An Employee Story

As part of Pride month 2022, Employability Team Manager Ally Campbell shared details of her personal story and why Pride is so important to her:

Please note, this article contains themes of personal hardships and sexual misconduct.

Who am I?

I’m the Performance Delivery Manager for EA (Employment Advisors) in IAPT (Improving Access to Psychological Therapies). I live in Derbyshire, recently bought my own house, have no pets (though hopefully that will change soon!), and am in a relationship with a lovely man called Alex.

I’m cisgender, meaning the gender assigned to me at birth (female/girl) still aligns with my gender identity today (female/woman). I’m bisexual/pansexual, and an advocate for and ally within the LGBT+ community – something my team may or may not know about me!

I’m cisgender, so why do I have my pronouns in my email signature?

Because why not – it’s useful information about me for others and it communicates how I prefer to be addressed. But more purposefully, it’s because I want to openly demonstrate that I am an inclusive manager and this is an inclusive workplace for trans and non-binary people. I want trans and non-binary colleagues to feel comfortable in work, and that may include being addressed by the correct pronouns for them. I want to normalise the setting and sharing of pronouns, and to set the expectation of respect and equal treatment towards anyone who sets theirs (regardless of if their pronouns align with the expectations or assumptions of other people).

Bisexual or Pansexual – what’s the difference?

Bisexuality is often defined as the attraction to two or more genders – for some people this specifically means the two gender binaries of male and female, and for some this does not include trans people. Others have a broader definition of bisexuality, using it to explain attraction across the gender spectrum (trans and non-binary inclusive). For some people the limits or history of the binary aspect of the term bisexual is too limiting and they prefer the broader term of pansexuality. I’m happy to be referred to / refer to myself with either term.

How and when did I know?

I’ve never thought of myself as ‘straight’ – as soon as the idea of dating or relationships entered my life as a young teenager I viewed love as love, and whilst I knew this didn’t reflect many of the families or relationships I saw (especially attending a Catholic school) I did not try to limit or restrict myself or my views. As a child I watched Disney films and daydreamed of a wedding to a prince one day, but once old enough to recognise attraction myself I knew that the fairy tale male-female love story may not be in my future – and sometimes that felt like a loss, though mostly I just wanted to find happiness and security in my future.

Not being close to my parents growing up it felt natural and comfortable to hide this, along with other details of my life, and feel I fortunate to not have been so close with them that I ever felt a need to ‘come out’ to family. I live my life and my family either know things or they don’t! I set clear boundaries in my personal life for me to be able to live authentically (regarding my sexuality, and all aspects of life).

Stigma and assumptions

As a bi/pan woman there are many misconceptions – one I have frequently experienced is that my sexuality (who I am attracted to) is linked to my sexual activity, and assumptions of promiscuity or even sex work. Some people assume that by being open about being bi/pan I am consenting for my sex life to be publicly discussed and joked about, or that I am inviting (even encouraging) sexual advances from others.

I’ve also been told that I’m undecided, lesbian but in denial, straight but following a trend, or even dating women purely to get male attention. There’s also the misconception that once married or in a long-term committed relationship I would ‘settle’ into straight or lesbian/gay sexuality – through all my relationships I still identify as bi/pan, because no single relationship defines my sexuality.

Work experiences…

Previously working in male dominated industries, I have had colleagues and managers make sexually explicit comments to me and about me, unwanted and inappropriate propositions in the workplace and outside of work, and physical sexual harassment (“you’ll sleep with anyone so why can’t I touch you?”). An ex-boyfriend (whose work interacted with some of my colleagues) was repeatedly asked about our sex life, particularly around the incorrect assumption that it included other people. On another occasion a colleague saw women’s profiles on a dating app on my phone during my lunch break and told me graphic details of his sex life, asking me to confirm or deny if I had done those acts with a woman (and deciding for himself the answer was yes to all, and calling me sexist, homophobic, and biphobic slurs as he did). I learnt to protect myself by not discussing my personal life at all in work unless I could ‘pass’ as straight.

Why am I writing this?

I want a workplace where it’s commonplace for LBGT+ people to talk about their personal life, receive the same respect and personal boundaries, and enjoy work in the same way that a heterosexual or cisgendered person can. I believe it’s important for people who don’t know or understand the experiences of LGBT+ people to have some insight into who we are, why we may or may not be openly out in work, and what experiences we might have been through that shape how we feel about being out.

I haven’t directly told my team I’m bi/pan (and this comms might be a surprise to some), though I often refer to my boyfriend as my ‘partner’ – a habit I got into a while ago when not wanting to share the gender of partners in previous jobs. I think an inclusive workplace shouldn’t require employees to ‘come out’ to their colleagues; it’s where an employee can comfortably refer to their partner or state their pronouns or chosen name and know they will be accepted for who they are, without judgement, harassment, abuse, or even a raised eyebrow.

LGBT+ people are all around – out and proud, quietly proud, facing internal or external conflicts around who they are, or exploring their sexuality or gender identity. We’re here; we’re valid; we’re so much more than our ‘label’, though it’s such an integral part of who we are. I feel safe to share my story here (though nervous that others may change how they view or act around me), and I’m hopeful we can create a truly inclusive workplace here at Ingeus.