Growing up under the shadow of section 28, watching the Channel 4 show made me glad to be gay
During my school years I was encouraged to believe that being gay was a serious medical handicap, like having one leg shorter than the other or a parent who was also your form tutor. This was during section 28, which outlawed the promotion of the “acceptability of homosexuality” in UK schools, when nearly half the population thought being gay was “always” or “mostly” wrong. “Gay” was a synonym for “shit”; a descriptor deployed when no other slur was low enough. Detentions were gay, as was double maths. Two men having sex was so gay that it was almost unspeakable, the closest analogue being supermarket-brand trainers.
Perhaps it’s inevitable that many men of my generation grew up with shame coating them like varnish. This lack of self-esteem is supposedly what drives many to chemsex, or self-harm, or sporting harnesses as daywear, which is effectively the same thing. Unfortunately, there was never any hiding my gayness. It shone out of me like a tea-light in a lantern, and the most I could hope to do was deflect (every queer kid knows the heart-stopping sensation that greets the sentence “can I ask you something?”). Aged 11, it was hard not to see being gay as a life sentence. Like prison, it felt inherently terrifying and degrading.
Then Queer As Folk appeared on Channel 4. The very mundanity of the conceit (gay men going to work, having one-night stands, falling in and out of love) made it feel revolutionary. For the first time I saw gay people living gay lives, rather than acting as plot devices or cautionary tales in straight people’s stories. They weren’t ostensibly glamorous (Vince worked in a supermarket) but existed on their own terms, which felt entirely exotic and thrilling. Stuart was unapologetic and reckless – memorably driving his Jeep through the glass storefront of a car dealership after overhearing a salesman brag about how much money he made from gay men who die young. It was Pretty Woman’s “big mistake” moment for men with a preferred Minogue.