Gay teaching

It wasn't a walk in the park being both gay and Asian while growing up in Birmingham during the late 80s and early 90s. There simply weren't any Asian role models available, nor were there gay role models that I could particularly identify with (except for the iconic Madonna, that is).

My sibling and I are of the first Indian generation, though we strongly consider ourselves to be Brummies. For our entire youth, we attended schools and grew up standing out quite a bit. Racism was commonplace; we were labelled with every negative name one could possibly imagine. We were often hollered at, spat upon, and threatened on our walk back home from school. As a young Sikh boy in primary school, other kids believed it was acceptable to grab my hair knot and refer to me as a girl.

I was also under increased strain because I was attending an all-boys grammar school; being publicly 'out' would inevitably result in constant homophobic name-calling and, should I be caught by myself, a solid beating. While I could barely put up with the racism occurring at that time, the inclusion of homophobia really turned my world upside down. Back then, I adored Kylie, Bananarama, and Doctor Who (that's a different conversation entirely - but who could you find that embraces differences more?). In the school newspaper, I started writing pieces regarding my gay icons; consequently, being labelled a 'poofter' became the new normal. While I resented it, and sometimes even myself, I never let it show.

Racism was commonplace; we were labelled with every negative name one could possibly imagine. We were often hollered at, spat upon, and threatened on our walk back home from school.

We never engaged in any pastoral sessions concerning race or sexuality; as such, no one ever brought these topics up. Section 28, which had been brought in by Thatcher's government, prevented schools from "promoting the teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship". This regulation rendered my generation of LGBT+ youngsters easy targets.

I recall an occasion when I was heading towards the art department, and a handful of boys began touching me inappropriately and shouting that I must be enjoying it - I did, of course, tell them to cease, though they ignored me. A teacher witnessed this occur, but remained quiet. Could it have been that the teacher might face repercussions had he intervened? Or maybe he believed that I deserved it? Who knows? It was indeed a dreadful period, and I failed my A-levels since I was feeling so down. Fortunately, I still successfully managed to earn the grades I needed to get into university.

My years in school and my tenure at university are what I usually describe as my forgotten years. Because that period was so deeply traumatic, I seldom ever look at photos from that time. Once I finished school, I swore to myself I would never step foot in one once more.

One of the Spice Girls

Growing up, I had countless expectations forced upon me, including becoming a doctor - just imagine trying to get a kid who nearly passed out while dissecting a fish to do that. I was additionally informed that I would be introduced to appropriate families following university with the intention of finding a wife. That plan simply was not going to work!

Once I was at university, I became desperate to discover what my religion (Sikhism) had to say on the subject of being gay, so I summoned up the courage and decided to wander down Hurst Street, the central hub of Birmingham's gay community. I paid a visit to a gay counselling service, where I encountered an Asian counsellor (who, coincidentally, was Sikh like me). Following our chat, I learned that there is simply no reference to it within our scriptures. My personal mantra now is that if it's not mentioned, then it must be alright!

Section 28 prohibited schools from "promoting the teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship". My generation of LGBT+ kids were made easy targets as a result. 

Around the same time, the Spice Girls had taken the planet by storm, and I had found my new figures of inspiration: audacious and self-assured, they didn't bother themselves with the opinions of others. I cheekily gave myself the nickname 'Curry Spice,' along with which came a renewed sense of empowerment.

I furthermore came to the decision to come out to my close friends, which turned out to be a complete failure. I ended up losing nearly all of them save for one individual. I was essentially dropped as if I was an underachieving pop artist that had been dumped by their record label. There were no more phone calls or evenings out - I was outright ignored. Perhaps the world was not nearly ready to accept me as much as I had initially believed. I then resolved to pull a Madonna and completely reinvent myself. I packed in my job, gained a Master's degree, and took off for Belgium.

Mandip's reinvention

My true life really began when I was 25 years old. I relocated to a nation where no one had ever known me, and moreover, I was unable to speak their language. It's quite ironic that I arrived in Brussels a mere four days after the Twin Towers attack in 2001 - the racism that I thought I had left behind ended up making a vengeful return. I received a warning indicating that I would be a target should I choose to wear my turban, as there had already been a sequence of assaults targeted at anyone with brown skin, however, turban wearers were at an even higher level of risk. Instead, I chose to put my hair into a ponytail.

