Pride: “It’s a celebration of people that feel they can be themselves, and to have pride in who you are.”

“I remember standing there and seeing the energy, positivity and acceptance. There was absolutely no negativity. Everybody was there to support themselves, and everyone around them. I can still feel my heart swelling with excitement in my chest. It was pure emotion.” So says Adrian Brady, a 41-year-old secondary school teacher who teaches in Kilcock, Co. Kildare. He’s talking about his first pride festival in San Francisco, in 2006.

“I’ll never forget it. I was young and had escaped Ireland and I was never coming back again,” he laughs. “Then I ran out of money and had to come back – but that’s another story,” he says. “I thought, ‘this is amazing’. Nobody else knew who I was, so I didn’t have that fear of, ‘oh there’s Adrian Brady and he’s a teacher and he’s queer.’”

For Adrian, the road to Pride in San Francisco was long, and had twisted its way from rural Ireland to the more progressive streets of America. “I felt a weight had lifted off me. I was overwhelmed by the feeling. Any positive adjective that you can put in there, that’s Pride,” he says, “It’s a celebration of people that feel they can be themselves, and to have pride in who you are.”

Adrian grew up in Finter, near the small village of Killeigh in Co. Offaly, at a time when homosexuality was not only illegal and stigmatised, but many people in rural Ireland were unaware of its existence. “Did I know I was gay when I was a child? No, because I didn’t know what it was. The awareness wasn’t there. This was only 30 years ago,” he says.

He felt that he was different to most of the boys his age, and his father had a big influence on how he viewed his own sexuality. “My father was a big, straight power in terms of the things you should do because you are a boy. I was very afraid of him,” he says. Adrian said his father subscribed to a more stereotypical form of masculinity.

Adrian’s father pressured him to do things that society deemed normal, natural and right for boys. “My father was obsessed with sport, and my brother played for Offaly. Then I, the pink sheep, came along and I just said, ‘I am not doing this.’ Am I a little bit damaged by it? Probably. Has it taken over my life? Absolutely not,” he says resolutely.

This black and white environment Adrian grew up in made him afraid of who he was; and homosexuality as a result, but it didn’t stop him from pursuing authenticity. “The thought of going out to a gay nightclub in Ireland? Absolutely not a hope. But it was festering. You can be somebody, and not realise you’re that somebody, because you’ve been so trained to be somebody else,” he says.

“My mother and father did what they thought was best,” he says. Adrian’s father sadly passed away in March 2014, before Adrian had a chance to come out to him. “My father never knew. My sisters reckoned he knew, but I never told him because I thought he would blame my mother. He wouldn’t have understood."

“My mother found out in a way that I’m not going to get into. She was exceptional to the point it was kind of annoying,” he laughs.

Adrian’s acceptance of himself, however, came in stages. From fascination with the first openly gay man he met in college in Maynooth university, to gay chat rooms in the late 90s, until he went to America in 2000. “The natural feeling in me at that time when I was 19 and turning 20 was: ‘I have to act on this in reality, just to see what it’s like’. I never said, ‘I’m actually gay!’” he says.

Adrian married his husband, Humphrey Murphy, in 2019 – four years after gay marriage was legalised in Ireland. It was a difficult time for members of the LGBTQ+ community. Their personal lives were being debated on national television.

“I was so hyper-anxious that when they gave the result, I missed it. I didn’t hear it! My friend told me, and I started crying. I didn’t even know why. The results after that, and what has happened since, has been exceptional,” says Adrian.

The marriage equality act was a huge development for the LGBTQ+ community, but they still face problems as a minority group. 20-year-old Dylan O’Brien from Co. Wexford recalls his experience growing up as part of the community in Ireland.

“I was bullied quite a lot when I was 13 or so. Called names, but I hadn’t even come out yet. I came out as gay first, when I was 15. Everyone accepted me, but then I came out as a trans man at 16, and I had the same bullying experience. But now, nobody says anything to me,” he says.

Thankfully, things have gotten easier for Dylan since then. “I think back then, it wasn’t accepted because people just didn’t understand. And didn’t know what to do, and weren’t educated. Today everyone accepts me and I’ve not had a bad word said about me,” he says.

“It never really bothered me, because I knew I was always just trying to be myself. I wasn’t going to let other people stop me from doing it. Instead I tried to educate them on how I was feeling, so they could at least try to understand it,” he adds.

But issues still remain for Dylan and members of the LGBTQ+ community. Trans folks still have to travel abroad to access surgery that remains unavailable in Ireland. Many members of the community are harrassed, attacked and deligitamised on a daily basis. As early as 2018, Ireland had the highest rate of hate crimes against trans people in the EU.

“I can only speak on my trans experience. I think healthcare is a massive one. The public waitlist for hormones is unbelievably long. Surgeries are costly too, and this in turn puts a strain on mental health. Because you begin to think you’ll never get to where you want to be,” says Dylan.

“I think bullying is still a huge factor in the community, people getting jumped, receiving death threats and slurs. I think it’s still a massive thing even though there’s a huge support there too.”

“Some people still don’t understand. I’m lucky that I have friends, co-workers and family who are incredibly supportive and make me feel so comfortable. But others aren’t so lucky.”

There was much debate over companies using Pride as a means to promote their own business as opposed to truly supporting LGBTQ+ people. Dylan feels their support should be year round.

“I think the support should always be shown, because it’s still difficult for people to be who they are and these companies need to show that they accept everyone all year round,” he says.

Adrian, however, feels that any kind of awareness is good for the community. “You can’t beat the drum all the time. These companies are making it clear that they are supportive of the gay community this month, which means they’re supportive for the other eleven months of the year as well,” he says.

Both men agree on the value of Pride as a festival and its importance for the LGBTQ+ community.
“I think it’s great to show support and have everyone come together to show people that it’s okay to be who you are, and to not be afraid of what other people think of you,” says Dylan.

“Without creating awareness in previous generations with the Pride movement, we would not be where we are today,” Adrian adds. “All of the events leading up to and during, expose the general public to Pride. If people are exposed to anything they’re ignorant towards, it’s the best form of education.”