What Does It Mean to Be Seen?

The visceral impact of Russell T Davies' Tip Toe serves as a stark reminder of the fragile nature of social progress. It has stayed with me ever since watching this powerful drama. The unsettling feeling it left sits alongside many of the stories that now appear in the media and online spaces, reminding me at times of the world I grew up in. It can feel as though there has been enormous progress for the LGBTQ+ community, yet I have to remind myself that this is not everyone's experience, either here in the UK or throughout the world.

Growing up in a northern town in the 1970s and 1980s, sexuality was largely hidden, while words such as gay and queer were commonly used as slurs against masculinity, boyhood and manhood. This language was normalised, while sexuality itself was rarely something that was discussed openly in school. Questions around sexuality and identity belonged to the schoolyard, not the classroom. Opportunities for young people to enquire, discuss and understand themselves were not really part of that world.

I grew up with a mother who was a barmaid and worked with a number of people in the gay community, so I learned, almost by osmosis, that some people loved in ways that, at the time, were not seen as the norm. It was never something that was 'pushed on me', nor was I 'forced to accept' it, as I have sometimes seen suggested in online media. It was simply something I knew about.

Over the years, I have noticed significant changes in how the LGBTQ+ community is seen. There has been greater acceptance and more representation in films and television. Here in the UK, I remember the first televised kiss between two men in EastEnders in 1989 being regarded as ground breaking and provoking considerable media backlash and viewer complaints. Later, I found myself sitting in the cinema watching Brokeback Mountain, knowing nothing about the film or its story, only to find myself immersed in a love story in which love, fear and tragedy unfolded with extraordinary humanity. Then came programmes such as Queer as Folk, continuing to challenge assumptions and bringing the lives of marginalised communities into the mainstream.

The growth of Pride marches in the UK, alongside greater understanding and education around sexuality and gender identity, has been significant. After years of hatred and prejudice, including the experiences of the LGBTQ+ community during the AIDS epidemic, clearer information and greater awareness have developed.

This growth in acceptance has seemed like progress, and yet the theme of Tip Toe raises an unsettling question. Social movements may have helped make it possible for people to come out and live openly, but what if they are still not liked?

Our attitudes, the information available to us and the language we use have changed significantly since I was a child growing up in the 1970s and 1980s. The language around gender identity and sexual orientation has developed too. Language can help people express themselves, communicate and have their identities recognised, yet terminology can evolve at a rate that sometimes leaves people feeling uncertain about saying the right thing.

The increasingly visible practice of people sharing their pronouns, particularly in online and professional spaces, can indicate that what we see may not necessarily reflect how a person understands or identifies themselves. Pronouns are ordinary words, but they can carry deep personal meaning. Stonewall's guidance on pronouns is a useful reminder that using them correctly is a simple way of showing respect and recognition.

In my work within organisations and services, I have encountered confusion and frustration around the use of pronouns. I have met people who are uncertain about how someone may use they/them pronouns, or how to respond when a person uses he/him pronouns in a way that does not align with assumptions made from appearance.

For some, there is a genuine fear of causing offence or saying the wrong thing. For others, there can be resistance or reluctance to change. These are not necessarily the same positions. Fundamentally, however, people want to be seen, heard and accepted for who they are.

What does it mean to be seen, and what does it mean to be heard?

Does it mean understanding a person's journey, their developing understanding of themselves and the experiences that have shaped how they see and express their identity? Does it mean recognising the individual in front of us from their perspective rather than our own? Does it mean respecting a person's chosen name and accepting that their identity, whether they are gay, bi, trans, non-binary or aromantic, is not open for debate?

For people who have experienced ridicule and misunderstanding while trying to live within a heteronormative world, what does it mean to enter therapy and genuinely experience being seen?

As counsellors, we use phrases such as unconditional positive regard, congruence and authenticity. These are principles we aim to offer every individual who enters our counselling room or therapeutic space.

To me, that raises an important question. While I understand what unconditional positive regard means theoretically, and while I hope to understand what it means to be authentic within the therapeutic relationship, how are these qualities communicated to a client who may have experienced ridicule, rejection, slander and hatred?

How can I demonstrate that I see them for who they are?

This might be through gentle conversation. It might be through small acts that communicate awareness and acceptance. Respecting and correctly using a person's pronouns is one example. Sharing my own pronouns in an online meeting may signal that pronoun-sharing is becoming a common way of demonstrating understanding and consideration, and that how someone appears does not necessarily tell me who they are.

Stonewall's guidance on supporting trans and non-binary people also highlights the importance of listening, respecting people's language and avoiding assumptions about another person's identity.

Yet this raises another question.

A therapist may believe themselves to be accepting. A therapist may understand unconditional positive regard theoretically. They may use inclusive language and share their pronouns. But does the client actually experience themselves as being seen, heard and accepted?

Perhaps this is where the difference between visibility and acceptance becomes important. Social progress can tell people that they are allowed to be visible, to come out and to live openly as themselves. Yet, as Tip Toe so powerfully asks, what happens if they are visible but still not liked?

The same question may exist within the therapeutic relationship. It may not be enough for me, as a counsellor, simply to believe that I am accepting. The deeper question is how that acceptance is communicated, experienced and felt by the person sitting in front of me.

As a counsellor, I believe I have a responsibility to continually reflect on my own understanding and beliefs. As our understanding of the issues affecting LGBTQ+ people continues to evolve, so too should my willingness to learn. Remaining informed is important, but it does not mean assuming that I already understand the person sitting in front of me. Through gentle curiosity, listening and a willingness to question my own assumptions, I hope to create a space where each individual can communicate who they are and what being seen and accepted means to them.