Authentic leadership is described as ‘genuine, original, real, actual, true…’ Not always easy as a Lesbian Gay Bisexual Trans (LGBT+) person working within the NHS.
In the closet is a term used to describe LGBT+ people who have not disclosed their sexual orientation or gender identity and aspects thereof. Being ‘out’ is the opposite of this, so an LGBT+ person who has disclosed.
For context, as a lesbian woman and Registered General Nurse (RGN) and Registered Mental Nurse (RMN), my career in the NHS has been richly diverse and has spanned from the 1980s to current. Over the past approximately 10 years I have worked at a senior level and am currently Deputy Director of Nursing, AHPs and Quality within Lincolnshire Partnership NHS Foundation Trust (LPFT).
In conversation with an LGBT+ colleague we discussed the impact of getting on in an organisation when it doesn’t feel safe to be ‘out’. Because coming out never ends, any LGBT+ person is constantly making risk assessments to determine whether or not to come out. My experiences over the years have been impacted by events both within and outside of my work environments. For me it is an important factor to recognise when understanding the unequal playing field many LGBT+ people experience in their careers. I was asked recently whether I thought my career had been held back at all because of my sexual orientation. On balance I don’t think so, but at points along the way it has felt a little like ‘the chicken or the egg’. If I’m not out its very hard to talk freely in the way my heterosexual colleagues speak. This in turn can make me seem less open and appear to lack authenticity. However, even being a visible LGBT+ leader doesn’t remove all the barriers and I think it’s important to recognise this when really seeking to develop organisations that have representative Boards and representative leaders throughout. Authenticity therefore could be seen as a privilege rather than something all great leaders can do with ease.
Working for an organisation committed to inclusivity is critical for me; and my current employer is the best I’ve worked for in my career.
It is brilliant to be a part of an organisation that is working hard to embed inclusivity, with many individuals taking courageous steps to support this work. I made a decision to be a senior visible LGBT+ leader after completing the Stonewall Leadership Programme a number of years ago; and realised my actions were likely to speak louder than my words. One action I took was to add my visible LGBT+ status to my email address; and I found myself almost anticipating a barrage of abuse, which never came.
A great inclusive leadership role model for me in recent years has been Paul Devlin, LPFT Trust Chair as he lives and breathes inclusion. He is a leader who works tirelessly to empower and enable the voice of disadvantaged groups. Alongside such a positive role model, many leaders at every level in LPFT have felt able to visibly support as allies; and to be visible leaders representing minority groups including LGBT+.
Recently I attended a training event and the facilitators asked participants to say something positive that had happened to them the day before as part of a warm-up. When it came to me I realised how despite this seeming such a simple exercise, I still make very conscious decisions daily about when to be out. In giving my feedback I thought about the wonderful meal my wife had cooked for me the night before. Momentarily I thought I could refer to my ‘partner’, avoid gender specific language and so avoid coming out to a group of strangers. I chose to say ‘my wife’ as I recounted the event but reflected on my risk assessment afterwards, knowing my LGBT+ colleagues face the same dilemmas daily. Even though I knew no one would comment negatively, I recognised my lack of spontaneity.
I was advised by two senior NHS leaders in recent years to be careful not to be too active in my LGBT+ visibility as I could risk being known for my sexual orientation rather than my professional skills. I reflected on this advice which had left me uncomfortable and concluded it was because I doubted a heterosexual colleague would have been given the same advice about their level of visibility or have to consider this risk.
Like many LGBT+ people I have experienced homophobic abuse at times over the years, including physical assault. The skeletons in the cupboard are there for all of us and I believe we need to acknowledge this in looking at equal opportunities. Even with excellent inclusive practices, people have lives and experiences out of work. I risk assess before holding hands with my wife and before being out in many situations, so being out is not an absolute it is a continuum. A local trans woman recently told of how she has to walk a certain route to buy her newspaper to avoid unsafe areas where she has previously experienced abuse. This is the type of inequality I am keen we better understand, recognising impacts on an individual over extended periods of time.
I was saddened to hear recently from a young LGBT+ colleague early in their career in the NHS who was put in a position of having to decide whether or not to be out at work on their first day in a new organisation. This was simply due to a colleague asking a question in which they made an assumption about this person’s sexual orientation. What may seem a very small concern can have significant consequences for LGBT+ people in a work place. I keep hoping we are close to a time when we don’t subject our colleagues to these dilemmas as they can have lasting negative consequences. For example, an LGBT+ colleague told me she had chosen not to be out early in a new job in the NHS as she wanted time to check out how safe and inclusive the organisation was. She felt that early decision led to her then not being able to come out, to feeling she didn’t fit in; and to subsequently leaving the organisation prematurely as she couldn’t be herself at work.
When I married in 1996 we weren’t able to register our marriage. We replicated many of the traditions of a heterosexual marriage by marrying at a Town Hall, exchanging rings; and enjoying a large celebration. We had to wait nearly 20 years (2015) to be able to register our marriage and secure many of the privileges marriage brings.
The protections we now have through legislation such as the Equality Act 2010 do make a difference. However, I’m under no illusion of the work still to be done, including within the NHS. Only recently a colleague in an NHS organisation spoke about carefully coming out to colleagues they trusted, only to find the ‘news’ spread fast across their whole team and beyond without their consent.
Too often we still wait for the person impacted directly by discriminatory behaviours to challenge rather than truly accepting this as our business. For me a measure of embedded inclusivity is when we recognise this and have the courage to act.
Feeling safe enough to be a visible LGBT+ leader gives a positive message that it is possible within the NHS to bring your whole self to work, to progress in your career; and to be valued for the diversity you bring to the workplace. The richness of visible diversity should mirror that in the communities we are here to serve. If we get this right for our staff we are far more likely to get it right for patients and their carers accessing our services.
