'The tragic death of Tyrone Unsworth is why we need Safe Schools'

This article was originally published on Sydney Morning Herald for Daily Life, on November 25th 2016. Available here.

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This morning, the airwaves were full of news of the tragic loss of Tyrone Unsworth. The 13-year-old Year 7 student of Aspley State High School in Brisbane took his own life, after being bullied over his sexuality.

Tyrone had suffered from homophobic bullying for years, being hospitalised not a month prior with severe injuries, violently assaulted by a fence paling so harshly that he needed surgery.

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Tyrone Unsworth, 13, who took his own life after being bullied.  Photo: Facebook

When he recovered, Tyrone was too frightened to return to school, fearing the harassment of his tormentors. His grieving mother Amanda spoke to Courier Mail, saying that "Tyrone ended up being gay and a lot of people started picking on him", that "He was a really feminine male, he loved fashion, he loved make-up and the boys always picked on him, calling him gay-boy, faggot, fairy; it was a constant thing from Year 5", and saying "I feel like these people who were bullying Tyrone are the cause of why he is not here anymore. They pushed him to the edge."

The loss of Tyrone Unsworth is one of many tragedies met by homosexual youths across the world. It is a heart-rending end to the story of a fun-loving young boy, one dealing with bullying in the schoolyard. 

Yet it is important to remember that these were not demons that pursued him and savaged his daily life with insults and injury.

These were children; young people, immature and impressionable. As gay youths experience the growing pains of coming to terms with their sexuality, so too do juvenile schoolkids reckon with the hardships of adolescent growth – which can often cause them to lash out, antagonise others, and go for who they perceive to be the weakest link.

Which means that this could have been avoided, if we'd only been teaching our kids the virtues of kindness and acceptance for those with different sexualities and gender expressions.

This is a country that introduced the Safe Schools Program; a school curriculum designed by LGBT youth groups like Minus18, and by teachers and educators, developed to tackle the plague of homophobic bullying that has swept high schools nationwide, unabated.

It's been instituted and funded at the highest level throughout schools in Victoria. And yet, despite this program being created by the highest calibre of educator, youth worker and policy-maker, it has been relentlessly attacked nationwide by conservative media outlets and right-wing groups such as the Australian Christian Lobby, for its alleged 'promotion' of 'gender theory' and other forms of sexuality and gender expression.

The fears of violence and bullying felt by Tyrone in his life were not without basis, and have been felt by gays all around the world. Indeed, we feel his loss more passionately, simply because these experiences of harassment and endless degradation on the basis of sexuality and gender expression are far too intimately known by LGBT people.

When a fist flies in the face of a gay teen and is reported on by the media – if it's reported to authorities at all – we feel it like a lightning bolt through our chins, as though it came from the very hands that maimed us in our own formative years.

In studies of bullying in schools, nine out of 10 LGBT students have reported being harassed on the basis of their sexuality and gender identity. They are up to 14 times more likely than their straight and cisgender counterparts to attempt suicide and inflict self-harm.

Many of these violent acts against gay and trans youth will go unreported becuase educators don't see them. And even those who see them don't know how to handle it.

But the Safe Schools Program could change all that, and could give schools the resources they need to identify and tackle this bullying as it arises, preventing further harm.

Australia is in a position to abate the tides of homophobic intolerance, to cut it off at the root, if it weren't for those right-wing pundits and organisations stunting its growth, and insisting it has the potential to do unspeakable damage to our kids.

As though the loss of life – Tyrone's life, and all of those years that could have been lived – is justifiable cost in their ideological war against whatever they blindly view as 'deviance'.

The suffering felt by Tyrone is all the more universal, and the reaction to our loss of him all the more profound, because it reflects the stories of so many gay people out there in the world – my own included.

We must stop stifling the voices of acceptance, by allowing conservative groups to attack programs like Safe Schools. We can't allow them to carry on with their billowing winds of hatred that have swept through our communities for generations, costing the lives of so many young people. Tyrone Unsworth was 13 years old. He was a bright spark glimmering with warmth and potential, and his family will mourn him. We were too late to save him. But it's not too late for the rest of our gay teens.

Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800

Lifeline 13 11 14.

'What mental illness sufferers can learn from Scott Ludlam's leave of absence'

This article was originally published on the Sydney Morning Herald for DailyLife, on November 7th 2016. Available here.

