The Revolting Lesbians at Dyke Pride
Lesbian protestor Nonika reports on Brighton's Dyke Pride
“DYKES DON’T DO DICK” was apparently too inflammatory a slogan for Brighton’s Dyke Pride.
A small group of us had gone there to protest the event’s TQIA+ inclusive branding and reclaim the word “dyke”. Armed with a WhatsApp group, a banner and a couple of placards, no more than ten members of LGB Alliance, Not All Gays and Fantastic Lesbians set off for Brighton to make our point.
When we unfolded the banner at the edge of the event, we were asked to put it away. We declined. Before long, we were surrounded by attendees and stewards, who tried to block us from view with flags, tore up gay activist Mr Menno’s placard and a banner belonging to Not All Gays’ Ireland, and chanted slogans in our faces.
We wanted to remind the event’s organisers and attendees that “woman”, “lesbian” and “dyke” have meanings rooted in biological sex, a reality recently affirmed by the Supreme Court.
We met in the park beside a dog show taking place at the same time. Mercifully, there were no furries in evidence to confuse matters further. From there, we positioned ourselves on the edge of the event, where we could be seen without getting in anyone’s way.
Our placards had quickly attracted the attention of the welfare team, who said they were concerned for our personal safety. We thanked them and assured them that, should we feel under threat, we would ask for their help.
Some of us responded to the chanting with a little song, “If a person has a penis, he’s a man”, accompanied by dancing. At this point, a young man came over to express concern for my personal safety. He worried that I might feel intimidated as part of a small group of mostly older women, including one wheelchair user, being hounded by aggressive young people shouting at us.
I assured him that I was perfectly fine. Having been a voiceless minority all my life, I was used to it. But I asked whether he thought we should, in fact, be concerned for our safety.
By then, the crowd had begun to take on the character of a mob, mistaking bullying for community. We were bored, and some of our more vulnerable members were becoming understandably apprehensive. Masked blokes in fishnets glaring at short women is not especially relaxing. So, reluctantly, we left, allowing them to maintain the delusion that they had frightened us off.
This stuck in the craw of the more confrontational among us, but we saw the wisdom of retreating to the pub. Given the extraordinary levels of delusion already being indulged willy-nilly, one more surely was not going to sink the ship.
Still, it was heartening to receive the occasional nod of support from a few old-school dykes. And, as ever, despite the aggro, much TERF fun was had and our dignity remains intact.
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