How Keir Starmer treated me as his gay colleague proves he'd make a great prime minister

When Keir went out of his way to include me, he was doing more than just demonstrating his kindness – he was demonstrating that his default position is inclusion

Someone once told me that you get the measure of a person by the way they behave towards LGBT people.

In the 90s, being out in the legal profession was likely to marginalise you at best. The UK then was a hostile place to be gay. If we’d come out at university, most gay and lesbian people leapt back in the closet when they became lawyers. If we didn’t, plenty of us would be gently teased because of our sexuality. Others might not mock but would still focus obsessively on our sexuality. Others found it easiest to ignore us.

I met Keir Starmer in 1992. I was a pupil barrister and he was a junior tenant in the same chambers. Pupillage is demanding; Keir looked out for all of us. I was the first openly gay person in chambers, and Keir made sure my boyfriend was as included as everyone else’s partner. It seems so obvious now, but back then, people didn’t think about LGBT inclusion – Keir did. Interestingly, it was around the same time, I met Boris Johnson, who, as I have written about before in this paper, made my sexuality very relevant, and left me feeling flushed and foolish.

Keir wanted to know what my boyfriend and I had got up to over the weekend. Though it may not sound it, this was remarkable. Straight people always discuss their weekends with each other; back then, gay lifestyle was rarely included in that banter. Keir was aware that most LGBT people’s private lives were erased; he made sure mine mattered. We remain friends.

These were the worst years of the AIDS crisis. Keir knew I had good friends with AIDS and showed compassion and concern. He wanted to know how the law could help, and was quick to recognise that without a human rights-based approach to HIV/AIDS, there would be no solutions. AIDS troubled him profoundly, not in any hostile way, but in how to guarantee the dignity of all those affected, especially those who were dying. He also offered something that was unique to the debate. He was particularly concerned for the vulnerable already caught up within a marginalised community.

I recall going to an event together in the mid-90s. We were discussing what a future Human Rights Act would mean for disadvantaged people. A young trans/non-binary person stood up and shared their difficulties. In the face of some hostility, Keir leapt to their defence pointing out that human rights mean no one is excluded. He was clear: to trivialise gender identity undermines the human rights project. To me, Keir’s commitment to trans equality has always been clear.

Indeed, much of the LGBT litigation I have done would not have been possible without Keir’s advice. When he was Director of Public Prosecutions, he would find time to look through my arguments and strategies for LGBT rights. From when I started to do this work in the mid-90s, Keir went out of his way to help me. He would want to meet LGBT victims of state oppression from both here in the UK and overseas. It was essential for him to hear first-hand the stories from Jamaicans and Ugandans.

In 1992, when Keir went out of his way to include the gay pupil, he was doing more than just demonstrating his kindness – he was demonstrating that his default position is inclusion. His instincts were driven by a commitment to justice for all. , and one that is not merely an academic exercise. Keir ensured my equality was meaningful. That experience gives us an insight into the man. How will that instinct for equality manifest if Keir becomes prime minister? In a UK that belongs to everybody.