Still Loud. Still Proud. Still Necessary.

By Sophie Clifton-Tucker

Gibraltar Pride was last weekend and I’m happy to report a hearty turnout, young and old. 

And then, as night follows day, came the comments. They are of course from perfectly reasonable people who want you to know they’re perfectly reasonable: “I don’t mind if someone’s gay, but does it need a whole month?” “Can’t they just have one day?” “I just think it should be done with a bit more respect.” 

Respect… Now there’s a word doing a lot of heavy lifting. 

I’ve been thinking about what respect means in these conversations, because I don’t think it always means what people intend it to mean. Sometimes it means dignity, fairness, live and let live. Great. Agreed. But sometimes, if we’re being really honest, it means: I’ll accept you exist if you do it quietly enough that I don’t have to think about it too hard. 

But the problem is, the LGBTQIA+ community has been doing it quietly for most of recorded history. Quietly didn’t keep anyone safe. Quietly didn’t change any laws. Quietly, as a strategy, has a pretty poor track record. 

Then there’s the clothes. The sequins. The rainbow crop tops. The feather boas. These seem to bother people, and I find this just a tad baffling, because Pride is a party. It is deliberately and defiantly a celebration. Nobody is turning up to the office on a Wednesday in a sequin miniskirt (not me, anyway, and I’d like to think I have reasonable taste in sequins). The same logic that permits a garish hristmas jumper with flashing LEDs, or a wedding fascinator the size of a small satellite dish applies here. Context. It’s a party; people dress accordingly. 

Yes, it’s loud. Yes, it’s camp. It’s OTT and some of it will make you raise an eyebrow, and that’s partially the point. We extend an extraordinary amount of tolerance to other forms of spectacle without blinking, but somehow fall short when it comes to Pride. Perhaps we often confuse the unfamiliar with the unacceptable. 

If the outfit is the problem on Pride day but not on any other day, or stage, that invites a small moment of reflection. Did Britney cop so much flak for her sartorial choices? (Showing my age here.) Or Dua Lipa’s sheer dress at the Barbie premiere? (I had to Google that one.) Sequinned, no less! But again, this is familiar. And thus, on the whole, acceptable. 

* * * 

On June 28th 1969, police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in New York. It wasn’t the first raid, but it was the one where the people inside finally pushed back, resisting police actions and leading to the Stonewall Uprising. What began as a single confrontation between officers and the bar’s patrons rippled outward into six days of protests that would come to reshape history. 

The month is not a bid for more airtime than anyone else deserves. We also give a month to Movember, Black History, and Breast Cancer Awareness, and I am wholeheartedly in support of this, but cant help but notice the lack of similar sentiments about those being ‘too long’ in the comments section. 

In 2026, being gay is illegal in over 65 countries. In several of them, it is punishable by death. Not a fine, not imprisonment, death. There are people alive right now who cannot hold the hand of the person they love in public without risking their lives. No flags. No parades. No sequins. Nothing. 

When Pride feels like too much, it’s important to remember that it’s only possible to feel that way from somewhere safe, and not everyone is somewhere safe.  

The noise matters beyond the street it’s made on, too. Change has never once arrived because people kept their heads down and asked nicely. Women couldn’t own property in Gibraltar until 1962. Our mothers remember this. The change came because people before them were loud and persistent and refused to be told to be quieter about it. The suffragettes didn’t get the vote by writing a polite letter and hoping for the best. Every right that any of us now take for granted was won by someone who was, at the time, probably being asked to ‘calm down a bit’. 

The ripples from a loud parade on a small rock travel further than you’d think. They reach places where people are living the reality that we marched our way out of, people who cannot wave a flag or say the word out loud or simply be who they are without consequence.  

They can’t celebrate yet. So we celebrate twice as loud, for them. 

* * *  

A note from the community themselves, who say it better than I ever could:

What would you want a younger version of yourself to know?
“I’d tell my younger self that being yourself is not something to apologise for. You don’t need to earn your place or change who you are to be loved. The journey won’t always be easy, but it will be worth it—and one day, you’ll look back and be proud of how far you’ve come.” — Javier Monton 

What do you wish more people understood about what Pride actually means, beyond the flags and the parties?
“For many individuals, coming to terms with their sexuality can be an incredibly challenging and frightening experience. As a result, some people suppress this part of their identity for years, preventing them from living authentically and fully. 

Despite significant social progress, many LGBTQ+ individuals continue to face discrimination, prejudice, and harassment simply because of who they love. Sexual orientation is not a choice, and no one should be judged or marginalised because of it. 

Pride supports the thirteen-year-old girl sitting alone in her room, afraid to speak about how she feels and worried that there is something wrong with her. It also supports the thirty-two-year-old professional who fears being open with colleagues about who they are. For many, Pride represents more than a celebration; it is a sense of belonging. It is a community that offers support, understanding, and acceptance to those who may have become disconnected from their families or support networks. Through Pride, many people find a new family, built on shared experiences, mutual respect, and solidarity.” — Anna Lowey 

What does “being an ally” actually look like in practice?
“Being an ‘ally’ depends on the context. More often than not, people say it when they need to appear to support non-discrimination in some form or other. However, in my experience, being an ally should be non-verbal – it should be how someone acts, how they treat other people; it should be natural. It’s also important that they show up (by waving that flag!) or step up (to challenge behaviours).” — Stephen Hare