The other night, I came across a romantic comedy from two or three years ago that I had never heard of before. It was an Independent film called Benjamin, made by the English writer, director, and comedian, Simon Amstell. It starred the Irish actor Colin Morgan as a filmmaker in his early thirties or late twenties, who falls for a younger man. It looks at love and same-sex relationships without the well-worn coming out narrative, told so beautifully in some films and less so in others.
This film popped up when I was on a deep dive of the IMDB credits of an actress named Jessie Cave, who I didn’t know of beforehand, but had played a small role in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, and some of the other films in that franchise. It intrigued me and, me, craving a little bit of representation, googled “Benjamin Film” to find out more. It was only €3 on YouTube so I bought it and I watched it. Then I watched it again, absolutely revelling in the painful, yet, charming awkwardness of this man with his northern Irish accent, and inability to escape his own neurosis.
Benjamin made me think about how I’ve dealt with my own sexuality in a way that I haven’t let myself before. I’d seen other films with similar themes, Call Me by Your Name being the most famous. But I never really saw myself in these works. Watching Benjamin and seeing someone from the same Island I’m from, with similar mannerisms and a similar personality be awkward and make mistakes but yet, still true to themselves. It was profound and beautiful. It made me reflect on my own experiences.
“I can never tell anyone about this”.
That was the first thought that came into my head when I realised I was gay. I was thirteen years old.
I didn’t mind being gay, per say. I definitely didn’t want to be. But my main priority was keeping my secret than straightening myself out- though I tried that too from time to time. I don’t think I had any external hatred towards gay people. Did I use gay slurs? Yes. But I didn’t really have any understanding in what they meant. No, my homophobia was and is almost one hundred percent internalised.
I always thought I was OK with it, but I never was. I was terrified of myself and my feelings. I had to leave Ireland to realise that. It was hard to grasp that there are some people in the world who don’t like you, or will only tolerate you because of something you have absolutely no control over. That really affected me. It made me secretive and I think, prevented me from having deep, meaningful friendships in secondary school and some of University. I kept my sex life and my real life absolutely separate to the extent where I actively avoided speaking about it to other people. I would use gender neutral pronouns if I ever had to speak about any form of vertical folk dancing I’d done previously.
I resented myself.
For being gay; for being uncomfortable in my gayness; for not “fitting in” with other gay people; for not fitting in with straight people either. So many reasons. It was suffocating. Moving to Brussels by myself for what was supposed to be a year (In actuality: seven months, fuck you pandemic) is what allowed me to slowly begin to open up and discover who I am. It was scary, sometimes awful, but also wonderful. To know people know who you really are and still want to be friends with you is a wonderful thing. Even if it should never be a thing at all.
Coming home so suddenly caused me to slip back into my old habits. The secrecy, the lies, avoiding any and all conversation about relationships and sexuality. I was suffocating myself with my own emotions. Benjamin offered me sense of hope that I desperately needed. Of all that characters many issues, his sexuality wasn’t one of them. If he can be like that, why can’t I?
I know I can try.
