Growing up queer in an age of political division, it is very easy in today’s current climate to get swallowed up into a black hole of fearful journalistic pieces. We are surrounded by hollering headlines on war, violence, corruption, greed and selfishness. It appears that the world has become a systematic pattern of the powerful abusing the innocent, and leaving the middle men to pick up the pieces in a helpless handful.
A politically divisive culture often drives people into isolation and a lack of community. We are segregated in every aspect of our life, it doesn’t matter what labels are placed on this separation – the left or the right, the government or the people, the good and the bad – you are forced to pick a side, without sight of a no-man’s land lying between our political trenches. As someone who is passionate about political journalism, it takes a lot to not let the world around me become bleached into monochrome, losing its beauty and its colour to the black and white newspaper articles that predict doomsday without hope of parole.
This is why Brighton has biome my salvation, allowing me to live a full life, enjoying the world as though it is a delicious spoonful of some delicacy, whilst also constantly pushing and driving for the injustices around us to be recognised and challenged. The way to crave life and all it has to offer, whilst also engaging with the often depressive route of activism is self expression, something that Brighton has in abundance.
“Activism can be painful, demoralising, and often feel like a never ending battle to not only achieve basic human rights, but also maintain them. But remember that simply existing, whilst refusing to exist in pain or silence, is as activist as it can get.”
The other day I went for a drink at R-Bar, where a drag queen and king night was taking place. Individuals dressed head to toe in feather boas, bold stripes, slashes of crimson lipstick and glittering eyeshadow, leather gloves and skin tight fishnets. It was enchanting to see, in an age where gender identity and self expression is being so heavily demonised in the media, with states all over America scapegoating their dangerous politics and projecting the blame onto drag queens and kings, that boldness and pride were still in full explosive effect here in Brighton. Legislation is spreading like wine on a wedding dress, from Tennessee Republicans issuing dozens of anti drag bans to propaganda perpetuating an image of the queer community, and in particular bold self expression, posing a threat to public safety.
This proposed rhetoric that the LGBTQ+ community is a dark paedophilic danger to the youth of today is not a new idea, with instances dating back to campaigns such as the 1977 Save Our Children and the 1978 Briggs Initiative that suggested banning gay and lesbian teachers from a misguided fear that queer attraction is corrupted and perverted – 46 years later and this misconception is still poisoning government decisions. Yet there we stood, in the peachy neon lights, the music half drowned out by roars of laughter and whooping cheers while stiletto heels dragged across the floor and arched acrylic nails drew patterns in the air. The show was magnificent, the smoking area packed with all types of people entwining themselves in gleeful embraces. You cannot secure our absence, only fuel our resistance.
Queer people have been pushed to the sidelines, we lie between the pages, our names are hidden within the lines of ancient history books and political articles, except when the people in power are somehow able to spin a web of fiction that can project blame and shame onto us. Yet we are still an explosive presence, cultivating a culture of intense joy, passion, expression and beauty.
Our expression does not just exist under a sweltering spotlight, or roared into an open mic audience. We thrive in the volumes of literature where our voices will not be silenced, emulated through events such as the Queer Bookclub on November 5 or the Bits and Pieces workshop on November 30 – both events being hosted at The Queery on George Street. We exist in the power of dance to prove that we will be expansive and brave, even in a climate of political divisiveness, exemplified by events such as GirlFlix at the Cellar Arts Club. We celebrate history through art via events such as the LGBTQ+ History Club: Queer The Pier, at the Brighton Museum & Art Gallery.
We campaign on Brighton’s roads, we kiss on the beach, we embrace on the Pier, we dance down the streets. We have an insatiable need to be radical, and in Brighton it is the bystanders who stand out, and those who choose to exist in authenticity that blend in.
From LGBTQ+ bookshops, cafes, restaurants, bars, clubs, parties, gyms, and so much more, Brighton has encapsulated one of the most powerful forms of rebellion. Of course, loud protests and angry cries for justice hold their own, important platform in the activist world. But, if you really want to crawl under the skin of the bigoted, bitter individuals, resistance lies in pure, concentrated, unbridled joy. In leading a blissful, celebrated, passionate life, crammed with laughter, and love.
Activism can be painful, demoralising, and often feel like a never ending battle to not only achieve basic human rights, but also maintain them. But remember that simply existing, whilst refusing to exist in pain or silence, is as activist as it can get. Brighton has utilised this to the best of its ability, which is why when you walk down Brighton pier, you will see that people aren’t crippled by attempting to fight the monsters of our political world, but instead are peaceful in the knowledge that we can affirm our identity and our place in the world simply by just being.
We will refuse to be stamped out by pessimistic headlines or disruptive legislation. With love in our hearts, and grins on our faces, we fight back, in joy and in pride.
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