Wednesday, 14th January 2015
I've just got home from seeing The Imitation Game, a film about Alan Turing and his work on the Enigma code. It was suggested to me by my boyfriend and, although I wasn't particularly excited, I went along with the promise of getting a hotdog and both popcorn and sweets (a rare treat with the incredible prices they charge!).
I went expecting to leave a few hours later armed with scathing comments about the quality of acting; or the poor script; or the overhollywoodisation of a life story. (Honestly, I'm a terrible person to see a film with because I am an armchair critic with strong and vocal opinions.) But I left with none of that, my mind was filled with something else.
If you don't know who he is, go and google Alan Turing now. I don't want to be giving you spoilers when wikipedia can do it better. If you've heard of him before, then the following won't be a surprise.
In short, Alan Turing was incredible. He was a genius and he saved an estimated 14 million people through his work decoding the enigma machine. He was also gay.
Sadly, after the war he was found guilty of indecency with another man and sentenced to chemical castration . After a year on the 'therapy' he committed suicide. Needless to say, the film doesn't have a happy ending.
But as much as Turing's story has moved me, it wasn't just him that I came away thinking about, but the 49 000 other men who were found guilty by our government of indecency from the late 1800's all the way until 1967. 1967. You might have been alive then. Your mum probably was. Your grandparents almost certainly were. This isn't a distant past that's easily forgettable or that you can fully distance yourself from. People you know were alive then.
Alan Turing, quite rightly, was posthumously awarded a royal pardon earlier this year but there are 49 000 other men for whom that won't happen.
I'm not the first to think this, in fact it was my boyfriend who raised it as we left the cinema and it tapped into the deep, dark feeling that I'd been having. What if it had been me? What if I'd been born that bit earlier? What if I had died for being gay?
(This is further complicated by my transgender history, because I don't think many people transitioned between genders back then either...)
The incredibly sad thing, is that as I write this and reflect on our country's murky past, there are countries across the world right now where people are still being marginalised, criminalised or killed for being gay and I feel horribly impotent and unable to do anything about it.
We've come a long way and I know we're still on a journey, as a country and as a world, to being fully open and equal. But in memory of Alan Turing, all those other men that were criminalised in Britain and all the LGBT people across the world right now who are suffering because of their sexuality or gender identity; on behalf of them I want to take a look around be grateful to be who and where I am. Today, I got to sit in a cinema today with my boyfriend. Today, I got to come home to the house I share with my boyfriend. Today, without fear of judgement, persecution or worse, I get to live my life with the person I love. How could I not be grateful for that?
Written by Jack Davis
