Daniel Brookbank reflects on how different it is to be gay and live in a small village after living in Brighton.
Listening to the speakers at IDAHOBIT (the international day against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia) in Brighton at the weekend, I was moved by the sense of community and togetherness that exists, and has existed in Brighton and Hove for many years. Personally I have lived in the city but moved away in 2000 to various smaller communities, ending up further along the south coast in a small seaside village. I won’t name it, you will see why later.
Brighton and Hove has always been a place where being LGBT was part of the fabric of the place, people came to the city for safety and security and for a sense of belonging. The city offers a safe haven, a real community that cares and understands and an opportunity to live any kind of so called alternative lifestyle. I have friends who have come to Brighton to escape a straight marriage, some who want to indulge in a lifestyle that some might find difficult to understand, Masters and Slaves or transgender people for example. Brighton welcomes all and makes them part of the city.
It’s not like that elsewhere, not in a small seaside village on the south coast anyway. Let me tell you what it can be like. My Partner and I live a quiet life, we are part of our local community, we have joined local groups, we both do voluntary work in the community and I am on the Parish Council (Yes it is like the Vicar of Dibley, no, really, it is).
We contribute in many ways to our community, we ask for nothing in return and we enjoy the same things a lot of middle aged gay men get up to, gardening, socialising, volunteering, that kind of thing. OK, we do enjoy going to Sublime from time to time too. We’re your average happy couple who have been together for 17 years and will only be parted by death.
Our village is made up of predominantly older retired people and younger working class families, quite a few voted UKIP in the council elections and gave us a UKIP councillor, you get the picture. I could go as far as to say it’s very white. We picked it because of my work and because we liked the house and especially the big garden that was not overlooked so we could be private and quiet.
Idyllic some of you will be saying, dreadful others of you might add. As we became part of the community the cracks started to show, it started with a minor spat with a neighbour about the colour of our house (its light blue) “it looks like fucking Butlins” we were told. Then over the fence a few days later the charming words ‘queer cunts’ came wafting on the breeze.
We had been friendly and polite from the day we arrived, nothing gave any indication of what they were really like. When I stood for Chairman of the Parish Council the words “we don’t want HIM” were repeated to me. When asked what we were doing one weekend, we replied that we were coming to Pride, reply? “I can’t stand the way there’re always thrusting it in your face” (LOADS of replies to that one!). If I go out in a leather jacket I rush to the car so as not to be seen and judged. There are times we live an excuse of a life, excusing the way we are, not talking about anything personal, keeping away from anything gay, playing down our wonderful, strong, happy relationship so as not to provoke them or make them squirm. Keeping my mouth shut when there are discussions about the ‘undesirables’ using the public toilets, (the cucumber found in the gents was the best one).
We apparently live in an equal society where these things should have died out long ago and indeed they have in Brighton, but not out in the sticks. To not accept us is to make us invisible and of no consequence. To feel that it is acceptable to make remarks and comments makes us less important and grateful for what we do get. So next time you feel stifled by the gayness of Brighton and long to live in a quiet back water community look carefully at that community, they might not be what you think they are.
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