Why does the 'niceness' of Pride make me feel so uncomfortable? Because we need to talk about shame

Even while we celebrate, there needs to be a point where we realise that there are some hearts and some minds that we’re happy to do without

Pride celebrations are incredible performances of diversity and love – but liberalism does not demand tolerance of bigotry

(Getty Images for Eurostar)

I attended my first ever Pride march in London last year, and the reality is that pride celebrations have always left me a little nonplussed. Lest I be misunderstood, I mean not that the idea of pride is without value, or that pride celebrations are not hugely enriching, both for those who take part and those who go to watch and see what a truly liberal, modern society looks like. But when it comes down to it, I think what unsettles me the most about pride celebrations is how nice they are.

“Love conquers all!” the placards insist. Love is the answer. Love not hate. Allah loves gays. So does Jesus apparently. You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay.

I’ve always found the idea of universal love a rather sickly and amoral one, and that idea that love alone will triumph over the hatred, bigotry and ignorance that perennially persists a foolhardy one.

It was reported earlier this week that a school in Croydon was forced to call off its planned pride celebrations because a small minority of parents had threatened to come into the school to protest against it. Celebrating, in the words of the school itself, “the rainbow of things that make [the pupils] and their family special” is apparently not something that some parents are prepared to tolerate, let alone endorse. This depressing story served as a reminder to many (myself included) of the importance of Pride. But it reminded me also of something that has been neglected, particularly in liberal discourse: shame.

The LGBT+ community has had to bear far more than its fair share of shame over time, and sadly continues to do so. Mercifully the shame heaped on gay men by the state as they were condemned to hard labour is a matter of history, albeit one not to be forgotten. But the shame that drives young LGBT+ people to suicide in devastating numbers is still with us.

Part of shirking this epidemic of shame comes through assuming pride in ourselves. But it’s also important for us to identify the people who really should be ashamed of themselves; indeed, those who should be seeking our forgiveness, as a group of Christians recently did at a pride march in the Philippines. At a march in Marikina, a city east of Manila, they marched with signs that read: “I’m sorry”, “We’re here to apologise for the ways that we as Christians have harmed the LGBT community”, and “God loves you – so do we”. It is to the considerable credit of these believers that they are under no misunderstanding about where the shame lies.

In the name of winning hearts and minds, we’ve been far too slow to call out bigotry for what it is. But when adults threaten to stage protests in primary schools there needs to be a point where we realise that there are some hearts and some minds that we’re happy to do without. And the LGBT+ community and its allies should be strong enough, bold enough, and confident enough to embrace the idea of shame as much as we celebrate our pride.

Shame on parents who threaten to pull their children out of school because they don’t want them to know that love in all its expressions is a beautiful thing. Shame on those who degrade the very concept of medicine by promoting pseudoscience and idiocy in the name of conversion “therapy”. Shame, of course, on those who beat people up because they’re different. And shame on anyone who thinks that their silly belief that they know what God wants entitles them to say that my love is, at best, worth less than theirs, and at worst, something that warrants an eternity of torture.

LGBT+ Pride celebrations in London and across the country are an incredible triumph of diversity, open-mindedness, individual freedom and love. But liberalism does not demand tolerance of bigotry. And if we’re going to move forward, we should be ready not to eradicate shame, but to identify who ought to be ashamed, and who should not.