You're The Voice - Sidemen

Chapter 1

Vik can feel his heart beating in his chest. It's fast-paced, and his breathing follows, short and heavy.

It's not like he's done any exercise, he's been sat on a train down to London from Sheffield the past couple of hours.

No, it's what he's about to do that's got his heart's pace messed up.

You see, Vik is no stranger to odd looks or ill treatment, he's an Asian man of small stature living in Sheffield in the 1980s, so he's perfectly used to sticking out, like a sore thumb, or being lightly ridiculed.

He's got all of those issues going on, but on top of all that, he's gay.

Usually, Vik keeps his head down, tries not to be noticed, which is inevitable with his outward appearance in Sheffield. Here, in London, it feels like a new dawn has broken. He can be himself, he thinks, as the London Underground transport system goes out of its way to confuse him.

All he knows is that he needs to go to Bloomsbury, and Russell Square Station is probably the best one to go for, so he has to somehow find the Piccadilly line train.

That's all he knows, and it feels complicated enough as it is.

The journey on the tubes is crowded, dusty and scary. Vik's grateful that he doesn't stand out too much - there's black people on the tube, he notes. There's none where he's from, and they're not being harassed at this exact moment, so he's got some hope for change. Having said that, Vik knows that there is a high chance of their harassment at other times, just not in the middle of the day on crowded public transport.

All the same, Vik thinks, as he climbs up the stairs of Russell Square's tube station, into the harsh light of London, is that there's hope. If people of different races are able to walk around without getting beaten up on sight, then maybe the gay community can start next.

In no way is Vik claiming that there was definite equality between races, but there's been movement in that direction. You can't change the public's enforced beliefs overnight, you've got to move one step at a time. But that doesn't change the fact people have still died. People like Altab Ali, who was murdered by 3 in a brutal, racially motivated attack. If they don't act, people will keep dying.

Vik pulls back from his depressing musings, wandering the streets in search of what he is looking for.

The Lesbian and Gay Pride March of 1984.

A banner confronts him, it's handmade, painted fabric stained by the specks of rain that fall upon it.

'Lesbians & Gays Support the Miners', it reads, and captures his attention. As a man from an area swarmed by the miner-type homophobia that comes from a relatively backward city, it seems unbelievable.

The people who have sat there, absorbing the words of the media, about AIDS and gays being one and the same. The people who measure their masculinity, are so fragile, terrified of being seen as gay.

How the fuck could you support that, and be gay at the same time? Vik figures they must be Londoners, shielded and unaware of the reality of miners.

Vik's intrigued, and he falls into step beside them.

For a while, there is companionable silence. Clearly, the two men holding the banner appreciate the presence of another supporter. In all honesty though, Vik feels awkward, and it hurts, a lot more than he expected.

It hurts to see children walking past, trying to look at the pretty rainbow colours, trying to read the banners out of interest and see why there are lots of people walking in a line. It's a sensory overload for them, but their mothers usher them away, covering their eyes at worst, or simply distracting them at best. Either way, it hurts Vik that these kids aren't being given the chance to accept.