PHOTOS WIKIMEDIA COMMONS/ALISONW, KATIE CHAN
It’s 2010, and I’m in San Francisco on holiday with my then-girlfriend. We’ve just bought a couple of sandwiches from a deli in the Castro and we’re walking down 18th Street, just about to turn the corner into Dolores Park to join the Dyke March. Neither of us have any idea what we’re about to let ourselves in for. Up until this point, my only experience of Pride has been very small marches featuring a couple of thousand people at most – and the majority of them gay men. So when I see 50,000 women of every age, shape, colour and gender presentation preparing to take to the streets, I’m overwhelmed.
The march sets off a little over an hour after we arrive, and it’s one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. We sing, we dance, and share our sandwiches with our new friends.