I started Wear it Purple day so the rainbow youth no longer felt alone

I started Wear it Purple day so the rainbow youth no longer felt alone

On the last Friday in August 2010, I was so nervous climbing the steps at Croydon Station in Sydney, it felt like I was having an invisible appendectomy at the turnstiles. 

I had spent the school holidays creating a movement called Purple Armband day, later shortened to Wear it Purple day, and today was the day.

But I wasn't nervous because I thought I'd be bullied for Wear it Purple or rejected by my family for being gay or disciplined by my school for uniform violations.

I was nervous because of the apathy that much of Australia and the world showed towards making LGBTQIA+ youth feel like they too belonged.

Time to do something about the crisis in our midst

In 2010, LGBTQIA+ young people were in crisis. In the US, media were writing about an epidemic of gay youth suicides.

In Australia, the Writing Themselves In study exploring the health and wellbeing of LGBTQIA+ young people by Latrobe University reported that rainbow youth experienced high rates of discrimination, mental ill health, and homelessness.

Reassurances that life got better beyond the school gate were not good enough.

As a young person, I decided I had to do something. Young people were dying. So, my best friend at the time, Scott Williams, and I teamed up to organise the first Wear it Purple … in about three weeks.

The very first Wear it Purple
We called, talked, harangued everyone — friends, family, the media, schools, unions, businesses, anyone who would listen.

Scott registered us as a charity. Meanwhile, I walked up and down King Street, Newtown, asking businesses if they would put up posters. All we asked is that they listen, they care, and they wear purple on the last Friday in August.

In fights like this, you are never truly alone. We got some essential help from advertising agencies, mental health charities, and MPs from both sides of the political divide.

A family friend helped us build our website. My dad bought the first Wear it Purple buttons. My mum listened to numerous versions of speeches.

The opposite to feeling 'othered' is to feel unified
We decided that Wear it Purple would (like any good revolution) be something everyone could be a part of.

Our movement's name starts with the verb "wear". We didn't mind what the "it" was — as long as the "it" was purple. This meant people could make Wear it Purple day their own, from morning teas to soccer games as long as you were wearing purple, you were participating in Wear it Purple day.

We chose a colour because we wanted the support to be visible. The opposite to feeling 'othered' is to feel unified. If for one day everyone who cared wore the same colour then young rainbow people would know they were not alone.

We weren't asking for people to avail themselves of all the violet they can find in their closets (although every year I am continually impressed this happens), a purple scarf or shirt was enough to say, "I care".

When I finally arrived at school on that Friday in 2010, I could see people cared. Teachers and students were awash in a purple glow. Even people I didn't know wore something purple.

I felt truly proud not only of what we'd achieved but also of who I was.

Scott and I went on to coordinate the second Wear it Purple day the following year. Then after high school, I handed on the coordination to the next generation of LGBTQIA+ young people, which has kept Wear it Purple current and youth-focused.

Wear it Purple day has become one of the key advocacy organisations for young rainbow people in Australia.

Wear it Purple also celebrates and amplifies the voices of young rainbow people.

Now as a 30-year-old adult, what makes me truly proud is how Wear it Purple has contributed to making LGBTQIA+ acceptance and inclusion the default setting.

Last week, on the way to Friday drinks I saw two schoolboys holding hands in front of Sydney's town hall. As I passed them, they still hadn't mastered the art of walking faster than a shuffle while their fingers were locked. It made me smile.

It was so wonderfully normal and undramatic. I don't mind telling you I may have shed a tear.