2018. London. Pride matters.

Saturday, the seventh of July.

Oxford Circus, 12 p.m.

30°C.

 

Hundreds of people arriving, looking for the perfect spot to watch the show from. Others already waiting behind the gates that separate the crowd from the center of the street, where the paraders are about to arrive. The mob applauds as Sadiq Khan, the Major of London approaches, wearing a white t-shirt and black trousers and waving continuously. Behind him, Utopia’s army of unicorns and rainbows is breaking loose in a one-day only magic spell.

 

Time stops. We are all the same now and see the world as it should be: joyful, playful, creative, limitless, glittery, covered in sequins and not as it is: divided into what is and isn’t acceptable by society and religion, into freaks and normals, majorities and minorities, agressors and victims, rock throwers and the punishable, the righteous and the lost causes.

We have one day only.

One day to change our mind. To be humble and admit that no one is better than anyone else who happens to love differently. One day to understand that there are more truths than one. One day to bow down to uniqueness  and beauty in every form they appear in. To look beyond the obvious. To open our hearts and apologise for all the harm we have done. One day to manage our own frustrations and incapacities. One day to get woke.

 

 

 

To let everyone be as their heart dictates. To stop interfering in the order of the Universe. To be happy for others. To step back and mind our own business or at least shut up if we have nothing positive to say.

 

If anything, the LGBT community has made this world a better place by giving us the most creative minds in design, architecture, music, activists for acceptance and peace, notorious characters, loving parents, free minds that we could all learn from (and that we all secretly admire).

Today is all about self expression through the most elaborate costumes, feather lashes, semi-nudity in every body shape, puffy pink wigs, wings, corsets, kytes, kilts, men dressed as women, masks, gold, fur, kitsch, latex, armpit hair, fetishes, spandex, transparencies, people in underwear, people in leashes, people in their twenties alongside people in their seventies, humorous vulgarity, drama queens and queers, children, dogs, dolls, details and the highest heels I have ever seen. Here, today, everyone is a beautiful canvas and everything they do is an art form.

Out of the blue, a caravane approaches and everyone starts to sing and dance as The greatest showman’s  “This is me” begins.

By the time they get to the chorus,  I simply snap and tears start falling from my eyes. They’re tears of joy for the priviledge of being here in this moment and getting in contact with my inner self and tears of sadness for all the pain and rejection that most of these crazy, inoffensive, weird looking rainbow flag holders experience every day, without anyone knowing or giving a damn about it.  By the end of the song, my skin is all covered in goosebumps as I imagine healing al the pain of the world in a long embrace.

Another caravane, another rhythm. Lady Gaga’s “Born this way” is their side of the story. Dancers rise their placards high, the crowd applauds the tall skinny transexuals in red and turquoise tulle, marchers give out carnations painted in rainbow, someone is making soap bubbles.

 

There is so much joy arond that I never want this moment to end. But it does, as The Royal Marines, The British Army and the Royal Air Force, each stop for a short artistic moment, followed by the Metropolitan Police, The Firefighters and The Ambulance.

 

Disrupting the sobriety and deepness of the moment, here come The London Gay Symphonic Winds holding a purple placard with their “Blow your horn” slogan-pun imprinted.

Slowly, other caravanes shared their beautiful stories, engaging us in dance on KC & The Sunshine Band’s “That’s the way I like it”, Rihanna’s “We found love in a hopeless place”, Beyonce’s “Love on top” and many more.

The Pride Parade should be a humbling experience and a healing one for every individual, regardless their sexual orientation.

We should not let today pass by without allowing it to change us for the better. Otherwise, there is no point in it. These people keep marching every year in search for themselves and also in an attempt to show the world that there is no reason to be frightened or appaled, because, just as everyone else, they are looking for love and a meaning to everything they are going through.

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As the day is almost over and most of the glitter falls, the masks, the fake penises, fake breasts, ripped jeans, slutty latex overalls, wings, wigs, make-up, the fake eye lashes are removed, the magic begins to disappear and things are slowly getting back to normal. Tomorow, society and religion will again divide us into normals and freaks.

Today left me with bitter sweet emotions and it reminded me alot of Transamerica, a beautiful movie in which Felicity Truffman amazingly builds up a complex transexual character in his journey of self-discovery which, in a way or another, every single one of us is trying to.

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Today also left me assured that we all deserve to be loved, cherished, appreciated for exactly who we are. And we are beautiful, strong, fascinating individuals once the world opens up it’s heart in acceptance.

Green Eyed Kisses,