Every June, rainbow flags are hoisted in office lobbies, company logos glow in colourful gradients, and LinkedIn fills with declarations of allyship. The sentiment is well-meaning. The visibility is welcome. But for many of us who are gay and have spent years working in professional spaces, these annual gestures come with a quiet question: do we remember why Pride exists in the first place?
Because Pride isn’t just a celebration. It never was. It’s a commemoration of struggle, an act of resistance, and a declaration that we’re still here—still fighting, still loving, still living despite systems and histories that have tried to erase us. And that’s why, even in 2025, Pride remains urgent.
Stonewall and the Spark of a Movement
To understand why Pride still matters, we need to go back to where it began—not with confetti and corporate floats, but with bricks and bruises.
In the early hours of 28 June 1969, police raided the Stonewall Inn in New York City. Raids like this weren’t uncommon. Gay bars were regularly targeted, and patrons were often harassed or arrested. But this time, the community fought back. Led largely by Black and Latinx trans women like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, LGBTQI people refused to be silent. They resisted. They rioted. And they ignited a movement that would spread across the world.
A year later, to mark that night of rebellion, the first Pride marches took place in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago. Soon after, they reached the UK. Our first official Pride march took place in London in 1972, a modest procession of around 2,000 people. They walked not in celebration but in protest—against discrimination, against criminalisation, and for the simple right to live openly and without fear.
That spirit—of protest, visibility, and courage—has always been at the heart of Pride.
Pride in the Shadow of a Pandemic: The HIV/AIDS Crisis
No history of Pride is complete without remembering the HIV/AIDS epidemic. In the 1980s and 1990s, the LGBTQI community faced a catastrophe. HIV tore through our networks, killing friends, partners, colleagues, artists, and activists—often silently, often alone.
Governments dragged their feet. The media vilified us. The silence from institutions was deafening. I’ve spoken to older gay colleagues who watched entire friend groups disappear in a matter of years. I’ve seen younger workers flinch when HIV is mentioned, unsure of the history, fed misinformation their schools never corrected.
But while governments hesitated, the community mobilised. Activists formed support groups, opened clinics, raised money, lobbied for research, and fought like hell to survive. Organisations like ACT UP and the Terrence Higgins Trust didn’t just save lives—they shifted public health policy. They also ensured that LGBTQI people were no longer talked about as a problem, but recognised as leaders in their own liberation.
Today, thanks to antiretroviral treatment and preventative medication like PrEP, HIV is no longer a death sentence. People living with HIV can live full, healthy lives. When treated, the virus becomes undetectable and untransmittable. But stigma lingers—in dating, in healthcare, and yes, even in the workplace.
Some of the most talented gay professionals I know are still cautious about disclosing their HIV status, fearing gossip, assumptions, or worse. That silence—rooted in shame society created—still affects how safe we feel being open at work.
Pride is a time to remember the lives lost, the victories won, and the work still left to do. It’s a time to honour those who marched through grief and demanded more from a world that turned its back on them. Without them, we wouldn’t be here.
Pride and the Workplace: More Than Rainbow Flags
I’ve worked at companies that celebrated Pride with branded lanyards, cupcakes, and internal newsletters—but where LGBTQI people still whispered in corridors about homophobic comments or transphobic jokes that HR didn’t act on. I’ve worked at others where there was no visible support at all, but where leadership made quiet, substantial changes to policies and hiring practices that truly improved lives.
Both visibility and action matter—but one without the other risks being hollow.
If Pride is reduced to surface-level support once a year, companies miss the point. Pride isn’t just about being visible—it’s about being valued. And that means year-round commitment to inclusion, not just performative gestures in June.
Do your workplace policies include equal parental leave for same-sex couples? Do your healthcare benefits support trans and non-binary employees? Are your mental health providers trained in LGBTQI-specific trauma? Do your managers know what U=U means and understand the reality of working while living with HIV?
These aren’t niche issues—they’re central to what it means to foster a culture where people feel safe to bring their full selves to work.
Pride and Intersectionality: Who Gets Seen?
Another reason Pride still matters is because our community is not a monolith. Being gay intersects with race, gender, class, religion, disability and more. The fight for equality doesn’t look the same for all of us. And yet, too often, corporate Pride campaigns reflect only the most palatable, mainstream stories—usually white, cisgender, able-bodied, and middle class.
What about the Black queer woman who’s constantly spoken over in meetings? Or the disabled gay man who’s always the last to be considered for promotion? Or the trans colleague whose pronouns are still “forgotten” after six months?
These stories belong at the centre of Pride too.
Intersectionality isn’t a buzzword—it’s a reality. And if we ignore it, we risk building workplaces that only feel safe for a select few. Pride is an opportunity to broaden the conversation, to listen to the voices that are usually left out, and to shift the power structures that still define so many industries.
From Celebration to Accountability
There’s nothing wrong with celebrating Pride. In fact, joy is part of our resistance. But celebration without accountability is just branding.
If you’re an employer, Pride Month is a time to reflect. Ask your LGBTQI staff what they need—not just what they want to see during June, but how they want to feel all year. Review your data: are LGBTQI employees leaving at higher rates? Are they represented in senior roles? Do they feel comfortable being out? Do you have any idea?
If you’re an employee, use Pride as a moment to speak up. Share your experiences if it’s safe. Support others. Challenge ignorance. Demand better.
And if you’re someone living with HIV, or still healing from trauma, or just trying to make it through the day in a workplace that doesn’t yet feel safe—you belong here too. Pride is for you. Especially for you.
Why We Still March
Pride Month 2025 comes at a time when LGBTQI rights are once again under pressure. Anti-trans rhetoric has escalated in the UK media. Globally, countries are rolling back protections. And here at home, young people are still growing up without seeing themselves reflected, protected, or accepted.
So we march. Not just to remember. Not just to celebrate. But to keep pushing forward.
We march because people living with HIV still face stigma. We march because Black and brown LGBTQI lives are still disproportionately at risk. We march because being gay at work is still a negotiation for many of us—when to speak up, when to hold back, when to hide.
And we march because we owe it to those who came before us—the ones who didn’t live long enough to see change, and the ones who made that change possible.
Pride isn’t seasonal. It’s not a theme. It’s a declaration. That we are still here. Still loving. Still leading. Still demanding the world do better.
And if your organisation truly believes in that message—make it known not just on your walls, but in your policies, your leadership, and your everyday actions.
Because for us, Pride is not a marketing opportunity.
It’s a legacy. A responsibility. A future worth fighting for.