On Pride
Earlier this week, I was at a Pride event, when a fellow speaker (and bona fide ‘National Treasure’) asked me ‘Are you as tired as me?’
She meant it literally (and yes), but I guess we could also mean it metaphorically. Either way, this blog is about the work of Pride and the ‘where do I actually fit in’ of Pride (but maybe not in the way you’d think). As well as finally, some gratitude for Pride.
Firstly, yes, I’m tired. This Pride month has been a chaotic juggling of other responsibilities and work (one such project, when it is finished, shall be referred to henceforth as ‘the Chaos Demon Project’ or ‘the thing that killed me’, depending on the outcome). It’s also been a book launch, book edits, book proposals, all the book things, but also yes, Pride-related work things. Which, however you look at it- gratitude or not- takes up time and energy.
It’s energy I’m happy to give, and I think it’s worth noting that while in previous years I’ve spent Pride month doing a lot of corporate talks, this year all my Pride month work is unpaid. This is partly on me because the aforementioned other work chaos, and other reasons, meant I didn’t really go hustling for corporate gigs. However, the quietness of corporate gigs, where I usually get one or two sliding into my inbox, asking me to explain the rainbow…silence this year. Make of that what we will.
But in terms of unpaid labour for Pride, I am firmly in the camp of: we should, if we are able, give it. Maybe the Brownies brainwashed me at a young age (not that well because I lasted all of half a term in Guides), but I’ve always been of the Baden-Powell-esque opinion that lending a hand is good for everyone. While I don’t agree with the ‘everyone works for exposure’ mentality, along with a lot of things, the pushback on that has gone too far to mean that we’ve made giving up our time for ‘free’ some kind of dirty word…when in fact it’s about community. So, while yes, Pride this year has been incredibly busy with no monetary gain for me, I don’t think the latter is a bad thing… it is, in fact, what Pride is really about. Don’t get me wrong, I can and will take money from corporate organisations who can very much afford it, and while tokenism isn’t to be applauded, tokenistic work that also pays me, a Queer, is for me also perfectly acceptable. Queer Labour should be paid when it’s part of someone else’s profit, but we should also expect to put our time into the community and not be compensated for it, because that’s how you get things done.
And look, I’m not even doing that much- I’m doing some talks and workshops, it’s not hard labour here, and it’s something I enjoy. I’m well aware there are folks doing more than I currently am for our community… but it’s about giving what we can, too.
All this to say, this ‘Queer Labour’, for want of another way to put it, has become what Pride month is about for me. And not in any virtue signalling way, it has given it meaning for me too. Not that in an objective sense I lacked knowledge of its meaning and importance, but in being part of making sure the why of Pride month is understood even by a handful of people, I feel part of Pride month in a way I never used to.
Because no, a lot of the usual Pride shenanigans are not my cup of tea…mainly because a cup of tea is more my cup of tea than shots. And this isn’t the point that perhaps you think it is.
In other corners of the internet, I’ve seen a lot of bean-soupery about Pride Month. How it’s inaccessible, not in the sense that individual Prides aren’t accessible- which of course we should be doing our utmost to do (with the caveat that not everything can be made perfectly accessible to everyone, particularly outdoor community-run events), no, the protests, pardon the pun, are ‘Prides aren’t things that I LIKE to do, therefore it’s inaccessible. I’ve seen even complaints that a running group dared to have a Pride run, and that the person complaining online could not run (this run, the internet also confirmed, was accessible to wheelchair users, and hosted so that walkers could take part, the person simply did not…like running). If this Pride run had been the ONLY Pride event, maybe, maybe they’d have a point. But really, what we see more and more are community organisations like that running club putting on a Pride event, and getting torn apart because it isn’t the first choice of a handful of people in how to celebrate Pride.
But guess what? My entire life, the ‘traditional’ way to celebrate Pride, with club nights, sex, and lots of people, has never been my idea of ’a nice day out ’, as Gary Barlow said. That’s not Pride’s fault. That’s not Pride being ‘inaccessible’, that is a personal preference. It’s like Otters versus Bears, Butch versus Femme, it’s a personal preference, and neither is right or wrong. I just…don’t like drinking, clubbing or being of the asexual persuasion, had casual sex at the top of my list (not all asexuals before someone comes for me).
The point is, too, that parties and the drinking that can go with them are an important part of Pride. Celebrating in the face of oppression. But also, yes, club spaces have historically been places where we can be ourselves. Clubs should be part of Pride celebrations and everything that goes with them. Yes, including the sex, casual or otherwise, because queer sex is political and defiant, and again belongs at Pride (in an appropriate setting, don’t scare the neighbours, etc., unless they’re into that).
When I say traditional Prides are not for me, I’m not saying Prides are the problem; I’m also not the problem. It’s just an acknowledgement that the traditional coming together (pardon the pun) of the community was never a set of activities that appealed to me. It’s busy, it’s hot, it’s drunk, non merci.
But the onus isn’t on stopping that traditional Pride, it’s making sure we have alternatives. And in that comes the kind of community work I’m talking about. For me, it’s giving talks, running workshops, etc., for others it’s running Pride runs, or queer book clubs, or cooking events or alternative Pride spaces. And add to that if we want to get away from commercial Prides (spoiler, we do, especially in this political climate) then that takes volunteers, it takes community, and yes, being tired.
And here’s my maybe controversial take on all this. Even if normal Prides, with clubbing and parties and 90s pop stars, are your Christmas…you also owe the community side some support. Because firstly, one day and possibly soon, the commercial Pride bubble will burst, and you’ll need those community-driven events. But also, it might not be right now, you might right now be living your best party Pride life and good for you (I mean that sincerely, Queer joy is Queer joy), but there will probably be a moment in your life you need queer community in some form or other, and you don’t get to have community without giving into that community.
And that, for me, is what Pride is about.
Filling the cup of community, whatever that looks like.
And metaphorically, yes, I’m tired too. I don’t think I need to labour the point about the wider world in this blog; we’re all well aware. And I’m lucky that my Welsh bubble is (relatively) better than some places in the UK and definitely better than many other places. But also, there’s the other exhaustion, the ‘the left eating itself’ exhaustion that comes with trying to do any of this stuff- there will always be someone who says what you’re doing isn’t the right thing, or it’s not including x or y thing. Quite often, that’s saying ‘you’re doing a running club when I wanted a swimming club’, but that person has done nothing to create a swimming club. But for those of us who do stuff for the community (and I don’t do nearly as much as others), we’re the ones told we’re not doing enough. Which, I guess, brings me back around to the point above: give to your community yourself.
These past few years, though, despite that noise, I have felt part of the community in ways I hadn’t for two decades of being under the rainbow….for the longest time, I did think that the only way to find queer spaces was in clubs and pubs and beds…and that was never going to be me. But I’ve found community in so many ways, and found that people like and respect what I do as part of that community also…more to the point, I’ve found people in my community that are like me, and that finally do feel part of something.
On that note, a moment of shameless self-congratulation that I made the Pinc List- a list of, I guess, ‘notable’ LGBTQ+ folks in Wales, for the first time. I’m very grateful to whoever nominated me, and if nothing else, it inspires me to be more obnoxiously queer in the next 12 months.