Special article from Michael Dwyer

This has been a long time in the writing; something I've never really spoken about before.

I don't think I've ever really thought about it in depth until recently; that is my relationship with my older brother.

I found it interesting that when I considered writing this quite personal article, just how much of an impact my sexuality had and continues to have today in respect of this relationship. I always told myself that I had not experienced the clichés that most LGBT people had, wanting to somehow set myself apart from the "gay norm" that I detested.

I accept that on looking back and taking off the rose tinted glasses, I've had some tough times. Growing up in Kensington wasn't particularly difficult but it was a normal working class, white heterosexual area. There wasn't many "like me" that I thought existed that weren't dirty, old or overtly feminine men.

I was sort of lost and at times felt quite angry that I couldn't be a normal teenager and do the dating and copping off, in fact it still bothers me now at times. I felt that my teenage years were quite asexual and emotionally detached.

As cliché as it sounds I became the entertainer, life and soul of the party in an attempt to (and I cringe as I say this) be accepted. I thought that if I could be liked by people, there would be less chance of rejection further down the line.

I always romanticised that things were fine between me and my brother outside of the normal teenage arguments. When I stripped that back and analysed it in preparation for this article, I found something very different. I was a typical Adrian Mole, keeping diaries throughout my teenage years which sounds incredibly sad but every now and then I fish them out of my memory box for a refresher of my teenage years, which seem like a lifetime ago as I'm on the edge of 30 now!

When I was in my teens and realised I was gay my relationship deteriorated with my brother, instigated by me. I was sabotaging it slowly but surely because I genuinely believed once he knew about my sexuality, that would sever any relationship we may have had anyway. The natural defense was for me to start severing those ties to make that inevitability less painful for me.

I started to feel very awkward in male company assuming that there could not really be a bond between a straight man and a gay man, inclusive of family. I spent so much time avoiding those conversations about girls and girlfriends, football and all things associated with being a "proper lad".

I hadn't realised until now how much that constantly concealing is draining and stressful, always aware as your getting to 16 that there is that expectation to have "shagged a bird". It's so much easier to conceal until you hit that age when you should in effect be poking it in everything with a gap!

I was told about a gay service in Liverpool called "GYRO" by a youth worker I confided in. It sounded like what I needed but the fear of being seen outweighed the need to go there, so I left it and carried on surpressing.

When I was 16 I left school and as if by a strange twist of fate I ended up working as an office junior to a private publishing company where there were a lot of gay workers, including the owner of the company. I had hit the jackpot, or so I'd thought.

I was introduced to the Liverpool gay scene on work nights out and enjoyed subtly taking in what I could around me, but trying to "keep up appearances" that I was just a tolerant young man out with work in a gay bar.

In saying that though, I was aware of all those stereotypical people and almost underground sordidness made me feel a little isolated in that environment. It was a little bit like "right I think this is my lot, this is as good as it gets".

I left the job after a few months and started a new one. I completely retreated from going to gay bars because I had no cover anymore, on the other hand I didn't really feel the need to go. Though on work nights out, I used to sneak off to the GBar on my own, bricking it in case I was seen by anyone; having an excuse that I had lost the people from work in there... not your normal way to conduct a night out; it felt quite sad.

I had crushes on co-workers, descreetly eyeing people up walking round town, I felt I was going mad. There were nights I cried myself to sleep and nights I'd walk for miles wracking my brain, wondering what to do. I was a very lonely island for quite some time, but I couldn't let my guard down.

I was never one to come across as a tortured soul, in fact very much the opposite so even more pressure to keep the upbeat exterior. Eventually though I started to feel a lot more comfortable in my own skin in a fashion, well I wasn't really bothered so much about what people outside of my family thought.

I got a good reaction from my closest friends, no one was bothered; was it just me? As stupid as it may sound, I couldn't bring myself to say those three words "I am gay", something that I still avoid and am uncomfortable with today. I felt and still feel the shame attached to that word and I am dumbfounded as to why.

As I told more and more people, I grew in confidence but found myself quite detached from my family whilst I began to immerse myself in the relief of at least some of the burden not being there about watching what I was saying or who I was looking at in the company of friends. I think my family came to realise I was gay around this time; I was still secretive and elusive about my private life, a master of deflection in that respect.

I still had this innate fear of rejection from immediate family. I wasn't too discreet I suppose, mad hair (well not too mad) and funky dress code. Then came the day, I feared more than any day by the person I feared to ask me the most; my eldest brother.

I had felt it coming, I had a feeling over those last weeks leading up to it. I drank in a local pub where I was more or less their "Daffyd", my mates, the bar staff and doormen knew I was gay. One night my brother was in there to start off a night out with his mates and I remember him talking to the doormen; I thought nothing of it at all at the time. I had become quite complacent and lax about it.

Over the proceeding few weeks, my brother became preoccupied on where I was going when going to in town, who I was going with and to make sure I was safe. Then one Saturday morning(ish) we had 'the conversation', quite randomly. He asked me how well I knew the doormen at the local pub, to which I replied "really well", perplexed at the question.

Then a few minutes later it came.......... "It's just something he said to me a few weeks ago"....... My blood ran cold and I genuinely for a moment braced myself to run. He said "Can I ask, are you...."

"Yes", I said, not even letting him finish the scentence and saying "that" word. He asked me if I was sure and I told him yes. We sat for what felt like 10 years, I was poised for a response as he absorbed what I'd said.

His next words emotionally crushed me, "I'm sorry, if ever I've said any words that have upset you". In that moment my emotion was very much a double edged sword, all my expectations of what I thought would happen, disappeared and I felt so happy.

What I then realised was that even despite our fractious relationship, mainly instigated by me, I had complete and unquestioned support and acceptance. I was so angry about how cruel I had been at times and in the face of those things I realised what I had done; potentially missed out on a great relationship with my brother during my teens because of what was internalised homophobia fed by this innate sense of wrong attached to being gay at the time.

As good as our relationship is now, I can't help but wonder how it could have been if we lived in a time where sexuality was not a big deal or issue. You don't have to without family down and say "I just want to let you know I'm straight" do you?

I still haven't had "the conversation" with my family but they all know I'm gay and in a relationship and I have 100% acceptance. But I had a huge chunk of my life where I was just a bystander, too scared to fully participate. Lucky give come through this quite well adjusted, but not unscathed.

It pains me to think that there are thousands repeating the cycle I was in. Let's hope each generation it gets better and it seems to be overall. There is so much diversity and more mixed groups of friends across the spectrum of youth cultures and things have moved on somewhat even since I was in school, but still such a long way to go.

Keep an open mind, be mindful of making people feel completely comfortable with who they are, whatever floats their boat (within reason!).

Don't force your son to stop pushing a pram, don't discourage your daughter from playing football for fear of what it may mean. It may mean something, it may mean nothing, but it means something to them; let it be........