So Proud!
And Now It Lasts a Whole Season!
N.B. Regular service has now been restored, meaning at least one article per day and the unpausing of subscriptions for those who wish to support writing that refuses to outsource its conclusions to the approved ideological suppliers. Contributions also help maintain T.W.’s supervised hay and white willow bark diet, which he assures us is essential to national recovery.
Juniper has asked me to say that she remains opposed to subscriber payments, partly because money is a colonial extraction technology, and partly because she already receives your money through various taxpayer-funded federal and provincial grants for trauma-informed lanyard weaving, decolonised compost journalling, queer peat-bog listening circles, and a three-year pilot project on the role of oat milk in dismantling settler time. She is just happy to be here for her fans, most of whom, according to her latest impact report, are “not yet aware they are her fans.”
Editor’s note: Readers may notice that Juniper appears to be entering the delicate phase of progressive belief in which the approved object remains approved, but one is forced to ask why it keeps arriving with Ladybird’s rainbow Islam fantasy, high-fibre bottom-prepping meal kits, bathhouses, drag worship, public genitals, vegan leather, BDSM dog masks, and criminal convictions.
So Proud!
How cheering to see Ladybird, Britain’s national treasure of children’s publishing, celebrating Pride with the hard little nugget of cultural realism only a children’s publisher in 2026 would print: a rainbow over the doorway, a smiling Muslim mother with her non-Muslim wife, and a handwritten sign announcing EVERYBODY WELCOME HERE.
Ladybird have clearly done their research and understood Islam, I’m guessing. I wouldn’t know for sure. I’m an atheist communist, although only in the tasteful grant-application sense, not the gulag sense, and my knowledge of theology mostly comes from skimming furious comment sections while waiting for the kettle to boil.
Yes, social media occasionally serves me nasty little videos from dusty places I am assured have been gravely misunderstood by Western bigots, usually involving rooftops, lashes, or some other misunderstanding with paperwork, but I refuse to believe any of them are real. That seems safest for everyone.
Honestly, this Ladybird celebration of Pride feels extremely authentic, in the way children’s publishing always does when it spends half an hour on Canva and discovers devout Islam, gay marriage, and stock-illustration diversity living peacefully together under the same rainbow doorway.
And, perhaps Ladybird is simply showing us the tolerant, pluralistic, spiritually generous Islam I have so often heard about from people with rainbow lanyards and no travel plans. Muslim-majority countries can be very open-minded, I reminded myself. Cosmopolitan. Misunderstood. Full of malls. Very big on hospitality.
Take famously progressive Malaysia, for example. There it appears the authorities have looked at Pride, absorbed its message of joy, inclusion, and branded lubricant, and suggested calling LGBT budaya songsang, or “deviant culture.” This struck me as odd. And, honestly, I’m confused. Perhaps the Ladybird book had not arrived yet. Perhaps it was still in the airport, waiting for a sensitivity reader and a religious-affairs minister to agree on the doorway.
Yes, they have laws about “carnal intercourse against the order of nature,” punishable by up to 20 years’ imprisonment and whipping, and yes, there are state-level sharia offences stacked neatly on top, but apart from the prison, the flogging, and the religious morality courts, they are basically Portland with better food courts. In any case, I have learned not to peer too deeply into what happens in other countries, especially once the phrase “against the order of nature” has entered the legislation and everyone at the intercultural dialogue panel has begun looking at their shoes. It’s better that way.
Besides, Pride is a broad church. In some places, the state takes an intense disciplinary interest in bottoms. In others, the private sector steps forward with recipes.
How thoughtful of HelloFresh, then, to enter the Pride calendar with meal kits for the spiritually constipated. Eating may not be everyone’s top priority this month, they explain, but for those who are “prepping,” there is apparently an extensive lineup of high-fibre recipes available. Also, a discount code—BOTTOMSUP! Pride Month has many sacred traditions now, and one of them is watching a dinner-subscription company wink so hard at anal sex that the chickpeas start filing a workplace complaint. Wonderful!
