Latest news with #Section28
Time Out
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time Out
After the Act
After premiering at the New Diorama Theatre in 2023 and touring the UK, Breach Theatre's verbatim musical about Section 28 – the heinous legislation introduced in the late '80s to prevent the 'promotion' of homosexuality in schools – lands at the Royal Court Theatre after some tweaking and with a mostly different four-strong ensemble cast. It's funnier, sharper and more damning than ever before. Co-writers Ellice Stevens and Billy Barrett have shaped the testimony of teachers, activists and students into songs drawing on the stylings of New Wave and electronica. The production starts with the recollections of the lesbians who famously ambushed Sue Lawley during a live news broadcast in protest at Section 28. The wryly hysterical re-enactment of this event, hitting a bigotry-skewering cartoon level of energy, is the strength of Barrett's staging, which leans even more into this now. The first half of the production goes big to puncture the poisonous balloon parade of politicians, pundits and homophobic media outlets who created Section 28 by cynically whipping up panic over children's book Jenny Lives with Eric and Martin and misinformation about HIV/AIDS. There's even a show-stopping re-enactment of the moment when enterprising protestors abseiled into the House of Lords during the legislation's reading. Stevens (also performing as part of the ensemble) has a ball as a lasciviously awful Maggie Thatcher after the interval. But where strengthening the bombast of the first half pays off is in accentuating the contrast with the devastating testimonies of teenagers and teachers whose lives were – in some cases – permanently harmed by the aftermath of Section 28. The quiet anguish feels that much louder after all the clowning noise. The ensemble is great at matching their performances to the varying proportions of the script, helped by the deft music direction of Frew and the production's on-stage band. They may wink at the audience, but it's a knowingness fuelled by an intrinsic sense of the injustice of Section 28. And the show drops its satirical smile to powerfully address the similar discrimination faced by trans people now. The second half still has the issue – after the first half so comprehensively explains why Section 28 came into being – of only fuzzily hand-waving at why the law was ultimately repealed. However, what it lacks in exposition, it makes up for by recreating the joyful defiance of Manchester Pride and the fierce love of community.
The Herald Scotland
18-05-2025
- Politics
- The Herald Scotland
Scotland's LGBT community feeling demonised shames us
We'd both grown up in Northern Ireland and the conflict was still unfolding. We wanted to have children while in our mid-20s and had no intention of raising them in a divided and bloody country. However, there was a secondary reason we chose Scotland. It seemed a country ready to embrace the future, somewhere equality mattered. Ireland, both north and south, remained a place of bigotry in the 1990s. Today, the Republic has taken huge steps forward, and even the north has progressed, despite its legion of problems. My wife and I were proved right as our newly-adopted country ditched the homophobic Section 28 laws and legislated for equal marriage. Soon, Scotland was being praised as one of the most LGBT-friendly places on Earth. It felt good to live in a nation of such modernity and decency. Three decades later, so many of those positive steps forward have been walked far, far back into an ugly past. Today, our LGBT community is fearful, isolated and feels demonised. This should be a source of great shame for Scotland. Read more from Neil Mackay: In a joint statement issued this week, 23 Scottish Pride organisations said they were 'deeply alarmed by the escalation in the demonisation' of LGBT people 'both at home and abroad'. Their community was being used as 'political pawns', it was said. There were accusations that an anti-LGBT lobby was influencing 'both the UK and Scottish governments'. Glasgow Pride has taken the step of banning political parties from attending its annual event, given the atmosphere that has unfolded in Scotland. It is astonishing how quickly times have changed. Not so long ago, nearly every politician imaginable saw Pride as an easy photo-op. Now politicians are only welcome if they leave their party allegiance at home. Patrick Harvie, of the Scottish Greens, has said that the LGBT community is now 'living in fear'. He told John Swinney during First Minister's Questions that the decision to ban political parties from Pride 'never even happened in the worst days of political homophobia in the 80s'. Swinney, to his credit, said he both recognised and sympathised with Harvie's points, adding that 'the climate of discourse on this issue is absolutely unacceptable'. These are fine words, and it's important that Scotland's leader puts such a statement on the public record. However, like most political parties, the SNP has its share of members who have contributed to this shaming state of affairs. To underscore just how bad matters have gotten, the international human rights index which rates nations according to how LGBT people are treated has seen the UK fall to its lowest ever ranking. The UK came first in 2015. This week we learned that Britain is now ranked second worst in Western Europe and Scandinavia for LGBT protections. After falling every year since 2015, we now only outrank Italy. This year alone, the UK slipped six places. Dr Rebecca Don Kennedy, CEO of the Equality Network, described it as 'shameful', adding: 'Scotland, when analysed separately, has in the past been considered progressive and a beacon of LGBTI+ equality and human rights. That seems to be quickly deteriorating.' Almost nine years ago to the day, this very paper ran a headline proclaiming that Scotland was 'the most gay-friendly country in Europe'. That was based on rankings by the same organisation which now puts the UK almost at the bottom of the table. Back in 2015, Scottish politicians from across the spectrum were being honoured for their contributions to LGBT rights. Pink News awarded both then Scottish Conservative leader Ruth Davidson, who was the first openly LGBT leader of a major British political party, and former First Minister Alex Salmond who was given a lifetime achievement award as an 'ally'. Salmond spoke of how 'proud' he was at the changes which had been wrought in Scotland. In 2016, the Guardian newspaper was running think-pieces with headlines like 'The tartan-rainbow: why it's great to be gay in Scotland'. Reading the piece now, with long lists of positive steps forward, it seems like a missive from another time. So many successes have been erased in the culture wars which have gripped this country in the last decade. I have American friends who are packing their bags and moving with their children to this country as they no longer wish to live in the USA given the current political climate. I also have LGBT friends who are packing their bags and leaving the UK – including Scotland – because of the political climate. What's happening should make us stop and consider the path we are on. This is not how a nation should treat minorities. We are all the same, no matter the colour of our skin, our religion, or who we love. Usually, in such columns, there is an onus upon the writer to come up with solutions to the problem they put under the microscope. The only onus here is upon mainstream political parties, with the notable exception of the Greens who have stuck by the LGBT community through thick and thin.
