‘I’m lucky’

By Jordi Waks

‘I’m lucky.’

I find myself saying this a lot.

Maybe you’re imagining I consider myself lucky because of family, or my friends.

Perhaps due to my academics, or personal hobbies.

While I am lucky for all of these things, I find myself saying I’m lucky most often because I can talk about my boyfriend without people knowing I’m queer.

I am grateful that he has a gender-neutral name.

In the past, when talking about boyfriends with my friends in public, we’ve used code names - something feminine we use so people don’t know we’re talking about a man.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to an acquaintance. She mentioned she heard I had a boyfriend, and asked all about him, suggesting date ideas for us. She was trying to be supportive.

But I responded saying I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing those things in public, out of fear of homophobia. 

Her response, while naive, was sweet. She was shocked and horrified that I feel the need to hide my sexuality - and that I’ve been thinking this way since I was 11 years old. It’s almost a second nature now, a mental switch in my head where I ‘act straight’ at certain times and around certain people.

The truth is, I hate this. Whenever I catch myself saying, ‘I’m lucky because I find it easy to hide my sexuality,’ I feel a little angry and a little sad.

 I sometimes wonder if I should change - take the risk and be proud of who I am.

Sometimes I do this. There have been occasions where I’ve spoken about my dating life with friends on the bus or train, or even in the park, not filtering what I say but embracing who I am. 

This feels both liberating and horrifying.

I have always believed I should put myself on the line to stand for what I believe. I’ve always wanted to follow the footsteps of my heroes - Nelson Mandela, Barak Obama, Graham Taylor, people who have stood up for what they believe is right, even when it could cause them great harm. 

But when you’re in that situation, in a position where you know you could be putting yourself at risk, doing so becomes much more difficult. 

It becomes a constant battle within my mind, something that causes my mind to race and my heart to beat at a million miles an hour.

So, am I lucky?

Should I have pride?

Should I value safety over belief?

Or should I just accept that despite the consequences, I need to be who I am?

These questions cross my mind constantly. After years of considering them, I still don’t know the answers.