Fifty years after the gay rights movement kicked off, the Big Apple is taking Pride in its history, says EMILIA HARRIS RAINBOW WARRIORS
WE’RE singing Britney at the top our lungs, crammed into the makeshift dance floor like a selection of rainbowcoloured pick-and-mix sweets. I’ve got a G&T in one hand, I’m fist-pumping with the other, then suddenly I’m joining an airborne conga line with my comrades, who were strangers just a few hours ago.
I’m at 35,000ft, halfway across the Atlantic, and zooming towards Newark on Virgin Atlantic’s first Pride Flight. It’s been one big on-board party.
New York City is our final destination, where LGBTQ+ culture is ingrained in the city’s history. The modern Pride movement started here 50 years ago, following The Stonewall Riots.
I’m here for World Pride, the world’s biggest. The hot June sun blazes down over plumes of steam rising from manhole covers, and rainbow flags punctuating each street corner make things feel less concrete jungle, and more rainbow rainforest.
But NYC isn’t just a destination for celebrations during Pride month.
One in 10 visitors each year is LGBTQ+, making it one of the most popular cities in the world amongst the community.
Nowhere is this inclusiveness more evident than in Greenwich Village, the bustling West Side neighbourhood, where scantily clad drag queens strut past stroller-pushing Manhattan moms en-route to brunch.
‘The Village’ as the locals refer to it, is home to The Stonewall Inn, the location of the 1969 Stonewall Riots, which saw violent clashes break out between the police and the gay community, sparking the modern Pride movement. It’s also home to quiet leafy streets, delightful neighbourhood cafes, and popular TV locations (Sex And The City’s Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment can be found at 66 Perry St).
I join an Oscar Wilde Walking Tour led by the charming Andrew Lear, a Greenwich local, a Harvard professor who specialises in Ancient Greek Homosexual Relations, and a good friend of Stephen Fry. We wind through the Village, stopping at historic locations, including the Stonewall Inn, Julius Bar (NYC’s first
gay bar), Washington Square and finish up at the spot where the first ever Pride March gathered five decades ago.
Hunger pangs strike and I make a beeline for Bleecker Street Pizza.
Their numerous awards ensure a queue, but it’s worth the wait.
My legs ache, but this is New York and there’s a whole city to explore, so I jump on the subway heading Downtown.
The afternoon is spent at the 9/11 Memorial & Museum, which features galleries, artefacts, and personal stories from survivors and those who lost their lives, helping to narrate the horrific events that unfolded on September 11, 2001, and the World Trade Center bombing of 1993.
The crushed mobile phones, broken shoes and ripped wallets recovered from the scene are particularly harrowing, staying in my thoughts long after I leave the museum.
Outside the museum, you’ll find the 9/11 Memorial Plaza, including two huge memorial pools built in the footprints of the original Twin Towers, the bronze edgings of each one engraved with the names of those who lost their lives during the 2001 and 1993 attacks.
Afterwards, I pop next door for an evening at the One World Observatory, which starts with a short, illustrated movie about New York’s transformation from uninhabited island to skyscraper utopia. Lift doors ping open to panoramic views of Manhattan, with New Jersey also visible across the Hudson river.
At 541m above ground, the building is nearly twice the height of The Shard and the sixth tallest building in the world. I push my face up against the glass, looking down at the miniature world underneath me, lapping up the dazzling view.
Legs finally giving out, I take the 10-minute walk back to The Beekman, my chic digs for the weekend. Its iconic brownstone architecture has been an NYC landmark since 1881, and the interior is a perfectly styled mismatch of tasselled lampshades, luxurious leather couches, and a polished timber reception desk, its front adorned in vintage Persian rugs.
I snap a quick picture of the wrought iron, nine-story atrium, each floor lit up with a different colour of the rainbow, before falling into bed.
Next morning finds me at the front of the ferry halfway across the Buttermilk Channel, en route for Governor’s Island, an old military base closed to visitors for two centuries but now home to an awardwinning park, art exhibitions, and a spectacular view of downtown Manhattan.
I gaze across the water, the densely packed buildings of lower Manhattan, a world away from my island escape.
The skyline, like the city, has changed at pace, but it’s the people here that make NYC such a remarkable place to visit, no matter who you are, or who you love.
From the Stonewall Riots, to World Pride just 50 years later, it’s more open and accepting than ever.
The One World Observatory stands at 541m tall, nearly twice the height of London’s The Shard