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The Pride

Pride Month is more than rainbow flags and dance parades. It is a time of remembrance, resistance, and radical joy. It is a reminder that queerness, like love, like protest, refuses to be silenced or sanitized. In the same way that International Women’s Day on March 8 traces its roots back to women textile workers in 1857, Pride Month has its origins in the blood, sweat, and bricks of the LGBTQ+ community fighting back. We are talking about survival here, not marketing…

It was not always glitter and visibility. During the 1950s, while McCarthyism was sweeping through the United States like wildfire, another hunt took place; this one quieter, meaner, and more insidious. It was called the Lavender Scare. Sparked by irrational fears and moral panic, the U.S. government systematically fired hundreds, if not thousands, of employees suspected of being homosexual. The name itself came from the phrase “lavender lads,” a derogatory term used by Senator Everett Dirksen as a stand-in for gay men. Lavender, long associated with queerness, was twisted into a slur, into a reason to ruin lives.

This was no isolated event. It was a purge, another form of state-sanctioned violence. The FBI, the State Department, entire government offices joined in the erasure. People lost their jobs, their homes, their names. And this happened in the so-called land of the free.

By Michael Evans

But our history is not just about oppression. It is also about rebellion.

In 1969, queer people had enough. At the Stonewall Inn in New York City, the police came in — again — raiding, threatening, humiliating. But this time, the community fought back. It was trans women of color including Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, and many more fierce queens, who were at the frontlines, resisting police violence with their bodies, their rage, their brilliance. These women were not just defending themselves, they were cracking open a new space for what queer freedom could look like.

And what happened after? The movement exploded into marches, collectives, zines, alliances. The first Pride was a riot. A confrontation. A reclamation. However, let us not fool ourselves into thinking these battles are over.

Not Gay as in Happy but Queer as in Free Palestine

Today, right-wing governments across the globe — from Kyriakos Mitsotakis in Greece to Trump in the U.S.— weaponize “tradition” and “morality” to gut queer and trans rights. Trump’s administration rolled back protections for trans students, tried to erase trans identities from federal documents, and placed a ban on trans people serving openly in the military. Meanwhile, queer people are still murdered, still erased, still forced to explain their humanity on a daily basis.

Laws are not liberation. Visibility is not safety. Rights can be taken away with the same pen strokes that granted them. That is why Pride can not just be a party. It must remain political. Pride has always belonged to the marginal, the defiant, the ones who did not fit.

And we must remember: queerness does not exist in a vacuum. Our struggle is intersectional or it is nothing. That means standing beside the ones that suffer, the ones that have been facing literal extinction, the Palestinian people, whose lives are being torn apart by apartheid and military occupation. If we are to fight for justice, then we must fight against all forms of oppression; be it homophobia, transphobia, racism, colonialism or war.

Pride is not just about LGBTQ+ rights, it is about collective liberation. It is about understanding that Black trans women, disabled queer people, migrants, sex workers, and those displaced by violence are not “fringe”, they are the frontline.

So whether we are rolling on skateboards through Athenian streets, chanting through megaphones, or simply daring to hold hands in public, what we are doing is claiming space. And space is power. They told us we did not belong. But we are still here. Louder. Queerer. And ready to fight for everyone.

With that being said, this is an open invitation to join us every Tuesday at 7pm for a girls & queers skate meet-up at Kotzia square, ran by @filikaskate. See you then, see you on the streets, at the dancefloor, at the vigil, at the protests, at the barricades. Let us stay strong, let us stay together, let us not be silenced.

See you there!

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