The Role of Pride: Why We Still Need It and What It Actually Does

Your aunt posts on Facebook that Pride is “just an excuse to party in the streets.” Your coworker mutters something about “shoving it in everyone’s faces.” Meanwhile, someone in your group chat says they’re tired of rainbow capitalism and won’t be going this year. Everyone seems to have an opinion about Pride, but what’s it actually doing?

Let’s cut through the noise and look at what Pride events actually accomplish, who they serve, and why they’re still happening decades after the first march.

The Origin Story (Spoiler: It Started as a Riot)

Pride didn’t begin as a parade with corporate floats and politicians waving from convertibles. It started as a riot in 1969 at the Stonewall Inn in New York City, when LGBTQ+ people—tired of police raids, harassment, and arrests—fought back. The next year, activists organized the first Pride march to commemorate that resistance.

Those early marches were explicitly political. People showed up knowing they could lose their jobs, get arrested, or face violence. They carried signs demanding rights, not rainbow flags with corporate logos. The point was visibility through defiance: “We’re here, we’re not going away, and we deserve equal treatment.”

Over the decades, Pride evolved. As laws changed and social acceptance grew in many places, the events got bigger, more festive, and yes, more commercial. Some cities now have massive parades with hundreds of thousands of attendees, corporate sponsors, and celebrities. This shift bothers some people—both within and outside the LGBTQ+ community—and we’ll get to that. But first, let’s talk about what Pride does today.

Why Pride Still Matters in 2025

Visibility Works (Even When It’s Annoying)

The most basic function of Pride is visibility. When you see thousands of people filling city streets, it’s hard to pretend LGBTQ+ people don’t exist or that “there aren’t many of them.” This matters more than you’d think.

For teenagers in conservative areas, seeing Pride coverage—even if it’s just news clips or social media posts—can be the first time they realize they’re not alone. For someone in a small town who’s never met another openly queer person, Pride shows that there’s a larger community out there.

Visibility also creates a feedback loop. The more visible LGBTQ+ people are, the more others feel safe coming out. The more people come out, the harder it is to pass discriminatory laws or maintain prejudiced attitudes. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s proven effective.

Solidarity Isn’t Abstract

Pride brings together people who might otherwise never interact. The 20-year-old lesbian art student meets the 60-year-old gay accountant. The trans activist talks to the bisexual parent of three. The drag queen high-fives the non-binary programmer.

This cross-pollination matters because LGBTQ+ people aren’t a monolithic group. We have different politics, incomes, races, religions, and life experiences. Pride events create physical spaces where these differences exist together, which builds actual solidarity rather than just the theoretical kind.

It also shows straight people that their LGBTQ+ neighbors, coworkers, and family members are part of something bigger. That cognitive shift—from “I know one gay person” to “gay people are a substantial community”—changes how people vote, what they tolerate from politicians, and how they respond to discrimination.

Political Pressure Never Stops Being Necessary

Rights can be taken away. Laws can be reversed. What was settled can become unsettled. Pride events serve as an annual reminder that LGBTQ+ people vote, organize, and won’t accept backsliding on civil rights.

When hundreds of thousands of people show up to Pride in a city, local politicians notice. When Pride happens in conservative areas—even if it’s smaller—it shows that LGBTQ+ people live there too and aren’t hiding anymore. This creates political pressure that matters when laws are being written or judicial appointments are being made.

What People Actually Get from Going to Pride

Let’s get practical. What does attending Pride actually do for individuals?

Social Connections

A lot of people make real friends at Pride events. You strike up a conversation with someone at the resource fair. You join a group photo and exchange Instagram handles. You meet someone through a mutual friend and end up hanging out all summer.

For people who don’t have many LGBTQ+ friends—either because they’re newly out, live somewhere with a small community, or just haven’t found their people yet—Pride offers concentrated opportunities to connect. It’s speed-dating for friendship.

Some people also meet romantic partners at Pride, though let’s be honest: the heat, crowds, and chaos aren’t everyone’s idea of a conducive dating environment. But it happens.

Access to Resources

Pride events usually include resource fairs with booths from LGBTQ+ organizations, health clinics, legal aid groups, and community centers. This is where you learn about free STI testing, find a therapist who specializes in LGBTQ+ issues, get information about legal name changes, or discover support groups for specific identities.