On a regular basis, I was stopped by police personnel as I drew near the European Parliament (where I was employed at the time), and I was required to demonstrate that I was indeed an employee. Occasionally, security guards would come out to vouch for my identity. I resided in Belgium for close to a decade, and being pulled over by law enforcement, who were incidentally carrying firearms, turned into a routine.

Sorry Mum

I grew more comfortable during my ten years spent in Brussels, and I started living an 'out' life. Subsequently, I established some wonderful friendships - although there was still a sense of heaviness pressing down on me. What I sincerely yearned for was to be truthful with those that were close to me. As I was drawing near to the age of 30, the strain to get married was truly immense - practically every visit I made back home to the UK would coincide with a visit from an 'Aunty' along with her single daughter.

Following constant rejections and several intense 'discussions' alongside my family regarding how I was next to get married, I eventually had had enough. My mum inquired one day as to why I was being so uncooperative. 'Have you perhaps already met somebody else?', 'Do you happen to have a girlfriend?', 'Are you feeling unwell?' These were some of the questions that stood out the most, but then came the big one… 'Are you gay?'

Should I proceed with honesty and tell the truth? Or should I wound her feelings? The only son that remains unmarried. Or, on the other hand, should I just lie?

'Yes mum' I replied. I had eventually brought myself to do it - after a few tears had been shed, we embraced. I then told my sister, who reacted positively. We came to a mutual decision to withhold the information from everyone else out of fear of being cast out. Looking back at it now, I appreciate that I couldn't care any less.

OUTcast

While the strain associated with getting married diminished considerably, it wasn't until 2012, when I took a trip to Goa to attend a wedding, that it truly struck me that being both gay and Asian could actually be dangerous.

Should I proceed with honesty and tell the truth? Or should I wound her feelings? The only son that remains unmarried. Or, on the other hand, should I just lie?

During the wedding party, some of my very ‘manly' male cousins, who were meat-eating and alcohol-drinking, led me aside and confided in me that I was free to be with anyone I desired regardless of their ethnicity or religious background - save for another man. Never before had I felt quite so perturbed. It happened to be during the same year that the Indian government made the decision to reverse the decriminalisation of being gay (although, thankfully, this particular decision was reversed once more in 2018). That exact moment was when I came to the realisation that I am really fortunate to have the family and companions that have accepted me for who I am. I furthermore came to the understanding that not everyone is as sympathetic or as accepting as I had hoped, not even my own relatives.

Being a gay, Asian teacher

After I moved back to England, I made the decision that yet another reinvention, in the style of Madonna, was in order. I had a strong desire to engage in something that felt deeply meaningful, and I initially considered training to become a social worker, or perhaps returning to university with the intention of studying psychology and eventually working in counselling. Following two years of studying Child Psychology, I decided I wanted to be involved in working with young children. In spite of never having the desire to set foot in a classroom once more, I signed up for the Teach First Training Programme and retrained so that I could become a business and economics teacher situated in East London.

While teaching, it became clear to me that circumstances had evolved significantly since my own time at school - partly for the better, partly for the worse. I watched children behaving authentically and feeling at ease in their own skin, and additionally being supported by their peers. Because Section 28 was no longer in effect, we were able to discuss different types of relationships. I recall one pastoral session when we outlined that you could potentially have two mums or two dads - it just goes to show the kind of difference a modification in legislation can make!

In spite of never having the desire to set foot in a classroom once more, I signed up for the Teach First Training Programme.

However, I simultaneously witnessed disrespect and a lack of tolerance aimed towards older gay people like myself. I will always remember an instance when a year 10 student remarked in front of his mates: 'If you're gay, sir, I don't want to be taught by you,', while the other boys cheered him on in support. When I informed my headteacher that I was gay, she showed me a lot of support by regularly checking up on me to make sure that I was doing ok, and letting me know that she was there should I have the need to talk. Nevertheless, as a trainee teacher, I lacked the self-assurance necessary to speak openly about the specific remarks that had been aimed towards me by my students. I believe that I was embarrassed and did not want to project the image of being weak. In hindsight, I acknowledge that I really should have spoken out, considering I know that it would have been dealt with appropriately. Back then, while I was undergoing training with Teach First, no assistance was offered regarding how to deal with being an LGBT+ teacher as well as the challenges that I might have to confront.

I often wondered: If I were ever to come out to the students, what could potentially happen? In my classroom, I used to display posters that read 'It's Ok To Be Gay/Lesbian', as well as putting stickers on my laptop, so that everyone would be aware that I was at least an ally.

No assistance was offered regarding how to deal with being an LGBT+ teacher as well as the challenges that I might have to confront.

For two years, I put up with the jibes coming from the ringleader of the homophobic group, and my spirits really sank when he also became a member of my A-Level class. Everyone would join in: 'Sir, are you really gay?' 'There's no way you can be gay, you're Indian.' I found myself continually building up the courage to say something, however, I simply couldn't do it. I was afraid, pure and simple. There was absolutely no way that I was going to confide in my colleagues in relation to my anxieties. As I reflect on it, I regret that I didn't.

From teacher to role model

I intentionally never either confirmed or denied my true sexuality to any of my students. Following the completion of their final exams in Year 13, they decided to come back to say farewell. 'Sir, we are getting ready to leave school,' they said to me, 'and we are just curious as to whether you happen to be gay, since we've never before encountered an openly gay Asian person'.

I chose to come out to them, and furthermore discussed all of the hardships I had faced as I was growing up, including those I continue to face in the present day. I additionally discussed the reality of life as a gay teacher, what my life was like outside of school, and how tolerance and understanding are critical. They paid attention to what I was saying and were respectful throughout.

The boy that I had taught ever since year 10 extended an apology for giving me such a difficult time across the prior four years. Much to my utter amazement, they each shook my hand on their way out. They decided to come back one more time, and despite not having a great deal of money, they bought me a leaving present. As I was growing up, I sincerely longed to have an Asian gay role model - however, the very last thing I had ever expected was that I would end up being an Asian gay role model for other people.

Out and proud Development Lead

Following numerous years of teaching, I came to the decision to join Teach First and become a Development Lead. Throughout this period, I became a member of the LGBT+ Affinity Network, and it has proven to be an amazing experience. We take a close look at various issues, have discussions regarding policies, and put on events that serve to increase LGBT+ awareness and promote inclusivity at the workplace.

As I was growing up, I sincerely longed to have an Asian gay role model - however, the very last thing I had ever expected was that I would end up being an Asian gay role model for other people.

I take an immense amount of pride in the work that we undertake in collaboration with the LGBT+ youth charity Just Like Us, who ended up recording a session intended for our trainees regarding inclusivity within the classroom. From that point forward, we have been directing our trainees towards free resources that serve to commemorate School Diversity Week. Feedback obtained from Just Like Us indicated that they had been experiencing a significant amount of sign ups originating from Teach First trainees.

While attending Summer Institute in the prior year, I was present at the wonderful LGBTQI+ Diversity Series event that was being held for our new trainees. It was truly eye opening to get to hear precisely how LGBT+ trainees were feeling with regards to starting school and how they intend to cope with the prospect of being openly out. I find myself reflecting on just how much I would have appreciated the chance to attend an event such as this one, since I had at one point shared a number of the same fears that these trainees had. I participated as a table facilitator and was so pleased to have the opportunity to share both my experiences and my thoughts on how I should have dealt with certain issues at the time that I was teaching.

Being loved, respected and treated as an equal

Some individuals seem to believe that being gay is a personal choice. But what I would like to do is challenge them to consider whether we would ever consciously choose a lifestyle that could potentially subject us to torment and hatred. Back when I was just a kid, I found myself often considering just how much easier things would be if I were just a straight white man who had a girlfriend and was settling down to start a family. But such trains of thought are ultimately unproductive. Now that I am in my 40s, I can finally say that I am content in my own skin, and I feel proud of the gay, Asian man that I have evolved into.

As someone who is employed by Teach First, I feel truly grateful that we have affinity groups, engaging discussions, and the opportunity to have an influence on policy. It is incredibly important to have representation from BAME LGBT+ individuals. Every person is unique; their individual beliefs, thoughts and preferences may not be perfectly aligned, but in the grand scheme of things, we are all just human. By having a community that embraces diversity, we have the chance to learn a great deal from one another.

As time has passed since I was growing up, the entire world has undergone some considerable changes. People are now publicly voicing their opinions regarding Black Lives Matter in all corners of the globe. Pride month is now celebrated more openly than ever before. All that anyone has ever wanted is quite simply to be treated as an equal, to experience love, and to be shown respect.

It is my sincere hope that the next generation does not have to grow up being afraid solely on account of their ethnicity, their sexuality, or any other factor that makes them different. We need to learn from each other and maintain an open mind. After all, we only get to experience this life once.