Labour frontbencher Wes Streeting suffered homophobic bullying from the age of 11, before becoming one of the first openly gay MPs to join the Shadow Cabinet.
He kept his sexuality a “huge secret” as he grew up in an East End family known for its gangland connections and traditional views.
In a new book released at the end of June, Pride month, the Shadow Health Secretary shares his experiences of coming out at Cambridge University and being determined to succeed in politics despite negative reactions to his sexuality.
He also reveals in his memoir how he found love with partner Joe, who helped him through a shocking cancer diagnosis aged 38.
I had to bury a huge secret
Throughout my adolescence, I was trying to be ‘normal’. To do so, I had to bury a huge secret. A secret I never shared with anyone. Ican’t remember when I first realised I was gay.
I remember having a poster of England’s 1998 World Cup squad on my bedroom wall because of my crush on Michael Owen, as much as my support for the Three Lions, but every time I felt gay, I also felt afraid.
Afraid of my feelings, that I would be rejected by my family and friends.
No matter how well I did in school, the pride I felt about my achievements began to be eclipsed by the deep sense of shame about who I was. What I was…
I was terrified that accepting who I was would only add to the abuse I already suffered in school. After all, I had been hit with homophobic slurs since I was 11 – imagine the carnage if my bullies knew the truth.
I was one of the sensitive kids, slightly camp and effeminate. This was a hard character to play in an inner-city boys school. And I had the bruises to prove it.
At school, there had been a widespread expectation that I would be appointed as head prefect, but two of my good friends were appointed as joint head prefects.
But what added injury to the perceived insult was an openly gay teacher telling me he had heard one of the teachers justifying their decision on the grounds that I was gay and wouldn’t make a good role model. It was a devastating blow.
By the time I sat my GCSEs, I felt like I had survived, rather than thrived, at Westminster City.
My great escape
With the encouragement of my teachers… I applied to join a summer school at Cambridge University, which was run by a charity, the Sutton Trust.
When results day arrived, I had a hangover… I walked into the school library where [teachers] Mrs Meadows and Mr Lloyd were sitting looking solemn. Mrs Meadows yelled, “YOU GOT THREE As.” After years of seeing my parents struggle, I was convinced this was the turning point in my life. My great escape.
You're fit and I fancy you
Ed was tall, slim, with short, tousled brown hair and twinkling bright blue eyes. We found ourselves going for a pint together after [Student Union] meetings.
One night, it all came to a head. Whether it was the alcohol, the attraction, or that I lost the will to keep on trying to be someone I wasn’t, I sent him a text: “You’re fit and I fancy you.”
Who said romance is dead? We met outside Clare College. It was a freezing winter night, and I’m not sure if I was shivering with nerves or the cold as I walked towards him.
Never-ending process
While I had the courage to be myself at university, I hadn’t yet found the courage to tell my family.
That was until one evening in the autumn of 2006. “Can I talk to you?” [my step-mum] asked.
“Your dad knocked some papers off your desk,’ she said. ‘One of them was a civil partnership invitation addressed to you and someone else.
“Your dad has put two and two together and I think he’s made four.” My secret was out now. I could do nothing but wait anxiously for dad to come home from work. Coming out in Cambridge felt liberating. Coming out at home felt terrifying.
When I entered the living room, Dad was sitting on the sofa. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I do remember Dad’s reaction was sadness that I hadn’t told him.
“Why am I the last to know? Why did you think I wouldn’t accept you? Are you happy?” The worries Dad had were ones shared by lots of parents. Would my life be harder being gay?
Would it affect my career? Would I catch HIV and AIDS? It didn’t take long for us to deal with any lingering awkwardness in our usual Streeting family way: with humour. I felt loved and accepted.
Terrible news
It was a cold and overcast day in Greater Manchester in early April – perhaps the heavy, grey clouds were an omen. I was in Bury to campaign for the Labour Party in the upcoming 2021 local elections.
The phone call from the hospital took me by surprise. I hadn’t been expecting them to call for another few hours, but there I was, sitting by myself, listening to the news that would change my life.
“If I’ve understood you correctly, this is terrible news because I’ve got cancer, and I’m only 38.” It was a tumour. About five centimetres – so not a small one.
Reality seemed to be suspended around me. I could hear my pulse racing in my ears. I was in shock.
You never know what life holds for you
My boss, Keir Starmer, could not have been more supportive. Far from holding me back, after the local elections were out of the way, he conducted a small reshuffle of his Shadow Cabinet and promoted me.
I needed to decide whether to say something more publicly about my diagnosis and, if so, how.
I didn’t feel I could have the luxury of privacy.
I worried I might be criticised for missing votes in the Commons or not doing my job if I didn’t explain why I was absent.
I didn’t anticipate the reaction. I watched as the BBC News Channel flashed “Breaking News” across the screen with a photograph of me and the news that I had been diagnosed with kidney cancer.
Then came the day. Friday, 21 May 2021 – the surgery. As with the rest of my appointments, [my partner] Joe wouldn’t be able to see me until I was discharged, so we found ourselves sharing another teary-eyed goodbye at the hospital door.
That agonisingly long walk from the entrance to the ward was the loneliest I had ever felt in my entire life.
In the days and weeks that followed, I focused on my recovery. I realised that it was the first time I had stopped to rest since I graduated almost 20 years before.
It gave me time to contemplate the rest of my life and how far I’d already come.
If cancer has taught me one thing, it’s that you never know what life holds for you.
I came back from cancer with a new lease of life, so why not tell the story now of how a boy from the East End ended up in Westminster?
One Boy, Two Bills and a Fry Up: A Memoir of Growing Up and Getting On by Wes Streeting, to be published on 29th June by Hodder & Stoughton.
Read more extracts here: Wes opens up about how poverty, crime and abuse in his childhood shaped his politics.
