It feels a little soon to be back here writing again, but after this weekend I couldn’t not share. My last post was a bit heavier, and I wasn’t sure how quickly I’d return, yet here I am, still buzzing from something so joyful that I wanted to capture it while the feeling is fresh. Sometimes it’s good to pause and sit with those uplifting moments, especially when life doesn’t always offer them easily. So this post is about something that lifted me up in ways I didn’t quite expect: my first Pride.
My First Real Pride
On Saturday, I went to my very first Pride event. Well, the first one I went to intentionally anyway. I once ended up in the middle of “Pride in London” completely by accident, but that doesn’t really count. This time was different, and it’s all thanks to my Mum. She suggested we go together, and I can’t explain how loved that made me feel. She also read my last blog post (hi Mum!) and afterwards shared some thoughts. I won’t share the details here, but it gave us a much deeper understanding of one another. That in itself was a gift.
Mum, Stickers, and Sunflowers
Through the day, Mum picked up ALL the stickers. She found herself a badge that was the most beautiful sunflower pin, except the petals were in Pride colours. She also grabbed another badge that said something like “I’m kinder than my face suggests” which made me laugh, because I’ve always thought she looks like the warmest person anyway.
I think she found the whole experience emotional too. There were moments where I saw her eyes well up, and she had to compose herself. She saw the love that radiated through the community, and I think she started to truly understand why Pride is such a big deal. There’s something powerful about seeing parents with their kids, kids supporting parents, families walking together, and strangers cheering each other on simply for existing.
Why There Isn’t “Straight Pride”
We did end up having a discussion about why there isn’t a “straight” flag or a straight Pride month or march. I couldn’t quite put the words together in the moment, so I want to explain it here.
Pride began as a protest. It was born out of defiance in a world where LGBTQ+ people were criminalised, attacked, and silenced. It is not just a colourful celebration, it is a statement: we are here, and we deserve to live openly, safely, and equally. Straight people, by default, have never had to fight for the right to marry who they love, or to keep their jobs, or to exist without fear of violence because of who they are.
A “straight pride” isn’t needed because straight people have always been allowed to live openly without society punishing them for it. Pride is still needed today because those battles aren’t over. In fact, hate crime statistics against LGBTQ+ people in the UK have risen sharply in recent years. According to government data, reports of homophobic and transphobic hate crimes have more than doubled in the past five years. And those are just the ones reported, many never make it into the system. For too many people, simply showing up as themselves is still an act of bravery.
Being Seen, and Seeing Others
For me, one of the most moving things was realising how important it is both to be seen and to see others. Pride is full of small, quiet moments that can be just as powerful as the parades: a teenager holding their mum’s hand with a rainbow painted on their cheek, a dad carrying a sign that says “I love my trans son,” an older lesbian couple walking proudly together, hand in hand.
I met a “vintage” gay man dressed as extravagantly as anyone possibly could. He wore a burlesque-style dress and headpiece, and eyelashes so big I had to blink because my eyes hurt just looking at them. He told us he makes such a big deal out of it because he grew up gay at a time when it was illegal. Now, he goes over the top because he wants the younger generation to feel safe, to feel seen, and to know it’s okay to be proud of who they are. That stayed with me.
When I got home that night, I had the warmest, most elated feeling radiating through my body. For the first time in my life, I felt truly “seen.” That’s a feeling I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
Pride Is Joy, But It’s Also Safety
I had to stop myself from crying happy tears almost all day (although, let’s be honest, if you were ever going to have a breakdown, Pride might be the safest place you could do it).
That safety matters. Pride isn’t just about joy and glitter, though those things are vital too. It’s about reclaiming space in a world that doesn’t always welcome us. It’s about creating a visible reminder that LGBTQ+ people are not going anywhere, and that none of us should have to shrink ourselves to fit someone else’s idea of “acceptable.”
Managing My Conditions at Pride
One of the things I was mindful of through the day was managing my health so that I could fully enjoy it. Big events can be overwhelming when you live with ongoing conditions, so I made sure to prepare as best I could. The night before, I got myself to bed extra early and had some really heavy, restorative sleep (thanks to my medical cannabis). That gave me the best chance of starting the day on a good footing.
During Pride, I took breaks whenever I needed them, kept my medication to hand, and listened to my body when it told me to slow down. I didn’t stay longer than I thought I could manage, even though part of me wanted to keep soaking it all in. Afterwards, I made sure to spend the rest of the evening doing as little as possible so I wouldn’t burn out completely.
Today has been about gentle recovery too. We popped out to the shop earlier, and then I made time for some rest and a nap. Right now, I’m feeling okay, though I know from experience that I’ll need to watch carefully for any flare-ups over the next couple of days. It’s a balancing act, but one that was so worth it for such a meaningful day. Pride gave me joy and connection, and that feeling outweighs the careful planning it took to get there.
Small Steps Forward
I picked up my first Pride pin badges for my backpack, and even a ring with the bisexual flag colours on it. I left the ring on, and the stickers still on my t-shirt, when I got home. Dad didn’t say anything, which was a relief. I’m not sure I’m ready to be fully open around him yet, but we’re a step closer. Small steps still matter.
Thank You
So here I am, still buzzing from my first Pride. Thank you, Mum, for suggesting it. Thank you for being there with me, for seeing me, and for letting yourself be seen too.
If you’ve been to Pride, I’d love to hear what it meant to you. If you haven’t, I’d love to know how you imagine it might feel. And if you’re someone still on the fence about going, maybe next year’s Pride could be your first. You never know what it might spark in you.
Thanks Mum, you’re the best.
Sources & Resources
Stonewall: The history of Pride
