Being proud #072

My Pride march

Last Saturday I marched for the first time at London Pride.

I’ve never done it before. I’m not that type of person.

You know, the one that goes on demos or marches. Perish the thought I cause a disturbance.

But this year it felt different.

Different

Different because of the recent Supreme Court ruling around the definition of a woman, which I write about in week #063. The rolling back of Diversity Equity and Inclusion (DEI) policies by Trump in the US and copied by some here in the UK. The drop in corporate sponsorship for Pride events this year. The rise of Reform and the recent book ban in Kent. And the opportunity all of this gives to those so inclined to, at best, ignore minority groups or those who choose to love differently, or, at worse, persecute them.

This nascent erosion of hard fought rights caused me to take part.

Marching

The group I marched with, the London Borough of Havering, courtesy of a friend of mine, Barbara, who is a Director there, met at Grosvenor Square at 1200.

At 1300 we filtered into our delegated section of the gathering floats and marchers on Park Lane, slap bang outside The Dorchester. We were held there for an hour, entertained by the various sound systems blasting out gay anthems; impromptu line dancing and grooving an inevitable and joyful consequence.

We started to move about 1430 crawling down Park Lane and on to Piccadilly. The crowds gathering as we marched.

I’d been told about the religious zealots with megaphones situated just before The Ritz who would regale us ‘sinners’ with prophecies of eternal damnation. What I hadn’t expected was the multiple faith groups who instead warmly supported and invited us all in. One such group even holding a sign saying:

“Sorry about them”

Crowds

The march was stop-start.

As we edged along we were entertained by the cool trombone player who marched with our group. His repeated renditions of ‘When the Saints come marching in’, ‘La Cucaracha’ and the opening chords from ‘Man I feel Like a Woman’ lifting us and the thickening crowds.

The crowds were a highlight for me.

People had travelled from near and far. All ages, races and genders. There to cheer, clap and party.

Party

The gay, or more correctly the LGBTQIA+, community partied in Soho on Saturday. And why on earth not. But make no mistake, these same leather clad, feathered, colourful, dancing, butch, femme, they/them people are human, just like you (they may even be you). Each a contributing member of society who want no more or less than equality, acceptance and to feel safe.

When the march finished in Whitehall we were exhausted, hungry and with aching feet - well, at my age standing, dancing and walking around for 5 hours plus takes its toll 😊. We ‘took a load off’ (aka sat down), grabbed a pizza and reenergised before joining our friends to celebrate at the Women’s Stage in Leicester Square.

Reflections

It was quite a day.

Fun. Uplifting. Uniting. Yet still a poignant reminder of how loosely the human rights of some are held. Quite a thing for a middle aged, middle class, white, educated and financially comfortable woman to have to contemplate. Just imagine how it may feel for others…

You

As ever, I am interested in you. Where do you stand on marches and demonstrations? What purpose do you think they serve? And have you ever felt or experienced a sense that your human rights are being impinged? Do drop me a line, I’d love to hear from you.

And remember, you’re never going to be any younger than you are today - what cause or group have you been thinking about supporting but not quite got round to? What are you waiting for?

Until next week my friends,

Ruth x

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