Gay and Engineer

14 Nov I 2023

It's a crisp morning, and I sit in a new well-lit office, the hum of my computer echoing the steady beat of my heart. Before joining RCDC, those heartbeats often oscillated between pride and fear—pride in who I am, and fear of how the engineering world would perceive me.

Coming out at the age of 34 was not just a personal revelation but a challenge thrown at the very fabric of my professional life. The engineering profession is historically male and predominantly white. The stereotypical engineer doesn’t often include the likes of me—a proud gay person of colour. Growing up Catholic added even more layers to my identity, each one steeped in its own set of complexities. This upbringing, intertwined with my cultural background, magnified the fears and doubts I harboured. If one were to delve into the data around LGBTQ+ individuals in engineering, the statistics would raise eyebrows. In a world where being 'different' often leads to raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, my identity always felt like a secret waiting to be unearthed.

I remember the day I was filling out HR forms for one of my previous companies. I had stated that I had a partner, and a male name was written down. The HR representative looked up, eyebrow raised, and asked if perhaps I'd made an error. "Surely you've confused the emergency contact and marital status fields?" they mused. I hadn’t. It was a stinging affirmation that perhaps this world wasn’t ready for someone like me.

One of the scariest battles I’ve faced isn’t in complex project management or a technical glitch but standing up and saying, “This is who I am.” The fear wasn’t about my self-acceptance but about the perceptions of those around me.

While activists and thinkers strongly advocate for anti-discrimination and inclusion policies—and rightly so—it's vital to actually see these policies in practice, to feel them in the corridors and meeting rooms of our workplaces.

I joined RCDC three years ago. As a start-up, it didn't have all its policies carved in stone. Yet, from day one, it was evident that diversity and inclusion weren't just buzzwords to be thrown around but deeply rooted in the company's culture. The team's acceptance was palpable, but the standout support came from Vince, RCDC’s founder. His unwavering acceptance gave me the strength I didn’t know I needed. It made me realise that policies, while crucial, aren’t the be-all and end-all. It’s the culture—a culture that shouts its acceptance, not in words, but in actions.

London Pride 2023 wasn't just another event for RCDC; it was a testament to our belief in true acceptance. We celebrated as one; unified team—gay, straight, and everything in between—without the veneer of 'gay-washing' that some entities adopt. It was authentic. It was us.

Now, as I sit in my office, the heartbeats of fear have faded away. They've been replaced by rhythms of confidence and authenticity. I am no longer that person who feared the next heartbeat would betray my secret. I am fully myself, with no shadow of shame about who I am and what I represent. This isn't just my victory; it's a triumph for everyone who stood by me, a testament to the power of true acceptance.

This post may sound like a glowing endorsement of RCDC—and in many ways, it is. But beyond that, it's a beacon for those in the shadows, wondering if they'll ever fit into the engineering world or any profession they choose. To them, I say: There's hope, there's acceptance, and there's a place for you.

To all my fellow LGBTQ+ engineers and those thinking of joining this field, let's wear our identities as badges of honour. Let's be proud of every facet of who we are. Because we're here, we're queer, and we're shaping the future, one blueprint at a time.