The Accidental Columnist: Casually, comfortably, carelessly holding hands

One night, in the midst of the Marriage Equality campaign, I was scrolling Facebook. At the time, I didn’t feel connected to LGBTQIA+ people. I hadn’t even really come out to myself. But, as with anyone at that time, I was seeing content on same-sex marriage everywhere I looked.

I came across a speech delivered by the Queen of Ireland, Panti Bliss. Panti talked about the 40-plus years she spent feeling ashamed of being gay. She spoke to all of the times that she made herself smaller and all the times she had to be hypervigilant to potential homophobic abuse. That speech (along with her earlier Noble Call) began my understanding of how homophobia was entrenched in Irish society.

One part of Panti’s speech resonated endlessly with me, when she describes the complexities of holding hands for gay people: “I am 45 years old and I have never once casually, comfortably, carelessly held hands with a partner in public”.

When I decided that I would pursue dating guys, perhaps empowered by many of the things Panti had said in her speech, I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t let fear of abuse or harassment take that from me. I wouldn’t wait 45 years or more. I would do it when I wanted to, when it felt right, and without a worry in the world. To not comfortably, carelessly hold hands felt like letting homophobes win. They’ve long had their time, I thought.

But over the years, I have found myself living the same scenario Panti mentions. I have never held hands with a boyfriend and not experienced a stare, slur, or shout from some member of the public. And much like Panti said, I find my careless act of holding hands transforming into this considered decision to trudge along to spite those people.

A few weeks ago, I was in Estonia with my boyfriend. One of my favourite things to do is to hold his hand. I love walking around with him with our hands interlocked, pointing out monotonous things we see. “Good flower.” “Nice cloud.” You get the gist.

He was nervous about holding hands in public and I can’t blame him. Only in January, we were in Rome holding hands and passersby made fun of us. In fact, only yesterday in Dublin city did people drive by us and shout some unintelligible homophobic remarks.

These homophobic experiences have a spillover effect in the conflict they can cause within relationships. To me, letting go of my boyfriend’s hand feels like giving up. To him, continuing to hold hands when it’s a possible threat is scary. Suddenly, not only do we have to process our individual feelings about homophobia, but on top of it we have to find a resolution between ourselves on what to do next. And all of these things are a product of someone else’s issue with our gayness.

And so, nearly 10 years on from when that speech changed my life, I find myself coming back to it. A decade has passed since Panti shared this experience, but will holding hands ever get easier?

Find out more about exploring your sexual or gender identity, and being an ally to someone on this journey, in our free dara & co masterclass on coming out.