A lot has been said before the day of the march, or, rather, not said—so much indeed that it comes with no surprise that a lot of people decided to not attend due to safety concerns.
Months ago, Saturday September 14, 2019 was chosen to be a day to celebrate trans+ and intersex people with a rather contained, chill event in the park, but for some unclear reasons, plans were changed weeks before the actual date, with the park being ditched in favor of a real march in Central London.
Despite an explanatory post shared on social media, the change did not sound right nor resonate with part of the crowd, and it did not make it better that no clear answers were given upon request of clarification regarding safety, accessibility, council approval, and police involvement.
Up until the morning of the march, I saw people on social media both raising concerns and praising the event, so naturally that led me to reach Saturday with very mixed feelings, and an underlying worry for my partner, who so kindly (and enthusiastically) decided to tag along with me, taking part in the march.
It was mind-blowing.
There is hardly anything more powerful than everyday people getting together with flags and rudimental hand-written signs made out of cardboard pieces, cheering and marching through some of the most central roads of the Capital, shouting chants all together while passersby stop and stare.
And what about when cars honked at us, when grown adults waved hands in our direction, and mid-aged people cheered upon spotting us?
It felt safe. It felt powerful.
It felt like when I took part in the EuroPride in Gothenbörg and joined with one of my closest friend the anarcho-feminist group that sang about keeping LGBT+ people safe.
Had it felt like this to march in the first real pride ever?
Surely we face much less discrimination than, say, 50 years ago, but life is not golden either. As it was said at the meeting before the march started, several things still need to change, namely: housing situation, education, refugee deportation, media representation, healthcare.
What still needs to change is that we mostly only feel safe, heard, and powerful when we are among others like us, when we can finally see that yes, indeed, we are not alone, nor are we only a few weird buds here and there, like we keep feeling on a daily basis.
What needs to change is that we need a march to be seen.
And yet, as we do need to be loud to be visible, I cannot wait for next year to come around so I can take part again in this march. I cannot wait to be more and more myself, and this time around, to be of more, better support for who will feel like me yesterday, a bit of a fish in unknown waters, with mixed feelings, but so, so excited to be part of something so real and so meaningful.
If we have to fight to be who we truly are, so be it.
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Rivers of Death
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