‘I wrote a book and it made me have a big gay break down’

I had always been tall and I had a deep voice from puberty. As a consequence, when friends and family discovered that I was gay, they would regularly tell me that I was “alright for one of them” — a statement I wore as a badge of honour throughout my late teens and early twenties. I was relieved not to be identifiable as “a homo”. I might have liked boys, but somehow I was different to the camp caricatures which were depicted on TV – game show hosts, comedians and two-dimensional bit parts. Somehow, I was better than the community I hadn’t even nearly accepted I was inextricably a part of.

The toxic levels of internalised homophobia coloured my ability to build friendships with other gay men. As quickly as I’d made connections I would destroy them, unable to reconcile the idea that fellow gay people could be worthy of my friendship and, perhaps more painfully, that I could be worthy of theirs.

I started therapy after I finished writing Chapter Eight. I began reading The Velvet Rage (hard recommend) and I stopped drinking. I also realised, with the help of my therapist, that if I was ever going to be able to accept my sexuality, if I was ever going to be truly happy, then I needed to learn to love myself for who I was. The journey since has been as challenging as it has been rewarding. I’ve never felt prouder of who I am — of the community that I belong to — than I do now.

Much has changed since I was growing up in Surrey in the late nineties and early noughties. Society is generally more accepting than it was back then and queer characters on screen are usually more rounded than they were when I was a teenager. As such, when I wrote The Closet I entertained moments of doubt about whether the story I was telling was still relevant. I worried that today’s young people might not trouble themselves with “coming out” in the way that I did, and that my struggle was one confined to the past. But the truth is that intolerance persists in all facets of society, and the prospect and process of coming out remains a major ordeal for many.

According to statistics gathered by Stonewall “only half of lesbian, gay and bi people (46%) and trans people (47%) feel able to be open about their sexual orientation or gender identity to everyone in their family.” It’s a shocking statistic which becomes even more staggering as the parameters are broadened. Being gay is still criminalised in 64 UN member States — places where choosing to come out is as scary as it is dangerous.

Since The Closet was published I’ve received messages from readers telling me how much they relate to my story, and, in turn, how much the book might have helped them had they been able to read it when they were young. I’ve also been asked the biggest lesson I learned from the process of writing it – a question to which I always give the same answer: writing The Closet taught me how important it is for gay people, for all people, to engage in bouts of considered introspection and, in turn, deep self-love; as much to benefit individual mental wellbeing as the wellbeing of our collective community.

It is our responsibility, after all, to leave the next generation of young queer people with immaculately crafted hand-me-downs; generational heirlooms which speak of pride and power – of self-assurance and strength – rather than fear and shame. And we can’t do that without giving our closets a good clean out once in a while, now can we?

The Closet by Teo van den Broeke is now available to buy from Amazon and all good bookshops.