I had never heard of a Pride church until one was set on fire.
In case it needs to be (re)stated, I’m not so much a church person. I’ve seen organised religion do too much harm in the world. But if you have to have a church, I guess a Pride church for queer folks must be one of the least worst kinds. And when a colleague told me that their Pride church in the U.S. had been set on fire while they and their community were inside, I was reminded that we are in the middle of a war.
I’ve lived in Hungary since 2014 and seen first-hand the concerted government campaign to stir up hatred against the LGBTQI+ community. They often using tactics that originated in Russia: it’s no coincidence that the Russian Duma passed legislation prohibiting ‘propaganda’ among children of ‘non-traditional sexual relationships’ eight years before Hungary passed a very similar law in 2021. The Hungarian propaganda law is one of several pieces of anti-LGBTQI+ legislation and constitutional amendments the Government has enacted in the last decade (Hungarian news outlet, Telex, sets out a succinct summary of the laws and orchestrated campaign).
In April, the Hungarian Government went further, proposing a law that would allow people to report LGBTQI+ individuals and others for questioning the role of marriage between a man and a woman, family or the right of children to self-identify according to their birth sex. The law was vetoed by the President but the damage was done. Hungarian LGBTQI+ association, Háttér Társaság, explains that the purpose of proposing the law was to maintain the atmosphere of hostility towards LGBTQI people and strengthen self-censorship; to turn citizens against each other.
But we need to be careful about focusing our outrage on Russia, Hungary or other far-right governments (Uganda, for example, which has just adopted the death penalty for ‘aggravated homosexuality’). They’re directly following – and expanding on – a playbook written and legislated for in Britain in the 1980s. And the same anti-LGBTQ+ tactics are being replicated in the U.S. – along with other States, Florida is currently at the centre of heated criticism for legislation with parallels to that in Hungary. The Guardian draws out the linkages revealing these developments as part of a global, coordinated far-right effort that goes back 15 years and more.
To be honest, I hate writing this stuff. And I know it’s hard to read. To keep myself balanced and some hope in my heart, I stopped keeping up with the news. I avoid reading the endless stream of hurtful, frightening facts piling up on my social media feeds. So, instead, let me share a different kind of little story.
There are moments in life where everything comes unexpectedly together. Moments that don’t fade over time but live in your senses for years, decades afterwards. Watching the Vienna Pride parade in 2000 was one of those moments for me. I can still feel the softness of the grass I sat on. My ears are full of the waves of sound flooding the city: music, singing, families calling. Children, couples, friends chatting and laughing. The riot of colour was unimaginable to me – rainbow flags, boas, queens and kings, body paint, every flavour of make up and hair dye. And because it was a kink-themed Pride celebration, there were tops, bottoms, floggers, bondage and more ways of wearing leather and rope than I had thought there were body parts to put them on. I can even feel the weight of the sun on my bare shoulders as it did a great job of literally blistering them raw with the worst sunburn I’ve ever had. I knew I was burning badly but there was nothing in the world that would have dragged me away from that moment.
I was 19, on a family holiday. I was still catholic. I had painfully come out to just one person. She put me in touch with another lesbian in university and we had corresponded, anonymously, by email for several months. She was too afraid to share her name or meet in person so we gushed back and forth about Elle Macpherson in secret. I used computers in the university basement (no laptops back in the stone age, never mind mobile phones!). I made sure to always sit at a computer with my back to the wall so no one would see what I was typing. We were so ashamed and at the same time so relieved to have someone to talk to. Then my family holiday collided, quite by accident, with Vienna Pride.
It was the first time I had seen joy, love, acceptance and, well… pride associated with who I was. I was particularly transfixed by the children. Sitting on their parent’s shoulders, eating ice-cream, sleeping in their buggies. It was exactly like all the St. Patrick’s Day parades I’d gone to at that age. It was safe. It was fun. It was normal.
I came out to my Mum a few weeks later. I met my first girlfriend within six months. It took a lot more time and a lot more work but it was Pride that blew my mind, opened my heart and showed me a future that, for the first time, I actually wanted.
This Saturday (July 15) is Budapest Pride. It will be surrounded by the usual jack-booted fascists carrying hate slogans, yelling obscenities and dressed in black war gear. But somewhere, I know there will be a young queer person watching. Maybe they’re too scared to come. Maybe they’re walking past, hiding their stares. Maybe they’re with their parents or friends, pretending to agree with their homophobic or transphobic judgements. But they are watching. I remember how my heart felt 23 years ago and I hope they feel the same.
I’m sure we all know the story of the first Pride. Drag queens, trans folk and sex workers throwing rocks and punches in a rage against another raid at the Stonewall Inn. Pride in many places today may look like a celebration. But we should remember that it commemorates a riot. A resistance. A resilience. At every parade, we march, not just for ourselves but for those who can’t: Those who are too scared. Those who would be arrested or beaten if they did. Those who already gave their lives just to be seen.
And we march for those who will come when we have won this war. Who will wear their rainbows and celebrate without fear, just for the sheer pleasure and community of it.
If you want or need to talk, please reach out to me below. And if you can help, please think about supporting the amazing advocates at Budapest Pride or at Háttér Társaság who do incredible work in difficult circumstances (I’m not affiliated with either organisation but I think they’re awesome!).
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Riotous Resilience 