diffrentcolours | Trans Pride Manchester (Reply)

Last Saturday, I went to Trans Pride Manchester for the second time. With the far right protesting in the city centre, I wanted to be there to help protect my trans friends, if only by being tall and huge at potential troublemakers. So I got on the bus with cosmolinguist who was heading to the gym. A few stops later, some student-age young queers got on with their mobility aids and trans flags and we made eye contact and nodded. There were also half a dozen middle-aged ladies speaking some Southern European language too fast for me to identify it; their leader asked me in halting English if I knew how to get to Oxford Road station and I promised I'd tell them when to get off the bus.

The bus was just about level with the Manchester Aquatics Centre when the driver got a phone call and stopped the bus to take it. After a long conversation, he announced to us passengers that bus routes through the city centre had been suspended due to the presence of the fash, and we'd have to get off and walk into town. We were about a mile short of my intended stop, and between the delays and extra walking there was no way that E would make the gym, so he decided to come along with me.

The middle-aged ladies and the baby queers didn't know how to get where they were going from where they were; we were going to the same place as the latter and it took us past the former's destination, so I ended up leading an odd convoy! It turns out that the ladies were from Spain and were escaping the heatwave in Barcelona by coming to Britain; they were headed to Liverpool for the day. They asked me why the bus had stopped, and I simply replied "fascists". It's a usefully international word in that regard. When they got to the station their leader kissed me on both cheeks, wished me "Adios" and "Gracias", and they filed off up the station approach.

We escorted the baby queers to Castlefield for the start of the march. We avoided St Peter's Square where there was some kind of noisy demo, and instead took part of the march route, backwards. It was their first Pride-type event and they were excited. They found their friends, we sat on the grass in the shade and relaxed among hundreds of trans people and allies, recognising a few faces and saying our hellos here and there. We listened to speeches and poetry, fierce and angry and proud. Just as the march was starting off, we met up with some friends as planned, and the four of us walked together. The march was great - no trouble, lots of chants, good signs, seemingly lots of support from passers by and even the motorists we were holding up. The route kept us away from the city centre so there was little chance of running into the far-right. However at one point the stewards forgot the changed route and started marching towards Piccadilly Gardens, before doubling back on themselves and heading down into the Village. This was great because it meant that people on the march got to see other people on the march. And also because it happened right by a Yates pub, where a bunch of fash who couldn't get served in Piccadilly Wetherspoons had ended up, so they got to see even more of the happy, weird queers marching past them, chanting and waving banners.

We ended up walking through the Village and into Vimto Park on the old UMIST campus on Sackville Street. Originally we'd planned to picnic there but it was clearly too crowded. We ended up in the beer garden at Yes on Charles Street, a good enough place for food and drinks. We spent a few hours eating, drinking and talking nonsense with our friends, before getting the bus home, back on its normal route. On the way back to the bus we ran into one of the baby queers who'd been to the LGBT Foundation to have their deed poll witnessed by a lawyer, and they were clearly stoked by the experience.

All in all it was a very positive day - we actually outnumbered the racists in the city centre, not that we got any press coverage. There was no trouble that I saw or heard about. People were supportive. We made new queer friends and helped some foreign ladies. The only shame is that E didn't make the gym and had to walk too much on his dodgy ankle.