Sabah Choudrey accepts role as co-director of Middlesex Pride – as a Brownslow resident, they explain why it’s important
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Image: Cait McGuigan
I grew up in Hounslow, or as I like to call it - Brownslow.
I lived here until I was 18, and during these years my experience of being in this brown community as a queer person had been difficult at times.
I felt like I didn’t fit in - I didn’t look like other brown girls, I didn’t dress like them or act like them, or do things other brown girls did. I eyed up plaid shirts in Burton, instead I was forced into Tammy and New Look. I didn’t ‘get’ make up or buy padded bras, focusing on sticking Kerrang! posters on my walls and hoping I would see myself reflected somewhere there instead.
I guess my mum and dad would say it was around this time that I became a bit of a ‘rebel’ - I got piercings, dyed my hair, and caused trouble at school. The truth is it took me some time to decide that it was okay to feel this way - queer, loud and myself.
At the time, becoming myself meant making the queer pilgrimage to Brighton. I flourished in my identity and pride, building a community for people like me. I lived there for about 7 years and while I was there, I co-founded Trans Pride Brighton with a few trans friends, and the help of the cis people who loved us dearly.
We were tired and we were desperate.
Brighton Pride was around the corner, and we were running out of energy. We were tired of being constantly excluded and tokenised. We were tired of just being the T in LGBT. We were tired of coming last, being an after-thought, being spoken over.
So, we founded Trans Pride Brighton right there and then.
Finally, I felt like I fit in.
But then my dad became unwell and unable to live independently anymore so, I made another life-changing decision; I came back home.
My pilgrimages turned into shorter and messier marches across zones 1 to 5 as London Pride and Black Pride became part of my life.
‘Queer community shouldn’t be this hard to find,’ I think to myself, as I’m swaying on the night bus, quietly wiping the glitter off my face and awkwardly pulling on a t-shirt to hide my harness – trying to ignore the drunken lads accompanying me all the way home.
It felt ironic – I was living in such an ethnically diverse region yet spent so much time in queer and trans spaces wondering where all the people of colour were.
It’s a valid question and one that I will never stop asking. But maybe I needed to ask: “Where are all the LGBTQ people in Hounslow?”
I just didn’t want to believe that queer community only existed in East London. Or Central London. Or anywhere but here.
I don’t remember where I first saw ‘Middlesex Pride’ on Sharan Dhaliwal’s, the founder, Instagram story but I know that I sent a message straight away. It was an answer I had been looking for.
“I’m now one of the Directors of Middlesex Pride”
Middlesex Pride gave me permission to feel proud about my borough - I can say Brownslow with pride, not as a euphemism for where I reluctantly lived with my family. I wanted to build LGBTQ community here, at home, because there’s going to be another Sabah feeling like they have to leave home to find themselves.
When I joined the first few meetings, I knew this was something I wanted to be a part of and lead. I didn’t think I would be returning to another Pride committee - after co-founding Trans Pride Brighton and being on the committee for around 4 years, I felt like I had moved on from being part of Pride movements.
But even through lockdowns, I kept in touch with Middlesex Pride. My love and determination grew, and I was welcomed as the Volunteer and Event Manager. I worked alongside an amazing team to create another Pride that I was proud of.
In 2023 I was one of a number of volunteers who made history.
We held the very first in-person Pride in the historic and beautiful Osterley Park National Trust. We met almost weekly for months, making new relationships with local community members and leaders in boroughs across Middlesex. I started to see that the LGBTQ community does exist here.
Middlesex Pride offered a space that so many of us wanted, and I’m so proud to continue to be a part of it.
I’m now one of the Directors of Middlesex Pride.
Being a Director means I am settled here in Middlesex but I’m not settling. I want to put Middlesex Pride on the map of local, regional and inclusive prides, run by diverse voices for diverse people.
We have an incredible history of direct action, community organising and solidarity from the Muslim, South Asian and migrant communities that live here that we can learn from, on top of the rich history of LGBTQ pride movements themselves.
Building a pride that is representative and inclusive isn’t hard – for sure it takes free time and energy – both a privilege that some of us have.
It also takes passion, putting ego to the side, and inviting others in. It is a true act of community care.
I’m honoured to be a part of curating spaces like this and building a new legacy for all of us. One that centres young people and has a space for families, including our chosen ones.
When I was a teenager and didn’t have the words for who I am - I never thought I’d be at a pride event in my hometown.
At Middlesex Pride 2023, during the amazing performances, my mum was blowing bubbles and stealing the limelight from drag queens, as my uncle dressed up in a yellow shalwaar kameez - absolutely glowing - and danced on stage to Indian classics. In 2024, Middlesex Pride will return with more celebration and space for all. (Hopefully we won’t run out of samosas this time!)
This was a future I thought was impossible for people like me. I suppose what I’m saying is, it’s truly all possible.
No matter how far away futures are or how dark your present is, there are futures you haven’t even dreamt of yet.
This is my pride.