Pride, for me, is about a celebration of how far we’ve come as a community in the last fifty years. It is also a time to remember those who didn’t have the same rights we enjoy, like being able to be open about who we are and who we love.
We celebrate that we live in a country where, and at a time when, we can get married, have or adopt children, and where HIV is no longer a death sentence and in many cases is non-transmissible.
We remember that even today there are parts of the world where homosexuality is illegal and punishable by death, and where miseducation and poverty mean that HIV and AIDS destroy entire populations.
We celebrate that we can celebrate, because in the past so many people couldn’t, and still can’t.
In the UK we have had many struggles. The treatment of people who contracted HIV in the 1980s (largely, but not exclusively gay men) is a scandal. Section 28 of the Local Government Act 1988, which prohibited local authorities and schools from teaching, promoting or publishing materials that suggested homosexuality was an ‘acceptable pretended family relationship’, has a legacy even today. It’s worth noting that Section 28 was repealed in the 1990s. Other moves like allowing homosexuals to serve in the military, the ban on discrimination in goods and services, and the creation of civil partnerships leading to same-sex marriage have all happened relatively recently.
Even right here and right now there is still a way to go. Maybe not in terms of legislation and maybe not in terms of prevailing social attitudes in the UK. We do not live in an outwardly homophobic society, but that doesn’t mean homophobia doesn’t exist in our society and culture. Homophobic and transphobic attacks still take place, and homophobic and transphobic bullying is still widespread in schools. Campaigns like the one to ‘kick homophobia out of football’ (Football vs. Homophobia) show that there are still pockets of our country where queer people don’t feel welcome.
So yes, for me Pride is a celebration and a time to remember how far we’ve come and - to coin an overly used phrase - to stand on the shoulders of giants whose hard-won battles we benefit from today, and to acknowledge that this isn’t the case everywhere.
Most importantly, Pride is a protest. For me that will always be the most fundamental part. Perhaps during my lifetime we will edge closer to absolute equality in this country, but as long as there are parts of the world where you can be criminalised or put to death for being queer, we need to continue to consider Pride a protest.
The first ever Pride march took place over fifty years ago after a gay bar called the Stonewall Inn, in Greenwich, New York, was raided by police and the customers chose to fight back sparking a week of protests by people who had had enough of being treated like second-class citizens.
And as a community we have been marching ever since, and slowly over the years more and more countries are marching with us.
Pride, as an event, is far from perfect. Many big Pride marches are over-commercialised and overtaken by companies who want to be seen to be LGBT+ friendly. As a disabled person, I can say that they aren’t the easiest events to engage with. Even if you don’t march but want to support the parade, it can mean standing for literally hours to cheer throughout the whole procession. But, if the commercialisation means that we can keep marching, then so be it.
So long as we keep celebrating, keep remembering, but most importantly keep protesting.
James Chick, Library Support Assistant and LGBT+ Staff Community member
Pronouns: he/him
