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trans inclusion LGBTQ+ pride

Safety, Solidarity, and Showing Up

Jess Sandham
Jess Sandham

"I could turn you".

I was sixteen the first time a boy said those words to me. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. As though my sexuality was something temporary, something he could fix.

I'd just told him I was gay. I thought we were friends. I thought it would be fine.

That moment taught me something that has stayed with me throughout my career: coming out isn't a single event. It's a continuous assessment of safety. Every new job, every new team, every new conversation where someone asks about your weekend or your plans or makes an assumption about your life. You're constantly calculating: Can I be myself here? Will I be accepted? Or will someone try to "turn" me?

I remember being in a taxi in central London, not so long ago. Alone. It was early morning. I was having what I thought was a simple, pleasant chat with the driver. And then he asked the dreaded question - "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

As a woman, you calculate the intent behind the question. As a gay woman, you also calculate if it's safe to answer honestly - "No, I have a girlfriend".

In that moment, I didn't feel safe.

"Yes, I have a boyfriend".

I remember it so clearly. The discomfort I sat with for the remaining few minutes of the journey, and throughout the rest of the day.

For so many of us, February's LGBT+ History Month is a reminder of how far we've come. But it's also a reminder of how much still depends on the people around us. On whether our colleagues create space for us to exist without explanation or defence. On whether our leaders actively build cultures where allyship isn't optional, it's modelled from the top.

Me with friends posing for a photo at Pride.

This month, I want to talk about what it means to feel safe at work. Not safe in the health and safety sense (though that matters too) but safe to bring your whole self to work. Safe to mention your partner without the conversation going quiet. Safe to exist without someone treating your identity as a problem to be solved.

And right now, that safety feels particularly fragile for our trans colleagues.

When rights are under attack, silence isn't neutral.

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