Last week José and I were in the car, having just had lunch we were going to an amazing Gelato place we were about to discover in the nearby town of Hitchin. I was parking the car and we were talking and, as is common with me, my thoughts started tumbling.  Without thought the sentence “you know I’m struggling more and more every day to identify with the gay community; the appetite for the ‘agenda’ just seems insatiable” and even as I said it I realised I had hit on something really important and significant to me.

As we parked the car and wandered through this sleepy little down on a Sunday afternoon, I really couldn’t shake the thought.

It all stemmed from something I had read on social media about someone, somewhere starting a campaign to change the pride flag to incorporate a brown and black stripe in recognition of members of the community that were ‘of colour’.

I’m angry, disappointed and really confused.

The pride flag, that iconic rainbow flag that I have looked for all over the world on my travels. Ranging from when I’m in a new town in the UK,  strolling the streets of Paris with José, staggering and stumbling across Amsterdam with my friend Nic and even last summer on a particularly odd weekend trip to Geneva finding that flag in such an unknown place made us feel really safe. It’s a symbol of unity, togetherness and frigging Pride. That symbol should not include any reference to a factions, divisions and categorisations within our Pride.

I hear the effervescent chants for EQUALITY, but then I hear the ever so quiet follow up chant, the subdued caveat that is, we want equality, inclusion and respect but we want is exclusively. And to be included we must, therefore exclude.

My mind cannot process the case for even asking for a black and brown stripe on a flag to represent a particular section of the community – these kind of things have happened before… perhaps most famously was Hitler making homosexuals wear pink triangles to identify them as they were sent off to concentration camps. (albeit this has since become a symbol of power and respect for all of us)

So is the course of trajectory to have the different shades of Caucasian Eurasian, Mixed Heritage, Eastern, Western, and we mustn’t exclude the possibility is extra-terrestrial members of the gay community…  then what is you are Caucasian by virtue of birth and genetics but you identify as something else, what then? Where is that colour? Will it be a flag within a flag?

I am a modern, privileged gay. I am very aware of that and I hold no guilt about it. I do respect those that went before me and went to hell and back, literally, to allow me the opportunity to walk the streets in a sleepy town in Bedfordshire on a Sunday afternoon looking for Gelato hand in hand with José with no repercussion – I also don’t stand there insisting that everyone look at us holding hands, acknowledge it, either praise us for it or, conversely, make us state our case to be allowed to do so.

People died for that flag, and even for your right to be able to demand this exclusive inclusion that you so eagerly desire, so here’s the thing – leave it the fuck alone. How dare you be so entitled that equality and inclusion is not enough for you that you now want to create an ACTUAL division.

I get it, we have to fight our corner and make sure that we are free from persecution, but surely that a human thing? No?

What other people do, or don’t, put inside them is nobody’s business. We’re allowed, and should, protect our place in society – but I don’t see how there’s levels to this shit.

Cut out the noise people, because that’s what it’s becoming – boring background noise with very little value. The real fight here is the human one, each and every one of us should just be a good fucking human.

The gelato place in Hitchin is Fabios and I’m pretty sure they don’t give a damn what pocket your money comes from!

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To know and understand the real gay world

nida chowdhry

thoughts in doodles & long posts

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

Amanda Mininger

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I cook, I eat, I garden, I write