Brighton is the queerest place in Britain, they say. They weren't kidding. This weekend, I experienced Brighton Pride; an experience that requires words. Maybe pictures. Maybe video footage and a feature film. But: nothing captures a moment, an event, a place designed entirely to celebrate love. Every kind of it. Although I am tortured by heartbreak and have very seldom benefited from all the benefits of love I am one of it's biggest fans. Who loves who couldn't matter less to me. In fact, I was in the company of a bunch of queerios who love who they love every day. This weekend, this city displayed so much more than a platform to present love. The stage was given to anyone who needs one, not just those who want to share who they like sleeping with. On top of that, there's also the city of Brighton, a coastal city in a country that just voted Brexit. So please allow me to take my stage to talk about it.
I figured out a long time ago why I care about gay rights so much without being gay. I don't identify with a sexuality other than the one people call "normal" but I identify with being trapped, wanting to express myself, needing to be different and simply just having the same right as some people around me that did nothing different from me than being "luckier". Every member of this community that showed itself in all shapes and colors last weekend has felt disadvantages for simply being themselves. But not now. Not this weekend. Being different was the reason to be celebrated. They call this event "pride" because being different has value and needs to be acknowledged as nothing else but an asset. Being different, or in this instance queer, isn't a choice we make. Like our parents; we didn't choose them. But we can definitely be proud of what we are, who we are, where we are from and that's simply an effect of who gave birth to us. So every pride event is important for this society we're all trying to shape. Because I hope that one day, what we saw this weekend will be "normal" when everyone can be whoever they please to be and be proud of it.
In Brighton, that is easier than most places. Even after the weekend, the rainbow flags stayed out. Men and men and women and women kept holding hands. The litter in the streets disappeared and people went back to work on Monday. But the spirit stayed. This city is happy and you can tell. It's easy to say in the hottest summer since the early 70s when a city offers 1000s of cold brews, 100s of beautifully lit outdoor restaurants and dozens of street musicians who are not merely trying to make a living but delight mothers who are watching their children learn to swim in the sea. It is very much a summer place that feels like the word "vibrant" has a literal meaning; the street seems to have a pulse. In those veins flows life, creativity, and love - for everyone, not just the lucky ones.
A simple glass of wine in The Lanes becomes what life was made for. Of course, it's hard to enjoy things right now. I am surrounded by love, happiness and a true zest for life when my thoughts are with the person that is causing me to miss out on all if that right now. But he doesn't have that either. He is not Brighton. The goal must be to become Brighton in the flesh. As a city, it already reached me. But I realize I am miles away from personifying this place. Not because I'm not gay or in love or creative but because I am scared to be me, have not expressed myself freely in months and am not proud of my difference. Instead of sniffing cocaine at a queer takeover on Saturday night I fell asleep half an hour past midnight, thinking about how old I am. I am not Brighton anymore but I'm not yet Cambridge. But that's why getting to know a place is like dating: we gotta find the one that fits. Those who are (in) Brighton: congratulations! I will still be looking who and where I will have to be.
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