logo
I moved to London dreaming of LGBTQ+ paradise — the reality is bleak

I moved to London dreaming of LGBTQ+ paradise — the reality is bleak

Metro05-07-2025
I was 22 when I first moved to London. I thought I'd be skipping around Soho, going to drag brunches every weekend, and hanging out every day with a queer-version of the Sex and the City friendship group.
But the reality is far bleaker than I imagined.
Perhaps I'd been spoiled living in Manchester for years before making the move. The Gay Village there now seems like a magical utopia compared to what I've experienced here.
Politely turning down men in bars has led to full-blown debates about my sexuality. Saying, 'No thanks, I have a girlfriend' has brought on responses like:
'So you're a virgin, then?', 'You're too pretty to be a lesbian', 'I could turn you', and 'Can we have a threesome?'.
Of course, homophobia exists everywhere; it would be naive to think otherwise. And maybe I've just been 'lucky' before, but the bombardment of low-level insults, intimidation and disrespect is something I haven't experienced elsewhere. Not in Manchester and not even in my tiny hometown.
The sheer frequency at which it happens here is exhausting, and something I hadn't accounted for.
There are times I won't even hold my girlfriend's hand in Central London. I don't want to be shouted at by protesters across the street, handed a leaflet with the word 'sin' on it, or be hurled slurs by teenagers on Lime bikes. Yes, all of which have happened before.
With thousands of members from all over the world, our vibrant LGBTQ+ WhatsApp channel is a hub for all the latest news and important issues that face the LGBTQ+ community.
Simply click on this link, select 'Join Chat' and you're in! Don't forget to turn on notifications!
I'll hesitate to peck her on the tube. I've become too conscious of gawking eyes and confused looks. Maybe it's the heat and lack of ventilation down there affecting people's cognitive abilities and manners. Don't they know it's rude to stare?
It's utterly depressing, even more so knowing that this isn't the worst of it. There seem to be alarming hate crime stories making headlines every week.
Figures released last year revealed that hate crimes, including homophobic attacks, have risen on the TfL network.
A 2023 report by London TravelWatch revealed that one in five LGBTQ+ Londoners have experienced a hate crime, with respondents often feeling uneasy or 'on edge' when using the capital's network.
These statistics are echoed across the rest of the country, as the UK has dropped in global rankings for LGBTQ+ rights. The annual analysis by IGLA-Europe, a human-rights group, cited the recent Supreme Court ruling on the definition of a 'woman', as well as queer refugees facing homeless and abuse as just some of the reasons for its low placement.
Even in LGBTQ+ spaces, safety isn't promised. It's only been two years since two homosexual men were attacked with a knife while they were outside the popular LGBTQ+ venue, the Two Brewers in Clapham.
For myself, and so many others who leave their hometown in search of community and acceptance, London isn't always the safe space imagined.
Chloe Smith, 25, moved from Coventry, moved to London in 2022 after attending the University in Birmingham. They now live in Brixton and have experienced homophobia practically on their doorstep.
'Quite recently, I was holding hands with my girlfriend and got screamed at on the way to Sainsbury's. They were screaming 'dyke',' Chloe tells Metro. 'I was also walking with my gay male friend around Brockwell Park, and again, people screamed dyke.'
There have been many worse instances, however. 'I was once in very central London, near Warren Street and kissed someone I was on a first date with, and a man came up to us and offered us £100 to have sex,' Chloe says, adding that the man followed them both to King's Cross afterwards.