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Mental illness is an insufferable demon, one that plagues the mind and the body. It takes a strong person to seek help. But it takes an even stronger person to tell the world that they need it.

On Friday, Western Australian Greens senator Scott Ludlam revealed on social media his struggles with depression and anxiety. Ludlam revealed a need to take a leave of absence from his political duties in order to cope and seek care. His openness about his health drew waves of positivity and support from his fans and fellow parliamentarians, with comments urging him to take care of himself, and others commending his candour.

Australian Greens Senator Scott Ludlam says he has been dealing with depression and anxiety for some time.  Photo: Jacky Ghossein

As someone who is no stranger to mental illness, I am inspired by his honesty.

For over a decade I've fought with crippling anxiety, and at various stages severe depression. Not a day has gone by where I haven't felt its icy touch, the irrational fear and fog of terror clouding my perceptions and making it difficult to function. It's turned what should have been a three-year university degree into a six-year stint that I've only halfway completed, and has burdened my friendships under the weight of my constant fearful complaints.

Then, nearly three months ago, my symptoms skyrocketed. I developed full-blown panic disorder. The dread I felt before multiplied, and became a physical symptom in and of itself, like a disease snaking tendrils through my mind every minute of the day. Leaving the house became impossible, and when my brain was done racking my body, I would fall into depressed exhaustion, until all I wanted to do – could do – was sleep.

What never fails to surprise me about suicidal thoughts is how polite they seem. Never do they seem melodramatic or theatrical, nor are they emotional like a rained-out scene from a tragic love story. They're a small voice, in the back of your head, gently whispering: Well, this isn't going to get better, is it?

I've presented to emergency several times over the past few months, all because of that voice. Depression and anxiety feel like a grip you'll never escape. This is the stark reality of mental illness.

Yet here is Ludlam, a loved and prolific senator, speaking candidly about his struggles. Where others might shy away in shame when talking about their health, Ludlam, despite his status, has opted to pull apart his threads and show the world his anguish. To young people, his constituents and people like me who are struggling, that means the world.

In a society where one in six people will suffer with depression, and one in four will deal with anxiety, his vulnerability – his willingness to speak out and bare his soul – can further crack into the stigma surrounding mental illness and inspire others to care for and support themselves.

Yet what remains such a daunting idea for so many people dealing with mental illness is the prospect of having to put a stop to their responsibilities in order to seek care. A present with mental illness can feel impossible to manage, but a future without it can feel utterly unattainable. As if putting your life on hold would mean that the world would spin ahead of you, and you'll never be able to catch up.

The pressure to do well and excel, when burdened with depression and anxiety, can feel insurmountable – but the reality is that until we find the courage to support ourselves and seek self-care, our lives with mental illness can never improve. With services we can use to vent our frustrations, and to seek further aid, we can take those first steps and slowly begin to heal.

In the past month, I've found a psychiatrist who I've been having regular sessions with. I have a prescription. I put my working life aside. I am aware of the support services in my area, and have used them when necessary. Though I'm certainly not cured – I haven't spoken in-person to someone who wasn't a family member or professional in almost two months – I'm making steps to manage my mental health.

The pressure to do well and excel, when burdened with depression and anxiety, can feel insurmountable.

Taking the time out from our lives to care for ourselves shouldn't terrify us, and the dread of falling behind shouldn't burden us to tears. Through allowing ourselves a break, being surrounded by supportive forces, and through the power of vulnerability – like with Ludlam's honest confession – we can take back control of our lives and inspire others to do the same.

At first, I was scared of reaching out for help. I couldn't imagine a life for myself where I didn't have mental illness, where I wasn't in varying states of fear or suffering. It's been a huge part of my existence for so long.

But then I realised; that's exactly why I have to seek help. Because frankly, I deserve to get better. As do we all. I have asked for help, and been vulnerable – like I'm trying to be now.

Mental illness can feel like a losing battle. But one day, sooner or later, the fog will lift. The exhaustion and the dread will waver, and we will chase away our demons.

Know that it's perfectly fine to just take your damn time and it's okay to be vulnerable.

Lifeline: 13 11 14

Suicide Call Back Service: 1300 659 467

'How To Embrace Male Spaces'

This article was originally published on The Vocal, on November 3rd 2016. Available here.

