If Pride were being challenged only by a diminished, if persistent, religious right, then its recent setbacks could be dismissed as temporary. But in fact the challenges are more wide-ranging. Pride is now criticized not only by conservative Christians, but by progressive activists who make a claim on its deepest meaning. Long associated with youth and the future, it is bleeding support among young Americans. 

On June 2, 2024, protestors temporarily halted the Philly Pride Parade. They were not congregants of the Westboro Baptist Church or representatives of the Proud Boys but members of a group called Queers 4 Palestine. They held up a sign saying “No Pride in Genocide.” As they explained in a statement on Instagram, they viewed the city’s Pride parade as a symbol of oppression, not liberation: a “public-relations instrument used by the corporate arm of the state to divert public attention away from the configuration of violent, repressive policies and practices inflicted upon Queer people worldwide.”
The interruption was the latest sign of the challenges facing Pride, a monthlong holiday that has united corporations and activist groups, political leaders and self-styled dissidents in celebration not only of gay liberation but of queerness generally. After decades of increasing buy-in, Pride appears to be losing public legitimacy. The change is reflected in a corporate retreat from Pride-themed marketing, shifts in public opinion, and conflicts among progressive groups about the meaning of Pride.
Inspired by the 1969 Stonewall Riots, the first Pride parades took place in 1970 in New York, San Francisco, Chicago, and Los Angeles. As decades passed, Pride came to symbolize not only the increasing acceptance of sexual minorities, but the rising fortunes of an educated, urban professional class that valued self-expression, equality, and diversity. Marketers recognized this, and sought to exploit, in the words of Katherine Sender, a professor of communications at Cornell, the association between “same-sex eroticism and young, urban trendiness.” Alcohol companies, having little reason to fear alienating religious consumers, led the way.
In 2023, the backlash came. On April 1, the transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney posted a picture on Instagram featuring a personalized can of Bud Light. The conservative commentator Matt Walsh called for a boycott. Kid Rock posted a video of himself shooting a case of the beer. Megyn Kelly compared drinking the beer to giving “a middle finger to women.” Bud Light’s sales declined by approximately 25 percent in a matter of weeks. Two executives associated with the Mulvaney promotion were placed on leave. Anheuser-Busch’s chief marketing officer stepped aside. Bud Light, the top-selling beer in the U.S. for twenty-two years, was dethroned by Modelo Especial.
Target faced similar criticism after social media accounts claimed that a size XS swimsuit advertised as having “light binding” in the chest and a “tuck-friendly” crotch was available for purchase in the children’s section. (Target officials responded that the suits were offered only in adult sizing and not intended for children.) Sales fell by 5 percent in the April-to-June period, the first such drop in six years.
Corporations took note. After years of increasing prominence, Pride commemorations were more subdued in 2024. Nike, which has offered Pride collections since 1999, declined to offer one this year. Target dropped Pride-themed childrenswear and offered Pride merchandise in only half its stores. Bud Light refrained from any Pride-themed advertising, instead highlighting its partnership with Dustin Poirier, a UFC fighter.

Due in part to these decisions by retailers, Pride was less prominent this year in the public spaces of American cities—as if Manhattan department stores had suddenly stopped doing Christmas displays. “I certainly haven’t seen a significant amount of pride items or flags outside, which kind of threw me because I live in a fairly progressive area,” lamented one commenter on the r/lgbt subreddit. “I’ve noticed this too,” wrote another. “Even when I was in the city I only saw a few.”

One reason Pride is less prominent in cities this year is that cities have other things to worry about. Despite its origins in rioting, Pride greatly benefited from the historic reduction in crime that American cities underwent in the 1990s. Cities suddenly became safe for the educated professionals whose values generally accorded with Pride, whether or not they happened to be LGBTQ.
Read More
Related Posts:

Roger Scruton often wrote about his beloved England and how he was witnessing its tragic collapse. In 2000 he penned England: An Elegy (Bloomsbury). While focusing on just this one nation, much of what he says there can be applied to other parts of the West. Here I simply want to offer some quotes from the volume. In his Preface he writes: “What follows is a memorial address: I speak of England as I knew it, not as the country might appear to the historian. My intention is not to add to the store of factual knowledge, but to pay a personal tribute to the civilisation that made me and which is now passing from the world.”

