It took a while for me to come out, even to myself. I’d had a feeling in the pit of my stomach for years that something was up. A heterosexual boy shouldn’t be endlessly rewinding Chris O’Donnell, removing the plastic film from his lips after kissing Poison Ivy in the much-maligned (/misunderstood) 1997 masterpiece Batman and Robin. A heterosexual boy doesn’t tend to watch and rewatch Freddie Mercury interviews and cry because he never got to meet him. As the years went on, these little clues accumulated and became harder and harder to ignore.
I remember finding a leaflet in a church once when I was about 12 that discussed what to do if you thought you might be having same-sex attraction, and I remember distinctly (because it brought me a lot of reassurance at first) that it said not to worry because, after all, this might just be a phase. Great!
However, a couple of years passed and it became clear that, no, it wasn’t a phase at all. Damn. Maybe I should’ve sued.
So finally, I was 14 or 15, and I was in my room late one night, and I mouthed the words to myself: “Pedro, you’re gay”. And then I think I probably said something like, “For fuck’s sake.” I had enough to worry about. I had a Geography project on soil erosion to hand in. I didn’t have time for this. I can’t be gay; I’m busy!
What I decided that night in my room was that I wasn’t going to tell anyone until I went to university. This gave me 4 years to work hard at becoming maximally loveable so that by the time I came out, it would be much more difficult for people to reject me. Of course, people might be disgusted when they hear my terrible secret. But it’s much harder to be disgusted by someone if they’ve really rocked their Geography project on soil erosion.
My debut Edinburgh stand-up hour, Soft Animal, is in large part inspired by this journey. It also leans heavily on the ideas in The Velvet Rage, a book by the clinical psychologist Alan Downs. Specifically, one of the central ideas of his book is that gay boys will, from a young age, way before they know they’re gay, identify that there is something different about them and that the world is going to reject that difference. So, in order to offset that rejection that they see over the horizon, they achieve as much as possible. They work hard to become the funniest, the cleverest, the richest, the most successful. In the hopes, I suppose, that by the time they come out, people will think “yes, Pedro’s gay which is disgusting, but at least he speaks Italian.”
I suppose that that model has stayed with me. And so even though I’ve been out of the closet for over 10 years (which I think means I count as a wise gay elder), there is still a part of me that believes that I will only be loveable if I’m good at things. I will only be loveable if I’m handsome, rich, talented, delightful at dinner parties.
It’s strange how much longevity that model has. I think one of the reasons for that longevity is that a sort of Stockholm Syndrome develops: the feeling that I’m only conditionally loveable is, at least in part, responsible for my career, my artistic skill and some of my outward-looking personality. Believing that I’m only loveable if I’m accomplished andclever and funny may be unhelpful but it does undoubtedly make me more fun at dinner parties. And if I get rid of that unhealthy model of accruing love, will I turn into an untalented ugly bore? How many BAFTAs does the enlightened Buddhist monk have?
I like being funny! I’d love a BAFTA! And yet I know that those desires are products of the Velvet Rage model of feeling lovable only conditionally. So it’s one of those situations where… I’d love to experience growth and discard unhelpful desires that have been borne of shame, but can I do that like in a couple of years when I’m the lead in a successful sitcom that runs for a decade, and I’ve bought a house? Honestly, though, can’t wait to be enlightened, promise!
My show is an exploration of all of this and you should come see it if you’d like a funny version of this article with some extra bits thrown in about dating, my lovely relationship with my dad or how I feel about the musical Hamilton. Plus, if you come and laugh and clap and talk about it to your friends and help make the show.
Pedro Leandro: Soft Animal is on 30 July – 24 August, 2025, at Bunker Two, Pleasance Courtyard, 60 Pleasance, Edinburgh EH8 9TJ, United Kingdom.
More about Pedro Leandro
Pedro’s childhood was quite unconventional. He is half Spanish and half Portuguese, and he was born and raised in Brussels, where English was his fourth language. In 2012, he moved to the UK to study Philosophy at the University of Edinburgh. After completing his studies, he gained critical acclaim as a playwright.
Pedro trained as an actor at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, graduating in 2018. Since then, he has worked extensively on stage and screen. His recent projects include performances with the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) in 2023 and roles in productions such as The Liberator (Netflix), Citadel (Amazon), Domina (Sky), and Wonder Woman 1984.
As a playwright, Pedro’s work has received significant recognition. His play We Were Having a Perfectly Nice Time was nominated for three OffWestEnd Awards, including Most Promising New Playwright. Additionally, his 2022 Fringe play Fiji was nominated for two Offies, including Best Lead Performance.
