Around the age of 11 I became acutely aware that I was not like other boys my age. And while it took several years for me to work out what that meant, it was only at 21 that I said to myself, “Yup, you are gay and you’re OK with that.”
Growing up gay in the 1980s was hard, but what made this realisation even more difficult and perhaps even more confusing was the memory that I was sexually assaulted when was five. To be gay, to have your first sexual experience at that age, and with a man – it messes with your mind. I did not recall this event until my early teens. I now understand PTSD to work this way; as a kind of protective factor against trauma. Yet I never sought help until I was in my 30s. There just wasn’t anywhere I could go. Nowhere seemed outwardly welcoming or safe – not to an Aboriginal gay guy. To be honest, not much has changed.
As a teenager the constant barrage of homophobia and the expectation that I needed to look like Princess Leia in her slave costume if I was to ever find my Han Solo, didn’t help. What had I done to be so hated by the world? I felt desperately alone. But throughout my teens, during nights of snotty sobbing, it was my mother’s love that kept me alive. It also kept me alive through my intoxicated 20s. Love is important to a child. At 43 it’s still important – not just from family and friends, but from the world around us. Love conveys the message that you are valued, cherished, welcomed. Love saved my life. It made things better. It made me better. And that’s the message I wanted to send to other Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander LGBQTI people. That you are loved, and you matter.
Black Rainbow kicks off its fourth year this December, but I’ve been raising the issue of Indigenous LGBQTI suicide since 2010. Black Rainbow started while I was working and living in Kimberley – home of the highest rates of Indigenous suicide in Australia. Even though there is no data on Indigenous LGBQTI suicide and self-harm, we know our mob are killing themselves and self-harming and those organisations tasked (and funded) with responding to LGBQTI needs had done nothing to help us.
I’ve hit many a brick wall, and I freely admit over the course of my advocacy I have acted belligerently and at times undiplomatic. But when you ask for help and that request keeps getting ignored, well, tick tock. I am also no wilting flower or wounded pigeon, and I don’t dabble in “trauma porn” to feed anyone’s saviour complex. I am 6’6” with a shaved head, beard and covered in tattoos; I don’t “look” the part. And I know my stuff. I have a lived experience of trauma and mental illness, and there was a time, in May of this year, I myself contemplated suicide. Despite the challenges, I remain unapologetic in my commitment – this is about focusing on the issue, not about stroking egos.
Black Rainbow started on social media because it’s freely accessible – an isolated Indigenous LGBQTI person could get online and access support. We also offer prepaid phone and data credit to Indigenous LGBQTI people who are homeless, leaving domestic violence or exiting the criminal justice system.
Maintaining our social media presence, Black Rainbow has now grown to be a national touch point not only on suicide prevention but across the health and wellbeing sector as well. We have been asked to advise state children’s commissioners, the Australian Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity & Intersex Rights, the National Disability Insurance Scheme LGBQTI Strategy, and the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Suicide Prevention Evaluation Project.I’ve also personally received a human rights award for my advocacy work. We are now working with the department of health to provide leadership on a national Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander LGBQTI social and emotional wellbeing plan.
Recently Black Rainbow launched its community micro-grants, funded through the sale of two styles of T-shirts “Deadly and Proud” and “You Matter” that we have been able to purchase with donations. The micro-grants will include $200 cash plus T-shirts and other Black Rainbow merchandise.
Black Rainbow is self-funded by myself and the generosity and love of everyday Australians. We don’t receive government funding – and this is not a handout for any – we are prepared to work for it. Billions of dollars are spent in Indigenous mental health, suicide prevention and health and none of it directed specifically towards Indigenous LGBQTI people, so us mob are out on the ground and mobilising.
It has been almost 20 years since it was first recommended that funds be allocated to look at gay and transgender suicide within the Indigenous community. Isn’t it time we were shown a little love?
• Dameyon Bonson is the founder of Black Rainbow, a social enterprise in the prevention of Indigenous LGBQTI suicide and self-harm.
• Crisis support services can be reached 24 hours a day: Lifeline 13 11 14; Suicide Call Back Service 1300 659 467; Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800; MensLine Australia 1300 78 99 78; Beyond Blue 1300 22 4636.
