As I read the news that Pride in London has been cancelled, I felt deep disappointment.
While the announcement was not entirely unexpected, I feel frustrated. It is an insult to the LGBT+ community and our allies.
Why is LGBT+ representation taking a backseat after so many other public events have happened this summer like the opening of clubs, festivals and sporting events?
Pride isn’t just a parade, it is not just a party in the street. Nor is it just an opportunity to come together to be visible.
At its heart, Pride is fundamentally a protest. An objection against the discrimination, hatred, and assaults that too many people in the LGBT+ community continue to be subjected to on a daily basis, across the country.
We need marches to shine a light on these attacks, and to use our voices to demand change. The past year has taught us of the importance of demonstrations.
We have seen widespread protests, sparked by the murder of George Floyd in the US, over the racial discrimination that still exists in our society.
We saw the response to the horrific murder of Sarah Everard at the hands of a serving police officer.
I need Pride to raise my voice and shout against the abuse the LGBT+ community receives.
Earlier this year, I had my own experience of homophobic assault, as I was spat at and called a f****t in the street by a man as I was on my way to my office.
I was fortunate at the time to work for a Member of Parliament who used his agency to highlight what had happened to me in a debate in the Commons.
Sadly, it was not the first time I’d encountered such behaviour and – most despairingly – I know it won’t be the last.
But this pales in comparison to what other members of the LGBT+ community have experienced, and it is these injustices that require us to take to the streets for Pride.
An attack on one is an attack on all, and LGBT+ people need to come together to demand better.
Last week, it was reported that a young gay couple had been viciously attacked in Edinburgh; onlookers stood by while they were kicked, punched, and spat on.
There were horrendous assaults on gay men in Liverpool last month, with photos widely shared on social media showing young men left battered and bruised.
In London in 2019, two lesbian women were beaten on a bus by a group of boys for refusing to kiss for their entertainment.
For our trans friends, research in 2020 by LGBT+ anti-violence charity Galop has shown that four in five people had experienced a form of transphobic hate crime.
This is why Pride is so important.
It’s not just about glitter and spritz, but rather a very real need to stand together against homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia, and speak with one voice that we have the right to exist.
I’ve been to Pride in London for several years, and have joined Pride in my hometown of Leeds – it’s important to me and all LGBT+ people.
It is also particularly vital for younger members of our community who may not yet have come out to see that Love Means Love, no matter who you are or how you identify, and that, always, Love Trumps Hate.
When protests like Pride are cancelled, it’s impossible not to reflect on the mass events that have been given the green light.
It is particularly galling to have seen the disgraceful behaviour on display during the recent Euros.
Like many, I cheered on England to bring it home, and was impressed with the professionalism and dedication on display by our brilliant team both on and off the pitch.
Sadly, this was not replicated by all the fans who were watching.
Too many LGBT+ friends have spoken about being fearful walking back from Soho during a match night: worried about holding their partner’s hand, kissing in public, or simply being who they want to be.
It seems perfectly acceptable for tens of thousands of football fans to come together – largely unmasked and (at the time) unvaccinated.
And yet we in the LGBT+ community are told by Pride in London that we must wait another year to decry the attacks on us, and on our rights.
Next year will mark 50 years since the first official UK Gay Pride Rally was held in London, at a time when society refused to recognise the basic human rights of LGBT+ people.
The fight for LGBT+ equality has come so far in recent decades: same-sex sexual activity; same-sex civil partnerships and marriages; same-sex adoption; open service in the military; changing legal gender; and more – all have been legalised under the law.
Those trailblazers who came before us have smashed down barriers and fought for change so that younger and newer members of our community can live and love more openly than we could before.
However, there is still so much work to be done to ensure that this is true for all members of the LGBT+ family, and it is important to stand up for ourselves, to live peaceably, free from fear of assault and oppression.
While Pride in London is not happening this year, communities across the UK are stepping up to host their own protests, parades, and celebrations, and I encourage everyone to look at how they can get involved – and support local LGBT+ businesses – in their area.
And I’ll see you at Pride in 2022.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing angela.pearson@metro.co.uk.
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from News – Metro https://ift.tt/2X9GwjX
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