What Pride means to me as a queer business owner
The sun is beating down relentlessly, the only relief being the fleeting moments when it moves behind a cloud; I can feel my left shoulder burning. The smell of weed lingers in the air. The crowd around me rivals the Northern Line on a weekday morning and I am too short to see a lot of the action. Somebody’s flag is digging into my side. Another person is blowing a whistle in my ear. The water I am carrying has gone warm in the heat.
I sound like I am describing my own personal hell, but I’m not. It’s 2018 and I’ve voluntarily come to Oxford Circus on one of the busiest days of the year: London Pride. Everywhere I look there are rainbows. I have glitter in my hair. All the high street stores look like a unicorn threw up in them. There’s a float playing my favourite song, I Wanna Dance with Somebody. Everyone is cheering: for Muslims, trans people, elderly people, drag queens, disabled people, immigrants. I am surrounded by people celebrating themselves and each other — and drowning out hatred for a day.
That was three years ago and my first experience of Pride Month in a big, big city.
Today, in June 2021, Pride looks different for a lot of people. I have since returned to New Zealand, a few months before a global pandemic turned the world upside down. I live in a much smaller city, in a much colder house. And I run my own copywriting business now.
Pride Month feels different on this side of the world, even without a pandemic. June is the beginning of winter in New Zealand, so most cities throw their Pride parades earlier in the year — around February or March. It’s quiet here, a bit less colourful.
The online space I inhabit, however, is vibrant, diverse, and unapologetic.
It’s also steeped in capitalism, with brands co-opting the language and flags to sell products or appear inclusive without interrogating any of their policies or practices.
This is my first year as a full-time queer business owner and it’s important to me that I remain authentic even when I’m selling. My aim is to continue being visible as a queer copywriter and continue amplifying other voices within the community (including queer-owned businesses).
In this world, pride — both the feeling and the festival — is an act of resistance. I am lucky to live in a country where I’m not in immediate danger of having my (far too recent) rights taken away from me, but I know many others don’t have that luxury. Pride matters now more than ever, and I do not take my pride lightly.
At that first Pride festival in London, I felt safe and seen; that day, I embraced my queerness and my heart felt full. I want more people from the rainbow community to experience that feeling, and I want to align myself with the businesses working to make that feeling a reality.
To honour all those who are not in a position to celebrate who they are with pride, I’m running a giveaway for queer-focused businesses until the end of June.
