Yvonne’s Story: Finding The Gold At The End of My Rainbow

For Pride month, we asked some of our members if they would like to write their story and tell us of their ‘Pride’. If you would like to get involved email: londonirishlgbtnetwork@gmail.com

Today, Yvonne tells her story

Finding The Gold At The End of My Rainbow

By Yvonne Devine

My story is the opposite of many…..I emigrated to London from Ireland in my 40s. I envied LGBTQ people who seemed to have left in their 20s and ended up in strong partnerships. I chose college and working and studying my way around Ireland (as well as other travel) resulting in me realising my feelings at 26 and not declaring them til 29 due to adverse conditions in my workplace of homophobic bullying by a Supervisor. I found out years later there was an Equality Tribunal that LGBTQ people could contact to complain.

I had already endured years of loneliness and isolation which led to low self-esteem and lack of confidence and had developed a coping mechanism of alcohol misuse. At least I hadn’t thrown myself in the river I thought, like the stories I heard on a frequent basis……but I sometimes wondered what would be my future.

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Our Life Stories

Hannah’s Story: Life would Be Boring If We Were All The Same…

For Pride month, we asked some of our members if they would like to tell their story and why they are proud. If you would like to contribute, please email londonirishlgbtnetwork@gmail.com

Here’s another of these stories but first, grab yourself a cuppa.

Life would Be Boring If We Were All The Same…

by Hannah Doran

I always knew I was different. And I thought I knew why. None of my friends had Irish blood, none of them were dragged off to church on a Sunday, nor were they aware of the mythical lands that are the County Mayo. I had somehow escaped being sent to the local Catholic schools. That’s why I knew I was different, oh and being the product of an act of parliament but that’s another story. And I conned myself into believing that because that was the easy way out even through it didn’t address the simple fact that I wanted to be a girl.

My childhood at times was quite lonely, yes I had friends but few of them were really close. I struggled to fit in at times simply because I didn’t fit in. I knew that I would have been much happier French skipping with the girls instead of half-heartedly chasing a football around at Junior school. And then there was that small question of why I was on the only ‘boy’ who didn’t mind wearing a dress in the school play. Oh and that other question that kept coming up…”Why couldn’t I have just been born a girl?”

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Our Life Stories

Aaron’s Story: Plastic Paddy

rainbow colours of paint, in little blocks, sitting on a surface smeared with paint.

For Pride month, we asked some of our members if they would like to tell their story and why they are proud. If you would like to contribute, please email londonirishlgbtnetwork@gmail.com Here’s Aaron’s story:

Plastic Paddy

by Aaron McCarter

You might say I was late to fully appreciate my Irish ancestry, as a child, born in the Yorkshire town of Keighley to a Northern Irish immigrant, I was never able to fully appreciate my Irish roots as my father was born in Derry during the troubles and moved to the north of England as a child. The scars of that trauma as a kid stayed with him for a long time and he was always wary of taking us ‘home’. I always loved hearing my dad speaking with his 8 brothers and sisters in that wonderful Derry accent where I never realised the word fuck could be used so commonly as a verb!

I understood I was a little ‘different’ at an early age when my older brother would be playing football and fighting, I would be playing dress-up and performing with my little sister for home concerts. My Irish granda sadly died of cancer when I was a baby, but I always looked forward to seeing my granny, a rather stoic woman, full of love and warmth, but tried her best to hide it. All I remember as a kid was a thick Derry accent, with NHS prescription glasses and nylon dresses. She would always ask for (in that wonderful accent) ‘a cup of tea and a wee slice of bread’. This woman was an enigma to me as we didn’t see her often, but when we did I was always excited to see her. Years later (a month before lockdown), I would find out that ‘she always thought of me fondly and worried about how much I got bullied at school’.

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