Coming of age in the 2010s felt like a time when optimism and unapologetic self-expression were at the forefront of every new glitzy TV series that came our way. From the infectious and explosive energy of Glee to the charming and raw depictions of womanhood in Girls and Fleabag – I came to understand myself and my own identity in a world surrounded by TV that told me it was okay to be different.

Fast forward a decade and those bright-eyed dreams of living out and proud as an LGBTQ+ person can still feel like an aspiration or a dream that only truly exists in the world of fiction.

But Channel 4s new hard-hitting drama Tip Toe has managed to find a slither of optimism in our continually fractious society – and not by showcasing our daily life choreographed to elaborate musical numbers or telling me that I need to ‘just be myself’ and that everything will be okay, but by directly tackling the issue of what it really means to be part of the LGBTQ+ community in the current moment.

Before viewing the first two episodes of Russell T. Davies’s new drama I was apprehensive. LGBTQ+ storytelling in our current age tends to live in two camps: ‘trauma porn’ or ‘retroactively healing’ – think Euphoria or Heartstopper. It’s either the darkest moments of the queer experience shown in their most concentrated form, or two young queer folk learning about themselves and their community in ways many of us could only have dreamed of.

Both play an important role for their intended audiences, but their broader focus often means they fail to capture the day-to-day realities of being LGBTQ+ in the UK, from barriers in the workplace to challenges at home and in relationships.

And as important as those shows are, they often speak solely to LGBTQ+ audiences and not the people who arguably need them most.

But if anyone can bridge that divide, it’s Russell T Davies.

His reputation for tackling queer subject matter with much-needed nuance and honesty is evident – see It’s A Sin, Banana/Tofu, Queer As Folk.

But there’s something that struck me about Tip Toe that Davies summed up perfectly during a post screening Q&A at the BFI. “You could make a Jewish version of this drama, you could make a disabled version of this drama, women could make this drama. I see straight white men who could make this drama, feeling marginalised.”

Read more:

Tip Toe’s brilliance isn’t just in its ability to centre the queer community via Leo, played by Radio Times cover star Alan Cumming, but the way it uses his point of view to reflect the vast amount of competing perspectives we encounter every day, and the sense of alienation that can emerge as a result.

Whether it’s when he’s sparring with his neighbour Clive played by David Morrissey, or when we see him alongside his chosen family at the club he owns on Manchester’s Canal Street, we as an audience are reminded of just how many people there are in the world – with opinions that don’t always match our own. It reflects what it looks like to walk down our local high street or scroll through Instagram when we’re waiting for the bus.

I remember in the late 2010s when I came out as non-binary, I struggled speaking to people who disagreed with me – especially when it was intrinsically linked to my identity. I was bold and brash – an activist in spaces where it was just one vast echo chamber. People outside of that safe bubble would ask if I’d like to identify as a helicopter, or scoffed when friends would use ‘they/them’ pronouns when speaking to me. I couldn’t handle the knowledge that there were people in the world that hated my difference – so I simply pretended that it didn’t exist.

But as I’ve grown older, it’s become increasingly difficult to ignore just how much more divided the world has become. The average life satisfaction score for trans and non-binary people in the UK is 5.5, compared to 7.7 for the general population – and the radicalisation of online spaces such as X has meant that if people don’t like you, you’re going to know about it.

But with time, I now understand that shying away from our differences as a society only pushes us further into our own echo chambers, and even further away from a solution. Even if we vehemently disagree with what our neighbour is saying, putting our fingers in our ears and pretending they don’t exist is no longer a solution that I can abide by.

That’s what Tip Toe captures so perfectly. It doesn’t portray one group as inherently better than the other – it simply lays out the range of lived experiences that coexist in modern Britain, and the potentially devastating consequences of failing to listen to one another.

I can see myself in every character, even the ones who, on paper, I would disagree with – which is exactly why the whole country should be tuning in.

So, while plenty of shows have come before it, I feel more seen and represented in Tip Toe than ever before, and not just because it showcases the reality of what it’s like to be openly queer and trans right now, but because it depicts the reality of living in a country struggling to keep its head above water. I’m represented not just as a young queer person forced to contend with homophobia and transphobia casually thrown my way, but as someone dealing with the same pressures facing many people today: rising energy bills, economic uncertainty and fears of war.

So if the coming-of-age dramas of the 2010s helped me come out and understand who I am, it’s shows like Tip Toe that remind me of how important it is to fight for what’s right and remember the proud political roots the LGBTQ+ community was built on.

It’s shows like Tip Toe that make me proud to be different. Why? Because despite the challenges we face, at the heart of our experience is community.

Seeing our stories told by queer men like Davies and Cumming allows us, as an LGBTQ+ audience, to finally feel seen – not through perfect, rose-tinted representation, but in a way that validates our frustrations. Despite, at times, the show feeling like a slap across the face, it also feels like a hand on the shoulder that acknowledged what we’re going through right now. And sometimes, simply feeling understood is enough to remind us that we’re not facing those challenges alone.

Amid the violence and the terrifying rise in anti-LGBTQ+ hatred online and on our streets – much of it fuelled by misinformation – it’s our community togetherness and strength, as well as our ability to listen to those outside our bubble, that offers a solution. And I’m glad to be reminded of that through the power of TV.

Tip Toe continues with episode 3 at 9pm on Channel 4 on 7 June. Episodes 1 and 2 can be streamed on Channel 4 online.

Add Tip Toe to your watchlist on the Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more.

Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what’s on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.