I didn’t come out until I was 30 – then my life turned from black and white to full colour-Dr Ranj Singh-Entertainment – Metro

I told my brothers and close friends first (Picture: David M. Benett/Dave Benett/Getty Images)

I don’t think anyone should have to ‘come out’. 

That term implies that there’s something shameful about who we are, or that we deliberately hide ourselves. 

The truth is that we, members of the LGBTQ+ community, simply want to exist, be happy and have the same rights as everyone else, and not live in fear. 

The only reason people have to suppress themselves is because the world and society makes them feel like they have to. And sadly for many, coming out can be a matter of life or death.

I’ve reframed ‘coming out’ as ‘being able to live as my full self’. I wasn’t able to do that until I was 30, which to many may seem quite late. 

Before then, I’d lived what I would call a relatively regular life: I had a professional career, I was married, and I was doing all the things people would expect. And I was pretty happy… or at least, I thought I was.

As time went on, and I grew as an adult (I maintain that your 30s is when you do your most growing as a person), I realised that what I thought was happiness was only part of the picture. 

I couldn’t be completely happy until I was completely myself. And that’s when my process of being 100% me came about.

My relationship at the time was already starting to dwindle, and as that happened, I started to accept my truth (with the help of some counselling).

It’s difficult to explain. I didn’t know exactly what I was, but I knew what I wasn’t. The best way I can describe it is: I hadn’t completely worked out my sexual identity (I had a whole period of self-discovery ahead of me).

However, I knew the person I had been up until that point didn’t feel authentic anymore. And that meant letting go of my old, comfortable, regular life.

Through coming out, I also discovered a chosen family. A community of queer people and allies who accepted, mentored and guided me with so much compassion

It was terrifying and it was painful. 

Some people are lucky to know who they are from an early age. Some are even lucky enough to be able to be themselves freely and unapologetically. However, for people like me who work it out later, it isn’t quite so easy and takes a great deal of courage.

I think I always knew I felt ‘different’ growing up, but this difference wasn’t something I felt I needed to indulge. I had an idea, a goal, in my head of what I thought happiness was and that was how I wanted my life to be. Sadly, I was wrong and figuring that out was one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my life.

Everything fractured and seemed to fall into a million pieces. My life didn’t make sense anymore. I felt like the Ranj I knew was unravelling, and I had no idea how to deal with the mess. I was lost.

At the same time, I was panicking about what other people would think. Would I be judged? Would I lose family? Would I lose friends?

The feelings of loneliness, shame and guilt were overwhelming.

There were times that I even considered just not being here. It seemed like it would be easier if I didn’t have to deal with it all. 

But there was something inside me that told me that I deserved to be here. That there was nothing wrong with who I was and I had done nothing wrong. The real me deserved a chance, even if other people couldn’t be there for me.

I was ready to go it alone — but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The love and support I felt from the people closest to me, whom I was most scared of hurting, was incredible. 

I told my brothers and close friends first, terrified of what they might say, but what I felt in return was love on a scale that I had never experienced. Never before have the words ‘it doesn’t matter, you’re no different to us and we’re still here for you’ meant so much. They told me they loved me no matter what, faults and all. I can’t describe how much strength and courage that gave me.

I’m now closer to my parents and family than I have ever been (Picture: Grant Buchanan / SplashNews.com)

Telling them meant it was easier to eventually tell my parents. They were fairly traditional folk (who had never known an LGBTQ+ person) so obviously the news came as a bit of a shock. When they heard of the pain I’d gone through, their immediate reaction was: ‘you didn’t have to do this by yourself, we’re always here for you.’

My fear of rejection, which so many LGBTQ+ people have when telling their loved ones, completely evaporated. And I’m now closer to my parents and family than I have ever been.

Through coming out, I also discovered a chosen family. A community of queer people and allies who accepted, mentored and guided me with so much compassion. 

It’s weird because I don’t think I ever sought them out. They just happened to be there to catch me. That’s what happens when you’re able to be yourself. Somehow you attract your tribe naturally. I’d hang out with queer friends and inevitably meet others, and my friendship circle grew and diversified beyond my imagination.

It was my community now. Finally I felt like I had permission to be me. It was like my wings were unfurling and I was about to take off…

And when I did, there was no stopping me. Over time it became easier and more important to tell others (even if it felt like coming out over and over again). I learned that my story as a queer person of colour needed to be told so that others in similar, painful situations may find some hope and solace.

My life has changed since the day I showed the real me to the world. My story ended up in magazines and the press, which would have terrified me at one point.

My first ever interview I did was for Attitude magazine, and that was like the best therapy of all. I needed to rip off the plaster. But it felt liberating because it was on my terms and in my voice. 

And people responded so wonderfully. Even to this day I get messages from people saying it’s given them the confidence to be true to themselves. The most heart-warming words are from parents who tell me that they are glad their kids get to see a visible, queer person of colour in the public eye.

Now I get to live my life the way it’s meant to be. It was as though I had lived my life in black and white up until the point I ‘came out’, and now I was living it in its full, colourful glory. Any guilt and shame ebbed away because I realised it was OK to be me.

I was — and I hate to use this word to describe it — lucky. Even though it wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns, my experience of becoming me was generally positive (and I hope that gives others, especially queer people of colour, some hope). It’s important to hear these stories because so often we only hear the bad ones.

But others aren’t always so fortunate.

In our modernised, metropolitan, Western way of life, we must remember that not everyone lives like us. People who are fighting to be themselves need to always have their safety at the forefront.

If you are going to ‘come out’, ensure you are safe and tell people you trust first. Speak to charities or helplines that are out there to support you, especially if you are at risk of harm or becoming homeless.

But don’t let anyone ever tell you that it’s not OK to be you, or that you aren’t loved. There is always someone out there who will be there for you. Find your people. Find your family. Find your tribe. Because you have done nothing wrong. You deserve to be you and you deserve to be happy.

It took me a long time to realise that. But I’m so glad to say that I am finally me, finally proud.

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