Last Sunday, I found myself brushing shoulders with a crowd of ardent demonstrators. On the streets of Krakow’s Old City, the shoe-polished roads glistened in the light rainfall to the chant of slogans. From the river to the sea Palestine will be free!
I had previously known nothing of this planned march nor of those partaking in it apart from their obvious affiliation with an end to the current chaos raging in what is now left of Palestine.
Despite the rain, a large group was slowly taking shape. Passersby (myself included) had been seized by the urgency of the present gathering. We stopped and listened as the speaker standing on the doorsteps of the American consulate on Stolarska street boomed, “To those students protesting on American campuses for an end to this war, we thank you…”
I raise my eyes to take in the three-storey tenement above and am somewhat pained to see a rainbow banner tacked to the space under the second-floor’s window. The words, ‘America Embraces Equality’ are proudly emboldened with vibrant colours.
What was supposed to be a clear show of solidarity with the Queer community for Pride Month, suddenly felt empty. Had the course of global politics been heading in a different direction, I might have been glad to witness this display of unity. On the other hand, I am often quite sceptical of such sweeping displays of solidarity which always beg the question of genuineness. Every Pride Month without fail sees many institutions, brands, and companies dusting off the rainbows only to stack these back into the closet for next year without initiating any real substantial change. But more on that later.
As the clouds continued to darken, the speaker’s words seemed to absorb more tension. “How can you call yourself a free, democratic nation when thousands are dying? Stop selling weapons to Israel!” Under the glow of that rainbow flag, the speaker did not mince words about the double standards of American politics. No one is free until we are all free.
I followed the march down Grodzka street until we came to St. Peter’s church where a band of students from the historic Jagiellonian university had been camping out in protest against their university’s silence on this issue. Their gazes, some of which were the only parts of their faces which could be seen from the way they’d donned the Palestinian keffiyeh, were piercing. The students had climbed the railings and launched bursts of greens, reds, whites, and blacks through the air as they flew the Palestinian colours. Their flags cut through the rain which was now toppling down. Here, another speaker took the microphone. The man thanked the students at the rally before recounting the death of his late cousin in Naqoura, Lebanon who had been struck by an Israeli bombardment.
It is difficult to describe what I felt when, for a split second, my eyeline met with the man’s own bloodshot gaze as he addressed us all. The horror stories we hear on daily news are oftentimes implicit dissections of reality. It’s easy to forget how all the events broadcasted on TV have undergone long procedures whereby information is cut and organised to leave the rest to be neatly dictated by some smart professional on camera. On the flip side, the everyday viewer can get away with mindlessly watching those scripted words put to awful images which click on and off one after the other. And then it’s time to go to work, or school, or some other activity; it’s just another day.
This way of gleaning information is unlike the experience of listening to someone’s first-hand account. The words could barely escape the speaker as he uttered again his thanks to the crowds on behalf of his deceased cousin. “Do not normalise random bombings in other countries. Israel shouldn’t be allowed to attack other places when they feel like it.”
All I could think of was the hypocrisy of governments, of those in power not taking a stand and doing the right thing. I am ashamed to say that in the country I pay my taxes to in Britain, the UK has licensed at least £489 million worth of military exports to Israel, through 1,250 standard licences since 2015. In the same time period, the UK issued 61 open licences to Israel. That’s a value of £489 million which could have been invested in our already-crippling domestic National Health Service or towards more peaceful foreign policy seeking resolution to the conflict in the West Bank. That money certainly should not be used to fuel an already blazing furnace.
Politicians’ attempts at beating around the bush by using flowery language so as not to prick the stances of either side is far from diplomatic; it’s dishonest. Still, we can see the people’s disillusionment with the lack of backbone in their governments, as with the massive demonstration blocking a train station in Bologna and the heated clash between Berlin police and student activists who were forcibly cleared from their place of protest within their own university. In London, the atmosphere on the marches I’ve participated in for an end to the bombings in Gaza were led with mixed feelings some of anger, sadness, but always with firm hope.
While it is important to remain objective, when cases where university students speaking their minds are banned from advocating against discrimination, surely this is when one has to say “enough is enough”. What is it going to take for governments in the West to unite with the people?
