During Pride month, you will often hear a lot of people talking about ‘coming out’ multiple times – to parents, friends, colleagues, and clients. While all of that is true and each can be met with challenges, conversation or celebration, or a combination of the three, coming out as ‘gay’ for the first time to someone can sometimes be the easier step. Coming out as the person you want to be is an entirely separate journey, sometimes with bigger challenges.
There are very few things we owe thanks to the global pandemic for, but it has often seemed like a watershed moment for the recognition of D&I. When we were stuck in our homes, it provided space for self-learning, reflection and (Zoom) conversation about some heavy topics – whether that be transgender rights, race, or whether Carole Baskin killed her husband. However, beyond the commentary on what was happening in the world, it often also led to people sharing more of themselves – at the very least, their home interior.
The opportunity to ‘share more’ and be more open – beyond my lockdown paintings of Harry Styles and Lil Nas X which decorate my living area and perhaps leave little doubt about my sexual preferences – has been a significant part of my ‘coming out’ journey. A combination of things drove sharing more of myself: being in the comfort zone of my flat; a general sense of ‘the world might end, so may as well live authentically now’; and starting every day on my Peloton with Cody Rigsby chanting, “you do you, boo”.
Two years on, the world didn’t end and I – like most others – have returned to working from the office (at least 50 per cent of the time). As much as it is being called ‘the new normal’, there is still a question of how far we have moved from pre-pandemic life. Outside the workplace, opening the news each day to ‘Don’t Say Gay’ bills and debates about trans rights, you would be forgiven for thinking there has been some regression. Within the workplace, the flexibility of home working has led to a greater acceptance that the ‘school run’ is a perfectly legitimate reason for being offline for chunks of the day – however, people who may have decided not to have children might still feel uncomfortable rejecting a meeting because they are ‘going to the gym’ or ‘going on a date’ (if it’s a Peloton ride with Cody Rigsby, it may indeed be both).
This is a type of conundrum that I’ve often faced in my ‘coming out’ journey. Many LGBTQ+ people feel more able to discuss the parts of our lives which conform to a ‘heteronormative’ standard of living (thankfully, we live in times when the ‘school run’ example could just as easily relate to a same-sex parent), but face greater difficulty to ‘come out’ and express our queer identity, whether that be in what we do, what we say or what we wear.
My own coming out journey has been one of increasingly not conforming to heteronormative standards. When I first came out, I shunned joining LGBTQ+ networks, dressed ‘straight-looking’ (not just an absence of glitter and rainbows) and said ‘sashay away’ to the joys of Drag Race, all for reasons of not wanting to be defined by my sexuality. I wasn’t particularly conscious of it at the time, but even when I did ‘come out’, I was still suppressing a lot of my ‘queer identity’.
I’m still on that journey. Looking back, I have experienced the most professional success as an antitrust associate at Freshfields when embracing my queer identity, whether it be confidence in presenting, throwing in the odd pop culture reference into advice, or developing my internal and external network. However, the ‘new normal’ presents the challenge of making decisions as to when it is ‘professional’ to be expressing within the workplace the parts of that identity which have been nurtured over the course of the pandemic. In that respect, I’m thankful for Freshfields’ flexible dress code which has meant my oversized trousers still have a place in my work wardrobe.
This distinction I’ve drawn between being ‘out’ and ‘out-out’, for want of a better term, perhaps begs the question of whether statistics about how many people in a law firm identify as LGBTQ+ is a meaningful measure of inclusivity. Put simply, yes – these statistics still have a place, and I have been thrilled to see the progress already shown Freshfields’ progress on its five-year global commitments launched last year (particularly the progress of 4 per cent of partners identifying as LGBTQ+). These are a tangible measure of inclusivity and progress, and it’s important not to understate the enormity of someone ‘coming out’, even on a confidential form. People often say ‘it’s no big deal’ to come out in today’s society, but saying so is not to acknowledge and validate the struggles people face in that coming out journey.
Beyond statistics, and as much as firm culture may be said to come ‘from the top’, it is LGBTQ+ networks that must play an important role in cultivating an inclusive culture where people can be ‘out-out’, living their authentic selves in the workplace. As part of the leadership team for Freshfields’ LGBTQ+ network, Halo, I have grown to appreciate its role in encouraging colleagues to take the first step to come ‘out’, and then providing a ‘safe space’ for those that are ‘out’ to share more of themselves – or, come ‘out-out’. Both of these roles require far more than personal LinkedIn posts of initiatives and actions which may be interpreted as self-serving. While network leads can’t be expected to have all of the answers and always be the trailblazers of tomorrow, as communities we need to explore our identities in a professional context together and advise those in leadership on how to encourage employees to express those identities through advocacy and allyship.
It’s a virtuous cycle: the more we allow people to be their whole selves, the greater the chance we have to influence the statistics of tomorrow.
Martin Dickson is an associate at Freshfields
