First They Came
First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me
Pastor Martin Niemöller
‘First They Came’ is a poem many of us will remember from school. It uses simple language, repetition, and no images. Because of its school-time connections, and the overtness of the poem’s message, part of me felt silly for including it. Is it condescending? Or an easy choice for an English Literature student who should maybe reach her hand into a more obscure bit of writing?
Yet, Niemöller articulates plainly some of the complicated feelings that I had surrounding Liverpool Pride’s initial cancellation, and the implications of the city’s LGBTQ+ community being denied this opportunity to express its voice.
I was reminded of the poem when I read an interview that Miss Grace, a former Liverpool Pride Performer of the Year, had with ITV.
“It’s heartbreaking to think that Liverpool which is so known for its culture and its diversity, and its community isn’t having a Pride anymore for 2025, in a year when the community needs it more than ever
I think we all just feel let down and heartbroken by the people that are meant to protect us, they’re not protecting us anymore.”
Miss Grace’s sentiments underpin why Pride this year feels more important than ever, and why its initial cancellation struck many in the community so hard.
With legislation that protected transgender individuals being rolled back by the Supreme Court in April, paired with Starmer’s unsettling ‘Island of strangers’ speech, we have been reminded that when minorities do not serve as an accessory to a political group’s rise in power they will be ostracised.
Starmer’s politics cannot be meaningfully termed fascism like the Nazi party that Niemöller writes his confessional poem about. However, his dissent on minority groups and their right to protest feels like a part of a creeping agenda. Furthermore, it creates fertile ground for far-right nationalism and homophobia to continue to take root.
If we allow the government to deny transgender people their personhood and identity, not only do they become scapegoats, they become the beginning of a list of scapegoats. Whilst there should be no need to bring others into why we should have empathy for our Trans brothers and sisters, this feels like a point to stress.
If you still have a voice, you should use it.
Pride’s cancellation this year was a direct result of us exercising our voice. Liverpool’s queer community has been outspoken in the fact they believe there is ‘No Pride in Genocide’.
Barclays, long-term sponsors of Liverpool Pride, produce surveillance and weaponry used in Gaza. Furthermore, the banking corporation also spoke out and said it would enforce the Supreme Court’s decision in their company’s bathrooms. LCR Pride Foundation listened to the concerns of the community and cut ties with the sponsor.
Whilst the foundation stressed it did not regret its decision; they did cite their insufficient funding for this choice.
Even when speaking out meant possibly sacrificing an event that is so important to the community, Pride would have felt disingenuous if it was supporting Barclays agenda.
Thanks to the fundraising of Sahir House the community now has been given a more authentic stage. The local charity has renamed the weekend, ‘Liverpool’s Pride’; with an apostrophe because, ‘this Pride belongs to all of us’. The charity is now working alongside LCR Pride Foundation, Homotopia, and grassroots organisations to deliver a ‘people-powered Pride’.
They have particularly stressed that ‘Pride is a Trans-led protest’, collaborating with the local company ‘Protect Scouse Dolls’ to curate the Muster stage and lead the march.
Yet, despite how inspiring it has been to see the local community fundraise and organise the event, there remains something insidious about being abandoned by corporations. Now we no longer serve a political agenda or corporate advertising campaign, we don’t have their support.
Being accepted was never about our humanity, but instead our function. Being vocal about support for the LGBTQ+ was never a brave assertion, but what served at the time as a safe opinion.
Pride being cancelled was a wake-up call that we cannot lose our voice. Pride has always been a protest, however, this year more than ever it is a fight for LGBTQ+’s people right to be heard, to exist and to be protected.
Despite the setbacks, and anxiety, the return of a more grassroots Pride is an opportunity for us to create an event that fully aligns with our values and is uncomplicated by corporate sponsorship and political opportunism.
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