'Recently, I gave my partner a peck at Waterloo, and a man came up to her, grabbed her waist and started saying something sexual,' they add. 'I had to push him away.'
Lucy, 25, also moved to London in 2022, originally to Vauxhall, 'the gay mecca of London', and now in Brixton. She has also noticed looks and comments made to her in Central London when being with female partners.
'I remember one particular instance we were walking past Heaven in Soho and these guys made comments about my body, sexualising it while I was with my partner. My partner spoke up, and they were threatened with assault,' she tells Metro.
'That being said, I have seen and heard worse and know people who have been physically assaulted.'
However, there are obvious draws to London. Chloe says London has provided the LGBTQ+ community and friendships that they didn't have in Birmingham or Coventry.
One thing London is great for, Chloe says, is the LGBTQ+ events. More Trending
'There's been an emergence of pop up events, there's a pop up called Dyke Bar, there's pool, there's rounders, there's Dykes who Hike, there's a running group called Les Run,' Chloe adds.
'I've recently joined a football group, I've started climbing with a gay climbing group, and I've really found community through sober groups with the option of alcohol.'
Pointing out there is a 'barrier' in accessing many spaces, such as lesbian club nights, which can cost upwards of £20, and events that are specifically catered towards CIS white gay men, Chloe adds: 'I do think you just happen upon people. I think if you know where to look, Instagram is a great place for it. You can really find your community.'
Lucy echoes this, saying: 'I think what's really great is there is a sense of community, but you have to go searching for it. In a sense you need to be locked into the community, the scene and the culture in order to be accepted.'
Gareth Watson, community and safety manager for the LGBT Foundation, tells Metro: 'Cities like London are often seen as diverse and inclusive, but many LGBTQ+ people still don't feel safe.
'Hate crimes are rising, and public harassment is a daily reality for some. Simply holding hands with a partner, dressing in a way that reflects your identity, or using public transport at night can make someone a target, even in well-lit, crowded areas, particularly if they are alone or visibly queer or trans.'
Gareth adds that safety for LGBTQ+ people requires real action, not just kind words.
He says: 'The government must strengthen legal protections, take a clear stand against rising anti-LGBTQ+ hate and misinformation, and properly fund LGBTQ+ services. In large, busy cities like London, it's easy to feel isolated, especially when support services are overstretched or difficult to access.
'Everyone in society – schools, workplaces, the media, and individuals – has a role to play. Whether it's calling out homophobia and transphobia when it's safe to do so, listening and learning, or actively supporting LGBTQ+ spaces, we all have a part in creating a world where people are safe, respected, and free to be themselves.'
The LGBT Foundation runs a national helpline and provides training and education programmes for both individuals and organisations.
In London, Gareth recommends the following organisations: London Friend
The Outside Project
Switchboard LGBT+ Helpline
Stonewall Housing
UK Black Pride and other groups led by and for Black LGBTQ+ people
Do you have a story to share?
Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@Metro.co.uk.
MORE: What I Own: We bought our £260,350 London home through a government saving scheme
MORE: London Pride map shows route parade will take through city today
MORE: The 'underrated' neighbourhood Londoners are flocking to for £20,000 discounts
Your free newsletter guide to the best London has on offer, from drinks deals to restaurant reviews.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

