We are already rising again

Once upon an animal bleeding and sweet
of numerous faces
whose wounds oozed music and sweat
bleeding in their lapses
It was like an extinct species
muted and meek
but whose antics sometimes reveal a friskiness
—perhaps a nostalgia—
of its gallant grooming

Néstor Perlongher. Excerpt from “Once upon an Animal”. Translated from Spanish by Brent Armendinger.

São Paulo’s LGBTQIA+ Pride parade last Sunday turned Avenida Paulista into a huge sea of color, noise, and joy. Even after losing big corporate sponsors this year, the parade didn’t shrink — in a way, it got more real. With fewer brand logos everywhere, grassroots collectives, NGOs, cultural houses, and small activist groups took center stage, reminding everyone that Pride started as a fight, not as a marketing event.

As one of the biggest Pride parades in the world, it brought together LGBTQIA+ people, families, friends, allies, unions, and all kinds of social movements. There were Trio Elétrico sound trucks, drag performances, people dancing in the street, and lots of signs and chants demanding basic things: safety, rights, and dignity to live openly. Trans, travesti, Black, and peripheral activists were very visible on the main trucks, showing that, even when money is tight, the heart of Pride is still people organizing and showing up for each other.

Marking the 30th anniversary also gives this year’s parade a special weight in the city’s memory. Three decades ago, a much smaller group took a huge risk by taking the streets in a deeply hostile environment; today, even with fewer sponsors and political backlash, the event is an established landmark in São Paulo’s calendar. Reaching 30 years means Pride has outlasted governments, crises, moral panics, and corporate moods, proving that it’s not a trend but a tradition built by the community itself. That’s why that without the usual wall of corporate banners, the avenue looked different. It felt like handmade signs, giant flags, and political messages stood out more, and you could really see what people wanted to say about their lives as LGBTQIA+ people and everyday violence. Instead of polished ad campaigns, the voice of the crowd became the main story.

The best part is that this all gave people a stronger sense that the parade really belongs to the community. A lot of folks said it felt “ours” again — not a show for brands, but something built from the ground up. Volunteers helped with organization, small businesses gave support, and community fundraising filled part of the gap. In the end, this year’s Pride was more than a party: it was proof that, even when institutions step back, the community still finds a way to hold its ground and fill the streets with life.

This powerful message reminded me that we will not only rise again, but we are already rising again. In fact, we’ve never stopped rising against those who want us to be erased from society. After all, those who live off fear and relish violence and death cannot destroy the power of love, of human relationships, and of everything we hold dear.

To summarize: we are more powerful than them. Let’s show it!