Pride to Arrogance

I’m a word nerd. I always have been. Give me a fancy word and I’ll happily disappear down an etymological rabbit hole. Words aren’t just labels; they often carry complicated philosophies and histories. They tell us how people once felt about things, and sometimes how they still do.

Margate Pride by Jason Pay 2016

Take pride.

We tend to treat Pride – with a capital P – as an unqualified good. It is banners and glitter and rainbows filling the streets. It is colourful defiance. It’s what Aretha Franklin was getting at when she sang about pride as “a deeper love.” After centuries of shame being attached to people who have chosen alternative ways of loving and presenting themselves, pride has been a necessary corrective.

Yet as an emotional state, pride has always been ambiguous. The traditional moralists were not entirely wrong to rank it high among the deadly sins. Not because feeling good about yourself is wicked, but because pride untethered can curdle into arrogance. Push it a little further and you get hubris – an ancient Greek warning sign that someone is about to fall flat on their face.

So let’s unpack my understanding of pride. Too much pride insists that not only am I worthy, but that I am flawless. Not only that my way of loving and living is legitimate, but that it is morally superior. That is the pivot point where something liberatory can harden into something faintly sanctimonious.

The antidote to arrogance is humility. Not humiliation or self-erasure, but the quiet recognition that I am one human among many, and that all of us are fallible.

Living a liberated sex life doesn’t make me a bad person, but it also doesn’t make me a saint. It doesn’t grant prophetic insight or moral authority. It simply means I am navigating the same tempestuous terrain as everyone else: desire, pleasure, guilt, connection, and loneliness. I’m not exceptional; I’m just another awkward mammal – albeit one who can claim a few good songs.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this since reconnecting with friends and colleagues at Margate Pride. The experience has also brought another word to mind: community.

These days all sorts of organisations often brand groups of people with shared interests ‘communities’; the cycling community, the vegan community, the queer community. However, the word originally meant something closer to ‘the common people’ – those who share a place. Not the nobility; not the clergy; just the rest of us muddling through together. When I talk about community cohesion, it’s this older meaning I have in mind.

If we take that definition seriously, grass-roots engagement stops being about curating safe rooms full of ideological twins. Instead, it becomes about speaking to neighbours you might not agree with on everything. It requires enough humility to listen to what people actually say, and to recognise that we probably share more concerns than we assume.

In my experience, stepping outside your comfort zone is surprisingly productive. Most of my conversations with non-LGBT+ people within many communities have been positive. It turns out, the man who loathes ‘woke culture’ is also worried about paying his heating bill. The woman who doesn’t understand why everyone suddenly uses the word ‘queer’ is desperately anxious about her mum’s hospital waiting list.

Material concerns cut across identity in surprising ways.

For example, you might be a trendy queer artist and struggling to pay your rent and bills. Congratulations! You’re just like most people living on your street. You might be fighting for access to life-saving treatment because you’re HIV positive or trans. Most people I speak with are also fighting for access to different forms of life-saving healthcare. When you focus on housing, wages and healthcare you discover common ground, and on common ground, you can build something sturdier than a slogan or an annual event.

The secret to effective community grass-roots organising is no secret at all, it’s just talking with the people who live around you.

Pride got us out of the shadows. Humility might help us grow in the daylight.

As always, my a’th kar.

I discuss this blog in more depth over on my YouTube channel:

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