It’s that time of year again when, behind the rainbow of colour and festive vibes, discrimination raises its ugly head. It grumbles: “We gave them their rights, why don’t they sit quietly in a corner? Why do they need to rub our faces in it?” The answer is simple. Pride — in Gozo and around the world — is not just a celebration; it is a reminder that, as long as people face discrimination, bullying, hate speech, and violence because of who they are or whom they love, the fight is far from over. No one is free until we are all free.
In 2025, being LGBTIQ+ is still a crime in 63 countries, and in several, it carries the death penalty. With LGBTIQ+ rights being branded as “woke” and far-right propaganda on the rise, prejudice can be more insidious — harassment in schools, workplace discrimination, online abuse, or subtle exclusions in rural communities. Even here in Malta, a nation praised internationally for its progressive laws, incidents such as two men being stopped by police for kissing during Carnival remind us that equality on paper means little if it is not enforced in daily life. Pride exists precisely because these realities remain.
For those who ask, “Why isn’t there a straight Pride?” the answer is simple: heterosexuality is celebrated every day — in adverts, television shows, films, love songs, and in the everyday legal and social recognition that most people take for granted. Pride exists because LGBTQ+ people have historically been erased, criminalised, or forced into silence. Eleven months of the year already serve as straight pride.
Critics often focus on the most flamboyant aspects of Pride — drag queens, leather outfits, or bare chests — and use them to dismiss the entire event. What they fail to understand is that, for many, Pride is the only day of the year when they feel safe enough to express themselves without fear. What may look like a party to an outsider can be a lifeline to someone who has had to hide or suppress who they are every other day of the year — to make themselves “less,” so that the same people who would embrace a show such as Love Island with scantily clad participants and questionable morals do not feel affronted.
And as for concerns about “what children might see,” the truth is that children are not born with prejudice. They see joy, colour, and community. Bigotry is learned — often from those who claim to be defending morality. Let’s call a spade a spade: when did watching or reading anything “straight” ever make a gay person less gay? Many parents need to ask themselves: would they still feel the same way if their children came out as queer later on in life? Would they reject them and show them the door?
The numbers show that LGBTIQ+ visibility is growing, but so are the challenges. In the United States, 9.3% of adults identify as LGBTIQ+ — about 23.6 million people. In the UK, 1.8 million people, or 3.3% of the adult population, identify as lesbian, gay, or bisexual, with one in ten young adults identifying as LGBTIQ+. In Malta, 2.5% of the population aged 16 and over identified as LGBTIQ+ in the 2021 census, while in Gozo the figure was 1.8%. These figures are almost certainly conservative, as trans and non-binary people are often excluded from official statistics, and many remain closeted for safety or privacy.
Religion is often invoked as a reason to oppose LGBTIQ+ rights, but such opposition frequently relies on selective readings of scripture. Nowhere in the Gospels does Jesus condemn same-sex love. Some of St Paul’s writings are cited to justify exclusion. Still, scholars have long debated whether these passages refer to consensual relationships at all, with many suggesting they address exploitative practices such as temple prostitution. Cherry-picking verses to condemn LGBTIQ+ people while ignoring teachings on compassion, humility, and justice is not faith — it is bias.
If we are to follow everything the Old Testament tells us, men should also not shave their beards, mixed fabrics are forbidden, we should say goodbye to shellfish and pork, and disobedient children should be stoned. Times have changed. Picking and choosing what scripture supports your own bias is not faith — it is discrimination.
Gozo’s rural and close-knit communities are a source of pride in themselves, but they can also be isolating for LGBTIQ+ people. Silence can be as damaging as open hostility. Pride in Gozo offers a visible sign that this island is a place of welcome. A rainbow flag in a café window or a supportive voice in a public square can be the difference between feeling invisible and feeling seen. In some cases, it can be the difference between life and death. In small communities, visibility matters even more. It tells young people that they are not alone, and it reassures older generations who once had to hide that things are changing.
Pride threatens prejudice because prejudice thrives on invisibility. The opposite of pride is shame. By marching in public — loudly, joyfully, and in numbers too large to ignore — we invite society to confront our existence and our humanity. We remind leaders, neighbours, and the wider world that we are here, vibrant, and unwilling to be erased. Inclusion takes nothing away from anyone else. Giving someone else the right to live freely does not diminish your own.
The work is far from done. Trans rights are under attack in many countries. Hate crimes against LGBTIQ+ people are rising in parts of Europe. Representation is still lacking in schools, workplaces, and rural communities. Discrimination not only harms individuals, it weakens society by stifling creativity, diversity, and the economic contributions of people forced to hide who they are.
More worrying is a 2018 report by Stonewall, a UK-based advocacy movement for the queer community, which found that 52% of LGBT people experienced depression, while 46% of trans people and 31% of LGBTI people who aren’t trans had considered suicide. According to the Human Rights Campaign Foundation, 372 trans and gender-expansive people have lost their lives to fatal violence in the USA since 2013. Of these, 83% were transgender women, and 61% were Black transgender women. Closer to home, members of the LGBTIQ+ community faced verbal harassment, and one person was physically assaulted following the Gozo Pride celebration in 2023.
Pride began as a protest. The Stonewall Uprising of 1969 was a direct response to police violence against queer people in New York. A year later, the first Pride march took place to mark that act of defiance, and the Gay Liberation Movement was born. Today, Pride is both a protest and a celebration — a remembrance of past struggles, a demand for justice today, and a vision for a future in which diversity is embraced rather than feared.
In Gozo this September, the march will be a living statement: to the young person in a small village wondering if they will ever be accepted, to the elder who remembers when love had to be hidden, and to the allies who believe that justice for one means justice for all.
You don’t have to be LGBTIQ+ to march in Pride. You simply have to believe that no one should be bullied, silenced, or denied rights because of who they are. Being an ally means speaking up when you witness discrimination, creating safe spaces, and showing that diversity strengthens a community rather than threatening it.
On 6 September 2025, Pride in Gozo will be more than just colour, music, and celebration. It will be an act of solidarity, a declaration that this island is a place where everyone belongs. Whether you march, watch from the sidelines, or join to learn, your presence will carry a message: in Gozo, we stand for equality, we reject hate, and we celebrate love in all its forms.
Check out the Pride in Gozo programme
Warren Bugeja is a heritage professional and content writer whose work explores identity and food pathways. He also works freelance as a community officer with LGBTI+ Gozo and is an active advocate for human rights, freedom of expression, and environmental sustainability. Follow the journey at warreninwords.com
