I went on a queer pilgrimage to the city where Pride was born

‘Who’s this queen? Hey, queen!’ a man calls out from the steps of his
porch. He’s sipping iced coffee with a friend as the sun rises over San Francisco.

I wave and keep walking, heading nowhere in particular, just soaking in one of my favourite neighbourhoods in the world.

I stop and ask a friendly dog walker for a coffee shop recommendation, and he eagerly lists off all his favourites. Go to this place for cold brew, this place for espresso, this place if you want to meet exceptionally cute guys.

This is why I love The Castro, the city’s historic LGBT+ neighbourhood that has somehow managed to cling on to the community spirit it was built upon.

That’s the magic of San Francisco, despite the growing division sweeping across the wider USA, it still holds strong and keeps its reputation as one of the queerest places on Earth.

This year, I’m on a journey to visit Pride all over the world, and it feels especially important to come here as part of that.

Alongside New York City, where Pride weekend coincides with this one, San Francisco was a pioneering force in the fight for LGBT+ rights.

From the Stonewall Riots on the East Coast, to the Comptons Cafeteria Riot here on the West, it was this united fight for equality that helped to forge the concept of Pride as we know it today.

San Francisco’s Harvey Milk was one of the leading voices in this fight. As the USA’s first openly gay elected official, he helped shape The Castro as a queer neighbourhood in the 1970s.

He tasked Gilbert Baker with the creation of the Pride flag, which has changed many times over the years, but still remains the internationally recognised symbol of the LGBT+ community.

You can still see some of the original eight-stripe Pride flags flying here today.

But the battle for LGBT+ rights came at a tremendous cost. Harvey Milk
famously said ‘if a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door’.

Not long after uttering these famous words, he was shot and killed in City Hall.

One of the world’s greatest LGBT+ rights pioneers, taken from us in a senseless act of violence. But his words didn’t fall on deaf ears.

The following San Francisco Pride had the largest turnout in US history, drawing international attention and shattering closet doors worldwide.

It wasn’t long before Pride was happening everywhere.

Marches and protests spread like wildfire, first in the USA, and then out in the wider world too. I’ve been lucky enough to witness that legacy firsthand.

This year alone, I’ve attended 10 Pride celebrations, from India to the Arctic, Canada to Thailand, Australia to Brazil.

Pride is everywhere, but none of these events would exist without what happened here in the USA.

It isn’t until I step inside City Hall, however, that the significance really hits me. The whole building is decked out in rainbows. There’s a tribute to Harvey in the foyer, and queer performances taking place in every wing.

The antique ceiling is lit with pastel Pride, and rainbow ornaments cascade down the grand staircase. Harvey never got to see the impact of his life and his work, but the people of San Francisco carry his memory, and he lives on through every rainbow flag flying both here and overseas.

That’s the thing about San Francisco: they understand the importance of LGBT+ history, and it’s an integral part of what makes their Pride so special.

Every year, a giant pink triangle is constructed by volunteers on the hillside at Twin Peaks. What was originally a Nazi symbol, forced upon queer people during the Holocaust, has been reclaimed as a symbol of queer resistance.

It can be seen from right across the city, serving as a constant reminder of the battles we’ve won and the battles we’ve still to face.

Because Pride is not yet an international right.

Earlier this year, I visited Malaysia, where LGBT+ identities are still criminalised and Pride is still hidden behind closed doors. And on the very same day that I walk in the San Francisco Pride parade, hundreds of thousands of people gather in Budapest to illegally march against government orders.

The Pride flag that was created here in San Francisco has become such a contentious symbol that it was banned by the Hungarian government.

Every person who marched in that parade risked arrest, and yet an estimated 200,000 people marched anyway. They’re not the only country either, many countries like Russia and Saudi Arabia carry laws which make the display of a rainbow flag a crime.

People around the world are still fighting for the right to Pride, and that’s why Pride here is still a protest; not just for queer people, but for oppressed
people everywhere.

Amidst rainbow colours and drag queen stilettos, the crowds
chant defiantly against ICE and the mass deportations taking place across the country.

From the Trans Rights March that floods the streets of Downtown, to the Dyke March which seizes the streets of The Castro, during Pride weekend, the demand for equality is inescapable.

And when night comes, and the streets begin to empty, San Francisco has one final trick up its sleeve.

It wasn’t something I was aware of in advance, so it came as such a beautiful surprise when the night skies lit up with a giant rainbow overhead.

Stretching for four miles, it’s the largest Pride flag in the world, a sign to queer visitors and locals alike that they’re welcome in this city.

San Francisco serves as a reminder of what’s possible. Against all odds,
they’ve kept the queer spirit alive here for decades, and in turn they continue to draw LGBT+ travellers from all over the world.

A study from Booking.com shows that 57 per cent of queer travellers prefer to visit destinations where LGBTQ+ tourism is already well established, and so it’s no surprise that for many, San Francisco has become a bit of a queer pilgrimage.

I very much feel that way, too.

Today, you may be able to find the Pride flag soaring all over the globe, across all seven continents, but there’s still something deeply affirming about standing in the very place where it all began.