Understanding the Need for Code-Switching Among My LGBTQ+ Community

BY GEORGE C.

Let's be real - navigating this world as an LGBTQ+ person is like constantly shifting between different versions of yourself. I've been doing it for years without even realising. Code-switching - changing how you talk, act or present yourself depending on who you're with. And mate, it's exhausting.

Growing up, I quickly cottoned on that society expects everyone to be straight and cisgender by default. From primary school to uni, it was always "when you get a girlfriend" or "when you're a father someday" - never leaving room for different paths. So many of us learn to nod along, adjust our mannerisms, lower our voices or change subjects when our families or colleagues start talking about relationships. It becomes second nature.

The workplace is a proper minefield. Despite all the rainbow lanyards and Pride month emails, many of us still feel we need to tone ourselves down to be taken seriously. I've caught myself doing it in job interviews - consciously making my voice deeper, talking about "neutral" weekend plans and avoiding certain gestures. Legal protections against discrimination exist on paper, but microaggressions and subtle prejudice are still part of our daily reality.

Sometimes, code-switching isn't just about fitting in - it's about staying safe. When I'm walking home late at night or find myself in an unfamiliar pub outside the city, I instinctively straighten my posture and deepen my voice. My trans mates have it even harder, often having to make split-second decisions about when it's safe to be themselves and when it's safer to blend in. The stats don't lie - hate crimes against LGBTQ+ people in the UK are still shockingly common.

Family gatherings can be particularly tricky. At Christmas dinner with my traditionalist grandparents, I become a watered-down version of myself. The pitch of my laugh changes, my stories get carefully edited and a whole vocabulary of queer culture references gets temporarily shelved. For those of us from religious or culturally conservative families, these moments of code-switching can feel like the price we pay for belonging.

It gets even more complicated for those of us with intersecting identities. My Black and South Asian LGBTQ+ friends talk about having to juggle different forms of code-switching simultaneously - navigating both racism and homophobia while trying to honour their cultural heritage. It's like playing a never-ending game of identity Tetris where the pieces don't always fit neatly together.

The toll this takes on our mental health is real. There's something properly draining about constantly monitoring yourself, filtering your words and second-guessing your natural expressions. Some days I come home from work and just need to collapse on the sofa because I've spent the entire day performing a slightly altered version of myself. This constant self-censorship chips away at you over time, leaving many of us feeling disconnected and knackered.

That's why spaces where we can be fully ourselves feel like coming up for air after being underwater. Whether it's LGBTQ+ social groups, supportive workplaces or even just a night out with mates who get it, these moments of authenticity are precious. We need more of them.

I dream of a world where none of us need to code-switch to be safe, respected or included. Where my younger cousins won't have to learn the exhausting art of hiding parts of themselves. Getting there means challenging the assumptions that make us feel we need to change ourselves in the first place - the idea that there's only one "normal" way to be.

So next time you notice someone shifting their behaviour in different contexts, remember there might be more going on than meets the eye. For many of us in the LGBTQ+ community, code-switching isn't a choice - it's a survival skill we've had to master. But with more understanding and genuine inclusion, maybe one day it'll be a skill we no longer need.