Every June, companies across the UK change their logos to rainbows, host themed events, and post declarations of support for LGBTQI communities. On the surface, it all looks positive—a sign of progress and visibility.
But for many of us who are gay and navigating the world of work, this annual explosion of colour often prompts a more complex reaction. We’re not ungrateful for the recognition. Visibility matters. But we’re also not naive. The real test of an employer’s commitment to inclusion isn’t what they do in June. It’s what they do in July. And August. And every other month when there’s no hashtag or marketing campaign attached.
Pride Month has become part of the corporate calendar, but its roots are not corporate. Pride began as a protest—a stand against the criminalisation, discrimination and violence directed at LGBTQI people. When companies lean into Pride, they’re stepping into that legacy, whether they acknowledge it or not. Which is why surface-level gestures without substance can ring hollow. I’ve seen it firsthand. Over the past decade working in large organisations, I’ve often found myself in the middle of Pride planning meetings where I was the only gay person in the room—and still somehow not the person being asked what would make a difference. Inclusion can’t be effective if it’s performative. And Pride Month, if it’s not handled with care and authenticity, can easily slip into that territory.
The most powerful starting point for any organisation is also the simplest: listen. Not to what other companies are doing. Not to your marketing agency. But to the people within your own teams. What do LGBTQI employees actually want from their workplace? What would make them feel more supported, more safe, more seen? The answers might surprise you—and they almost certainly won’t come from a rainbow lanyard or cupcake.
I’ve worked at companies where the Pride flag went up in reception every year, and yet there were still no openly LGBTQI people in senior leadership. Where Pride merchandise was handed out at lunchtime, but same-sex parental leave policies hadn’t been reviewed in years. Where ‘diversity and inclusion’ were mentioned in job adverts, but the reality was that many queer employees still felt uncomfortable being out in meetings, unsure how colleagues—or managers—might respond. These are not rare examples. They’re far more common than most people realise.
So if you’re an employer or a decision-maker reading this, ask yourself: what message are you sending when your external communications say ‘Pride,’ but your internal culture says, ‘Keep it quiet’? If your workplace isn’t safe or supportive year-round, then June won’t fix that. Pride Month should be a catalyst for change, not a camouflage for inaction.
And it doesn’t require a complete overhaul to do it better. It starts with questions: Do your benefits and policies include LGBTQI families and identities? Do you offer support for those transitioning at work or dealing with discrimination? Do you actively support queer-led charities or contract LGBTQI-owned suppliers when you’re planning Pride events? Are you making space for real conversations among your staff—not just celebration, but reflection? Pride is joyful, yes. But it’s also political, deeply personal, and for many of us, still painful.
When I think about companies who “get it right,” it’s not the ones with the biggest Pride floats or flashiest campaigns. It’s the ones who create space all year round for us to be ourselves, and who back that up with action. That might look like mentoring programmes for LGBTQI staff. It might mean creating clear pathways to leadership that aren’t blocked by bias. It might mean recognising that Pride Month is not a burden placed on LGBTQI staff to organise, but an opportunity for everyone to learn.
Being a good ally means stepping up when it’s difficult, not just when it’s popular. I’ve seen companies champion Pride publicly but stay silent when anti-LGBTQI rhetoric dominates headlines or legislation. I’ve seen companies celebrate gay icons online while failing to support their own staff when they face homophobia at work. Inclusion has to be rooted in integrity. That means consistency. That means showing up when the cameras aren’t on.
Of course, there’s also joy in Pride—real, vital joy. It’s important that work can be a place where that joy is allowed to flourish. But for that to happen, we need more than slogans. We need a culture where we can be open about who we are without fear of judgement, where coming out isn’t an act of risk but a moment of freedom. We need to see ourselves in leadership, in policy, in the conversations that shape the future of our industries.
So if you’re planning a Pride campaign this year, ask yourself one question before you begin: who is this really for? If it’s for your brand, your social media reach, or a tick-box on your diversity agenda—it won’t land. But if it’s for your people—your staff, your customers, your community—then start by listening to us, trusting us, and making space for our voices. That’s where real progress begins.
Because for those of us who are gay, Pride isn’t just a month. It’s a part of who we are, every single day we walk into the office. Every time we correct someone who assumes our partner is a different gender. Every promotion we go for where we wonder if being out will work against us. Every lunch break where we debate whether it’s safe to talk about our weekend.
Pride at work isn’t about rainbows. It’s about respect. It’s about visibility. It’s about having the same shot at success without hiding who we are. That’s what we’re asking for. And that’s how you make Pride Month count.