What It Actually Means to Be a Queer-Friendly Wedding Photographer
I’m writing this on 1st June. Yes, folks, welcome to GAY MONTH.
Or not. Be honest, it’s got a bit tiring lately, hasn’t it? Big firms slapping a rainbow logo on their socials, proudly stating that ‘love is love’, then going ‘back to normal’ in July. I’m a queer wedding photographer in Birmingham, and I want to talk about a phrase that’s started to mean almost nothing. Generally speaking, most people are alive to this sort of thing now. There’s a difference between pink-washing, and businesses truly going out of their way to ensure people are seen and made to feel comfortable. When I set up my business, I did a fair bit of market research and, yes, there’s quite a few ‘love is love’ photographers out there. You’ve probably seen the articles. ‘Every couple deserves to feel seen. I’ll photograph your wedding with warmth and respect, whoever you are and whoever you love.’ If you’re anything like me, your shoulders slump a little. Are they a supporter, an ally, or someone who knows that LGBTQ+ people get married, and therefore ChatGPT has told them this is the sort of thing they should say because it’s great business practice? When you’re scrolling suppliers at night, getting more and more frustrated, it’s the fundamental question:“Have I found a champion, or have I found someone that’s great at marketing?”
Let me tell you something I don’t usually lead with
I’m a gay man. People think you only have to come out once, and you’re done. Nah, every single job you do, every single new team you join or small talk you make you have to do it again and again. It’s exhausting. I’m lucky, in the sense I can slap my face on a website and say these words out loud. But it’s often a difficult journey. Being LGBTQ+ is something that starts off being intrinsically personal – so private and wrapped up in who you are, that saying it out loud feels impossible. I used to think it has nothing to do with anyone else. It belonged to me and me alone, because making it external felt like too much exposure. Too much risk. And then, somewhere along the way, that changed. You get to a point, if you’re lucky, where you become comfortable enough with yourself that the thing you couldn’t say becomes the thing you’re proud of. You go through all the shit to find out who you are, and the private becomes public. And you go from being afraid to talk about being queer, to making the most public statement you can. You get married. You go from saying ‘I can’t’ to ‘I do’. You stand up in front of your people. You say in the loudest voice: this is who I am. This is who I love. This is real, and I’m not hiding it. That shift, from something whispered to something declared in front of every person who matters to you, is something I’ve lived. So, when I’m photographing a queer couple, I’m not an outsider trying to be respectful. I’m someone who understands, from the inside, exactly what that moment costs and exactly what it’s worth. Understanding the journey you’ve been on and seeing it fulfilled with such joy – that’s what I love about photographing LGBTQ+ weddings.
What a queer-friendly wedding photographer usually does (and why it’s not enough)
Most of the time, it means a photographer won’t be weird about it. Which, look, is a low bar, I know. But based on the stories I’ve heard from couples, you get photographers who ask which one’s “the bride,” or make awkward jokes about pronouns or transition. Most worryingly, you can get photographers who you feel might be secretly thinking ‘I can’t wait to tell my mates about this one!’ Queer-friendly, in the industry’s working definition, tends to mean: will not visibly flinch. Will use the right words if you remind them enough times. Has photographed one same-sex wedding and put it on the website so you can stop worrying about being their first. That’s not nothing. But it’s not what I’m offering.What I mean when I say I’m a queer photographer
I mean your wedding isn’t a diversity box I’m ticking. You won’t hear me say, ‘yeah, because love is love, innit’ or some inane nonsense. I know my bears from my pups and my butches from my femmes. It’s not something that’s new, or scary. You’re not my ‘gay wedding’, you’re my Tuesday wedding or my Saturday wedding, or my wedding where you’ve got a Cyberman in a cave in Somerset. It means I ask for your pronouns at the start, not because I read a guide about being inclusive, but because it’s the obvious thing to do. They’re on my contact form, so you never have to correct me. And it means queer couples aren’t buried in my portfolio, so you have to look for ages until you find someone that looks like you. They’re on the homepage with a huge great big statement about who I’m for. Because that’s where they belong. So, let me talk to you about the first one I ever did.
