When I left Ireland I was searching for a home, for a place I could feel rooted in and belong to. I had lost my parents, we had sold our family home and the ground felt shaky beneath my feet. I craved stability and security.
I was worried about leaving my family and friends, a network that had supported me so much in those difficult times, but I had to give myself space to breathe, to get away from the label I had attached to myself of the bereaved child, and to start looking forward rather than back.
At first London was both exhilarating and terrifying. I was afraid the city would swallow me up, that I would get lost among the skyscrapers and that people would forget to look for me.
Growing up gay in Ireland, I had always used sports to help me cope with the stress of feeling outside and not knowing where I belonged. Moving to London and experiencing those same feelings again, I went back to what I knew. I joined Tower Hamlets Women's Football Club, where I met people with whom I had so much in common.
Tales of moving to London, of coming out, of missing home comforts gave our team a special sense of unity as we battled opponents on cold, wet turf on Sunday afternoons. The club gave me confidence, positivity and a new sense of identity. For the first time in years I felt young, healthy and free.
At the same time I had begun to work with Mind Yourself, a charity that supports the health and wellbeing of Irish people in London. The centre provides an open space that celebrates all of the complexities that constitute being Irish. I became aware of the significant number of LGBT people who had moved here to find space to be themselves.
Working with this community allowed me to explore what it was to be Irish and gay in London. It caused me to reflect on my own experience.
I came out to my family and friends in Ireland at 21, following a difficult few years when I didn’t feel that I fitted in anywhere.
This had caused me to drop out of college and withdraw into myself. I had been terrified that telling people about my sexuality would lead to my being rejected and shunned, but in fact I was shown only love and respect.
My move to London was not an escape because of my sexuality, but I became acutely aware that the city was a shelter for many who couldn’t be themselves in Ireland.
I met a woman who in the 1960s had been prescribed antipsychotic medication when she came out; a man who was told in the 1990s to leave his home by his family because of the shame his sexuality had brought; a transgender woman who in 2016 has to “be male” whenever she goes home. I felt privileged to hear these stories, and feared there were many other people whose voices would never be heard because of the isolation of the Irish LGBT community here.
Through Mind Yourself a group of us came together to lobby for the Yes campaign in the marriage-equality referendum. But we realised that we could provide so much more, and so the London Irish LGBT Network was born.
The organisation provides a space for social, cultural, political and support activities for migrants and their families. We are proud to walk in the London St Patrick's Day and Pride parades, and we were the first LGBT group to be officially welcomed at the Irish Embassy.
My membership in the network further adds to my sense of belonging. It gives me a voice to speak up on behalf of Irish LGBT people in the city; it has given me new friendships and a better understanding of who I am.
When I moved to London I was searching for a home. The past five years – finding my soccer team, the London Irish LGBT Network and my new sense of identity – has given me more than just a home: it has given me new life.
