Posted: 01 / 07 / 2023
Pride is a celebration of one’s individuality, sexuality, and freedom of gender expression without the fear of judgement or bigotry from others within or outside the LGBTQIA+ community.
Pride provides a platform for education and positivity, bringing together communities historically at significantly higher risk of poverty, hate crime, abuse, and homelessness.
In recognition of this year’s celebrations and commemorations across our home cities of London, Liverpool, Leeds and Manchester, we caught up with some of our LGBTQ+ colleagues to shine a spotlight on what Pride – and the issues it addresses – means to them…
What is Pride?
As of 2021, Pride marches and other events focussed on LGBTQIA+ visibility were reported to have taken place in 107 countries, and this highlights just how much progress has been made in a significantly short period where queer individuals have gone from being vilified and hated to being celebrated for who they are.
In the UK and much of the globe it is easy to forget the roots of where Pride originated. While many of us within the LGBTQIA+ community and allies may see Pride as a massive party to celebrate who we are and do so while feeling safe and protected, Pride originally started as a marching protest to commemorate the Stonewall riots for gay liberation in late June 1969.
Following countless years of oppression and police brutality in Lower Manhattan, New York City, patrons at the Stonewall Inn from which the riots take their name, took action when police became violent during a raid of the gay bar, which was commonplace at the time. What followed was the formation of LGBTQIA+ residents into activist organisations determined to stand up to and overcome the oppressive regime and secure the rights that they deserved.
While Pride month gives us 3 days each June to actively embrace the LGBTQIA+ community it is worth remembering that queer people exist 365 days a year and that it doesn’t make a pride parade or a gaggle of drag queens to take pride in yourself and those around you. It should also be noted that while modern Pride in the UK typically has a festival-style feel to it which can include alcoholic beverages, there are spaces for reflection and growth. For example, the Monday of Manchester Pride is home to The Candlelight Vigil. The vigil presents a moment to mourn and remember those who have been lost to HIV as well as to stand united against the discrimination still faced by our community today such as those faced by our trans brothers, sisters, and non-binary family.
What is ‘coming out’?
Within the UK today, coming out has begun to feel like an antiquated practice.
In many communities, no longer are children and teenagers considered straight until told otherwise. There exists an understanding that being straight is not as common as it was once expected to be, and young people are given the space to grow and develop into young adults without the pressures of heteronormative conformity thrust upon them.
But even 10 years ago when I first came out to friends and family, there was an unspoken expectation that once you realised that you didn’t fit in with other people, that you were “different”, there was an obligation to let others in on your secret. In my case this was not a bad thing, I had an incredibly supportive network of family members and friends who cared for me for who I was not for who I was attracted to. My mum had simply noticed that by 16 years old I hadn’t shown any interest in the opposite sex and asked me the question directly. It probably helps that both my close and extended family have produced 10s of LGBTQIA+ relations, so I knew that I would be accepted for who I was. But for many, coming out is a source of major stress and worry.
There is no correct way to come out to someone. It could be done very formally to your mum and dad over the dinner table, or it could be done so casually in a conversation that if you weren’t paying close attention, you’d miss it altogether. As long as you feel safe and comfortable to do so, coming out can be a source of great relief and joy, with you finally being able to embrace every part of yourself without the need to keep secrets from those closest to you.
Of course, there are exceptions as no two people face the same situation. Always make sure you are in a situation where you feel safe and that you are never pressured to share information about yourself that you would rather remain secret. If the idea of coming out to everyone at once is overwhelming, maybe try to find one person who you trust most and tell them first. Sure, there is a chance that it might be a little awkward and you might not find the words, to sum up all your years of fear and questioning in a succinct little bow, but I’m sure afterward you’ll feel like a 10-tonne weight has been lifted. And you’ll get many chances to come out so think of each one as a stepping stone to finally realising your whole, unabashedly LGBTQIA+ self.
What does ‘queer’ mean?
Today, queer is a simple umbrella term for any person who does not identify as heterosexual or cisgender.