I'm embracing my inner Karen
I'm embracing my inner Karen

Spectator

time2 days ago

  • Spectator

I'm embracing my inner Karen

I told off four strangers last week. The first was a foreign gentleman lounging on a side lawn at Marble Arch and cooking a meal. He fanned the flames of his makeshift barbecue with a flap of cardboard as four women in long robes looked on, awaiting their feast. 'You can't cook here', I said. He looked at me blankly. His harem scowled. 'It's disgusting', I said. Smoke swirled at my ankles. I left. Next up was a middle-aged man at Portman Square who was roaring into his mobile phone in Arabic. Is it wrong of me to consider this doubly rude – not only to bellow so thunderously in a public area but in a language you know few people will understand? 'Can you stop shouting, please?', I said. 'Sorry, sorry', he replied, and because I still have wet liberal tendencies, that made me feel bad. Then there was the boy putting litter into the basket of a Lime bike. 'That isn't a bin. That is', I said, pointing across the road. He shrugged and strolled off. Finally there was the young lady on the Tube recording a voice note on her phone. For a moment I was dazzled by her aplomb. At her age I would have turned beetroot red if someone so much as said 'Good morning' to me on the Underground. And yet here was this girl noisily regaling a carriage of perfect strangers with the piffle of her social life. My wonderment was shortlived. 'Can you stop, please?', I said. She muttered sheepishly into her phone: 'I have to go, a man is shouting at me.' I didn't shout. I am a Karen. I have joined that least loved section of society: white people of a certain age who feel a burning urge to rebuke the loutish and ill-mannered. And you know what? We need more Karens. We need more people willing to confront the crisis of manners, to stand against the withering of social decorum that has reduced so much of public life to a cold, lawless-feeling moral minefield. Join me – embrace your inner Karen. I'm not a London doomerist. I laugh when people say 'London is over', as if this ancient metropolis that survived sackings, plagues, the Fire, the Blitz, the Smog and Sadiq Khan (so far anyway) might now fall down because people are behaving like oafs. Yet there is a problem. You can feel it. You can hear it. Sometimes you can smell it. Those cursed e-bikes whizzing by. Tinny music on the bus. Idiots FaceTiming with abandon. People tucking into meals on the Tube. Teenagers who never shut up. Not to mention the graffiti, the phone-snatching, the shoplifting, all of which the police are too busy making pronoun badges to solve. London feels tetchy, acrimonious even. You get the feeling that you're less a free citizen of a great city than an NPC in the videogame of someone else's life. Some on the right blame it on the surge in migrants. I'm sure that's part of it, but it can't be the whole story. I grew up in a community of immigrants in London. There were us Micks, Indians, Pakistanis, some Windrush descendants, a smattering of Italians. And everyone knew how to behave. Indeed, our immigrant parents were often more disciplinarian than the English kids' parents. A red ear awaited the kid dumb enough to play up in public. No, the problem is the slow corrosion of the informal infrastructure through which we once put manners on people. The young are shocked when I tell them we were often told off by strangers when we were their age. It's true. Old men on the bus would tell us to pipe down. Stressed mums would bark 'Move it!' at teens clogging up shop doorways. Once, an old duffer irritated by our noise clocked our distinctive RC school uniforms and said: 'You go to the convent on the hill?' It put the fear of God into us: bringing the school into disrepute had consequences, sometimes corporal ones. It is these checks and balances of everyday life that have wilted almost to extinction. For me, the most depressing sight in London in 2025 is not the vexing teens or mobile-phone blatherers or supercilious players of music – it's the cowed older men and women. There they are on public transport, on the streets, in shops, stooped, hushed, always staring ahead to avoid eye contact with the post-social boors. These are the men and women who helped to turn even us rowdy, pasty Irish kids into something resembling gentlemen. Yet now, whether from fear or exhaustion, they've given up. It's like they've been decommissioned, put out to pasture by a society that thinks discipline is fascism and that someone cooking a meal in Marble Arch is a fab expression of 'cultural difference' rather than a smoky, insufferable eyesore. The wings of our elders have been clipped by the tyranny of relativism that grips our rulers. Absent that intergenerational duty of care, of course things will fall apart. People need signals, and right now, courtesy of our silence and timidity, the signal they're receiving is that they can do anything they want. Karens, step up. Call out the anti-social. Demand quiet. Expect respect. The restoration of manners is the starting point of the restoration of Britain itself.

This England: Return from Oz
This England: Return from Oz

New Statesman​

time6 days ago

  • New Statesman​

This England: Return from Oz

A teaspoon, taken from the Queens Hotel in Southsea in 1942, has been returned. The silver spoon, bearing a monogram that identified it as part of the hotel's cutlery, was found in a drawer in the town of Bundanoon in New South Wales, Australia. The finder, John White, sent it back to the hotel with a letter explaining that his parents had borrowed it during a stay at the hotel during the Second World War. 'We thought it would be a nice gesture if we could send it back to the hotel and apologise for having it for so long and hope they hadn't missed it too much,' said White. BBC News (Amanda Welles) Play the gooseberry This year marks Holmes Chapel's bicentennial gooseberry fair, at which contestants compete for the prized 'premier berry' award, bestowed upon the grower of the most weighty fruit. At its peak, the prize was the equivalent of a month's wages but organisers now describe it as just 'a quirky and frivolous activity'. BBC News (Daragh Brady) Where are you Frome? Residents in Frome, Somerset, have vented frustration about people moving in from London, who have been dubbed FILTH – Failed in London, Try Here. One business lady in Frome has said the newcomers want to turn the town into 'café central' with outdoor dining and additional pedestrian roads. One gentleman remarked, 'We don't want any more Londoners. We've fulfilled our quota, now we're feeding them to the pigs.' Somerset Live (Adam Robertson) [See also: The politics of murder] Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe Related

We should be eating oily fish – but what's the catch?
We should be eating oily fish – but what's the catch?

