LGBT+ Pride comes to town – and boy, do we need it!

I live in a little town in the Midlands. To my visitors from the USA (so, most of you then!) that’s the bit between the North and the South of England – the bit with no identity whatsoever. But while the Midlands has no identity, the town itself certainly does. It’s a grand old place, steeped in history, with really friendly people, a decent little football club a belting cinema, wonderful pubs and restaurants, I could go on. But it needs a rainbow-coloured shot in the arm – and, 50 years after Stonewall – that’s exactly what it’s getting, with its first LGBT+ Pride event. HOORAH!

I love living here. I can’t see myself living anywhere else because everything I need is right here. We’ve won awards for our high street, our beautiful gardens, our heritage. I’m PROUD of this town.

But, while most of the people are really lovely – down-to-earth, salt-of-the-earth types – I’ve never felt it’s the most progressive of places.

Since coming out as trans, I’ve noticed this far more than before. When presenting as a straight, cis male, I didn’t think anything was wrong.

Stick a frock on and you stand out like a sore thumb, especially in a place like this.

When I go “out out”, to use that stupid, modern phrase, it tends to be in big cities, such as Nottingham, Sheffield, Birmingham, Manchester or London. It’s pretty rare to have any issues.

But in a little town where I know so many people from my previous life, I can feel on display. I don’t mind walking round the local supermarkets anymore – that’s no longer an issue (though it used to be).

But I feel less comfortable just walking around town. I still do it (I kinda have to!) but I feel uneasy.

Many’s the time people have shouted “Andie!” to me, and I’ve not seen them at all because I put my metaphorical blinkers on, get my head down and just walk briskly to wherever I’m going, making eye contact with NO-ONE.

I love supporting local traders, but I’ve all but stopped going into the smaller shops because I feel so nervous. It’s far easier to go to a supermarket. And I’m all about shopping locally, so that really sucks!

I feel on display – and I don’t really feel like that when I’m in the big cities. And I wouldn’t dream of going to my local pub or the football en femme.

Why not? Cos blokes, that’s why. Most women think it’s wonderful if you’re trans. They’re all very “welcome to the sisterhood”. Apart from TERFs, and I can think of one or two of those who live not too far away…

But most blokes don’t get it. Don’t get me wrong, I have loads of male friends who are super-supportive, but they still don’t really “get it”.

“Being a bloke’s great – you get to drink loads of beer and shout at footballers and do massive farts and bellow and get fat and hairy and and look like a fashion disaster and nobody minds. Why would you want to give that all up to do flower arranging, ya big poof?!”

Men!

Of course, not all men are like this. In fact, men like this are in a minority. I just can’t help feeling that we’ve got more than our fair share in this town.

Why’s that? Dunno really. Maybe because, until recent years, it was a very industrial town. If you grew up here, you’d probably end up getting a job in one of the many factories. They can be pretty hard, blokey environments.

Now a lot of people won’t experience the bigotry here. And I don’t want to make it sound like a den of bigotry because it’s not – it’s far from that. Most people here are lovely.

But some of the guys (of all ages) you see propping up bars in the pubs, night after night. They’re not nice. I’ve heard all sorts of things from them, everything from pro-Brexit and pro-Trump tirades to homophobia, transphobia and lashings of misogyny. If you’re in any kind of minority, they ain’t gonna like you.

And I’m not just saying that this happens in my town. It probably happens in most towns, villages and cities across the country, indeed, across the world.

But I don’t have to worry about other places. I live here, I probably always will, and I f*cking hate bigotry. So (I’m now getting to the point!) how delighted I was to hear that the town would be getting its own LGBT+ Pride event.

To those who’ve been living in a cave for the past 50 years, Pride tends to be a big city thing. It used be known as Gay Pride, but it’s now evolved to include everyone LGBT+. I’ve been to a couple – one in Derby and one in Nottingham – and I loved, loved, loved them both.

I’ve never known an LGBT+ Pride event to be held in a small town before, yet here we are. It’s happening this summer.

I’m good pals with the landlady of one of the micropubs here, and that pub will be running the bar at the event.

Of all the pubs in the town, that’s the one I’d feel safest in as a trans woman. She told me the other day that some homophobic twat muttered something the other day along the lines of “I’m not going there any more – it’s becoming a gay bar.”

All because one of the relief staff behind the bar happens to be gay (and fabulous with it).

These are the kinds of attitudes that we’ve got to stamp out in this town. One Pride festival won’t do it – it’ll barely scratch the surface.

But five might. Or ten. Or 15. We’ve got to ensure this LGBT+ Pride festival is as as big, bright and brash as it possibly can be, to force those bigots back under their rocks. Or maybe, just maybe, to educate them and change their views.

And that’s why I’ve just volunteered to help in any way I can with the organisation of it. Bring it on. Can’t wait!

Andie xxx