As with the difficulties of brands like Unilever and Coca-Cola to pull their assets out of Russia following Western sanctions enforced after Putin’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, we can see a similar trend in Western responses to the conflict in the Middle East. That is, strained and staggered. We find ourselves torn between political correctness, financial interests, and strategic links. None of these are truly rooted in solidarity with those suffering.
I do not intend to argue for the integrity of one side against the other in this war and I hope that the reader does not take my criticisms as dismissive of the utter turmoil both peoples are experiencing now. But when one population is being oppressed at stop-and-search checkpoints, when they do not have free access to basic healthcare, when the space on which they may call their “land” is shrinking by the year, then this is when we are speaking of an occupation. No occupation can be conducted between equal powers. Put simply, this is a war between one significantly more powerful nation and a much smaller population. I believe no ceasefire – the one we all seem to want (at least from where I’m standing) – can be achieved before we recognise this blatant imbalance of power.
“Before we talk about gay rights, let’s talk about human rights”, cried the speaker still in mourning. His closing line was met with cheers and applause.
The march on Sunday reminded me how we are all in this together. For me, Pride is just as much a celebration of sexuality and gender identity as it is about interdisciplinarity. Queerness itself cannot be condensed to fit one identity – its very meaning transcends language. As a Christian, I like to think of my own Queerness as akin to the Spirit which seeks to find the connections inherent in all animate things. What use is it to follow other’s preconceptions?
Take the story of Jesus at the Temple on the Sabbath in the Gospel of Mark. In the presence of the Pharisees, Jesus breaks their staunchly-observed codes and heals a man whose hand is withered; but not before asking some poignant questions. Jesus asks the priests, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” to which there is merely a reply of silence. (Mark 3:4 – 6) The bible says that Jesus, ‘looked around at them in anger and, [was] deeply moved at their hard-heartedness’. In plain sight, Jesus heals the man.
Why? Because it is the right thing to do.
In this case, the importance of the Sabbath as a day of rest is kept by the priests, and yet this comes at a cost to those who are suffering right in front of them. This episode highlights the gravity of those moments when the heart of God is overlooked in order to keep tradition merely for tradition’s sake. Of course, rest is holy and important, but Jesus teaches us how to be critical about such timings, much to the Pharisee’s horror as they storm out of the temple to plot Jesus’ demise.
The passage of the man’s healing on the Sabbath is an echo of the wisdom of the ancient senex, Ecclesiastes who reminds us, ‘there is a time for everything … a time to be silent and a time to speak’. (Ecc 3:1 – 7)
Mark’s story is also echoed in Paul’s letter to the Romans as he writes, ‘Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind’. (Romans 12:2) In the original Greek, Paul uses the word ‘suschématizó’ to refer to the idea of having to ‘conform’. Upon closer inspection, the Greek term specifically denotes the act of being ‘moulded according to an already-established pattern’ which thus places a huge significance on the importance of being true to one’s own nature. Instead of following blindly, God delights in his human creations as individuals with our own beliefs, our own varied paths to getting to know Him. Whatever your beliefs, believe them with your own understanding and confidence; avoid complacency at all costs!
But what has any of this got to do with Pride or present justice movements? In an age where slogans or symbols used by social movements like BLM, MeToo, or the environmental discourse are so often commodified by brands, it’s often easy to blend into the ‘pattern of this world’ without properly understanding the history of these activist groups or the changes they are trying to implicate today. I, for one, am at times very much complicit in this ignorance.
If you think Pride has nothing to do with current political clashes, think again. The vivid lineage of the 1969 Stonewall riots outside New York’s Queer Stonewall Inn erupted in calls for social equality and dignity to all no matter their sexuality, gender, or any social label. The counterculture movements of the sixties, stretching from Civil Rights, to Second Wave Feminism, and Gay Rights were powerful if only because many branches were intersectional: they transgressed boundaries to advocate for the integrity of an individual whatever their background. Is it possible then to argue for gay rights while simultaneously ignoring the plights of others living through just another kind of discrimination?
These are difficult conversations to be had no doubt, but Jesus shows us that we need not be afraid to speak out and act what is on our hearts. Perhaps this is how I found myself trailing down the streets of Krakow on a Sunday afternoon when only three weeks before I had been in the same area celebrating the city’s iconic Pride parade. The crowds that afternoon at the pro-Palestine march reignited my hope that the vision of peace we so desperately crave around the world will someday be realised.
