Looking Back (LGBT History Month)

By Sister Joy Of Woo

Equally cursed and blessed to be born in 1975, I have seen the strides toward equality in my lifetime.

I was 6 years old and completely unaware (reasonably so) when homosexuality was partially decriminalised in Scotland. Consider those words, partial decriminalisation. There were still plenty of ways that being gay, or at least gay sex, was very illegal.

So when I was a teenager and exploring my first relationships, the age of consent was 21. I was clearly not 21. Furthermore, any sexual acts between 2 men had to be behind a locked door (the stipulation within the Criminal Justice (Scotland) Act 1980.

For me, this meant that every act of love was an act of civil disobedience. But the more damaging impact was that I knew in no uncertain terms that I was a second-class citizen. It was not the only time I received such a message from those in power.

I remember having news clippings on my bedroom wall that featured Peter Tatchell, among others, campaigning for an equal age of consent. I remember in 1994 as that dropped from 21 to 18, still not equal. And although I was 19 at the time and so legally it no longer impacted me, still the message was clear. Not equal. Less than. Dangerous. Predatory. I would be 25 when we had a legal age of consent.

I was only 13 when Margaret Thatcher, then Prime Minister, succeeded in implementing Section 28 of the Local Government Act 1988. The first new piece of homophobic law since Victorian times. In her words “children in our schools are being taught they have the inalienable right to be gay”. So she pushed through legislation to stop any local government employees from promoting homosexuality as a “pretend family relationship”. This was really targeted at teachers especially but had wider ramifications. While it was rarely if ever prosecuted under, it prevented many teachers from being openly gay, or even saying “that’s ok” if a kid came out to them, for fear of losing their job. How many thousands of kids were denied support because of this hateful piece of law? How many lives could have been saved by inclusive sex education, especially at the height of the Great Decimation?

The same year that an actor on Eastenders gave his on-screen boyfriend a peck on the cheek. It was the first gay kiss aired on UK primetime TV. While it was underwhelming in itself, it should have felt like progress. The Sun the next day ran a spread entitled “Eastbenders” and featured a delightful headline including the phrase “yuppie poofs”.

The introduction of Channel 4 in the 80s was a lifeline. I would stay up late to watch programmes like In The Pink and Out On Tuesdays, providing me with some form of appropriate education and connection to my tribe, quite something for a kid raised in a small mining village in East Central Scotland.

Channel 4 would continue to provide some measure of comfort, humour and titillation throughout my adolescence. I was obsessed with the Golden Girls. In terms of queer content there wasn’t much immediately visible. Coco the housekeeper only appeared in the pilot. Two episodes with Blanche’s brother coming out and getting married and a lesbian episode with an old friend of Rose’ s who has a crush on her. It was years later that I found out about Marc Cherry, Stan Zimmerman and others who were the gay men writing and directing the show. I was connecting with the gay humour written into it. Also Golden Girls was about finding family as you went along. It was a template for my first gay flatshares.

Asides from Golden Girls Channel 4 also gave me an introduction to Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City miniseries and then I devoured the books. It also gave me Eurotrash, which I scoured for saucy gayness and let me feel I was watching a will-they won’t-they romance between Jean Paul and Antwon unfold. They were so flirty and bitchy and friendly with each other.

The same year as Tales of the City and Eurotrash Channel 4 also had Camp Christmas. I recall having to watch the repeat of their Alternative Queens Speech with Quentin Crisp so it didn’t derail the traditional heteronormative family fare that day. The thought that we could have our own versions of holiday traditions was revolutionary, though.

All these things were tiny cracks of light in the darkness. I had been 11 when the Don’t Die Of Ignorance AIDS campaign hit. Fear, panic and judgement swept the nation.

All of these influences, messages and reflections I received and perceived left their mark, for ill or good. At 18 I read that gay men had an average life expectancy of 40. Right now I’m 44 and I can’t figure out how I feel about that. I know it reflects the change in treatment for HIV and AIDS but the number as an age I could expect to live to was deeply embedded in my consciousness.

It remember the Summer of 1995 and I was 20 years old. Standing in the streets of Edinburgh a year before I would love there. It was the first Pride Scotland and there were a few thousand of us gathered together marching. For a rural gay kid from a this was the impossible dream – community. It gave me hope that we could all connect, turn the tide of homophobia and shame and began a long history of involvement with Pride events up and down the country for me.

It’s strange to look back to those influences and events that helped shape me. There are a thousand more threads woven into that tapestry of experience and I wonder what my journey would have been without them. Some are sharply defined, others I’m sure are way more subtle and even subconscious.

A point on my timeline that I’ve realised is 1979. While I was in Scotland entering Nursery at school, three things were happening in the US that would change my adult life completely.

That Spring a call-out was released for a conference that would become the first Radical Faerie gathering in the Autumn of that year.

Easter Weekend that same year four radical faeries donned nuns habits and hit the beach to raise awareness of anti-gay violence in San Francisco. It was to be the first Ministry of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

October of that year saw the publication of Starhawk’s A Spiral Dance, the first book about paganism I found that celebrated contributions by queer people.

40 years later and here I am, a Pagan Faerie Sister.

This LGBT History Month, I invite you to look back at your own journey. Share it with people. Listen to other stories. Celebrate your victories. Honour your struggles. Be proud of your resilience. You are loved.