‘I don’t hold my husband’s hand in the street’: The sobering reality of being a queer parent

This year Pride for me is about making people recognise that things are still far from equal for the chosen family that is our wider LGBT+ community, writes Stu Oakley

I can tell you being part of a queer family is wonderful (Getty Images)

June is here, which means so is Pride. The sense of déjà vu gets greater every year. The same old arguments about whether corporations should or should not get involved, and inevitably the same cries of “why do we need Pride?” from people who don’t quite understand what it’s actually like to live in a pair of gloriously queer shoes.

Pride for me is important because it’s about making people aware of the nuanced and uncomfortable situations we as queer people can sometimes face. As a queer parent, this has become even more paramount. The safety and comfort of my young children is always at the forefront of my mind, and I have been granted a heightened sense of what it means to be LGBT+ in a straight world.

This includes not holding my husband’s hand in public – something I know a lot of other queer people can relate to. The ILGA (International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association) has reported that hate crimes against queer people are at an all-time high in Europe.

The feeling of being unsafe is magnified when I am out with my family. As a gay dad of three, I can count multiple times when I have felt incredibly vulnerable as a member of a queer family. Perhaps this is generally unfounded, but the attacks, verbal insults and rhetoric that our community has to endure leaves a deep sense of worry that keeps me on guard.

As a queer parent, I’m faced with situations that I just sometimes cannot prepare myself for. For example, when my three-year-old son started wearing dresses I did not react in the way I expected.

From an early age, he would always pick out the Snow White costume from our fancy-dress box and it made him so happy. Then when our daughter started to outgrow some of her dresses, he would ask to wear them around the house. My husband and I didn’t even discuss it. If that’s what he wanted, then fine.

But then, when we would head out to the shop or get him ready for nursery, he would ask to wear his dress. I wouldn’t outright say no to him, but I found myself suggesting other outfits. I’ve always been quite controlling about our kids’ wardrobe choices, as I used to have an aversion to the multiple clashing patterns they would pick.

I found myself suggesting a pair of trousers or a T-shirt rather than a dress. It was then it dawned on me that I was deliberately steering him away from wearing a dress in public.

As a gay man, feeling this sense of shame that my son wanted to put on a dress in public was a very unexpected reaction. I was worried about him going out in the world and being seen as something different. Something that might invite some form of verbal, or even physical violence.

All I kept thinking was that people will assume we have pushed our “gay agenda” on him. As a gay dad, I felt I needed to be seen as perfect and not “let the side down”. These feelings played a huge part in my early parenting, and crept up when I least expected it.

I can tell you being part of a queer family is wonderful. I don’t want us to be normal (normal is boring!) but I want to be proud of my son for going to school in a dress. I want to hold my husband’s hand while we watch our children play in the pool in a hot climate. I want our children to be proud of who they are.

What I don’t want is to feel that slight ping of nervousness as I kiss my husband goodbye at the school gate when we have to go our separate ways after dropping the kids off. I don’t want my daughter’s school to receive complaints any time her class is taught about families like ours. I don’t want trans men like Logan Brown, who recently starred on the front cover of Glamour magazine, to feel afraid to go into the correct toilet to change his baby’s nappy. I don’t want queer people to be denied the same fertility treatment that straight couples are allowed to access.

So this year Pride for me is about making people recognise that things are still far from equal for the chosen family, which is our wider LGBT+ community. We shouldn’t let anyone let us feel that our family is less valid than anyone else’s.

The Queer Parent by Stu Oakley and Lotte Jeffs celebrates LGBT+ families in all their forms. It can be purchased here