The Herald Scotland
16-05-2025
- Health
- The Herald Scotland
Personal experience truly informs the assisted dying debate
I had only one patient who made use of Dignitas in Switzerland, because she could not stand the smell of her skin secondaries. Her decision was all about dignity. With the greatest respect to those who have sincerely-held religious or humanitarian views against the Assisted Dying Bill, if you have not had personal experience of a 'bad' death, you really do not know what you are talking about. John NE Rankin, Bridge of Allan. It should remain an offence Your various letters on assisted dying (May 15) are concerned with those facing a period of painful terminal illness, leading to death, so may wish to skip that journey and go directly to the main event. Many people in that position will be wise enough to have made their own arrangements to leave, and do not require assistance. There are also disabled people, who have found their painless but limited lives to be unenjoyable, so will simply kill themselves, and some do that every year. So across the spectrum, many will have already dealt with their own situations. In Scotland at present, helping someone to die is known as murder – and should remain so, as legalising it will open a route to be used by others for their own benefit. Malcolm Parkin, Kinross. Read more letters • I was quite taken aback by the ability of several letter writers to focus on their own opinions rather than addressing the issue at stake. As in a person's trial, it doesn't matter how many witnesses are involved, merely the outcome for one person. As for the circumstances, these are of as much critical importance as the end result. Were it not so, there would be no difference between murder and manslaughter. George F Campbell, Glasgow. • Just one point on assisted dying: if legalised, police officers and paramedics would at least be spared having to deal with suicides, botched or successful. George Morton, Rosyth. Victimising the exploited Neil Mackay has today excelled in voicing concerns that I hope many still share ('Island of strangers? No, but I'm now a stranger in my own land', The Herald, May 15). I certainly share them. It brings tears to the eyes to think that people from countries that the UK invaded and exploited for years, people fleeing fear and famine plus anyone who dares through no fault of their own to be seen as "different", are now being victimised and blamed for all that is wrong in the UK. Patricia Fort, Glasgow. It's Starmer who is the stranger Three cheers for Neil Mackay. I agree with every word of his article today. My own previously Highland/island family has been greatly enriched by three granddaughters-in-law, French, Chinese and Indian, and a Lithuanian grandson-in-law. They are not strangers but Keir Starmer and his ilk are. Dorothy Dennis, Port Ellen, Islay. Fading hopes of progress I read Neil Mackay's despairing piece in the middle of writing a short article on the fight to repeal Section 28, the law banning the "promotion of homosexuality", which was won 25 years ago. Section 28 demonised lesbians and gay men in much the same way as immigrants and trans people are demonised now. Back in 1999 most of Scottish civic society and all political parties other than the Tories stood firm against prejudice and intolerance and proved that devolution had enabled Scotland to take the lead in promoting tolerance and inclusion. With anti-immigrant and trans-hating Reform on the rise, and the enthusiasm of the Westminster Government for anti-foreigner, anti-poor and gender fundamentalist stupidity, the assumption that Scotland could continue to make progress, however inconsistently, does seem to be dying or dead. Brian Dempsey, Dundee. This road is a danger to cyclists I have recently passed through the revised road layout at Woodlands Road heading to the M8 and I am somewhat concerned that this junction is an accident waiting to happen. From Woodlands Road the road veers slightly to the right towards the city centre then you have to turn to the left almost back on yourself, avoiding the protruding kerb then across a cycle lane which due to the angle you approach the junction at leaves you unsighted for cyclists coming from your left. It is bad enough in a car but it must be worse for commercial vehicles. Yes, I believe there are lights on the cycle lane but those tend to be ignored by a certain faction of cyclists. There has already been one tragic accident in Glasgow involving a cyclist. I would be interested to see what Glasgow City Council's roads department has to say, as well as the cycling community. Douglas Jardine, Bishopbriggs. Keir Starmer (Image: PA) Perpetual notion In response to GR Weir's letter of May 13, Brian D Henderson (Letters, May 15) suggests that the alternative to the royal family is a 'certain Mr President'. There is however one massive difference in the two roles. Like him or loathe him, the President of the USA was voted for by the public. He can only serve a four-year term before re-election and is only allowed to serve two terms. The 'British' royal family however have been elected by no one and are there for perpetuity. David Clark, Tarbolton. Why my brain is buzzing Mike Flinn (Letters, May 15) rightly draws attention to government buzzwords. The deadline looms for hard-working families, many of whom are now second-class citizens, the result of 14 years of Tory austerity, to benefit from fixing the foundations, balancing the books, and stabilising the economy. Help is in the pipeline; it is, after all, the right thing to do. David Miller, Milngavie.
