London Dyke March 2025
I write a monthly gossip column on Queer nightlife for Sticky Fingers Publishing. My column for June was reviewing London Dyke March 2025, enjoy!
I attended last year's London Dyke March from start to finish. But this year, instead of plodding through Piccadilly Circus in the sweltering heat smothering Central London, I joined halfway through at Green Park station (conveniently stocking up on 8% tinnies of G&T at M&S), our little group meandered slowly down to Speaker’s Corner, catching up briefly with familiar faces along the way. Due to London being a nightmare of a city to organise any social activity w/ friends, the ambience permeating the march became a soiree of hot and happy dykes chatting with one another and blending friendship circles, soundtracked by drummers and chants instead of Chappell Roan (for once).
Upon arrival at Speaker’s Corner all the separate blocs and friends sprawled out onto the grass and waited patiently for 40 minutes before the speeches began. Stav & Shiv have fundraised to bring about their second march and did a fab job ensuring safety & welfare officers but unfortunately couldn’t escape the inadequate-sound-system curse that besets DIY Queer marches (London Trans Pride anyone?) But the speeches continued and everyone cheered when they were supposed to. I did wonder if there could have been more of a focus around Dyke history, SWers, Porn creators, maybe a speech with tips on how to deal with perimenopause or advice for new parents? Also, is it just me or do a lot of speeches now just tend to regurgitate online discourse? It’s like listening to someone reel off a pick’n’mix of posts we’ve all read online instead of sharing their own experiences to make the speech more engaging. However I did enjoy Karlie’s speech about being a tranny and a dyke and finding community in spite of her anxieties around whether or not she’d be welcome due to her being both. Spotting Cris Volpe & Jean Cleverley in the distance I strolled over to the Leather Dyke Bloc to watch them all smouldering on the grass, absolutely divine. Collectively the entire bloc easily won the coveted best-dressed-bloc prize which I have just invented as I’m typing now. Congratulations London Leather Dykes!
OK I need to get this off my tits, as we were walking up to Speaker’s Corner a group of people started a chant about Lesbians not needing cocks or something? I hope it was “cops” otherwise it was a bit…well, transphobic to be frank (don’t ever call me Frank). Unfortunately that wasn’t the only issue of the day as a SWERF sign was seen reading “LESBIANS AGAINST PORNOGRAPHY, LIBERATE WOMAN” made by the self-proclaimed ‘man-hating lesbian feminist’ Ollie O’Neill. Having come across her poetry last year I followed her on Insta but after noticing some transphobic Stories I unfollowed. So when I found out she was the creator of the SWERF sign it came as no surprise to me as she clearly isn’t the sharpest tool in the box of Intersectional Feminism. Or maybe her inflated ego prefers the type of feminism resembling her own lived experience? Apparently if women from marginalised communities don’t fit the bill, the fight towards liberation for all women becomes a little too inclusive and complicated to comprehend. One of the issues here is our fight for freedom against the patriarchal systems in place will always be more effective collectively. One woman's difference to your own lived experience doesn’t mean it’s centring men or stripping you of your own rights to the same freedoms we all strive for. SWers have every right to be supported by all women and dykes alike. Anyway, the sexiest, hottest and filthiest porn I’ve ever seen was created by dykes and trannies! So if any SWERFs have degraded themselves to reading this far: fuck you and your vanilla feminism <3
Once the speeches finished, the clouds dissipated and the Sun decided it was time to obliterate our skin so we hid under the shade of the nearby trees and made plans on what to do next. After a tiny but efficient debate, our little group began the arduous task of transporting our hot bodies across muggy trains to Gillett Square in Dalston for VFD’s Queer Square. Although the event was sparsely attended compared to Dalston Supersquared, Alex Loveless’ set eventually got everyone up anad dancing politely. As my Tequila dinner pumped its way through my body, the hustle and bustle of the day transformed into carefree bliss thanks to an aromatic sunset billowing BBQ plumes, the smoke of endless joints in the air and sweaty combusting dykes thriving in the heat. A new plan took shape: Dalston Superstore.
With our group having dwindled down to artists, illustrators and dildo-makers (Olivia Strange, Billy Easter, Machine & my love Louise Pomeroy), us Queer elders (we’re all over 35) made our way to Superstore: the cultural night-life epicentre for exuberant Queer East-Londoners. I haven’t been in a long time due to the last time I went, the smoking area was swarming with teens and I felt unbearably too old to be there. It was a bit like going to Laser Quest when the schools are on Summer hols; not illegal of course, but such close proximity to youth makes me question some life choices. However, for us at least, those questions were answered dancing together into the early hours of the Superstore basement, thumping and jiggling along to a rapturously fun set by Fancy Shews! until we took a break for some arm-wrestling upstairs before 3 of us headed back to mine for an after-after-afters. The night continued until the early hours of the morning, drawing exquisite corpses, discussing too many questionable life choices and sharing embarrassing stories. Our truths unravelled under the moon as the Sun slowly made its way back to us all tired, but beaming. A serene end to the most Dykey day of the Summer.
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xox