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We Went to Last Night's Anti-Homophobia Kiss-in at a Brighton Sainsbury's

Hundreds of protesters descended on its aisles for a snog.

af Michael Segalov, Photos: Oliver James
16 oktober 2014, 9:38am

When I arrived in Brighton as an 18-year-old, I expected to find some sort of queer paradise: the kind of place where rainbow flags lined the streets and poodles and gimps crawled interchangeably on leads in the hands of beautiful drag queens. Or, at least a bit more of that kind of stuff than what the urinals of a drab Doncaster shopping centre had to offer. 

However, after a few weeks as a student in the city, the honeymoon was over. Paradise begins to look a bit less fabulous when your friend gets beaten up on his way home with another man. Brighton, like everywhere else, is home to bigots.

It’s four years later now and things haven’t changed all that much. Club Revenge is still home to the sodomites, and LGBTQ people still get attacked for their sexuality.

When I arrived at work on Monday morning and saw the lead story in the local paper – that two young women were told they’d be chucked out of Sainsbury’s if they continued to “display public signs of affection” – it stirred a familiar sickness in my gut. 

The couple’s eviction from the supermarket was a result of a customer complaining that the couple’s light peck on the cheek was a serious risk to the safety of her child – that it was “disgusting”. Relatively speaking, being asked to leave a local Sainsbury’s is nowhere near as frightening as a savage physical attack that leaves your life in ribbons, but it’s a small example of the day-to-day experiences many LGBTQ people face. Little reminders that we're still a way from having equal footing. 

Protesters pouring into Sainsbury's in Brighton last night

Inspired in no small way by Dale Winton losing his shit in the aisles on Supermarket Sweep, I suggested that a load of us go and stand inside the Sainsbury's in question and stage some sort of love-in. People were really up for it.

There had, naturally, been widespread concern about the weather. I tried ringing David Silvester (of ex-UKIP fame) to ask whether this mass display of gayness would prompt another bout of storms, but to no avail. I even rang the Conservative's press office to ask if they could help with the forecast, but considering their MPs have been known to confuse same sex marriage and incest, I wasn't too confident in their ability to make a prediction either. If the big man upstairs was sending floods for a smooch in wedlock, then this little homage to rug munching might spell Armageddon.

It rained, of course, but around 1,000 people showed up regardless.

After we ran out of songs with "kiss" in the lyrics (One Direction and Seal were top of the rotation), local drag queen Lydia L'Scabies did a bit of spoken word. "I do not want to see anyone be hated for the way they live their life," she said. 

Lydia L'Scabies

Local activists busied themselves talking to the crowd, so I took the opportunity to ask the bemused customers – those who hadn't come down for the love-in, but were just filling their baskets with dinner bits – for their thoughts.

One shopper, who called himself "fuck off", asked me what was going on before I had a chance to say hello. Before giving me the opportunity to explain, he clocked four blokes snogging by the bagged salad, repeated his name again and disappeared. I asked him for a kiss, but he wasn't up for it. 

Pretty soon after this, an overexcited attendee tried (and failed) to start a karaoke session, kicking off with Holly Valance's "Kiss Kiss". To her right, I spotted two teenage boys staring at each other awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot by the magazines. And then it happened. One grabbed the other's arm, whispered, "I love you," and they kissed. I steadied myself on the sanny pads. 

The store was at maximum capacity in quite a short space of time, and, after a while, the manager asked me to start moving people on, but the party was starting to pick up out the front. A couple of passing commuters on their way home joined in the protest. One, who called himself Harrison, was pleased to be there, saying, "Halving the value of Nectar points is just not on." 

A love-in at a local Sainsbury's might not seem empowering, or particularly big picture, to anyone outside of our community, but it's something. It meant something to us. Last night, we came together and said a big "fuck off" to homophobia in a place where it had occurred.

Yes, it may have been the actions of one security guard, in one branch of Sainsbury's. And yes, it's unreasonable to expect Sainsbury's to have a tight grip on every single one of their employees' morals at all times. But the incident represented the quiet hum of discomfort many gay people feel on a day-to-day basis, simply for showing (in this case, not even U-rated) affection to a person they love. 

The mobilisation of so many people, in such a short space of time, is testament to the fact that such a large part of the community knows only too well the experiences of these two young women. We’ve a long way to go until LGBTQ people no longer face discrimination in society. And with over 40 percent of gay school pupils having contemplated or attempted suicide, there’s a generation of kids for whom the fight is just beginning. 


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