I told Mum I was a lesbian – she picked up the phone

I remember the tears running down my face as I told my mum I was a lesbian.

It was 2005 and I was just 15 at the time. I felt so upset and confused, but there was no need to worry because Mum was amazing.

She suggested we get out the phone directory to see if there was help available – that’s when we came across the LGBT Foundation helpline together.

Speaking to one of their volunteer staff members, I told them I felt confused and scared, that I thought I had a crush on a friend, and I was scared of people finding out.

They replied saying that everything I was feeling was normal, that I didn’t need to know exactly who I was, and that I could take things one day at a time. They reassured me that I shouldn’t feel pressured to tell anyone and should only come out when I felt ready.

So I went from feeling helpless to hopeful. I even remember asking myself why I had held it in for so long. 

Growing up in the 90s meant I was at school under Section 28, so discussions in the classroom about being LGBTQ+ were non-existent. There was a void, making it hard to imagine what my life would be like when I came out.

As a result, I used to worry that I wouldn’t have any friends or meet people like me – the idea of ever having a partner, family, or career as an out lesbian felt so far away because that wasn’t something that was shown or talked about.

The only LGBTQ+ people in the media were either older or archetypes, so it was confusing to navigate coming out and what that might look like for someone like me.

In my later teenage years, TV shows like Sugar Rush and Skins shook my world. It was the first time I had seen younger lesbians on screen and finally had something to relate to.

After I came out to my mum at 15, I used to worry that I would never make friends and find people like me. In fact, I was outed not long after that – I told one friend who told someone else, and I went to school one day to find that everybody knew.

All eyes were on me; names and notes were thrown around. I remember a teacher taking me to one side and asking if I was OK. I was chased home and bullied at school – it was a difficult time. 

At 16, I snuck off to a Pride event in secret as I was still very much in the closet to most people I knew. I felt so excited but also scared of bumping into someone who might recognise me.

Then I remember a day trip to Manchester when I was 18, where I was able to safely hold hands with my then-girlfriend in the Gay Village. I felt on top of the world.

But when we got the train home to Blackburn where we lived, abuse was shouted at us. It was such a jolting juxtaposition between a safe space and one of hostility and homophobia.

After school, I travelled for a few years and worked overseas, but then wanted to come back to Manchester to feel part of a community and build my home. I have always wanted to give my time and energy to something that makes a positive impact, so I have had multiple roles in the charity sector.

Over the years, I’ve realised that, for queer people in a heteronormative world, life is a series of coming outs – when you start a new job, meet new people, or navigate everyday life.

Because of this, when I was a youth worker, I always wore a rainbow lanyard or badge to be consciously visible as a lesbian. It was important to me to be that safe person young people could turn to – the person I wish I had growing up. 

Then at 32, my friend sent me the link to a job advert at LGBT Foundation. I instantly thought back to the call I had with the helpline worker after I came out to my mum.

I immediately felt so excited when I read the job description, but it took several confidence-building conversations with friends and family before I plucked up the courage to apply.

The interview process was so inclusive and I felt at ease. I had a presentation and two interviews, where I immediately felt a strong sense of connection to the work and the people.

At the end of my interview, I told the panel how the helpline had supported me to become who I am today. Their reaction was lovely, and I soon learned that many colleagues and volunteers have their own personal connection to LGBT Foundation.

When I found out I got the job, I was over the moon. I didn’t know at the time that it would be more than just a job – this is a wonderful part of my life spent with my community.

I’ve been in the role for two and a half years now and oversee the day-to-day operations of the charity. Every day is different, and it’s a privilege to work alongside so many passionate, brilliant people committed to LGBTQ+ health, wellbeing, and safety.

For such a small charity, we make a huge impact through our life-changing and life-saving services, and we couldn’t do this without our volunteers – like the one I spoke to on the helpline at 15. It’s really made me reflect on my role in lifting others up and being a visible leader for LGBTQ+ people.

I’m inspired by those who came out before me, particularly queer women in leadership, like our Chair of Trustees, Jax Effiong. She’s been an incredible mentor. 

Now, I feel I’ve come full circle. From calling the helpline when I needed someone, to celebrating queer joy every day. I wish I could tell my teenage self that it would all be OK and that there is so much joy in being queer.

People don’t always realise that when you come out, it’s not just you who is affected – it’s everyone on the journey with you. Writing this has been emotional, but it has reminded me why places like LGBT Foundation exist: because no one should have to go through this alone.

I am incredibly proud of where I am today. If you’re struggling, please know that help is available – and a future where you can live as your true self is possible. 

Alongside this, if you believe in a world where everyone can be themselves safely, get involved.

Whether you’re LGBTQ+ or an ally, charities and community groups are always looking for people to give back – your support can make all the difference. Just like it was for me all those years ago.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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