I’m proud to be from Bolton. There were days in the past when I never thought I’d say that. Because when I was growing up, in the 1980s, I used to hate Bolton. It wasn’t the most accepting or nurturing place for a sensitive, creative, gay child like me. I became convinced that in order to become the person I was meant to be, I had to get out.
Manchester became my escape, my salvation. As a city with a much bigger population, it seemed to welcome minorities. It had a thriving arts and music scene and was a hub for the national media. Crucially, for a bullied and lost queer teen like me, it had the Gay Village.
