Pride is a film that’s very near and dear to me. I first watched it at fourteen, and being a young queer person from an ex-mining community, it’s fair to say it struck a chord. 

The film follows Joe, who joins Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, seemingly by accident after his first pride parade. It’s considered a queer classic, riffing on the “triumph over adversity” trope in the social realism genre – think Billy Elliot and The Full Monty. Heartfelt and joyous, Pride doesn’t shy away from realities of the mid eighties. The Aids epidemic plays a prominent role, as does the culture of the Welsh mining community visited by the members of LGSM. It’s this culture clash which creates the narrative, the humour, and ultimately, the message of solidarity, making it many teenagers’ gateway into queer cinema.

To mark the 40th anniversary of the miner’s strike, local independent cinema Showroom screened Pride, proceeded by a Q&A with original co-founder of LGSM, Mike Jackson. The half-empty screening consisted of fans of the film sporting “Pits & Perverts” T-shirts, a few older couples who remembered the strike itself, me, my mother, and my partner, who I’d woefully dragged along. I got the sense everyone was already familiar with the story, but it’s hard not to tear up to Billy Bragg playing over the credits.

However, it was Mike Jackson’s insights into the film which really caught me off guard. He spoke about his campaigning surrounding the Battle of Orgreave, which is regarded as the most violent clash between picket and police of the strike. Jackson spoke bitterly and at length about his hatred for Thatcher, and how we can continue the legacy of LGSM by supporting Palestine against Israeli apartheid.

As a belated feature on pride, I have had time to reflect upon ways in which I can centre solidarity in my own personal activism. I feel that nothing encapsulates this better than the recent counter-protests against violent, anti-immigration right-wingers. Local demonstrations organised by Stand Up to Racism have highlighted the importance of community-based action. 

Sheffield is the ‘city of sanctuary’. Its sense of community is strong; initiatives such as Student Action Action for Refugees, and Migration Matters Festival, make Sheffield feel like home for many. 

If Pride can teach us anything, it’s that we have to support oppressed communities together, and as one. Community-based protest is not dead in the water, but alive as ever.