An online space for queer, questioning, lesbian, bi, trans and everything else in between women at Yale

Saturday, July 3, 2010


Today, I went to my first Gay Pride ever. I'm in London on independent research, so there's no parents or bad timing to ruin my plans to attend Pride! Anyways, I'm assuming most of the readers have already been to a Pride. Rainbow flags and paraphernalia everywhere, ridiculous costumes, hundreds of amazing people packing the streets, and just so much spirit. London had a march that started up in Baker Street and ran all the way down to Trafalgar Square, where a huge concert was held all day. Various artists performed, and the Square had multiple bars and food stands--like an adult carnival!

Ok, so I'm horrible at providing a worthy description of London Pride. But I'm posting because I wanted to share one particular event happened today that really touched me. As I'm walking down Regent's Street, half watching the march and half observing passersby, I notice that there's a small group (fewer than 20 individuals) of protesters picketing Pride (religious reasons). I then see this straight couple walking in on the scene. They first see the protesters, and then look out to the massive crowds waving rainbow flags and just having fun...and the couple smiles. And their faces are perfect pictures of wistfulness and awe. And I could be projecting my feelings onto them, but the point is, at that moment, I suddenly realized what it means to have Gay Pride. In bringing all these homosexuals, bisexuals, and trans people together, Pride shows the world our prevalence, prominence, and strength. For me, Pride moved me deeply to see all these individuals come out and stand for their rights and to rejoice in their identities. At that moment, I actually almost cried from happiness, and I never cry unless it's something intensely personal--like a death or something.

I remember reading somewhere once that going to a gay pride event will do infinitely more in helping someone accept themselves than spending years on a psychologist's couch. I now realize just how empowering Pride can be, and how true this argument is.