Preamble: The timeframe of
the origin of this blog was, in fact, the 8th of February, the day
after he came out, but an abrupt conversation with a friend put this in the
cooler until today. Then, in a blog I wrote earlier, I referred to work I was
doing on this blog. It would appear, I have been able to conclude the piece and
publish it with as close as possible to the fervour that inspired it over a month
ago.
Doors falling off the
rattled closet
When news broke last
month of Philip Schofield’s revelation that he was gay in the midst of a
27-year marriage, I was ready to applaud him for coming out, but I could not
completely commit myself to any celebration of the news without consideration
of the others besides him involved.
Much was made of the
love and support of his wife and two adult daughters to this coming out moment
and as is always the case, people contributed messages of support for his
courage, his bravery, and his decision to be true to himself.
Yet, I am still here
thinking not so much of Philip, but of Stephanie Lowe, his wife of 27 years and
everyone else who for all their open-mindedness to the sexuality of others
might well be considerably affected by it much closer to home.
Always think of the
partners
Now, I cannot speak
to the quality of the relationship between Philip, Stephanie, and their
daughters, but as the developing news begins to generate other perspectives, one
of the headlines does say she was ‘absolutely devastated’ to learn her husband
is gay. That she has had the time and space to process the information will not
make it any easier for her.
There was a scene in
the film, Body
of Evidence which starred Madonna where in court she was asked about what
she did when she discovered her husband was in a homosexual relationship. She
said, “I couldn’t compete.”
It is a fundamental
psychological break when your spouse directs their sexual affections to a
same-sex liaison. What you can put up to fight for the affectations of your
spouse in situations where the object of their affections is the same sex as
you is lost in the battle with the opposite sex.
Knowing is usually a
process
However, by the
way, I appreciate that sexuality conflict and the point at which one is ready
to accept wholeheartedly that they are one way or the other is a complex
process of development. It is quite possible that people do not realise who
they are until when they are completely committed to a heteronormative path and
in it find dissatisfaction and discontent in the relationship they forged in
the hope that it would make them whole.
I believe there is a
discussion to be had when such issues arise. In my own case, whilst my very
first sexual experience was at 7 with a female much older than I, I cannot say
that I had a primary sexual attraction to the female. It never developed beyond
the appreciation of beauty, intellect, and personality.
From about the age of
7, I do know that something about men made them more attractive to me than I
could understand. That attraction was taken advantage of by some people
employed to care for us as kids. The little threat here or there to force
compliance made me a willing catamite to a few trusted people all into my
teens.
Accepting yourself is
deep self-discovery
After the age of
accountability, I agonised about who and what I was, consumed with guilt
especially the religious kind, I sought ways to rid myself of this thing when
at the same time, I could not forgo my predilection for same-sex liaisons. With
time, I found there were others like me, and we were not evil even if maligned.
At the time I was
about to leave Nigeria, I was being blackmailed, I refused to pay up and
challenged my blackmailer that when he tells whoever he decides to tell, he
should be ready to explain how we both got together without any coercion for
the many months of whatever we did. I guess, that put paid to that.
As I arrived in The UK, I was ready to come to terms which who I was, I sought out and found people
boldly expressing themselves without fear. In the midst of such confident
people, I gained the confidence to accept my own sexuality and to a direct
question about it, I gave a clear answer, for I was of the view that if you
asked, you just wanted a confirmation rather than a denial.
Peeling the onion of
coming out
To my parents, siblings,
and relations, I was a bit more circumspect and discreet, it took much longer
to broach the subject. In the case of my parents, they were in the UK in The 1960s when the worst thing you could call anyone was a ‘bugger’.
It came with all
sorts of connotations of homosexuality, paedophilia, bestiality, and murder, I
felt I should save them from such an association, though it did not stop me
from having same-sex relationships completely away from the scrutiny of those I
didn’t want to know. I had compartmentalised my life.
With time, the pressure,
and the expectation to get married became a constant refrain in conversations
with home, I batted away the direct questions and prevaricated on other
requirements.
I was offered
arranged marriages by many who thought I was the most eligible bachelor around.
This all to satisfy the needs of culture and become as it were ‘responsible’, I
could easily have contracted a marriage of convenience, even gone along to have
children. There were many offers that just required I ask, but I did not step
up to any of those opportunities.
In a series of tweets
yesterday, whilst using the news as a reference point, I put a perspective to
things which are probably not the broadest in terms of issues of sexuality and
marriage, I hope it contributes to the discussion.
I decided long ago
My life and the issue
of sexuality was complicated enough I swore to myself not to embroil anyone
else in that situation, it was hard enough to be in the closet, live a false
life with the risk of being exposed leading to scandalising a broader relationship
tree beyond the close family ties.
If I alone had to
deal with the issue, it was contained without compelling anyone else to play to
a script they never signed up for in the beginning. In another way, I was not
successfully praying away the gay, rather, I was getting more affirmation of
who I was towards the maturation of accepting who I am.
Other extenuating
factors came to bear, the issue of offspring or heirs, the concept diminished
with time as I began to make peace with myself with the likelihood, it might never
happen. I did not consign myself to default to the findings that many
prematurely born didn’t go on to sire children.
However, I felt after
a certain age, it did not matter any more and then post-chemotherapy the natural
ability to procreate was lost and I was not going to expend any energy in the quest to regain what rarely was a goal in life.
Be yourself, not
another person
Then I concluded that
contracting marriage was not a panacea, an antidote, or proven conversion
therapy for personal or imposed sexuality conflict. Some people might have
found adaptations with this distraction, sexuality variance was not a change of
clothes, it is more ingrained than that.
It has now transpired
that Philip Schofield’s hand was forced, besides the view that his sexuality
was already known in closed circles and certain liaisons were about to be made
public that he might lose control of the narrative of his private life, some
unscrupulous tabloid editor that gotten hold of the story and was ready to go
the press. In view of that, he had no other alternative, but to come clean. [Byline
Investigates]
I feel vindicated
that I was not immediately celebrating the event and still feel that whilst he
might now freely live his truth alone with the support of his wife and
daughters, he suspected his sexuality before he contracted the marriage, he
could not shake off the urges of his primal sexuality and regardless of the
public front presented, lives have been more radically affected than the façade
we see. [The
Guardian]
