Celebrating women
June, Pride month, is a glorious and life-affirming celebration, says Roxy Bourdillon
It’s a blissful summer day in Sydney and I am at my first Pride. Cher is blasting from the loudspeaker. Strangers greet me warmly with high fives and wishes of ‘Happy Mardi Gras!’ I spot a six-foot drag queen dressed as a mermaid and a pug looking fabulous in a stripy rainbow bow tie. The roar of a hundred engines signals the arrival of the legendary, leather-clad Dykes On Bikes and the crowd goes wild.
Looking around at the sea of glittery, beaming faces, I can’t help beaming too. I had no idea there were this many LGBTQ+ people and allies out there. Nor did I realise there could be so much unapologetic, joyful self-expression. I’m experiencing so many electrifying, life-enhancing things, like belonging, affirmation and soaring sapphic delight.
Flash forward to the present day and June, aka Pride month, is upon us. It’s the time of year when the spotlight shines on the LGBTQ+ community. It’s also a time when I reflect on the profound impact Pride has had on me personally. You see, before I attended Pride, my sexuality was shrouded in shame.
I grew up in Leeds in the 90s, when Section 28 was in full force. This damaging law made it illegal for teachers to say anything positive about gay people. Homophobia was rife and I only ever heard the word ‘lesbian’ as an insult or the punchline to a cruel joke. Same-sex couples couldn’t marry or adopt. The World Health Organization didn’t declassify homosexuality as a mental illness until 1990.
Also, there were few role models out there. When comedian Sandi Toksvig came out in 1994, she received death threats and had to take her children into hiding. It’s no wonder I felt such anguish about being gay. I spent my teens harbouring crushes on women but didn’t dare come out until I was in my 20s.
When I finally plucked up the courage to break the news to my family, they were far from thrilled. I took drastic action, grabbed my then-girlfriend and jumped on a plane to the other side of the world. The day after we touched down in Australia was Sydney Mardi Gras. There is no better cure for jet lag than going to your first Pride.
After the years of inner turmoil, Pride was healing and freeing. I was embraced by a welcoming community who knew how to party.
Crucially, Pride reframed my sexuality as something I could feel good about.
Since that life-changing Mardi Gras, I’ve attended Prides around the world as editor of leading LGBTQ+ magazine DIVA. I’ve even been in the parade myself, dancing up a st
