A day out at Liverpool Pride

After last year’s Liverpool Pride event, which was filled with body-confident people, I wanted to be bold, brave and courageous. Seeing people happily be themselves was inspiring. For some reason, I struggle to be myself. Maybe one day I’ll be at peace with existing and maybe by pushing myself to do scary things I can get there.

I wanted to wear a bold outfit this year. I considered something sheer but ultimately I didn’t have the confidence to walk around in front of my clients in a see-through skirt. Maybe one year, but not this one. After a test run of my shiny swim briefs at Trans Pride Brighton, I had almost found my look. One visit to the local Lucy and Yak store and I was ready for Pride with a rainbow heart-covered pair of hotpants, or maybe they were boxer shorts. I’m not sure but they looked good. I rolled them up into a brief style to show off my perfectly crafted by 20-year-old IKEA furniture bum and was set. Sort of. I just needed the confidence, which isn’t something you can buy in a store. It’s something you get from doing things that scare you. Yay?

I got the bus to Pride in a pair of shorts that nicely covered my outfit. While I wear less at the lake, there’s that weird context issue. People don’t expect to see a male-bodied flat bum on their 9 am bus route. Maybe the world would be a nicer place if that was a regular thing. Let’s start a movement! Bottoms 4 posterity? 🤷🏼

When I got to the city I went to the best cafe around, Lovelocks, and got changed in their bathroom. Dropping my shorts in a public space seemed a little weird, so a bathroom it was. Standing there, looking at myself in the mirror, I thought “Nope. This is silly. Too silly. I should put the shorts back on.” But then I thought “Screw it. A migraine could occur and send me right back home before anyone saw anything.”

I walked out of the bathroom and proceeded to leave the cafe. The bathroom was of course at the back of the room and I had to walk past everyone. My arse was at their breakfast eating eye line. 🍑😬🥣 At least one table photographed me while I was waiting for takeout, and also filmed me while I was sat outside. It’s incredibly hard to relax and believe that they are filming you for the best possible reasons. I have to believe people are good or I’ll never go out. So I waved, and they said “Have a nice day.” I was officially out as a person with a bum. Who knew it was there all this time?

The 5-minute walk to the muster point was not a walk of shame, but confidence. It wasn’t a confidence in my stunning hot non-binary figure, but in my confidence to overcome my anxiety. The RNLI motto is “With courage, anything is possible.” A motto I’ve taken to heart over the past few years. Courage isn’t about doing incredible things. It’s about facing your fear and learning to believe that you can be yourself. That was in my heart, which was completely in my throat, as I walked to the muster point filled with thousands of people.

Arriving I found nothing happened. There were no screams. I wasn’t escorted off-site. I bumped into some clients of mine, chatted while my bum was squished in/out of a pair of hot pants, photographed them and wandered off to find other people to talk to. It did not occur to me until later that their lasting memory of that conversation may have been my bum. Oh well. Next time, back away carefully into the crowd. But(t), there I was happily chatting to people I knew like it was any standard event and nothing was different about me. I think this is that ADHD > Autism thing where my ADHD sort of suppresses my autistic issues and helps me do things I normally wouldn’t. Adrenaline, yeah!

Several men in stealthy street photography black outfits, desperately trying to go unnoticed at the most colourful event of the year, did photograph me. A few people asked for usies (selfies with others) with me, which is always lovely. Surprisingly I’ve not seen any photos of me, and I’ve looked. Nothing on Threads, Facebook or Flickr, and Instagram doesn’t let you sort by recent any more so that’s useless. My arse didn’t even make the local news. Bum. I was definitely photographed by men with bulky cameras, so what happened? It would be nice to see some but more importantly, what was I worried about? My anxiety was telling me I can’t do something and the response from the world seems to be “Whatevs.” If anything my hot pink beard distracted people from looking downstairs. I got many, many, ok this is getting silly, too many, omg seriously stop, no keep going, comments on my beard.

Once my ADHD took off I was running, walking, dancing, and photographing all over the place without a care in the world. I photographed everything without overthinking. From a woman waving her massive cock around to some adorable dogging. All while in snug-fitting hot pants.

Where is this energy every other day? Why aren’t I always this version of me? No overthinking, sensory issues, or anxiety. Simply the best of me. Confident, chatty, fun, extroverted (??), me. How do I turn those few hours at Pride into a productive career that pays enough to have a retirement plan? I can walk around with my hot soft buns on show but a sustainable career seems an impossible goal to achieve.

To put it into context. The day after Pride I attended a small community event to congratulate someone on an incredible achievement. I was overwhelmed by it all. Too much visual and auditory noise. Too many people, which wasn’t a lot in comparison to a Pride March of 20,000, but too many for me in that moment. The adrenaline goes and I’m left dealing with autistic issues of sensory overload, not knowing how to be around people, anxiety and overthinking. I had to leave and sit alone with noise-cancelling headphones on. What must it be like to be OK every day and be able to live rather than have to find rare isolated moments that help you come alive?

For this disabled autistic non-binary skirt-wearing colourful beard beard-owning person with ADHD, life is messy. Occasionally though, it is fun, silly and absolutely worth facing fears for. Until next year Liverpool.