That everything in life, including ourselves, our families, our loves, our relationships, our communities, our cultures and our countries are all transitory is a given. But we tend to live as if this were not the case. Things that we really love and value we tend to want to continue forever. But as George Harrison once put it, “All things must pass”.
Our life and our world will come to an end soon enough. The Bible also speaks to these realities. In James 4:14 we read: “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” And Hebrews 13:14 says this: “For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.”
My youth is gone. My wife is gone. My very life will soon be gone. And many things I have loved will also one day be no more. But still, we can and should appreciate the good things that we have known. And that can include cultures and nations. Love of country can be a good thing, and grief over a country that was once great but is now in decline is also appropriate.
I grieve over the fate of the once great West, and the places I have spent most of my time in: Australia, America and Europe. Others also lament the decline of their own nations. One such figure is the late Roger Scruton. He often wrote about his beloved England and how he was witnessing its tragic collapse.
In 2000 he penned England: An Elegy (Bloomsbury). While focusing on just this one nation, much of what he says there can be applied to other parts of the West. Here I simply want to offer some quotes from the volume. In his Preface he writes:
“What follows is a memorial address: I speak of England as I knew it, not as the country might appear to the historian. My intention is not to add to the store of factual knowledge, but to pay a personal tribute to the civilisation that made me and which is now passing from the world.”
Various chapters look at such things as English character, culture, religion, law, society and government. But here I want to focus on his final chapter: “Epilogue: The Forbidding of England.” As with so many other Western nations, the demise of England is not due to external forces so much as inward decay. Self-loathing, guilt-tripping, and a determined repudiation of the past are all part of this.
The chapter begins with these words: “England consisted in the physiognomy, the habits, the institutions, the religion and the culture that I have described in these pages. Almost all have died. To describe something as dead is not to call for its resurrection. Nevertheless, we are in dangerous territory.”
He admits of course to the country’s many weaknesses and defects. He lists some, but then he says, “I find myself confirmed in the desire to praise the English for the virtues which they once displayed, and which they were taught even in my youth to emulate.” He continues:
This does not alter the fact that these virtues are rapidly disappearing. Having been famous for their stoicism, their decorum, their honesty, their gentleness and their sexual puritanism, the English now subsist in a society in which those qualities are no longer honoured – a society of people who regard long-term loyalties with cynicism, and whose response to misfortune is to look round for someone to sue. England is no longer a gentle country, and the old courtesies and decencies are disappearing. Sport, once a rehearsal for imperial virtues, has become a battleground for hooligans. Sex, freed from taboos, has become the ruling obsession: the English have the highest rate of divorce in Europe, regard marriage as a bore, are blatantly promiscuous and litter the country with their illegitimate, uncared-for and state-subsidised offspring.

Gone are the congregations and the little platoons. Gone are the peaceful folkways — the children’s games, parlour songs, proverbs and sayings — that depended on a still remembered religious community. Gone are the habits — the stiff upper lip, the aloof sense of duty, the instant assistance to the stranger in distress — that went with imperial pride. Gone are the institutions — the village shop, the market, the Saturday-night dance, the bandstand in the park — through which local communities renewed themselves.
Read More
Related Posts:

During my years as a pastor, I’ve witnessed a range of situations in which people confess they cannot forgive: the man who was abused as a child, the wife of an alcoholic husband. They’re undoubtedly right, apart from Jesus. Because God alone can fully heal our wounds and revive the dead, we need him to move our hearts to forgive. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). God calls us to do likewise, nearly impossible as it may seem. When this kind of mercy appears, our merciless world sits up and takes notice.

Editors’ note: “Difficult but Beautiful Doctrines” is a long-form series that draws readers’ attention to the glory and necessity of theological truths people in the post-Christian West often find hard to accept.
Last year, Vito Perrone was formally offered the job to lead the public schools of Easthampton, Massachusetts. Perrone was well qualified as the former Easthampton High School principal and as the interim superintendent of schools in nearby West Springfield.
Unfortunately for Perrone, he sent an email to the school committee over contract negotiations that caused an uproar. Perrone’s sin? He addressed the women as “ladies,” which he meant as a sign of respect. However, this was deemed an unforgivable microaggression. Perrone was told that “the fact that he didn’t know that as an educator was a problem.”
The job offer was rescinded.
In recent years, the minefields of cancel culture have blown up on formerly anonymous school officials as well as on well-known figures like J. K. Rowling and journalist Kevin Williamson. As New York Times columnist Ross Douthat observed, “Cancellation, properly understood, refers to an attack on someone’s employment and reputation by a determined collective of critics, based on an opinion or an action that is alleged to be disgraceful and disqualifying.”
Cancellation is possible these days for anyone who commits actions or makes statements that one group or another considers beyond the pale. But what happens when cancel culture meets the breathtaking mercy of God’s kingdom?
Cancel Culture’s Perilous Cliff
Our merciless moment reminds me of Les Misérables, the 19th-century classic by Victor Hugo, and especially of the character Javert, who weaponized his narrow interpretation of justice. Hugo wrote, “[Police inspector Javert] had nothing but disdain, aversion, and disgust for all who had once overstepped the bounds of the law.” He sought to cancel all transgressors—especially the former convict Jean Valjean.
Javert’s greatest strength was his biggest weakness. Driven by a Pharisee-like commitment to the letter of the law, he couldn’t overlook the slightest infraction. “Though Javert’s toe-the-line mentality is often appropriate and admirable,” writes Bob Welch, “it becomes a millstone for him—and society at large—when used without restraint.”
Our cancel culture has brought us to the same perilous cliff. As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said, “A society which is based on the letter of the law and never reaches any higher is taking very scarce advantage of the high level of human possibilities.”
Worse, the merciless approach of cancel culture drives us away from what sinful people like you and me most need: mercy.
Seemingly Impossible Forgiveness
God’s kingdom provides a surer foundation. As the Lord said, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy” (Matt. 5:7). It sounds simple, but the implications should awe us.
Peter once asked Jesus, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” (18:21). Peter was proud of his far-reaching forgiveness, having exceeded the accepted norm. But Jesus famously responded, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy seven times” (v. 22). The lavish extent of divine mercy almost seems irresponsible.
During my years as a pastor, I’ve witnessed a range of situations in which people confess they cannot forgive: the man who was abused as a child, the wife of an alcoholic husband. They’re undoubtedly right, apart from Jesus. Because God alone can fully heal our wounds and revive the dead, we need him to move our hearts to forgive.
Read More
Related Posts: