Pride Month Reflection: Pride is Inherited Courage

Last week, I had a conversation with someone on my team and we found ourselves discussing what Pride means in the moment we’re living through. The phrase “Pride is inherited courage” came up and it’s stuck with me.

Every freedom we celebrate today exists because somebody before us chose courage when it would have been easier, and no doubt safer, not to. Every right, every space, every act of resistance and solidarity that shaped the world we have inherited has come from people who chose to stand on the frontline before we ever reached it ourselves.

Pride did not begin as a celebration. It began as resistance, as disruption, and as the collective refusal of invisibility. While Pride has evolved across generations, geopolitical realities, and cultures, this foundation remains unchanged: Pride has never depended on comfort in order to exist. History reminds us that solidarity becomes most important precisely at the moments when progress feels contingent rather than guaranteed.

As a gay man, who grew up under Section 28 but came of age under a boomtime of political, legal and social recognition in the UK, the intergenerational nature of our movement matters deeply to me. This isn’t only about being thankful for what previous generations achieved (though of course I am); it is our community’s shared history that provides a foundation for connection and solidarity. It helps us understand today. For me, it is a source of strength to draw upon when the days feel long and the cause momentarily overwhelming.

While we may not wish our lives to have been shaped by pain and shame, our community has a unique perspective on authenticity and on enjoying a life that one cannot take for granted.

For many people this year, Pride will not feel like a celebration. Our communities are navigating rising hostility, democratic erosion, coordinated anti-rights movements and growing uncertainty about the future. Whether for trans people living in the UK, for activists fighting the final stages of the most egregious law in Ghana, or the exiled Russian activists now facing charges from abroad, the frontline feels less like a line ahead and more like a circle closing in around us.   

This year, our Pride theme is We Choose the Frontline. 

The frontline looks different everywhere. People show up differently depending on their circumstances, their vulnerabilities, their histories, and their capacities. Yet all of those choices, no matter how big or small, form part of the wider collective fight for our future.

It can look like a healthcare worker continuing to provide affirming care within systems strained by hostility, geopolitical conflict, or funding withdrawal.

It can look like a lawyer defending the principle that human rights protections must apply universally, even when doing so is professionally or politically contentious.

It can look like a journalist continuing to document democratic backsliding and anti-LGBTI+ mobilisation when many would prefer silence.

It can look like a teacher creating a safe space where young people can build futures rather than fight stigma.

It can look like a parent choosing empathy over prejudice.

It can look like an activist continuing to organise and show up despite intimidation or exhaustion.

And increasingly, it can look like ordinary people making the choice to not disappear. Being seen is a choice.

Progress is often discussed as though it emerges naturally over time, but this is rarely – if ever – inevitable. It might feel like that – especially when you’ve grown up witnessing a steady, linear path of expanding rights – but the reality is different. It is constructed, defended, and often advanced by people who may never benefit from the risks they take. However, that inheritance also comes with responsibility. 

What is the frontline that you choose?

Because every generation eventually encounters its own defining moment. Much like last year, when I joined the illegal Budapest Pride March, this week has reminded me that even in difficult conditions, people continue to choose courage anyway.

That is the inheritance Pride has given us.