Representation matters
Much like growing up Queer, my MS diagnosis makes me feel different and isolated. Seeing that an MS charity cares enough to represent people like me means the world.
I’m not a person who cries easily. Life events and strong emotions usually leave me dry-eyed. Give me a tragic film, a sad drama or even a poignant TV advert and the tears roll but real life? That’s another story.
I have, however, cried twice at the Pride in London parade. The first time was in the 90s, visiting Pride for the first time. I was in my early 20s, down from the Midlands where I’d grown up . It was often lonely being queer in 90s Britain and the sight of so many people like me was new and overwhelming. Tears of joy ran down my face.
Being seen
The second time I cried at Pride was a couple of years ago. I was standing watching the parade with my partner and dog and the MS Society group walked past. I dissolved.
I was a couple of years into my diagnosis of MS and, much like growing up Queer, I was different and distanced again. Chronic illness had left me feeling like I’d been ripped out of the societal norm.
Seeing that an MS charity cared enough to stand up and be counted in representing someone like me broke my sometimes steely exterior. Cue a blotchy faced me (unlike Lana Del Rey I’m not ‘Pretty When I Cry’).
Fighting MS and inequality
We’re in an age where hard won rights are constantly under threat globally. In the UK, even something as simple as the wearing of rainbow lanyards has been targeted. Being LGBTQIA+ and having a health problem in a heteronormative society can carry additional problems and issues. One personal example is that I recently had pelvic surgery and attended a pre-op talk where they explained about resuming sexual activity after surgery with my ‘wife or girlfriend’ and talking about heterosexual sex. Awkward moment.
Whether we like to admit it or not (and it’s a distasteful thought for me) there are still people in the UK who think that relationships between people of the same gender are wrong. Hate crimes against minority groups are rising. Social attitude surveys may show progress in thinking about and increased understanding of LGBQ people (although attitudes to transgender people have worsened) but there isn’t full acceptance. If you look at the statistics, there’s still a swathe of people who think that someone like me is ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’. Inevitably, some of these people work in healthcare. Having a chronic illness like MS makes me feel vulnerable to people’s attitudes and beliefs and somehow weaker.
I’ve spent years being wary and prepared to fight. I now have to trust people to have my best interests in mind and to accept someone like me (I present as an obviously gay man).
That’s why, for me, it’s so vital to see support from MS organisations and charities. Representation matters. Seeing the MS Society at Pride helps me to feel seen and cared for.
It even makes me cry sometimes.
