On PRIDE: Kate Lawrence-Lunniss

Up until the age of 28 I lived in a mostly binary world. I was openly gay, had gay friends and a ‘gay scene’ in my home town. By ‘scene’ I mean we had one pub, one club and one hybrid of the two where the sticky dance floor centred around a pole policed by a scantily clad person with a bleach bottle and cloth ready to wipe away anyone’s finger prints who dare attempt a not so graceful swing after three tequilas. But it was still very binary – gay men, gay women and the occasional fabulous drag queen.

It wasn’t until I moved to London to study art and volunteered in an LGBTQIA+ charity that I was introduced to the rainbow of genders and sexualities I might align with. I was privileged to have tutors at university who showed great care and attention in recommending artists I should research. The arts are an incredible tool for storytelling, whatever the medium, but I hadn’t realised what my story was when I was introduced to transgender visual artist Cassils’ performance work called Cuts: A Traditional Sculpture.

Created in contrast to Eleanor Antin’s 1972 Carving: A Traditional Sculpture in which she documents her body as she uses extreme dieting to lose weight, Cassils used bodybuilding techniques to gain muscle and transform their body over 23 weeks documenting through performance, photography and video.

Through this introduction and with the kindness of a supportive group of very new friends (sometimes our tribe sees us before we see ourselves), I began to realise other genders existed and not only would I be welcomed and accepted, but I could be happy there.

I was always overcomplicating what I wanted to say during my degree. On one occasion I tried to do something similar to a barbershop quartet but with just me, four hats and a Dick Van Dyke style cane. It was exhausting! My final piece though was a projection of words and phrases that had been said, laughed and shouted at me, rhythmically appearing word by word along to the tick of a metronome. There was an authenticity in my voice that I hadn’t heard before, language I’d never been able to own and I will be forever grateful to my tutors for that.

It still took me a few more years to get to where I am now and the arts was there at every step. I was invited to be part of LGBTQ+ Tiny Shows by a very generous and nurturing person who had met me through the restaurant I worked in. It was two days of provocations and creating together using the principles of Open Space Technology. Although there was no pressure to produce something at the end of it, what we did produce felt revelational and created the strongest feeling of belonging. This theatre experience created an incredibly powerful sense of community held in the wonderful arms of Omnibus Theatre. I continued to volunteer there and in return they taught me about creative producing that enabled me to talk confidently at interview when I applied for an internship at The Old Vic.

The Old Vic was the first job where I was open and out about being non-binary from the beginning, but the journey doesn’t stop there. I am still working myself out, building my confidence and finding where I fit. It is a very odd feeling to have an audience as your identity is evolving as an adult. I am not speaking on behalf of all LGBTQIA+ people by any stretch, but for me desperately wanting to be liked growing up means it’s very difficult to ask for what you want when you’re an adult. Especially when what you want might make other people feel uncomfortable or worry about getting it ‘right’. The team I am part of at The Old Vic, however, have empowered me at every step and I feel very lucky to have that support. I now feel a responsibility to help others have the same experience and have really enjoyed moments where participants I have been working with have asked me about what my pronouns mean. It’s a chance to encourage understanding and improve visibility.

The arts have always been prevalent in activism but there is still a long way to go for my community. In a report carried out by charity Just Like Us, 68% of young LGBT+ people have experienced suicidal thoughts. This percentage increases to 77% amongst trans young people and 89% amongst Black LGBT+ young people. The UK was the most LGBTQIA+ friendly place in Europe (ILGA-Europe, Rainbow Map 2014) but in the last report we are now in ninth place. Current UK headlines include increased violence against trans people, lack of reforms on the Gender Recognition Act, the exclusion of transgender people from the conversion therapy ban and access to medical care waiting lists being in excess of three years.

The arts can absolutely play a role in supporting the LGBTQIA+ community by developing proactive and robust Equity, Diversity and Inclusion strategies; employing people that align with these values; providing a platform for marginalised voices to tell their stories with them at the forefront of the creative teams as well as being in the spotlight; by making sure the buildings arts organisations inhabit are welcoming LGBTQIA+ friendly spaces; by creating arts education programmes that are accessible to all and providing LGBTQIA+ visibility for younger generations to see they can be happy and accepted. That kind of visibility is life saving.