The advocate for New Zealanders mental health
BY Angus Jenkins

Rainbow mental health

• 3 min read

Permission isn’t Power. Ownership is

Healing from depression, rebuilding and the daily practices that keep me steady is hard work.There's always the same question sitting underneath so much of that story.

Am I good enough?

That question doesn’t belong to gay men or queer people. It belongs to humans. It shows up in different disguises — people pleasing, perfectionism, addiction, isolation, achievement-as-armour. Most of us learn, somewhere along the way, that parts of us are “too much” or “not enough”, and we start editing ourselves accordingly.

For queer people, that question often becomes unavoidable earlier because coming out is not a one-off moment. It’s a series of moments. You come out to family and friends, colleagues and strangers, new circles and old circles – all the time. Sometimes you’re met with warmth, other times silence. Sometimes with judgement, then there’s the “we love you, just… don’t be so loud about it.”

When acceptance happens, it can feel like permission. Permission to relax, to be open, to be yourself. And I’m grateful for that.
But here’s the truth: permission doesn’t change your life. Ownership does.

Ownership is when you stop shrinking.

When you stop apologising for taking up space. When you stop performing a version of yourself that makes other people comfortable. When you stop “softening your edges” to fit the room.

Shame is a pattern

That shift matters because shame is rarely just a thought — it’s a pattern. It leaks into how you relate and choose people, how you attach and cope, how you tolerate being treated and what you do when you’re alone with your mind. Shame has an awful habit of turning into self-abandonment.

As a single gay man, I’ve seen a particular version of this play out in a place people don’t always expect to find vulnerability: dating and hookups. It can be fun, consensual, and absolutely okay.

What’s surprised me, though, is how often the real conversation begins after. Two blokes lying in the dark, both outwardly confident, both quietly lonely. 

Loneliness. Anxiety. Self-doubt. A longing for connection that doesn’t quite know where to land.

This is not about blaming “the gay community” or reducing people to stereotypes. It’s about acknowledging a human cost that can be amplified by the realities of discrimination, exclusion, and internalised shame — including within communities that are supposedly built for belonging.

Rainbow mental health

Rainbow communities here in Aotearoa consistently report disproportionately poorer mental health outcomes than the wider population, shaped by social conditions and barriers to support.
Outside New Zealand, large-scale public health reporting has repeatedly shown higher rates of depression and anxiety among gay and bisexual men compared with men overall, and that genuine connection is what actually protects people when they can access it.

So what do we do with that?

We stop treating “being okay” as something we achieve once, then move on from. And we stop pretending that silence is neutral. Silence is a strategy — and it often keeps people stuck.

My 5 fundamentals

For me, the path forward keeps returning to five fundamentals. I offer them to you for ongoing and repetitive work:
  1. Do the work.
    Not perform it or intellectualise it and certainly not outsource it. Do it — with honesty, responsibility and the willingness to see your own patterns clearly.
  2. Step up and into it.
    Into the hard conversations. Into the vulnerability you’ve been avoiding. Into the truth you keep editing. Patterns survive on hesitation and die on courage.
  3. You’ve got this.
    You haven’t come this far to come this far!  Because you’ve survived hard chapters before, you can build the capacity to meet the next one.
  4. Forgive yourself.
    For the coping strategies that once kept you safe. For the years you spent shrinking. Become the person you most needed as a child.
  5. Move towards what you want.
    Not away from what you fear, not towards what wins approval but towards the life that fits — the relationships that are real, the work that’s aligned, the version of you that isn’t apologising.

Here’s the part that matters most: 

You deserve to be here.

All of us do - regardless of sexuality, beliefs, background, history or the stories we’ve inherited. We’re human. And being human means you always have a choice.

You can keep believing the beliefs that keep you small — the ones that tell you to say sorry, shrink and please — or you can choose something else.

That choice won’t always be comfortable. It will, however, be yours.

Permission is lovely. Ownership is life-changing.

 

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