Pride: "The history of queer cinema is, in many ways, the history of people insisting on their right to exist"

As rainbow flags begin appearing in shop windows this Pride Month, it would be easy to assume that LGBTQ+ visibility has never been more secure. Same-sex marriage is legal in Ireland, queer characters appear in mainstream television and film, and many major companies continue to market themselves as allies. By some measures, the battle appears won.

But the reality is that this year’s Pride arrives as a reminder of the increasing struggles faced by the queer community.

Across the United States, Pride organisations have reported significant declines in corporate sponsorship. Organisers in cities including New York, Pittsburgh, Orlando and Salt Lake City have spoken publicly about funding shortfalls as companies pull back from associations with LGBTQ+ causes. In Ireland, Dublin Pride has confirmed the loss of sponsorship from Indeed after years of partnership, while other companies have also chosen not to renew their involvement. Similar stories are emerging across the UK and Europe.

Some organisations cite economic uncertainty. Others point to concerns about US government contracts or the changing political climate following Donald Trump’s return to office and his administration’s aggressive rollback of diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Whatever the explanation, the result is the same: institutions that were once eager to wrap themselves in rainbow branding are becoming noticeably quieter.

The moment raises uncomfortable questions about the nature of corporate allyship. It does seem like at least some companies were only committed to LGBTQ+ equality when it was profitable and popular, becoming less willing to stand alongside queer communities when doing so carries political risk.

It is tempting to dismiss corporate sponsorship as little more than marketing, and many queer people have long been critical of Pride’s commercialisation. But the reality is that Pride events require funding. They pay for security, accessibility measures, stages, performers, insurance and community programming. More importantly, many Pride organisations use those events to fund year-round services, advocacy work and community supports. At a time when LGBTQ+ people are increasingly under political attack, that support matters.

The most alarming aspect of the current backlash is the extent to which it has focused on trans people. Across the United States, hundreds of legislative proposals targeting transgender rights have been introduced in recent years. Similar debates have spread across Europe and the UK. What begins as restrictions on healthcare, education or participation in public life for one group rarely stays contained there. History repeatedly demonstrates that attacks on the most marginalised members of a community rarely stop with them.

That is why representation matters, particularly in culture.

Cinema cannot legislate. It cannot overturn discriminatory policies. But it can do something politics often struggles to achieve: it can make people see each other as fully human. The history of queer cinema is, in many ways, the history of people insisting on their right to exist. For decades, LGBTQ+ lives were either invisible on screen or reduced to stereotypes, cautionary tales and tragic endings. The emergence of more complex queer storytelling did not simply provide entertainment – it expanded the boundaries of empathy.

Stories create cultural memory. They help people imagine lives beyond their own experiences. They challenge fear, misinformation and prejudice. At moments when public discourse becomes increasingly hostile, that work becomes even more important.

Fortunately, 2026 looks set to be a remarkable year for queer cinema.

The Cannes Film Festival featured an unusually strong slate of LGBTQ+-themed films. Among the most anticipated is Coward, from Belgian director Lukas Dhont, following two soldiers who form an intimate bond amid the brutality of the First World War. Ira Sachs’ The Man I Love explores New York’s downtown arts scene during the AIDS crisis, while Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet’s A Woman’s Life centres on a late-life sapphic awakening.

Elsewhere, The Black Ball traces the lives of three gay men across different generations, inspired by the work of Federico García Lorca. Japanese director Koji Fukada’s Nagi Notes offers a quieter story of two women navigating loss, friendship and reinvention.

Meanwhile, Jane Schoenbrun’s eagerly awaited Teenage Sex And Death At Camp Miasma continues the filmmaker’s distinctive exploration of queer identity through the language of horror. Finally, Ireland’s own GAZE Film Festival – which itself lost its major corporate sponsor two years ago – is launching its programme later this month in anticipation of the festival in August, which will be well worth checking out.

Read the full Pride Special in the current issue of Hot Press – out now.