Clearly, HelloFresh has done the work, as we like to say, and grasped the profound connection between dinner, fibre, faecal evacuation, and joyful consensual rearward intimacy as a form of embodied community care. I’m no nutritionist, but I do admire a company willing to look at Pride Month and say: what this movement needs is lentils, brand banter, and a voucher code for intestinal logistics.
Thankfully, in Ireland, the government, via the taxpayer-funded state broadcaster RTÉ, is recommending kids read books about faecal evacuation and Liquid Silk lubricant in preparation for penetrating bums, because unlike vaginas that are naturally made for penetration, bottoms do not self-lubricate:
Similar progress is being made in Minneapolis:
Many cities celebrate Pride Month with flags and a solemn municipal acknowledgement that love is love, meaning, of course, any consenting adult arrangement involving genitalia, bottoms, signage, and a robust cross-sector commitment to lubricant access. Minneapolis has gone further. In a deeply healing act of civic dampness, Mayor Jacob Frey has signed the Bathhouse Repeal Ordinance and Pride in Policy package into law, restoring the sacred right to gather in regulated humidity. Now, I know what some historically rigid people will say. They will point out that bathhouses and public sex venues were banned to stop the rampant spread of AIDS via anonymous Love, multiple partners, and bodily fluids, doing the terrible little epidemiological work that bodily fluids sometimes do. And yes, technically, people died. Okay, a lot of people died. But we must be very careful here. The old public health model was frightened, punitive, and sweaty in the wrong way. It looked at a bathhouse and saw risk. The new public health model looks at a bathhouse and sees outreach, sanitiser stations, trauma-informed towel distribution, and a QR code leading to taxpayer-funded drugs and municipal resources.
Not to be outdone, Canadian churches, like this one in Toronto, are really entering the Prideful spirit, with Drag Queen Worship, which is exactly like ordinary worship except with fewer dead patriarchs, more dollar bills, and a much clearer understanding of what the sanctuary floor is for. Some congregations still cling to hymns, sermons, confession, communion, and that whole trembling-before-God business. This church has moved bravely beyond such dusty arrangements into a richer liturgical future: sequins, choreography and offertory cash tucked into a bra for justice.
Again, I wouldn’t presume to know what Jesus and his disciples would have thought of this, since I don’t read the Bible, it being an ancient colonial construct and also quite long. But honestly, what’s not to like? You’ve got clapping. You’ve got music. You’ve got money changing hands in a sacred space. You’ve got fancy dress. You’ve got a man performing an exaggerated costume version of womanhood in front of a congregation trained to call this liberation without blinking.
Pure fun, really.
And it is definitely not a mockery of women. Please don’t be vulgar. Women have historically loved being reduced to wigs, breasts, heels, stage makeup, and exaggerated sexual mannerisms, especially in churches where their grandmothers once wore hats and tried to keep the children quiet. No doubt Mary herself would have worn something similar if she were around today, perhaps descending the aisle under tasteful LED lighting while the disciples tucked denarii into her empowering garment of communal joy.
And, because we are Canada, and therefore world leaders in the administratively elongated rainbow, our government has realised that Pride Month was never going to be enough. A month is so brief. So abrupt. So dangerously vulnerable to ending. We now have Pride Season, running from June to September, which is far more humane. Liberation cannot be expected to squeeze itself into thirty days like a cisnormative camping permit.
This is what I love about Canada. Other countries have parades. We have a seasonal framework. Other countries raise flags. We produce toolkits. Other countries celebrate Pride for a month and then drift back into weather, groceries, and their little private lives. We understand that justice needs time to bloom across the full federal summer, preferably with downloadable graphics, virtual backgrounds, and the quiet blessing of every department that has ever hired a communications officer.
Pride Season feels right. Pride Month was practically austerity.
Yes, the whole of summer is time to get outside and show one’s true self to the world in a brave and beautiful way. Clothes, after all, are just fabric borders. Pants are colonial architecture. Modesty is a settler construct maintained by people who still believe streets should contain fewer genitals (Warning to prudish conservatives and traditionalists and anyone still trapped in the violence of trousers: the following video contains visible human bodies, sunshine, and brave citizens expressing themselves on public streets without the suffocating textile regime of late-stage capitalism):
And, of course, because this is Canada, the churches are doing a great job of helping the children understand that it’s okay to get naked in public:
Unfortunately, I am very disappointed to hear that not all Pride events went ahead as scheduled:
There is a disappointing and unexplainable number of Pride organisers associated with sexual offences:
A man has been jailed for 24 years for raping an “extremely vulnerable” 12-year-old boy after the pair met on a dating app.
