Editor in Chief ’s Le er

As we approach the 20th anniversary of the equal age of consent, which changed the law to no longer criminalise men over the age of 16 for having sex with each other, it’s easy to forget how important the moment was for us.

It took ten years for the Wolfenden Report to go from official enquiry (1957) to legislation (1967). It was then an arduous battle to have the age of consent for sexual relations between men reduced from 21 to 18. And it wasn’t until two men pursued a legal battle in the European Court — the second time gay men had done so — that the frustrating back-and-forth battle between the House of Commons and the House of Lords eventually [spoiler warning] led to an equal age of consent of 16 for all, with the Bill coming into effect in January 2001. Hugh Kaye takes a deep dive into the full story on p. 54. Younger readers would be wise to digest it.

The message at the story’s core is just how hard it was for the queer community, activists and LGBTQ rights groups to convince even some of the most respected intellectuals and institutions, such as universities, that equal rights are human rights. It’s the starkest of warnings for the future in how important the European Union’s regard for human rights has been in putting the UK on a path that would eventually lead to civil unions, same-sex marriage and the end of many discriminatory laws, and the protections that followed. As a young teen growing up in the ’90s, I remember the climate of fear that shrouded being gay.

In his new book, No Shame, cover boy Tom Allen reflects on his early years growing up in south London and breaks the concept of shame down to a desire to cling to the respect of the people around you. It’s a remarkably simple way to look at the prejudices and problems of the world, from changing our behaviour so we don’t stand out too much to the validation people crave from the number of likes they accumulate on Instagram.

As Tom reveals in his cover story, p. 44, he was always an outsider and somewhat… peculiar. Embracing his childhood eccentricities eventually took Tom onto a journey to acknowledge his sexuality. I suppose while some display their queerness alongside their politics in a Pride parade, others simply wear it with a cravat. For Tom, it started with the cravat and worked its way to Pride.

I was never as outwardly bold as Tom. It took years for me to embrace my own queerness.

But when I did, the world opened up for me and became a vivid place erupting with colour and humour. Gradually, I started caring less and less about what others thought, and began to place value on my happiness. Shaking the shackles of shame off is a frightful step to take at first. But the benefits are limitless.

In the beginning, equality was about sex. Then it was about love. Today, it’s about finding our place on the outside again. After the equal age of consent and the long fight for marriage equality, the LGBTQ community is now having to reevaluate itself in the context of a world that expects it to conform and fit in. Yet, this year of upheaval has highlighted how different we still are — and that is something to be celebrated and elevated.

To embrace being a little bit queer — LGBTQ or otherwise — is to be comfortably on the outside, away from the crowd. It means being able to open your mind and heart to other ways of being and seeing. On the periphery of society’s expectations, there’s more space to breathe and run free.

“As a young teen in the ’90s, I remember the fear that shrouded being gay”