Why championing inclusivity, love and acceptance is important

I am a counsellor with Oogachaga, a local non-profit that offers counselling and support services to the LGBTQIA+ community. As a cisgender woman, I count myself an ally, both at work and after-hours.

I’m not claiming to be an expert in allyship, but I believe in actively sharing my journey, and creating opportunities for discourse is one of the ways to stand in solidarity with the LGBTQIA+ community.

And if you’re wondering how I came to be a counsellor with Oogachaga, I can assure you that it was not an idea that simply appeared out of the blue one day. Since I was a little girl, I seemed to have been a “therapist-in-training” for as long as I can remember. Close friends and, surprisingly, even acquaintances have no qualms about confiding in me. 

Shortly after pursuing my Master of Counselling at Singapore University of Social Sciences, I landed my first counsellor job at Oogachaga in 2017. I did not have to think twice before accepting the job offer as my main priority was to be able to counsel people professionally. How they identify as individuals – their sexuality, gender identity or race – did not matter to me at all.

One misconception is that people from the queer community are only in therapy for issues surrounding their sexuality and gender identity. It’s almost as if the identities of the community are only tied to their sexuality and gender identities. But they, too, are so much more than that. 

They are human, just like every one of us.

People are people

In retrospect, my first exposure to the queer community came during my secondary school years. I was from an all-girls school where same-sex attraction was neither uncommon nor unheard of. It was not blatantly obvious due to the school’s strict environment, but among us classmates, we knew. 

I remember observing a close classmate who had been acting strangely. I assumed she was having some issues with her studies, but little did I know that she had been struggling with her sexuality. She had formed crushes on other classmates, and had even taken to binding her chest to appear more “masculine”. 

Then, I noticed that she started to become more withdrawn, and was faring poorly in class tests. When I reached out to her, she mentioned that she felt confused about her sexuality, as she was sometimes attracted to guys too. She was also worried about how her religious parents would react if they found out – she feared being thrown out of her home by her father because he was a hot-tempered person. 

At that time, I wished I could have given her the answers she was looking for because she seemed so helpless. All I could do was offer a listening ear, and let her know that she was not alone. It was during this time that I realised not everyone has it all figured out, and that people shouldn’t have to suffer just because they are different from what society expects them to be.

Lending a listening ear

The notion of seeking help or being in therapy for one’s mental and emotional well-being has been taboo for a long time – and still is in some quarters. One of the reasons some of my clients struggle with the idea of coming to therapy is because of how it has been perceived in mainstream society. 

A client had sent in a request for counselling, but he only arranged to see me a few months later. When I asked him about it during the session, he told me he had been struggling with the fact that he requires counselling to work on his issues. He was also afraid that he might bump into someone he knew as he worked nearby. 

It also didn’t help that his friends weren’t keen on him seeking help from a counsellor. They said things like: “You are fine. You don’t need counselling. Man up and stop being weak. Why do you need someone else to tell you what to do? You have us as friends.” 

Another client wanted to explore the possibility of family counselling as he had a close relationship with his parents before coming out. When he brought the idea up to them, his father told him that he wished he had gotten a girl pregnant instead, and that he didn't believe his son just "happened to be gay". His father had also suggested going for conversion therapy instead.

My client felt so offended and hurt that his parents had assumed his sexuality was something that could be chosen. He could not find the words to describe the pain of conversion trauma and the feeling of being misunderstood by his loved ones.

Very often, there are cases of parents who inadvertently say very hurtful things and shame their child by throwing insults and put-downs. I have seen the difference it makes for them to know that they have someone supporting them when dealing with the emotional and mental exhaustion that comes with enduring constant negativity and judgement. 

A client had shared that when she called our hotline (a service that we provided before Covid-19) some years back, she was sitting on the parapet of her balcony, ready to end her life. But when a volunteer spoke to her, she felt validated and, most importantly, not judged for her suicide ideation. She shared that the volunteer spoke to her for some time, calmed her down, and eventually suggested that she seek professional help.

We can all be allies too

Unfortunately, we still live in a world where homophobia, biphobia and transphobia are very much prevalent. While we can collectively say that we want equality, simply uttering these words isn't enough. 

Sometimes, it’s easy to lose sight of the importance of allyship while living life with cisgender privilege. We don’t get scrutinised and harassed for our behaviour, and we can engage in public displays of affection without the fear of being attacked. 

As a cisgender and heterosexual ally, I have learnt that demonstrating my support for the queer community extends beyond my working hours. It can be as simple as self-regulating my language and abstaining from phrases such as “that’s so gay”, or even correcting people who still tend to ignorantly use slurs or hateful language when talking about LGBTQIA+ individuals. 

It’s also important to remember that allyship isn’t just about showing up at the annual Pink Dot event, but also advocating in instances where they do not have the agency to speak, as well as helping to interrupt instances of homophobia, biphobia and transphobia.

For me, being an ally and counsellor involves a dedicated commitment to ongoing growth, continued learning and advocacy. It’s a lifelong process of self-education – instead of relying on members of the community to “teach” us about their identities, we should learn to value and believe in identities that differ from our own. 

What matters most is understanding your own privilege, being okay with making mistakes, and having a continued sense of learning.

PHOTOGRAPHY Lawrence Teo
COORDINATION Chelsia Tan
HAIR & MAKEUP Benedict Choo, using M.A.C