Mental health judgment in the LGBTQ+ community

- by Brodie S. A. Thompson -

(she/her)

In 1993 Niamh Kavanagh won Eurovision with In Your Eyes, Bill Clinton was sworn in as the 42nd President of the United States, Manchester United were declared the first champions of the new FA Premier League, Whitney Houston was top of the music charts, Hocus Pocus was released along with Free Willy, Homeward Bound, and Sleepless in Seattle. Some things from 30 years ago may feel like they happened yesterday, while others seem like a distant memory.

What is the significance of 1993?

Well, only 30 years ago homosexual activity was decriminalised.

Only 30 years ago suicide was decriminalised.

Even though they were decriminalised 30 years ago, the stigma remains. We still say a person has committed suicide even though it’s no longer a crime. People still fear coming out as LGBTQIA+ because of the stigma they feel they’ll face from others. This also leads someone to stigmatise themselves, and not allow themselves to be authentically them. Self-stigma is the stigma or belief you place on yourself, as a result of the stigmatising language you hear friends use when they’re slagging a mate at the pub, how you hear family talk, what you read in the headlines and see in movies.

Before I go on, I think it’s best to reflect on what stigma is. As stated by See Change (Ireland’s National Mental Health Stigma Reduction Partnership): "Stigma has been described as a sign of disgrace that distinguishes a person from others".

Why is it important to be authentic?

Because pretending you are something you are not is exhausting. Exhausting to the point that it can make you feel like you can’t go on living.

I am a bisexual 33-year-old female, who grew up in rural Aotearoa (New Zealand), near a town called Geraldine with a population of 2,800 people. Ireland is now my home, and I am not an expert on mental health - but I am an expert in knowing my own lived experience. At my most vulnerable, when I have needed the support of family and friends the most has been when I came out and when I was suicidal. But the fear of what others would think almost stopped me from reaching out for help when I needed it most.

I am one bisexual woman and I do not speak for the entire LGBTQIA+ community. But I do speak from the point of one person who knows how hard it can be to open up and be authentically yourself. Especially because of the stigma you place on yourself because you fear how those who love you most will respond. Additionally, how hard it can be to have the double self-stigma of worrying how people will treat you knowing you are bisexual and have a mental health difficulty.

I found the stigma I placed on myself more harmful than the external stigma I experienced, but I was imagining what people might say or how they would treat me because of how I had heard them speak about the LGBTQIA+ community or mental health difficulties. The fear of disgrace I thought I would face led me to very dark places. My self-stigma, when I came out, was that all my female friends would think I was into them. But I wasn’t into every man, so, of course, I wouldn’t be into every woman I met. Every lesbian isn’t attracted to every woman they meet, every gay man is not attracted to every man they meet. My self-stigma had been shaped by the way I heard others speak.

Being lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer/questioning, intersex or asexual is not a choice. Having a mental health difficulty is not a choice. Being an ally to the LGBTQIA+ community is a choice. You can choose kindness. There is nothing to fear. It’s unbearable to think that someone who is feeling their most vulnerable is too scared to be themselves or ask for help.

Thirty years is recent history with a legacy of stigma that lingers today.

Dismantling discrimination of any kind is suicide prevention.