has attached a TENS machine to all my main nerves and just turned that dial up to 11. It’s great!”
3. People’s sexualities sitting within the ace spectrum doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with past sexual trauma – but, even if there are links, their identity is no less valid.
“I have experienced sexual trauma on more than one occasion, and I must admit that it has been really hard to unpick ‘organic’ elements of my sexuality from trauma responses. I think this was one of the biggest reasons that I invalidated myself regarding my ace spectrum identity for a long time.
I am not sure if I will ever be able to say that my experience of sex repulsion is entirely unrelated to my trauma, though I don’t consciously associate them anymore. But over time I’ve come to terms with the fact that, regardless of its origin, it has remained stable and is a key part of my sexual identity and my relationship with sexuality. I am entitled to own that and accept it as another piece of the puzzle that forms my grey asexuality.”
4. Some people on the ace spectrum do have a sex drive.
“I masturbate pretty regularly. But, as I was trying to explain to a friend recently, when I masturbate, I don’t really think about sex at all. It just feels good. Sort of like eating a massive bowl of hummus feels really good, or climbing into bed after a long hot shower, or binge watching all five series of Broad City in two days, you know? I enjoy masturbating, I just have no desire to have other people do it for me, or to touch other people that way.”
5. People can be both bisexual and demisexual. LGBTQIA+ people know themselves deeply. When you consistently come out to yourself and those around you, it’s hard NOT to know who you are.
“Just as straight people are not automatically attracted to people of a different gender to them, I don’t leave my commute overwhelmed by all the potential options I have. I can be in a room with the most beautiful person of any gender, and that won’t mean that I want to jump their bones. Knowing someone’s morals, what makes them tick, and their own experiences of moving through the world, is of far more interest to me.”
6. The hypersexualisation of Black people negatively impacts those who sit under the umbrella of the ace spectrum.
“As someone who moves through the world as a black person and is often perceived as a black woman before I have a chance to confirm or deny this, I have felt myself hypersexualised in a multitude of situations – by strangers, by medical professionals, by lovers, and would-be lovers. It’s a relentless torrent of assumptions on my body made by people who will likely never get close enough to it.
This hypersexualisation also actively causes harm, as it directly feeds into r*pe culture by framing black bodies as bodies that sex is done to or happens to, without a need for the enthusiastic consent that comes from getting with people who you’ve emotionally bonded with on a soul level.”
7. It’s OK to be confused about your identity – but, ultimately, knowing yourself is awesome!
“For a long time, I wondered what the heck was wrong with me, which I think is pretty common to the ace experience. But, after lots of wondering, thinking, reckoning, and self-searching, I’ve settled on grey ace. It actually sounds really cool, like a dark anti-hero, or a pub in a magical realism novel – The Grey Ace. So, I can roll with that.”
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In the UK, it is still legal for LGBTQ+ people to be subjected to conversion therapy.
Conversion practices attempt to suppress, ‘cure’, or change a person’s gender identity or sexual orientation. Conversion therapy might be seen as cruel and archaic to many, but when we back look at our history, we can see that the fight to #BanConversionTherapy is one more step in a long and sometimes slow struggle for our rights.
LGBTQ+ people have nothing to be ashamed of – our sexual orientations and gender identities are diverse and to be celebrated. Through affirmative and informed support and therapy, many of us explore, discover, and accept our sexual orientation and gender identity, or come to terms with the stigma and prejudice about who we are.
LGBTQ+ people have nothing to be ashamed of.
But so-called conversion ‘therapy’ is rooted in the idea that LGBTQ+ people need to be fixed. Anyone who has been shamed for being themselves knows that it takes a toll on your mental health and self-esteem when loved ones, institutions or services discriminate against you based on who you are, or ask you to hide or change yourself. As Joe, a survivor of conversion therapy shared, ‘My therapy sessions put the shame and self-hatred I felt as a teenager into overdrive. I felt responsible for changing myself, and if I didn’t manage this, then I would have failed yet again.’
It might seem shocking that conversion therapy is still legal in the UK, and that 7% of LGBTQ+ people have been offered or undergone conversion therapy. But the sad truth is that only 54 years ago, homosexuality was illegal. Until 1973, homosexuality was considered a ‘mental disorder.’ And it was only two years ago – in 2019 – that being trans was removed as a ‘mental disorder’ from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.
So, while it is shocking, it’s perhaps not surprising that we’re still fighting to be free of the prejudice and stigma that says something is wrong with us, or that we’re broken. These legal and medical systems demonstrate how conversion therapy managed to thrive and why it remains a risk for our communities.
We deserve to get healthcare, access and support, and belong to a religious or cultural community, without fear.
But history also tells us that, despite the odds and the risks, LGBTQ+ people and their allies resist these dehumanising arguments. And – even if it takes a long time – we win. After all, those laws and policies didn’t overturn themselves! It’s the LGBTQ+ movement that lobbied, organised, protested and spoke up for change. The campaign to #BanConversionTherapy continues these fights.
It’s about saying that we are who we say we are. It’s about saying we deserve to get healthcare, access and support, and belong to a religious or cultural community, without fear. We’ve already worked together – as a band of LGBTQ+ individuals and allies alongside religious, cultural, medical and therapeutic communities – to get this Bill for a ban on the table.
Now, we must make sure that when the Bill lands, all LGBTQ+ people – no matter where or how they may be targeted – are protected by law from conversion therapy.