New Statesman​

time30-07-2025

  • New Statesman​

We should be eating oily fish – but what's the catch?

The government has, for some time, been trying to get a reluctant population to eat fish – preferably oily fish such as mackerel, herring or salmon – at least twice a week. It began campaigning around 1563, urging people to add Wednesday as a 'fissh daye' to Friday, still observed as a fast day even in newly Protestant England. It was for the national health: not the well-being of individuals, but the country's economic and military might. Elizabeth I's government, flinching at the threat from Spain, aimed to boost 'the nursery of the navy', the fishing fleet. Fish would eke out the nation's limited beef supplies, in demand from a growing and increasingly wealthy population. But neither fasting nor fish were popular and the policy was dropped. In the 18th century there was another attempt. Humiliated by defeat in the American War of Independence, parliament looked instead to develop north and west coastal Scotland, which had no large-scale fishing industry. Inconveniently located Highlanders were cleared from their villages in favour of sheep and packed off to the maritime margins to become crofters and fishing folk. The expanding herring industry attracted the attention of Adam Smith. To relieve poverty, he argued, subsidise the small and local. Bounties (subsidies) on huge fishing vessels simply ended up in the pockets of wealthy Londoners. Those small boats hardly made a dent in Scotland's vast shoals. Daniel Defoe described the Pentland Firth as 'one-third water and two-thirds fish' in the 1720s. Donald Murray's Herring Tales (2022) describes how young Highlanders and Islanders followed the 'numberless armies' throughout the season from Orkney to Lowestoft. For much of the 19th century, netting, gutting, barrelling, curing and selling fish provided jobs (demanding, cold and smelly, as they were) and food through small, usually family-owned boats. The breakfast kipper became part of the much-admired Scottish breakfast (particularly plump, rubicund fish became known as 'Glasgow Magistrates'). Smoked fish gave factory workers something 'tasty' for their tea, and extra-salted fish were given to enslaved workers in the Caribbean. Today, we take a 'healthy diet' to be a personal matter. But the old sense of the health of the economy is indissoluble from bodily health, thanks to the cost of the NHS. Oily fish – salmon, herrings, sardines, sprats, mackerel – have found themselves recommended anew by government for cardiovascular health, thanks to their micronutrients and Omega-3 – essential fatty acids that our bodies cannot make themselves. Critics and conservationists say that humans should simply eat the source of Omega-3 directly, by eating as far up the food chain as possible. Ditch lice-infested fish-farm salmon; instead eat the tiny silver anchovies, sardines, herring – the small fry that are turned into fishmeal. This is cheap, healthy fast food (though, admittedly, they can be whiffy in the kitchen). Traditional recipes tend to be quick and uncomplicated: a flash under the grill, some bread, butter and something sharp like lemon, dill pickle, capers, gooseberries or rhubarb. Potatoes often feature. Smoked mackerel flaked into mashed potato make quick fishcakes, without the smell lingering. Both herring and mackerel take kindly to a devil of mustard and cayenne. The Sicilian pasta con le sarde, an ancient, pre-tomato pasta sauce of sardines, fennel, pine nuts and raisins, takes as long to make as pasta takes to boil. A few anchovies, cooked with onions, give an umami boost to a tomato-based sauce. If there is a lesson in these contrasting stories – the Elizabethan proclamation vs the Adam Smith subsidies – it is that if the legislature wants to change the way the population eats, it must put some money into it; proclamations or their modern equivalent, 'guidelines', don't work by themselves. So much for our economic and personal health – what about the oceans? Smith was right for a reason he couldn't have foreseen: small boats don't wreck the marine ecosystem as huge trawlers do. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe If there are to be plenty more fish in the sea – enough for us to eat our two portions a week – small might be the way to go in the kitchen, as it is in water. [See also: 150 years of the bizarre Hans Christian Andersen] Related

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store