“Why mention you’re gay?” Well, why not?
Spending a lifetime in the closet, I am not going back in. For any job or any body.
It’s no secret that I’m gay. Although for a large part of my life, it was.
I was working as a teacher for a number of years when I decided enough was enough, and I needed to, in as cliché as possible, be true to myself.
At the same time, Section 37 was gaining criticism within Ireland, a law which allowed discrimination on employees on the basis of their sexual orientation.
Because the Catholic Church were my employer (as they are for most schools in Ireland), this legislation had a profound affect on my mental state and job security.
So at that time, I was so far in the closet that Narnia was a 3 hour plane ride away.
Goodbye closet — hello writing.
When I eventually decided to turn my hand at writing, I decided to drop the ‘gay bomb’ to whoever would listen.
“Hi, my name is Barry. Did you know I’m gay?”
My first ever piece in a national newspaper confirmed all suspicions that Barry batted for the other side as I dissected Section 37 when it was eventually abolished; since then, I’ve well and truly been out and proud.
Many teachers got in contact over that piece, cementing in my mind that what I think, others might too, and what I write, others might read.
Up until that point, though, I told very few people who I was. If any.
Back then, I couldn’t tell, or feel confident in telling, anyone for fear I’d lose my job. I’m not saying people wouldn’t have been accepting, some would have; but it was a risk I was simply not willing to take.
In media, there was no closet big enough to withhold me and my newly founded ‘out-courage’.
You wanted a gay opinion? Sign. me. up.
Even if there was a sniff of relatedness, I’d slip in the ‘as a gay man’ just so people knew. It was my shtick. My raison d’être.
With teaching a distant memory, I turned a complete 360° degrees on my viewpoint that being myself was completely fine and humane.
Why tell people your gay?
Along with retraining to be a journalist, such was the nature of my career path, I continued to freelance with papers and websites. All the while adding byline upon byline.
The irony now that I was empowered, and being paid for the very thing I was scared of admitting, is still to this day the biggest mind ‘eff ever.
At the end of my MA, I was invited to interview for a number of internships. One such was working with the national broadcaster in Ireland.
“You’re not going to mention, you know what, to them?” a friend joked to me before I went up to Dublin for the interview.
“You mean, Voldemort?” I chuckled.
“No! I mean…being gay.”
“Well, I was going to? Kind of hard to dodge that bullet” I said.
“Why mention your gay?”
“Why…why not?”
He meant no harm in it, I think. He tried his best to explain how HR management works, to take the sting out of an innocent but somewhat forward question. And it was something I never came across in the public sector.
How the internship could have the potential to be like teaching, both of whom would fall in the public sector. And then the defensive ‘how your sexuality doesn’t (or shouldn’t) define you. You’re more than that.’
So when I realised that up until this point, looking at my portfolio, it did define me, I may have panicked. Just a little.
I shrugged, feigning indifference and insisting that it wasn’t going to crop up. And if someone was homophobic, would I want the job anyway?
I traveled to Dublin the whole idea played on my mind, and grew legs and arms. ‘Will I have to go back in the closet? Is this a big *** up on my part?’
Being freelance, it’s OK to be as a gay as you want. You are your own boss. But a job. Yikes.
You might have to conduct yourself in a different way. Be less of this, less of that, most likely less gay. It played on my mind on loop the entire trip up on the bus. And the next bus. And the one afterwards. ‘God, why is it so far away?’ was my only thought when I finally got there. I had exhausted myself.
The interview itself started very warm and inviting. But I was still apprehensive.
“So tell us about yourself, Barry?” one asked.
And I did. But did not mention I was gay.
“Why do you want to work here?” another asked.
I answered. But did not mention I was gay.
“Tell us about your skills?”
I definitely didn’t mention ‘being gay’ as one of them.
“What kind of work have you done?” another asked.
“I…I wrote a lot about…things for papers. And websites. And blogs…eh…” I said.
Silence. A writer who can’t describe what he writes about. Oh my, wasn’t I stellar with that one?
It just screams ‘give me the job immediately!’, right?
But the mental gymnastics I was doing in those few minutes was nothing short of Homeric. As I dissected and predicted, tried to skirt over something about me that made me, well, me, they were looking more worried and puzzled.
“Such as?” they probed, trying at least to find any reason to employ me I suspect.
“Gay stuff. I mean err, human-interest…I mean, uh, LGBT+ related, because, I’m gay, you see. And for a long time I spent my life not liking that I was, but now I do. And I write a good bit about how that’s okay…to be different y’know?…And to be proud of that difference.”
And suddenly, the room relaxes, not because they know I’m gay. It’s not that super of a power.
“Oh, that’s interesting — how did you feel….” and the chat went on. And on. And was humbling and inviting. Because, like most of my life beforehand, I wasn’t hiding anymore. I wasn’t tense, afraid to sound gay or mention something abhorrently feminine.
My body relaxed, I smiled more and could answer more concisely. I actually made sense.
And for the first time in the interview, they weren’t looking at a man contorting himself into a stress pile at the very idea of answering questions.
I could now talk at length at the pieces I’ve written, and where those ideas and passion comes from.
And in the end, I got the job.
‘You’re one of those militant PC gays’
I’ve since left that workplace and have had the opportunity to continue being as gay as possible in the press and online.
I throw my ideas anywhere who’ll host them. Topics from how and why to come out, how to teach tolerance and the about community to young people, to gay video games and RuPaul’s Drag Race.
I wear a rainbow emoji on my Twitter profile, where users send me delightful messages such as ‘you’re one of those militant PC gays’ or ‘must you tell everyone you’re gay? Boring!’
And to that I say a big, fat, fabulous YES.
I am boring.
But did you know, I’m also gay?
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