👮 should there be ‘No Cops at Pride’? 👮

QUEER WORD
NO COPS AT PRIDE

What It Means:

A debate within the queer community that centres on whether police officers should be permitted to march in uniform at Pride events, or whether Pride should remain a space free from the institutions that once criminalised queer people.

Let’s Use It In A Sentence:

Thomas was very much No Cops at Pride in the streets, but his specific proclivities meant he was considerably more pro-cop in the sheets.

So, Should Cops Be Allowed At Pride?

Before we can answer that question, let's just make sure we're all on the same page about what Pride actually is.

Or, perhaps more accurately, what it started as.

As you probably already know, we can trace the roots of Pride back to the Stonewall Riots of 1969, when queer people in New York City fought back against years of police harassment, intimidation, and raids.

And it wasn’t just a piddly little protest. We're talking six nights of riots, demonstrations, and street clashes led by a community that was well and truly fed up of being treated like criminals for simply existing.

And, sure, a lot has changed since 1969. Homosexuality has been decriminalised in many countries. Legal protections have improved. Public attitudes have shifted dramatically.

But what hasn’t changed (as much as it probably should have, anyway) is that fraught and complicated relationship between the queer community and the police.

Yes, many police forces now have LGBTQ+ liaison officers, community outreach programmes, and actively take part in Pride events. There are also countless queer police officers who genuinely want to support and protect their communities.

But critics argue that this doesn't erase either the history of over-policing queer people, or the ongoing discrimination, misconduct, and institutional failures that continue to undermine trust.

And that's why the slogan (and the associated campaign) No Cops at Pride exists.

Shall we take a closer look at the two sides of the debate?

Why Do Some People Think There Should Be 'No Cops at Pride'?

First, there's an important distinction to make here.

People arguing for No Cops at Pride aren't usually saying there should be absolutely zero police presence whatsoever. Most recognise the importance of keeping people safe, and the majority are fine with off-duty or queer officers attending as members of the community.

The objection is to police marching in uniform, representing the institution itself.

Beyond that, there are a load of different perspectives within the movement, but the arguments generally fall into three categories:

Historical

Pride is political, and there’s really no getting away from that.

The anger that sparked those early protests hasn't really ever gone anywhere. And there's a feeling that giving police a prominent platform at Pride, when the very reason this parade exists because of police brutality, is forgetting why the event even exists in the first place.

Experiential

For many queer people, we aren’t talking about something that’s ancient history.

Black, racialised, migrant, trans, disabled, poor, unhoused, and HIV-positive people continue to experience over-policing, discrimination, and unequal treatment within the criminal justice system.

So yes, a visible police presence might signal safety to some attendees, whereas for others, it signals danger. And we really shouldn’t be privileging police comfort over the safety of the most vulnerable in our community.

Structural

Then we have the pinkwashing argument.

Marching in a parade once a year isn't the same as actually dismantling the systems and structures that harm queer people. It's nothing more than performative. It looks like progress without being progress at all.

Why Do Others Disagree?

Then there are those that think that the police should be welcome to march at Pride. And, I guess that the broad thrust of their argument is that excluding police is ultimately counterproductive. 

Building bridges 

If the goal is to improve relationships between the queer community and law enforcement, then meaningful engagement has to happen somewhere and somehow.

Supporters of police participation argue that Pride offers an opportunity for officers to listen, learn, and build trust with communities that have historically been mistreated.

Inclusivity 

There are thousands of LGBTQ+ people working within police forces.

Critics of the No Cops at Pride movement argue that banning police participation can end up excluding queer officers who are the very ones trying to push for change from within their institutions.

Recognising imperfect progress 

Some see the fact that police want to participate as evidence of how far things have come.

Fifty years ago, police were raiding gay bars. Today, many forces actively recruit LGBTQ+ officers, run community outreach programmes, and publicly support Pride.

And whilst, yeah, they could always be doing more, supporter argue that it’s still worth taking the time to acknowledge the progress that has been made.

So, Who's Right?

I'm usually a bit of a fence-sitter when it comes to arguments like these, carefully weighing up both sides before spectacularly failing to plant my flag anywhere.

And, honestly, I’m kind of swayed by a lot of the arguments that are put forward by those who support police participation in Pride. I like the idea of building bridges. I like the idea of institutions learning from the communities they've harmed. And I don't think queer police officers should somehow be treated as ‘less queer’ than the rest of us.

But I also can't help noticing that police have been attending Pride events for decades now. And, in all of those decades I’m not entirely sure how much progress has actually been made.

Things have undoubtably improved since the Stonewall Riots, but we still see far too many examples of discrimination, misconduct, and institutional failures affecting queer people today. I think about:

• The Stephen Port murders in London, where police repeatedly failed to link the deaths of four young gay men, even though the similarities were obvious. When families raised concerns about a serial killer targeting gay men, they were dismissed. An inquest later found that basic police failures contributed to more deaths.

• Or the gay-hate murders around Sydney's coastal cliffs, where dozens of attacks on gay men were routinely dismissed as accidents or suicides by police. Subsequent inquiries found evidence of institutional homophobia and a culture that just didn’t take violence against queer people seriously.

• And then there’s the ongoing experiences of many trans people, who continue to report being misgendered, deadnamed, or treated with suspicion when they interact with police or other parts of the criminal justice system.

And it makes me think that the progress we’ve made isn’t enough.

Yes, Pride should be inclusive. Yes, it should create space for dialogue. And yes, it should recognise that change is possible.

But inclusion doesn't mean suspending accountability.

And if decades of invitations, engagement, and outreach haven't produced the kind of institutional change many people were hoping for, then perhaps we need to be a little less nicey-nice and start demanding more.