My coming out story is boring, but defined me as a person

It was early hours in the morning on a regular day in 2015. I was 17-years-old, laid in my bed, messaging an old school friend on Facebook. I say 'old', I had only been out of school a year at this point, but he was one of the very, very few people I decided to keep in touch with after leaving secondary school in 2014.

Telling something that I was bisexual (a natural cover story to ease the blow, when in fact I was gay all along) had always been a scary thought. Coming out is not without enormous risk, and that's a reality most queer kids have to face. Your parents might not accept it, or your friends might not keep your secret. But I trusted this one friend completely. I was laid in bed, messaging him on my old Vodafone tablet that I had won in a raffle of some sorts, and that's when I told him that I was bisexual, and wanted to come out properly.

Heart pounding, palms sweating, I waited for the response that I had feared. But it didn't come. Instead, he supported me. He told me that it was okay. And that very same night, I posted on Facebook - my official coming out. In it, I apologised to my mum - who I knew would see it - for not telling her face-to-face. And shortly after, somehow, I fell asleep. That was it. I was officially 'out'.

The following morning, I had forgotten what I had done until my brother came into my room and told me that my mum wanted to speak to me. The realisation hit me like a brick wall as I walked down the stairs. It wasn't quite the reaction I had been expecting. It went well. The only thing she was unhappy about was the fact I didn't tell her face-to-face, which is valid.

I remember that day almost like a dream. After the conversation with my mum, I went to the shop to get a few bits for her and I remember walking down the street feeling... freer. Of course, nobody I walked past knew that I had come out, and if they did, they certainly wouldn't care. But I had a newfound confidence.

All this was of course just about a year after it became legal for same-sex couples to get married in the United Kingdom. The law passed in 2013, but didn't come into force until March 2014. That moment, seeing the first ever same-sex marriage take place in my country, was monumental. And although it would take me another year to come out, I understood the gravity of what had happened. I always think it is important to talk about the lead up to that legislation being passed, so indulge me for a moment while I talk politics.

When the general election took place in 2010, the Conservative Party had said they would consider passing a law to equalise marriage. What followed was chaotic and, quite frankly, disgraceful from the Tories and from other parties. We have also seen a significant rewriting of what happened from the Tories, with former prime minister David Cameron saying in 2017 on Twitter that he was "proud" of legislating same-sex marriage. Cameron was also awarded 'ally of the year' by PinkNews in 2016. But none of that is strictly true.

In fact, when the Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013 was at its third reading in the House of Commons (basically the stage at which elected MPs consider sending the Bill to the House of Lords), 127 Tory MPs voted against it, compared to 118 who voted for it. And other party's come off badly from that vote, too. 14 Labour MPs (notably Stephen Timms and others) and 4 Liberal Democrats voted against.

46 Labour MPs (including Harriet Harman, Sadiq Khan, Diana Johnson and Lucy Powell), and 9 Lib Dem MPs (including Tim Farron) didn't even bother turning up to vote. Thankfully, the Bill passed, and later went on to be passed in the House of Lords, making it law. But that's enough about politics. I just think it's important to recognise that despite their claims, if same-sex marriage had rested solely with David Cameron's party, it would have failed.

Coming out to my mum when I did turned out to be the most important part of my life, because in August 2015, she died very suddenly. I was 17, and although I didn't have the perfect relationship with her, it was horribly difficult to cope with at such a young age. As I grew older, I came to realise how lucky I was to have had the opportunity to come out to her when I did.

I know that many people don't have a coming out story as boring or 'normal' as mine, and I find myself feeling fortunate. Many people experience horrible situations where they find themselves homeless, or worse. We live in a world where homosexuality, bisexuality, transgenderism, and all the other aspects of the colourful rainbow are (mostly) safe under legislation. But we will never be able to legislate for a positive public attitude. And over the last few years in particular, we have seen concerted efforts from well-funded groups trying to undo legal protections, particularly for trans people. And we cannot allow that to happen.

I am very lucky as a cis gay man, because at this particular moment, my rights are not under immediate threat. But as we mark LGBTQ+ History Month, it's important to remember that societal rights are fleeting, and all it takes is one terrible government to undo the work done by so many before us. As queer people, we have a duty to those people to ensure that our rights - all our rights - were not fought for in vain.