What Having No Pride Has Taught Me

This is the second time in 17 years that I haven’t put on some kind of jazzy shirt and made my way into the throbbing crowds of a summer Pride celebration.

Over the years I’ve had the pleasure of standing on stage in the middle of Soho riling up thousands of people on the street (I was asked to do this before you assume I was being disorderly), exposing myself to things I had never seen before as an 18-year-old in Manchester, and enjoyed triple-tiered sunburn as a Gaydar promo-person in Brighton (I was made to change outfit three times as I bounced from one job to another that weekend).

It still chokes me up the thought of the numerous emergency egg mayonnaise sandwiches consumed like a seagull in an alleyway in an attempt to achieve some level of sobriety for the walk back to town from Preston Park.

I’ve even put a lemon down a pilot’s shirt.

Truth be told, I’d been feeling ‘a bit too old’ for all of that for the last few years and had begun to avoid the more excessive elements of Pride, opting for the more low-key street parties and DIY events. It’s not that I wasn’t proud anymore, I just didn’t feel much about it either way.

This year and last has been an opportunity to work out why this might be. With no FOMO (fear of missing out) acting as an impetus to just go out anyway, it was interesting to reflect on what that felt like. As one of those extra-fun non-drinkers (ex-drinker?) I did wonder whether it was purely the lack of alcohol lubricating the often-overwhelming Pride experience. But I just don’t think that’s the whole story.

Whilst this hedonistic frivolity was all good fun (if all a little lacking in class), one thing it certainly lacked was politics.

Pride is a protest, of course. It’s also so much more than that. Over the years Prides across the UK have become an opportunity to take a break, to come together and to forget some of the rougher parts of being part of the LGBTQ plus community. A couple of days to take for granted that you’re one of many and for those sacred hours - that you are the majority. A time when you don't need to explain yourself. Pride has become an invitation to step back and just ‘be’.

Perhaps the recent lack of partying is a reminder that the politics don't just go away and that the fight for inclusion and basic rights goes on. It’s also an invitation for allies to think about what they’re really in this for. Do allies just like rocking up to the party, enjoying a few Drag Queens dancing merrily or can they stomach standing by us when there is no grand parade, no disco, no queer joy? Can I be proud myself with no flags and indulgence and all-nighters?

I'm so proud to be part of this community and I'm so grateful for the allies that continue to support us in pushing forwards; whether that's at home, in the workplace or within our public services. What having no Pride has taught me is who sticks around when the party is over. It’s also a stark reminder of what that party was started for in the first place. Pride is a protest, and that protest doesn't need to always be on the streets. That process goes on in every queer kid’s bedroom, every school, every workplace, and every time someone is on the receiving end language or behaviour that denies them their dignity.

Don't get me wrong I will force myself to go out when things are back up and running again even if I am turning into a boring old fart. What I do need to remember is that Pride goes on with or without the party. We’ve got so much more to offer the world than just a great weekend.