BBC News
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Bristol performer explores 'queer narratives' of Section 28
A performer says he wants to bring communities together to examine the effects of legislation that banned local authorities and schools from "promoting" Marshman, 51, based in Bristol, will be "sharing queer narratives of historical shame and invisibility" through his performance Section 28 and Me at the Bristol Old Vic from Thursday. Section 28 of the Local Government Act was passed in 1988 and meant school teachers were effectively banned from educating people about homosexuality. It was repealed in England and Wales in 2003. Mr Marshman said: "The route of the show for me is 'am I a show off' because I grew up in a time when identities like mine were hidden or invisible." When the legislation was active, Mr Marshman said "there were no role models for me in that period, [or] there were a few, but they were difficult to come by".Ahead of the performance he hosted tea parties to hear from the queer community about their experiences during that time. Mr Marshman said he was just coming out as a young gay man while the statute was active and trying to work out who he was."There was some queer representation on the TV and in pop music but it felt very distant," he said he was lucky he had started visiting and making friends in Bristol, where he was able to work out who he was, "but there were lots of people who didn't have that". The show is not just about him, but about other people and how everyone comes to their own realisation in different time frames, he previous performances, Mr Marshman said he has joined the audience afterwards and it has been "interesting [that] everyone wants to tell their S.28 story"."There's something about looking at out past, our history, and trying to learn from that," Mr Marshman 28 and Me is on at the Bristol Old Vic between 15 and 17 May.
The Guardian
10-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
My cultural awakening: Queer As Folk helped me to come out
During my school years I was encouraged to believe that being gay was a serious medical handicap, like having one leg shorter than the other or a parent who was also your form tutor. This was during section 28, which outlawed the promotion of the 'acceptability of homosexuality' in UK schools, when nearly half the population thought being gay was 'always' or 'mostly' wrong. 'Gay' was a synonym for 'shit'; a descriptor deployed when no other slur was low enough. Detentions were gay, as was double maths. Two men having sex was so gay that it was almost unspeakable, the closest analogue being supermarket-brand trainers. Perhaps it's inevitable that many men of my generation grew up with shame coating them like varnish. This lack of self-esteem is supposedly what drives many to chemsex, or self-harm, or sporting harnesses as daywear, which is effectively the same thing. Unfortunately, there was never any hiding my gayness. It shone out of me like a tea-light in a lantern, and the most I could hope to do was deflect (every queer kid knows the heart-stopping sensation that greets the sentence 'can I ask you something?'). Aged 11, it was hard not to see being gay as a life sentence. Like prison, it felt inherently terrifying and degrading. Then Queer As Folk appeared on Channel 4. The very mundanity of the conceit (gay men going to work, having one-night stands, falling in and out of love) made it feel revolutionary. For the first time I saw gay people living gay lives, rather than acting as plot devices or cautionary tales in straight people's stories. They weren't ostensibly glamorous (Vince worked in a supermarket) but existed on their own terms, which felt entirely exotic and thrilling. Stuart was unapologetic and reckless – memorably driving his Jeep through the glass storefront of a car dealership after overhearing a salesman brag about how much money he made from gay men who die young. It was Pretty Woman's 'big mistake' moment for men with a preferred Minogue. The show inspired controversy, with the Daily Mail claiming that 'Any nation which allows this … [is] hell-bent on destruction.' Journalist Peter Hitchens appeared on BBC breakfast to bleat that it was propaganda aimed at persuading the public that 'homosexuality was normal behaviour'. In my limited experience, normal behaviour meant football chants and Toby Carverys and South Park catchphrases. The characters on Queer As Folk weren't normal. They were better. For the first time I wondered if my own difference could also be a gift, rather than a burden. Years later I would strongly identify with Tom Ford when he said that, growing up in America's bible belt, 'I thought I was fabulous and everyone else was stupid'. Queer As Folk gave me the permission to feel fabulous – or at least fabulous in waiting. I'm not the type of person to bang on about 'queer joy' – Instagram posts purporting to show it invariably feature blue-haired polycules milling about in dank warehouses – but Queer As Folk was joyful. As well as being funny, sad, poignant and sexy. At the risk of playing into the hands of homophobes who believe that queerness is a proselytising institution, watching the show made me glad to be gay. I began to come out, first to myself and then out loud. I wasn't scared any more. There would be unimaginable horrors to come (Trump's current rowing back of LGBTQ+ policies, the advent of gay men going on 'gym dates') but Queer As Folk felt like the promise of a brighter future. A flare sent up into the sky to let me know that my rescue was imminent. Did a cultural moment prompt you to make a major life change? Email us at