Stephen Ireland, 41, who co-founded Pride in Surrey in 2018, raped the child at the flat he shared with his then-partner and co-defendant David Sutton, 27, in Addlestone on 19 April 2024 after messaging on Grindr.
Andrew Way, an LGBT Pride organiser known by the stage name Miss Gin, believed he was talking to a 14-year-old boy in explicit messages online.
Way pretended he was 27 when he began contacting the “boy”, not realising that a paedophile hunting group was behind the profile.
Sean Gravells was charged with two counts of sexual interference of a person under 16, two counts of touching a young person for sexual purposes, two counts of possession of child pornography, and two counts of importing or distributing child pornography.
Jake Tucker, the head of Innisfil Pride, has been found guilty of trafficking two Barrie women into the sex industry.
A Barrie jury returned a guilty verdict on seven of 10 counts late Wednesday night at the Barrie courthouse.
Clarke was jailed for 15 months by an Australian court in 2014, after admitting to possessing almost 15,000 images of child sexual abuse.
He later moved to the UK, and was named acting chair of the Swindon and Wiltshire Pride festival in December 2017, serving in the role for five months.
A nurse who performed unnecessary intimate examinations on children for his own sexual gratification has been struck off.
Ashley Boyd carried out testicular examinations which were not within his job description, a Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) fitness to practice panel heard this month.
He was not a qualified children’s nurse but requested to work in the paediatric area of the emergency department.
Boyd was a chair of Swindon and Wiltshire Pride from September 2022 to March 2023.
Boyd was also chair of the trust’s LGBTQ+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer) network in 2022.
Clearly, this momentary lapse in good judgement, if we may call three minutes on Google a research phase, had gone badly wrong. I had made the fatal error of doing my own research, despite the government repeatedly warning me that unsupervised noticing can lead to dangerous outcomes, such as knowing things one had been much happier not knowing.
I decided to look no further and trust, with the full serenity of a federally funded person, that there is no trend here, no pattern, no incentive problem, no safeguarding issue, no institutional blindness, and certainly no logical explanation for why so many organisers dedicated to proudly and publicly celebrating their sexuality keep becoming unexpectedly interesting to the police.
Once I had finished not noticing that, I turned to the next difficulty facing the international Pride project: not everyone has agreed to clap. FIFA, for example, appears to have failed to properly communicate the nature of Pride to the Egyptian and Iranian football federations, who seem to have arrived at the World Cup under the tragically outdated impression that their cultural and religious objections might matter. This is sad. This is what happens when inclusion is not properly scaffolded.
The Iran Football Federation wants FIFA to prevent any “ceremonies or promotional activities” in support of the LGBTQ+ community at a much discussed “Pride Match” between Egypt and Iran on Friday in Seattle, as well as restricting symbols or representations of the Pride movement at Lumen Field.
Since Seattle was confirmed to have a June 26 World Cup fixture, the city’s host committee has been preparing activations to mark the occasion, with the match at Lumen Field fixed as Egypt vs. Iran following the draw last December. The Seattle FWC26 committee’s website has a page dedicated to the Pride Matchday and it is holding a Pride Match Day press briefing on Thursday.
“Iran and Egypt are two Muslim countries with deep cultural and religious commonalities, and the views expressed by both federations reflects the values and beliefs shared by the people of both countries.
“Our position is that no ceremonies, or promotional activities associated with this movement should be present inside the stadium or as part of the match environment. This position has been communicated to FIFA through the appropriate channels.
“We believe FIFA should take into account the views and concerns of the participating teams when considering matters related to the match environment and stadium presentation.
“FIFA has been informed of this shared position by both countries and is expected to take the necessary steps to ensure that no related ceremonies or promotional activities take place within the stadium or as part of the official match environment.”
