When the Manchester Proud Chorus marches in this year’s Manchester Pride parade, it’ll be difficult to miss us and our truck, blaring out our songs as we weave through Manchester city centre. But as Paul Johnson (Tenor 1, he/him) remembers, that wasn’t always the case:
It started with “walk and no sing”. No wheels, but a group of people from MLGC standing tall in the heart of Manchester, being visible, for love and for each other.
Back then, the Manchester Lesbian and Gay Chorus (MLGC) was a sanctuary. It was a place where LGBTQ+ people could gather, sing and be seen, in a world that often looked away.
But something shifted. Yes, I joined the choir. One day, I said: “I didn’t join the choir as I never heard the choir sing at Pride.”
One of the other choir members told me to “do something about it”, so between me and Jay, we thought, “what if we had a float?”
That was the beginning. The float would not just be a platform to sing from, but a moving symbol of joy, defiance, and community. And so, the MLGC took to the streets – not just with voices, but a spectacle, with recordings of the chorus piped out.
The first float was humble, but bold. A truck transformed with banners, balloons, and a six-foot wedding cake made of MDF. Some of the choir members dressed in their wedding outfits. It was a cheeky, glorious celebration of love and the fight for marriage equality. People cheered, some cried, and the chorus sang louder than ever.
From that moment on, the floats became tradition. Each year brought a new theme from Manchester Pride, a new vision, a new way to say: “We are here, we are proud, we are singing.”
There was the year of the bees, Manchester’s iconic symbol buzzing through the streets, wrapped in flowers and glitter. There were floats adorned with rainbow wings, disco balls, and portraits of queer icons past and present.
Every float told a story. Every float carried the voices of some of those who couldn’t march (or were just a bit lazy) but whose spirit lived in every note.
As the MLGC evolved into the Manchester Proud Chorus, the floats evolved too. Bolder, more inclusive. The name changed, but the heart remained. The floats became mobile stages of joy, rolling through the city with harmonies that echoed off the buildings and into the hearts of thousands.
We sang through rain and sunshine. We sang through political change and personal triumphs. We sang through celebration. Every float was a reminder that Pride isn’t just a parade. It’s a movement, a melody, a family.
This weekend, when the Manchester Proud Chorus rolls through the streets, it’s not just a performance, it’s a legacy. A living, singing, glittering legacy of love, resilience and the power of community.
And we’re not done yet.