Exploring Brighton’s role as the country’s gay capital
Everybody knows Brighton is the UK’s gay capital, it has a country-wide reputation as a fun, free loving place. What many people don’t know, however, is how it gained this label – and why it has stuck to this day.
With origins dating back to the 17th century when Brighton shifted from a quiet fishing village to a garrison town for use in the war – later becoming a holiday destination for high society when the supposed health benefits of sea water were popularised. With the evolution of rail travel, journeys from London became easier; and with the attraction of the burgeoning entertainment scene, theatres, pier and the seafront, visitors flocked to Brighton and helped lay the foundations for this reputation – including many gay figures of the time, such as Oscar Wilde. The first gay venues appeared in the city around a century ago near St James Street, although homosexuality wouldn’t be legalised for another 40 years.
The city has remained a hub for activity and activism in the LGBTQ+ community, but what continues to attract – is it still the same as it once was – and what support is there for members of the community in Brighton that isn’t found elsewhere?
Walking through Brighton today, it’s easy to see what attracts people in the first place; its welcoming atmosphere, easy-going air, and the creative, bohemian nature of the city and its residents. You don’t have to walk far in Brighton before you find a gay bar, pub, or at the very least an LGBTQ+ friendly venue – there’s a palpable sense of community for queer people and the rainbow flags of the city aren’t torn down and stored away in a dinghy back room for their next annual appearance, they stay up year-round as a constant feature.
Curious about how the landscape of the city has changed over the years, I got talking to Harry Pygar, who moved to the city in 1988 in order to come out and start over in a more accepting environment. In his words, Brighton had the ‘vibrancy and appeal of London, with an openly queer reputation’ which accepted ‘mavericks and outsiders, regardless of shade of skin, gender, or sexuality’.
When Harry moved to Brighton, life was much more hostile for queer people in the wake of Thatcherism, the Section 28 Law, and the AIDS epidemic. Although comparatively a safer and more welcoming place than London, life was by no means free from persecution – the police were apathetic towards instances of hate crimes and the gay community were largely blamed for AIDS, even though they were by far the most affected. Despite this, a sense of community was easy to find in Brighton – there was a ‘vibrant gay scene, with pubs, clubs, and events’ as well as ‘the Sussex AIDS Centre for support’.
Harry even played his own small part in the community, owning a cafe which inadvertently became a hub in the queer community – gay and drag club nights were advertised and the Sussex AIDS Centre even held meetings there after closing times. In some ways, the queer scene in Brighton was larger than it was now, without the internet for a source of information or connections.
While the scene has evolved drastically, annual Pride marches have been a constant feature since its inception in 1991 as we know it today. Despite the insidious commercialisation over the years, the fundamental messages behind the parade remain the same. Harry remembers a time of being apprehensive and fairly afraid when partaking in some of the first parades, telling me about how a pride day party on the beach was met with hostile crowds. ‘I’m in two minds about Pride, I have become quite disenfranchised with it and how it’s no longer really about protest’. He says he recently changed his view on the event, however, ‘I like how you can’t escape the rainbow flag in any part of the city, it’s very in your face’ – in that respect, the counter culture roots are still visible. After all, ‘We’re here, we’re queer, we’re not going shopping’.
Still, the increasing commercialism and clear tokenism around pride from international businesses leaves a sour taste in the mouths of many in the community.
With a 2021 national census suggesting that 1 in 10 residents of Brighton and Hove are LGBTQ+, what support network is there for this significant demographic – in many cases, the existing help for the wider population does not apply or isn’t specialised or educated enough for helping LGBTQ+ people. To find out more about what support there is for members of the community in Brighton, I got talking to Rob Sainsbury – the chief executive officer of UK wide non-profit charity Switchboard, at the forefront of a continuing push for equality.
Starting 50 years ago as a gay helpline, Switchboard has since diversified, offering support to both young people, and older members of the community by running breakfast clubs and educating care staff on LGBTQ+ specific support. In what is clearly an uphill battle, he admitted there is a deficit in help available for members of the community – “as a charity, we’re likely more trusted than the NHS amongst the LGBTQ+ community”, with their LGBTQ+ focussed health programmes, they frequently act as a middle man to members of the community and the health support they need. Intersex and transgender people are a particular focus of the charity, whose faith in the healthcare provider has been beaten down by consistently lacklustre treatment.
After mentioning my story idea, Rob had a few things to say about the attraction of Brighton; “there’s a higher demographic of LGBTQ+ people compared to many other places, so its often seen as a place of safety” it’s also a “liberal, left leaning political space, making it more inclusive for everyone”. These things combined made him believe Brighton to have a “natural attraction” to queer people.
With its liberal, welcoming background, Brighton remains a beacon of hope for outsiders, misfits, and patently, members of the queer community searching for a sense of belonging lacking elsewhere; as it has been consistently for the last century or so.