Apparently, Iran and Egypt, two countries whose federations describe them as having “deep cultural and religious commonalities,” have asked FIFA to prevent Pride ceremonies, Pride promotions, Pride symbols, and Pride representations from being part of the match environment in Seattle, which feels like a missed learning opportunity, frankly. Had these teams been given the correct Ladybird books at the airport, perhaps all this could have been avoided.
Even better, the books could have been read to them by Mx. Tolerance Von Sparklebrief in the dressing room before kick-off, with a HelloFresh fibre platter available afterwards for embodied reflection. The Iranian goalkeeper could sit cross-legged on a mat while learning that everybody is welcome here, especially if they have first agreed to the host committee’s activation schedule. The Egyptian back four could colour in a rainbow family while a non-binary facilitator gently explains that ancient religious traditions are valid, beautiful, and welcome, provided they behave exactly like a Seattle HR department in June.
This is the difficulty with global events. You invite the world, and then the world turns up with beliefs. Very awkward. Somebody should have checked.
In any case, if Mx. Sparklebrief is not available for emergency World Cup dressing-room reconciliation, Canada could possibly have another qualified candidate ready for international deployment: Adrianna Exposée, a drag performer whose cancelled school story time caused a small group of brave adults to gather outside a Public School and demand that children be given back their enrichment:
The school, rather mysteriously, cited concerns about “curricular alignment,” which is a very cold way to describe depriving children of a grown man in costume saying “A donkey... hee haw!” at them in the name of inclusion.
I found the whole thing extremely moving. Here were parents, advocates, and local democracy enjoyers standing together in the street to defend the sacred principle that some lessons are too important to be left to parents. Sometimes children need an expert. Sometimes that expert is a drag performer. Sometimes the expertise consists of looking amazing, prompting “really amazing conversations,” and helping young minds understand that the world is a rich tapestry of identities, fabrics, adult performance traditions, and barnyard noises.
Naturally, some narrow-minded people objected. There are always people like that, clinging to their little concepts of age-appropriateness, parental consent, public schooling, and not turning the classroom into a municipal cabaret with phonics. But the sane ones understood. Drag story time is not controversial. It is simply part of the curriculum now, somewhere between sharing, kindness, and learning that a donkey goes hee-haw when properly affirmed.
So yes, FIFA should take note. If Iran and Egypt remain confused about Pride Match Day, ask a drag queen to fly in immediately. Sit both teams down at half-time, distribute Ladybird books, hand out HelloFresh digestive support packs, and let the Pride learning begin.
Editor’s note: Comments are switched off because this article originates in Kakistanada, where there are many laws about noticing things. Apparently, it unsettles the cultural mosaic, alarms the stakeholder class, and risks exposing the corporate fetish pavilion beneath the bunting.
In a moment of madness, we asked T.W. for a comment. What follows is the portion legal counsel allowed us to publish after removing a long paragraph about “the ferret-faced priesthood of progress.”
I have read Juniper’s latest field report from the corporate kink festival formerly known as Western civilisation and can only say: good. Let it all be seen. People keep asking when liberalism will end. My dears, it is ending now. This is what an ideology looks like when it has eaten the family, the church, the school, the border, the body, the bathroom, and finally its own tail, then asked procurement for a branded tote bag.
As for how long this continues, my estimate is seven years in its current form, twelve if the grants hold, three if the parents finally notice.
There will be a loud middle phase before the end. More flags. More lanyards. More churches discovering pole-dancing as a sacrament. More cereal companies explaining polyamory. More mayors signing damp little ordinances beside men in mesh vests and leather BDSM dog masks while everyone pretends the smell is democracy.
Then the money will get nervous.
That is usually when courage appears.
Not from the bishops, obviously. Not from the universities, which will still be chewing their own ankles in the equity office. Not from the newspapers, which will be writing “complex legacy” pieces about the same things they called brave six weeks earlier. It will come from insurers, lawyers, exhausted mothers, bored teenagers, and some mid-level brand manager at LentilCorp who finally says, “Can we maybe sell soup without implying (REDACTED)?”
So my prediction is this: the carnival continues until the costs become visible to people who cannot be shouted down.
Seven years, give or take a lawsuit.
I remain under the shed.
T.W. Burrows
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