About the creator of Gay Pride Community
Finding Myself
I'm Elliot Rivers, 29, non-binary (they/them), and queer. Bristol is my home now, but my journey here wasn't straightforward. This is a story of confusion and loneliness, of hiding and fear, but also of truth, love, and eventual acceptance. I'm sharing it because I know there are others out there who feel trapped, scared, and unsure of who they are. You're not alone.
Early Years in Devon
I grew up in Totnes, Devon, a small, conservative town where everyone knew everyone. As the youngest of three, I was always the quiet one. My siblings were the golden kids—sporty, outgoing, always doing what they were "supposed" to. Me? I was different, though I couldn't put it into words then. I felt like an outsider in my own family, my own town, even my own body.
The Struggle of Adolescence
Secondary school was tough. Puberty felt like a betrayal. My body was changing in ways that made me feel even more alien. Everyone else seemed excited about growing up, but all I felt was dread. I experimented with my appearance—sometimes growing my hair out, sometimes cutting it all off—trying to find some version of myself that fit. Nothing ever felt quite right.
The other kids picked up on my discomfort, and the bullying started. They called me names, asked why I didn't act like the other girls, why I was always alone. It hurt. I spent so much time hiding—skipping classes, locking myself in my room, drawing, writing, anything to escape.
I couldn't talk to my family; I knew what they thought about people who were different. I was terrified of losing what little acceptance I had.
Bristol: A New Beginning
At 18, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't breathe in Totnes anymore. I applied to the University of Bristol, and it became my lifeline. The moment I arrived, everything felt different. Bristol was vibrant, full of color, full of people who looked like they didn't fit into neat little boxes. For the first time, I felt hope.
I saw people living openly—drag queens strutting down the streets, same-sex couples holding hands, non-binary people proudly sharing their pronouns. It was like discovering an entire world I never knew existed, and I wanted so badly to be a part of it.
But years of shame don't just vanish overnight. Even though I was finally in a place where people might accept me, I struggled to accept myself. I spent those first few years of uni experimenting, trying to find my place. It wasn't until I discovered the term "non-binary" that things started to make sense. It was a name for everything I'd felt but never had words for.
Embracing My Identity
At 21, I started going by Elliot. It felt like taking ownership of my story for the first time. Coming out to my close friends was terrifying but liberating. For the first time, I felt seen. It wasn't all easy, though. There were days I doubted myself, wondered if I was just making things more complicated. But every time I walked through Bristol, seeing others living their truth, it reminded me that I wasn't alone.
Art became my lifeline. I found a home in Bristol's queer art scene, a space where I could express everything I felt inside without fear of judgment. I started volunteering at an LGBTQIA+ community center, helping organize events for queer youth. It felt like paying it forward—helping others like me find the support I never had growing up.
Living Authentically
Now, at 29, I work as an artist, focusing on designs that celebrate queer identity and body positivity. It's my way of reclaiming my body and helping others do the same. I live in a cozy flat in Stokes Croft, one of the most colorful and creative neighborhoods in Bristol. It feels like home—a place where I can walk down the street with my head held high, knowing that I'm finally living as my true self.
My relationship with my family is still complicated. Over the years, I've come out to them in pieces, letting them know bits of who I am. It's hard; they don't fully understand, and I don't think they ever will. But last Christmas, my mum sent me a card addressed to "Elliot." It was a small gesture, but it meant the world. It's a start, and maybe that's enough.
Looking Forward
I know I'm still figuring things out. There are days when I doubt myself, when I look in the mirror and feel that old confusion creeping back. But I'm learning to be patient with myself, to take pride in how far I've come. Living in Bristol, surrounded by my chosen family and community, I feel like I've finally found my place.
To anyone reading this who feels lost or alone: Your story matters. Your feelings are valid. There's a place in this world where you can breathe freely, where you can be wholly yourself. It might take time to find it, but don't give up. I'm living proof that it exists.