Organon's Charles Harvey: my journey to acceptance and pride

My name is Charles Harvey and I am the External Affairs and Communications Director for the Asia Pacific Cluster at Organon. In my role I support policy, pricing, market access and communications activities across the 10 Asia Pacific Markets. I am based in Sydney.

I came out in the 80’s. I was going to write that coming out was difficult, but in truth it was the years of anticipation of coming out that were hard. I knew as a young person I was different, even if I didn’t have a name to give to it. Like many gay kids I didn’t feel like I belonged, a sense that only grew more intense as I went from being a child to a teenager.

At that time in Australia, it was still illegal to be gay. Not that I heard of or saw men being arrested but the admonition was real. For me, it felt the law justified the bigotry many felt and provided the necessary cover for homophobia to thrive. The church I grew up in labelled me “objectively disordered” and “against the natural law”. At school the greatest insult was to accuse someone of being gay. Not that they used that word. Instead, you were called a f****t or any number of other derogatory terms. And by the time the HIV/AIDS epidemic struck in the mid-80s it seemed like the whole world was against me.

As a young person, the idea of coming out into a world that was filled with so much hate and turmoil seemed impossible, and yet holding onto the secret was suffocating. The thought of one day being married or being able to have children seemed like a lost dream. Lacking the emotional maturity to deal with the anxiety I felt, nor the wisdom to know it would one day all be ok, was deeply distressing. I couldn’t see a future in which I was happy and accepted, and while I didn’t want to die, I didn’t know how to live. The thoughts of self-harm were pervasive and oppressive and as I look back I recognize it was the darkest period in my life.

Ultimately the panacea to my distress was to do the one thing I had been avoiding and come out. My parents were shocked, although others have since said it seemed pretty obvious. Apparently, I wasn’t as “straight-acting” as I thought.

I remember everything from that night but the one thing that will never leave me are the words of my mother. It was late. Everyone was a bit on edge, and she had gone to bed. But not long after she called me to her room. She held me in her arms and told me “I love you more now than before, if that is possible. I love you more now”. I can’t imagine the words were easy for her to say. I could see the pain and confusion fresh in her eyes, perhaps the tension between abiding to her faith, from which she had always drawn so much comfort and strength, and doing what she did. Put her family first. But it was what I needed, what I craved.

I have come out hundreds of times since, thousands perhaps. And I’d like to think I am an out and proud man, happily partnered to my now husband for over 23 years. But there is always a tinge of doubt and trepidation when, once again, I come out in a work environment. Will it be ok? Does it change how they think or deal with me? But then, I suppose you get to a certain point when you think that’s not my problem anymore. It’s theirs. Thankfully, I work with a wonderful group of colleagues and leaders and I have only ever fleet included and accepted at Organon.

It helps more than people realise when we celebrate diversity, when we recognize Pride day or other events, to hear the stories from people with different backgrounds, different family definitions. It breaks down walls, encourages acceptance, and I hope makes it easier for the next young person to speak their truth and live their life to the fullest.