Colourful march of progress sign of real change

Ali Mau explains why she’s so proud of Pride – and why it’s about so much more than glitter, leather and sequins.

LAST night it did not rain on the parade, which given the track record of our inclement summer 2018, was a bit of a Rainbow miracle.

The Pride parade has gone from strength to strength since it shimmied back to life in 2013 after a dozen years in the wilderness. It’s become the lynch-pin of a magnificent month-long Pride Festival, and a not to be missed free evening out.

Back in the (previous) glory days, when it was called Hero, it was the community marching, supported by no-one really but themselves, defiantly and utterly fabulous and watched by friends and family and the curious who only went to Ponsonby the once each year, like an annual trip to the circus. I don’t mean the spectators necessarily saw the parade participants as freaks – but it was fun, and a bit risque´, and a wonderful spectacle. And that was okay, because the participants knew this was both a performance, and an opportunity to (defiantly) say, here we are, get used to it.

Thanks to all the hard, selfless work done by the (now) older members of the rainbow community, New Zealanders are by and large used to it. Ahead of Pride events I’ve been involved in the past few years I’ve been asked over and over – why still have a Pride Festival? What’s the point now that so much of the ground has been levelled? My answer is always, why not? It’s really okay to go on having a bit of a celebration once a year with likeminded people without having to move ideological mountains at the same time. Pride is not all about the parade, anyhow; there are garden tours, a dog show, and on Friday night my partner played in the annual Pride tennis tournament (I did not play, thanks to a back injury and the fact that I am rubbish at tennis.) The collegiality of the tennis evening was remarkable; it really felt like a big family gathering. There was not a sequin, purple tutu or even a rainbow tie-die shirt in sight, in fact most of the competitors looked like they’d just come from the garden or the gym.

One of my favourite social media posts of the week picked up on that vibe; Caitlin, who has a varied and interesting Twitter feed, said:

‘‘It’s OK to be LGBTQIA and unremarkable. You don’t have to wear glitter or leather or sequinned heels. You don’t need to be ‘fierce’ or ‘brave’ or anything else. It’s OK to just stay at home, watch sitcoms and be ordinary. You’re not a circus animal. You are free to be yourself.’’

It would be a relief, wouldn’t it, if everyone was free to just be themselves? That fight, however, is very certainly not over. Homophobic bullying still leads our young LGBTQIA people to despair. Trans people still face discrimination and unacceptable levels of violence (that’s such a strange phrase isn’t it? As if any level of violence is acceptable.)

And in the meantime the Pride parade has become a thing for corporates and organisations to sign up for because it’s now good ‘‘optics’’ to present as rainbowfriendly. Many of these organisations, particularly the ones who have solid policies in place and which prioritise diversity in their strategic decisions (for example, by