For someone who just came out and doesn’t know where to start, these resources can be life-changing. Even for people who’ve been out for years, there’s often something new—a service they didn’t know existed or an organization doing work they want to support.

Affirmation and Confidence

There’s a psychological effect to being surrounded by thousands of people who share aspects of your identity. For many people, especially those who deal with isolation or discrimination in their daily lives, Pride offers a few hours where being LGBTQ+ is the norm, not the exception.

This isn’t about needing constant validation. It’s about the relief of not having to monitor yourself, explain yourself, or brace for negative reactions. You can hold your partner’s hand without scanning for danger. You can wear what you want without worrying about being clocked. That temporary freedom builds confidence that carries over into the rest of the year.

The Criticism from All Sides

Pride isn’t universally loved, even within the LGBTQ+ community. Let’s address the main complaints.

“It’s Too Corporate”

This one’s valid. When banks that donate to anti-LGBTQ+ politicians sponsor Pride floats, or when companies release rainbow merchandise without actually supporting LGBTQ+ rights, it feels hollow. Some call it “rainbow capitalism”—corporations profiting from LGBTQ+ identity without meaningful commitment to LGBTQ+ people.

The counterargument: Corporate involvement, however cynical, does normalize LGBTQ+ acceptance. When every major brand has a Pride collection, it signals that supporting LGBTQ+ rights is mainstream and expected. That social pressure affects corporate behavior beyond June.

But the tension is real, and many local Pride organizations struggle with how to fund their events without compromising their values. Some have moved toward rejecting corporate sponsors entirely; others accept the money but use it to fund community programs.

“It’s Too Sexual/Provocative”

This criticism comes from both outside and inside the community. Some straight people clutch their pearls about leather daddies and shirtless dancers. Some LGBTQ+ people worry that these images fuel stereotypes and hurt the community’s image.

Here’s the thing: Pride grew out of communities—particularly gay men and trans people—who were criminalized specifically for their sexuality. Leather culture, drag, and sexual expression are part of LGBTQ+ history. Sanitizing Pride to make it more palatable to conservatives doesn’t actually make them more accepting; it just erases parts of the community.

That said, there’s room for different types of Pride events. Some cities have family-friendly Pride festivals alongside adult-oriented events. People can choose what matches their comfort level.

“It Excludes People”

Some critics argue that Pride has become too focused on certain groups—usually white, cisgender gay men—while marginalizing others like trans people, people of color, and bisexual people. This criticism has historical backing: trans women of color were central to Stonewall, but mainstream Pride events haven’t always centered their experiences or needs.

Many Pride organizations have worked to address this by highlighting diverse voices, creating specific programming for marginalized groups, and examining who gets platform space. It’s ongoing work, and some cities do it better than others.

Pride Goes Digital

The COVID-19 pandemic forced Pride online in 2020 and 2021, which revealed something interesting: virtual Pride events reach people who could never attend in person.

People in rural areas, people with disabilities, people who can’t afford to travel, people living in countries where being LGBTQ+ is dangerous—all of them could participate in virtual Pride events. Online performances, digital resource fairs, and livestreamed panels made Pride accessible in new ways.

Even as in-person events returned, many organizations kept their online components. This hybrid approach serves different needs and acknowledges that not everyone can or wants to attend a massive street festival.

What Pride Actually Is

Pride isn’t one thing. It’s a protest and a party. It’s political action and personal affirmation. It’s community building and resource sharing. It’s flawed, contradictory, commercial, and grassroots all at once.

For someone coming out for the first time, Pride might be the moment they realize they’re not broken. For a longtime activist, it’s a reminder that the work continues. For someone who’s never felt comfortable at loud events, online Pride might be perfect. For the drag queen who’s been performing for 30 years, it’s another gig—but one that means something.

The question isn’t whether Pride is perfect or whether everyone needs to attend. It’s whether the event serves a purpose that can’t be replicated elsewhere. And the answer, for now, is yes. Until LGBTQ+ people have full equality everywhere, until coming out stops being dangerous, until queer kids in small towns have easy access to community—Pride will keep happening.

You don’t have to go. You don’t have to like it. But understanding what it does and who it serves makes it clear why it’s not going anywhere.