OPINION | Þorbjörg Þorvaldsdóttir writes about the strength of standing together in uncertain times.
In a great song by Páll Óskar and Benni Hemm Hemm, “Eitt af blómunum”, the lyrics argue for inclusion and empathy towards people who are pushed to the fringes. One line in particular has stuck with me and gives me full-body chills every time I hear it: If you’ll ask, my only advice will be: Go find your people (it rhymes in Icelandic: Ef þú spyrð, er eina heilræðið mitt: Farðu og finndu fólkið þitt). It’s just… so true.
The single most healing thing for a queer person is realizing that you are not alone in your experiences, and that a community is to be found. In turn, being part of that community will foster self-acceptance, courage, and pride.
Every single person participating in the Pride march this Saturday has their own story, dreams, and hindrances that they have overcome. With queer rights being relatively new, some of the people attending will have been here from the start of our fight for equality in Iceland. Others are there for the first time, as trembling and excited as we have all been at some point in our journey. People who are over eighty years old march alongside teenagers. Together we show the world that, in the end, we are just people — and demand that we should be treated equally and with respect. It takes courage to be unapologetic in your visibility as a queer person. It always has, and always will. But there is no doubt about it: The stakes are now higher than they have been for a long time.
“It takes courage to be unapologetic in your visibility as a queer person. It always has, and always will. But there is no doubt about it: The stakes are now higher than they have been for a long time.”
I could write up a list of the negative things that have been happening in the world and here at home. But honestly, I don’t feel like it. I have spent the last few years trying to make people realize what we are up against, using my time and effort to counter it. At some point, however, continuously having to convince people who don’t want to face what is right in front of them becomes distressing in and of itself. So, let’s just leave it at that: Things have not been progressing in a positive direction for queer people or human rights in general. Our community is under pressure, and we need to close ranks.
That is what the celebration of Pride does. Showing up and marching brings together a relatively heterogeneous community. People often forget that we are indeed everywhere, threads of colour woven through the fabric of society. However, the pattern is only visible when we find each other. In a Pride parade the true diversity of the queer community is on full display. When we stand united, we are a force to be reckoned with.
While marching the streets of Reykjavík together, some of us get to pretend that prejudice cannot touch us; we look through the sludge we have had to wade through and find the gems that have formed under pressure — and display them proudly for everyone to see. Queer joy is resistance in a world that continuously tries to put people in oppressive boxes. Some of us use the visibility to point to injustice, to push for change, to be inconvenient and angry. Many of us do both at the same time. We can be proud and angry, joyful and fed up. All of this is valid, and all of it is important. At the end of the day, we march for ourselves and the community we belong to.
“When we take to the streets every year, we show that we are a community that is loved and proud, and that we refuse to be pushed into the shadows.”
In its essence, Pride is both a celebration and demand for human rights. Large and well-attended Pride celebrations like the one in Reykjavík happen in democratic societies, where all voices are allowed to be heard. It happens where freedom of assembly and freedom of expression is upheld (and, in our case, almost taken for granted). Queer people are visible when a community like ours is allowed to thrive and human rights are respected. And we should all remember that this is not a given.
Queer people are as human and complex as everyone else. When we take to the streets every year, we show that we are a community that is loved and proud, and that we refuse to be pushed into the shadows. It is so fitting that our symbol for freedom is a natural phenomenon that is just as inevitably a part of the world as queer people are. Although we have differing experiences and differing opinions, we stand united under the rainbow. It shines bright, and appears wherever the conditions are favourable, no matter what people think about it. And together, as a community, we find the courage to show up and march.