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Masculinity is one hell of a drug. Never is this idea more apparent than to those who feel they might lose it.

Such was the case this week when an Australian pair of entrepreneurs announced the launch of their working space known as Nomadic Thinkers, labelled a “hybridised co-working model with a gym space” – one that is exclusive to men. The goal was for men to collaborate and work creatively together, as a way of combating a perceived lack of male community in society. Upon unveiling the space, the company came under fire, being criticised as running a needless exercise in Boys Club exclusivity in an already male-dominated tech sector.

The real conflict and philosophy behind Nomadic Thinkers arose when critics examined their blog – which has since been shut down – that reveals their belief that “feminism has gone past its [intended] point”, that “boys have been babied and coddled on cotton wool”, and that it’s “becoming common for men to be persecuted for expressing their masculinity”. They essentially argue that their spaces are necessitated by an emasculation of men in society.

These alleged notions of feminism being toxic towards masculinity and that ‘manliness’ is being stifled are not uncommon in some schools of thought. Men’s Rights Activists having touted these reactionary ideas for decades. They have desperately clung to the thought that their masculinity is threatened, and in turn their own wellbeing.

Yet is the presence of women, or the feminist lens through which many view the world, truly the framework that contributes to the troubled psyches grappled with by men? Or are the ‘men-should-be-men’ attitudes shrouding these groups contributing to these problems?

As an unabashed gay man, I’m all too aware of the predetermined set of characteristics and attitudes that are expected of men: our binary gender roles. By merely existing as an out homosexual and not a hetero rife with brute machismo, it’s by virtue of my sexuality that I’m deemed to be intrinsically less of a man. My gayness has seen me abused, bullied and even bashed, all because it differs from that which many view as the norm.

In society, men and manliness are often measured by traditional elements of masculinity; our strength, our stoicism, our power and ability to dominate – but we are ridiculed for any traits that reflect femininity, such as perceived weakness, emotion, affection and vulnerability.

Spaces that foster community between men are to be celebrated, as the capacity for companionship amongst men has been severely limited by our hesitance to embrace vulnerability. There is a very real lack of camaraderie and increased rates of loneliness that perpetuates mental illness amongst men. Groups like Men’s Sheds take great leaps towards providing avenues for men to build connections with other men, in environments that don’t thrust an onus of manliness upon them, rather allowing them to engage with one another on their own terms.

Some spaces like Nomadic Thinkers fall flat, however, when they adopt traditional ideas of masculinity, insisting they are to be strived for and reclaimed. When some imply that the higher rates of suicide amongst men and boys exists because manliness is being shafted in favour of emasculated cuckoldry, they do a disservice to not only men and boys, but to a society fumbling under the weight of gendered expectations as a whole.

In truth, it’s not women, or feminism, nor any ‘erosion of manliness’ that harms and hinders us. It’s those inherent elements of masculinity. Masculinity denies us the capacity for emotion and vulnerability by insisting that any expression of it must be accompanied by shows of strength and power. It rejects fragility in favour of might, and dismisses vulnerability as weakness.

But when we ridicule these men for trying to find avenues to bring other men together in community, we run the risk of not only pushing them further away, but also leaving them to stew in their own misunderstandings. Through our mockery, we only reinforce their ideas that the unpacking of gendered behaviour is oppressing them, and we limit their willingness to look inward and deconstruct their own gendered conceptions.

When men struggle under the weight of these ingrained expectations, such as the necessity of power and strength, and when they lack the gentle hands to guide them towards understanding the unfairness of their given roles and lots in life, these men at best become agitated and repressed – and at worst, they become varying shades of suicidal and violent.

Suicide, loneliness and the inability to express emotion are troubling concerns that affect men at large, ones which manliness in its most toxic forms serves to perpetuate. Instead of stamping out these attempts at fostering community by ridiculing them for ‘missing the mark’, we should redirect their efforts towards understanding how masculinity itself harms them.

Beards and blokiness are all good and well. But until we’ve targeted the truer cause of their internalised peril, and helped them denounce the harmful elements of masculinity, we can never truly foster community spaces that permit men the freedom to be themselves.

Whether that freedom is expressed through strength, through love, or even vulnerability.