Questions of Identity - Coming out as disabled

Having to "come out". Being called "abnormal". Or described as "queer". All of these phrases are regularly used as descriptions of non-straight sexualities, yet they work equally well as definitions of disability. But, asks Penelope Friday, what is it like "coming out" in two different ways - being disabled and gay/lesbian/ bi/pansexual? And which is the most difficult for others to acknowledge?

Cassi is bipolar. She says, “I find it much easier to tell people about my sexuality than my mental health. Being bisexual seems to add an element of mystery, but when I talk about mental health issues I get so many varied reactions, from the ‘yeah, right, stop swinging the lead and get on with it’ look, to ‘Oh my God, please don’t hurt me’.” And for many queer people who’re also disabled, the focus seems to be on disability as having the most stigma attached.

Gemma agrees with her, saying “I actually find it more difficult to tell long-term male partners about my disability than I do about my sexuality! Once they overcome the initial shock, my partners have always been fascinated by my being bisexual, but sometimes frightened by my epilepsy. I’ve been dumped before because they couldn’t cope with my seizures, but never because I’m bisexual.”

Of course, with some disabilities you “come out” every time you leave the house. Jane, who’s partially sighted, says that actually persuading people to see her as a sexual person at all is difficult enough – “and I managed on one memorable occasion to stop all conversation at a party, just by mentioning that I was lesbian!”

Similarly, wheelchair-users are equally visibly disabled; and when something as simple as making eye contact with another person is difficult, finding a way to start a relationship – gay or straight – is even more so.

People with less evident, so called “invisible” conditions and impairments, however, have a different problem to face. They need to make a judgement as to when to tell potential partners about their disability. Often they come out about their sexuality earlier than they do about their disability, sometimes because they’re worried about being rejected before they’ve ever had a chance to get to know someone.

Kath, who has chronic fatigue syndrome and a number of related illnesses, says: “There’s always this constant assumption when meeting new people that you are straight and healthy. Then, the misinformation about the conditions, and the way you are treated when people know you have them basically eats away at your self-esteem.”

Alison, who has a number of serious health issues, highlights another aspect of this puzzling, complex and potentially preoccupying series of dilemmas. “I haven’t yet accepted my disabled status myself so I don’t really have enough confidence that others will.”

Gemma has a more personal story to tell. “It’s very hard to admit to a partner that you have seizures that cause you to wet the bed, but it has to be done! Though in fact, the first time it happened with my partner, I pretended that I needed to change the sheets because I’d soaked them with sweat – and he was upset that I’d not felt able to tell him the truth when he found out.”

Hannah, on the other hand is quite open about her disability, finding the information useful as a filter for possible dates. “If someone isn’t prepared to take me as I am, it says more about them than it does about me, and they’re probably not the sort of person I want to date.”

Perhaps the most awkward sort of disability to come out about, however, is mental illness. People with mental illnesses often suffer from even more prejudice than those with other disabilities; and the combination of not being heterosexual and having a mental illness can make for further difficulties. Jennifer says that if she isn’t rejected for being bisexual, she’s often rejected for having severe depression.

“Usually it’s one or the other. Men are intimidated by my desire for women, and people in general usually can’t handle someone with my level of depression.” Miriam has found that even mental health professionals can have difficulties understanding bisexuality, even though they may be sympathetic towards gay/lesbian folk.

Another difficulty disabled GLBTs often encounter is the problem of meeting people in the first place. Many disabilities, whether mental or physical, make it dificult to leave the house – which also makes attending gay-friendly events more difficult.

You might have thought that GLBT event organisers, who ought to understand what it means to be treated as an outsider, would be better at being inclusive towards people with disabilities.

This was certainly so in the past; however, despite fervent efforts by Ju Gosling and Regard (the national GLBT disabled people’s organisation), London Pride 2010 was made so inaccessible for people with disabilities that Regard were forced to pull out of involvement. Writing in Disability Now, Ju said “Like many other queer crips, on the day [of London Pride] I simply felt isolated, excluded and miserable. It’s hard to feel proud of being part of a community that doesn’t want you as a member.”

On a more day to day experience, Kath sums up the problems when she says: “My social anxiety means that pubs and clubs are really not good for me. And my health comes in cycles so it’s rare that I’m well enough at the time events are on. And even if I am, anything with large amounts of stairs or standing for long periods or no close parking is out.”

Rosemary agrees. “Living in the city I do, the queer issues really wouldn’t be a problem. If I could get out to bars and clubs, I’d find plenty of queer folk to hang out with and flirt with. If I could be involved in activities, I could find and meet all sorts of interesting people who would likely find me just as interesting. So, the first barrier in my way is the not having the energy or ability to get out and do those things.”

But there are other ways around this, and Rosemary has found the internet to be a wonderful resource. She says: “I’ve mostly dated via online dating sites, and the handy feature of these is that you can put all of this stuff about yourself right out there for people to see right away and decide if it’s something they can handle or not. So I don’t have those moments of trying to decide whether or not to disclose on the first, second, or third date. Generally, folks are going to know that I’m disabled before we even meet in person and have had the opportunity to ask me some questions about it already.”

Kath, too, met her partner through the internet: “We met through an online message board about local comedy events which we were going to. She chased me for a year and a half until I gave in.”

Indeed, it’s not all bad news by any means. Many disabled people are in happy relationships, in which their disabilities are just another part of life. Gemma met her partner at a party, where “for me it was intrigue at first sight. That was in August of that year, and in October he rescued me from a horrible living situation with the flatmate from hell. I was only going to be here for a few weeks until I could sort myself out, but 24 hours later we realised that we were in love, so I’ve never left.

Three years and four months later we’re closer than we were before and are planning our wedding.”

Kath, meanwhile, has been with her girlfriend for ten years, and says: “We have had some tough patches because we both have disabilities and very little money, but our relationship has always been strong. We help each other and spend almost all our time together and don’t get sick of one another.”

Happy ever after is possible for everyone, and no one should forget it.