Sadly, it’s not unusual these days to be online and suddenly confronted with the type of prejudice that should’ve been consigned to the dustbin of history.

The kind of hate speech that is so ignorant that it reveals a great deal about the poster and life in 2026; while simultaneously making you feel sad for those who work for CAMRA’s social media team.

Under a Pub Pride post – an initiative CAMRA has been supporting for years – someone wrote: “when the celebrations and festivals for strait [sic] and normal [sic]?”

(I flippantly replied: “You’re right narrow waterways face an unprecedented amount of persecution in 2026”).

Maybe I should’ve not fed the troll and given oxygen to such a knucklehead.

But there were also many people who had the time to add a laughing emoji to the post and without any intervention this hate goes unchallenged. So maybe it’s worth going back to school on this issue and the sooner the better if you’re a confused “strait” man who finds the concept of Pride amusing. 

So if you really want to know why CAMRA is right to support inclusive initiatives aimed at celebrating LGBTQ+ communities, such as Pub Pride, then we need to speak to the first protesters.

People like queer historian Alf Le Flohic who took part in Pride marches from 1991.

“Pride came out of discrimination,” he told me. “In the early marches people would swear at us, spit at us, and try to walk straight through the march. It was antagonistic and really quite scary to start with. You concentrated on shouting and getting to the destination in one piece.”

When Alf was younger in the 1980s, he tried to find pubs that were welcoming, but this was difficult. Even attending gay pubs in Chichester while he was at university was fraught, where people on the door would size him up to make sure he wasn’t a troublemaker. But this practice was wholly necessary.

“Outside gay pubs or clubs there would be violent attacks,” said Alf. “They’d be pissed-up straight blokes looking for a fight and they’d be banging on the door. I remember trying to leave and they’d literally hold you back saying, ‘don’t go yet, there’s trouble’.”

Why didn’t gay people like Alf call the police? Well, the police weren’t supportive – actually that’s putting it mildly. They backed the homophobic attacks and even closed pubs with gay people if they saw men dancing together.

We’ve changed since these days because of the role pubs played in not only giving LGBTQ+ people a haven but because this is where we (especially marginalised straight people like me) met them and realised we have a lot in common.

I have friends who were in Soho when the nail bombing took place in 1999 – luckily, they emerged unscathed. It seemed perverse then – and now – that there was a backlash to the advancements that were made in making Britain a more celebratory country. We didn’t let the extremists win then and we shouldn’t now.

Nowadays, we have come so far that even voices within the LGBTQ+ community question the need for Pride with some events becoming corporate cynical tie-ins. With shops hanging a rainbow flag once a year and not really engaging with the subject at other times.

CAMRA’s commitment to the cause isn’t superficial as this audio guide by the excellent Emma Inch shows by explaining the vital role the pub has played for LGBT communities over the years.

And maybe we’ve become complacent in not explaining why Pride is needed. I hope this post, therefore, acts as a compelling reminder of the importance of stamping out hate.

Because pubs are for everyone regardless of what a few cowardly homophobes might believe.