In July 1995, I went to my first Pride event. At the time, I had gone under the guise that some friends were attending and the festival was also taking place locally. On that occasion I had felt like a kid looking through the window of a sweet shop – longing for the day when I would have the courage to stand in the store and partake in the delights that were on full display.
In between Pride ’95 and Pride ’96, a lot had happened in terms of me coming home to myself. During that period I had had my first liaison with a man, my first heartbreak and had come out at work and to a few close friends. As Pride ’96 approached, I was determined to be more than the kid looking through the glass of the sweet shop. This time I wanted to be part of the celebrations. At the time Pride represented to me an opportunity to show the world that I was proud to be who I am and there was no shame attached to being gay. In terms of my personality, I can be an ‘all or nothing’ person, and that year was no exception. I decided that rather than simply being one of the people watching the parade take place, I would be a steward on the march and at the festival in Clapham Common. More
OutTales around the Fire 