It is a short and sweet way of letting others know who you are without having to say “member of the LGBTQIA+ community” which can admittedly be a mouthful. ‘Queer’ is also a fantastic word for those who do not identify as heterosexual or cisgender but do fit into the discrete “gay”, “lesbian”, “bisexual”, “transgender” etc brackets. The term possesses an inherent flexibility that gives people the ability to grow and continue to understand themselves throughout their journey of self-discovery.
Taking pride in being called queer is also a protest of sorts. Originally, queer meant to be “strange”, “odd”, “peculiar”, or “eccentric” and very quickly it became a slur targeted towards LGBTQIA+ people as a means of vilifying and “othering” the community. But since the 1980s, the word has slowly been reclaimed, and no longer is there shame in being called queer. Instead, it is worn as a badge of honor, symbolising the need that LGBTQIA+ people no longer have to hide and constrict themselves to the heteronormative, cis-gendered ideology but instead can celebrate who they are.
Why is LGBTQ+ representation important?
For me, the phrase ‘If you can see it, you can be it’ is essential when it comes to this question.
I think one of the reasons that young people struggle when it comes to navigating their sexuality, is because they don’t see people that look like them. Role models are so important for young people who are growing up and figuring out who they are, and it is important that in all walks of life we can find someone who shares elements of their identity.
Media representation for LGBTQ+ identities has improved in recent years. Peppa Pig introduced a family with lesbian mothers (which my two-year-old niece and I love!) and more general dramas are inclusive of LGBTQ+ characters, which is great to see. This is something I wish became normalised so much earlier – because being queer is so normal!
We don’t have control over who we are attracted to, that’s the beauty of love and relationships, and no one should feel bothered because of their scope of loving.
How should I react to someone coming out to me?
Well, I can only speak for myself, but coming out for me was harder than it should have been.
I grew up around women and felt extremely comfortable around women. Growing up, I was always called gay, a ‘puff’ – all the slurs you can imagine – but I genuinely thought I was straight.
I had girlfriend after girlfriend, but when I was about 17 I had these strange feelings I hadn’t felt before about a man and straight away wanted to talk about it to my friends. As you can imagine, that was hard because I felt like I wasn’t expressing the feelings they probably would have expected.
So, I did come out to them, which was an extremely challenging thing for me to do because it is an important thing to announce. It was also an incredibly tricky thing to tell people who were not very familiar with that situation at the given time. Especially after being bullied by people being called ‘gay’ and genuinely not thinking you were.
The hardest thing for me was psyching myself up to admit to people I was bisexual and being told “We already knew” or “Well, that’s not a surprise”. The only way I can explain that feeling is like completing a marathon and people saying “Well, we knew you would do it”.
If someone comes out to you my advice is to just be interested and thank them for confiding in you. I would only ever have come out to the people who meant something to me.
Allyship to trans and non-binary communities
To me, being an ally to trans and non-binary people is about recognising that gender, like sexuality, is a fundamental part of someone’s identity.
When you deny it, you don’t just erase part of the person, you erase them completely. Asking trans and non-binary people to live in opposition to their authentic selves is the same as asking a lesbian, gay man, or bi person to repress their sexuality. It’s also the same as asking a straight/cis person to perform a gender identity or sexual orientation that they don’t identify with.
We should allow people to have authority over their gender, in the same way as we believe people should have autonomy over their sexuality, their faith or lack of, and their mental health status. We wouldn’t accept less for ourselves, so we must fight against those who deny the same respect to our trans and non-binary siblings.
Role modelling LGBTQ+ inclusivity in the workplace
I hope staff at Sedulo see me as a role model. As a lesbian and a feminist, I’ve always tried to be visible and not avoid talking about how different elements of my identity have intersected to shape my experiences at work.
It was witnessing a very public homophobic incident at a previous workplace that prompted me to quit that job and proactively pursue a career at the human rights charity Stonewall.
I’m absolutely committed to bringing everything I learnt there about building inclusive workplaces to Sedulo, so all our staff know that no matter how they identity, it won’t hold them back and that a full range of backgrounds and lived experiences are valued and celebrated here.