Growing up, the words gay and Muslim didn’t quite feel like they could belong together in a sentence. When those words became my reality, I had to begin to find a way of embracing both.
Being born to parents from opposite sides of the world brought a unique combination of cultures, language, and of course, great food. This combination of worlds also created questions for me, like where do I fit in?
I had this constant feeling that I was not quite white enough. Not quite straight enough. Not quite Muslim enough. Simply, not quite enough.
Understandably, most people struggle with self-doubt when coming to terms with their LGBTQ+ identity. Some people find comfort in having labels to express their sexuality or gender identity and others flourish in the freedom of having no labels at all. But when there’s no vocabulary to use, how do you begin to understand a part of who you are?
When I first started realising I was gay at around 14, words like gay or sexuality were alien to me. All I knew was I felt different and I couldn’t quite work out why.
Even growing up in a big city like Manchester, there wasn’t a lot of discussion at school or at home about being LGBTQ+, which made finding self-acceptance a less than straight-forward process.
At secondary school, I wasn’t as comfortable with being openly gay as I am today. The fear of the unknown was too overwhelming and I was struggling with too much shame to talk about it.
TV shows like Ackley Bridge were massively key to helping challenge my own views towards my sexuality. The internal battle between religion and sexuality, that at one point in time I believed seemed to only affect me, suddenly became accessible in a way that I’d never seen before. Seeing not just one, but two LGBTQ+ Muslim characters with a main starring role breaking down the barriers of being gay and from a Muslim community was amazing.
Reading the book “A dutiful boy” by Mohsin Zaidi also helped me find self-acceptance by showing his first-hand account of coming out to his Muslim family and yet still going on to achieve incredible personal success – a concept that as a 14-year-old gay Muslim from Manchester I didn’t quite believe was possible.
Visibility is key to making sure the next generation of LGBTQ+ young people believe that anything is possible, despite how they might identify or the faith they may follow.
When I finally accepted myself – after moving to a new city, London, where I was surrounded by people who were unapologetically embracing their identities – being gay suddenly transformed from an overwhelming unspoken shame to simply just a small element of my identity.
