But Pride events are set up for the majority of people, the able-bodied and neurotypical. Unfortunately, like many of us, I have a hidden disability. I am autistic, which in some respects makes me incredibly lucky – although I do frequently run into issues around accessibility, I am able-bodied. Luckily, more and more Prides are recognising the need to include spaces for those who are disabled, although admittedly we still have a long way to go. 

Having been to so many events, I am a pro at managing my disability at Pride. I know when the environment is too much for me. At most Pride events I try to get a disability pass, giving me access to less crowded areas where I can have the space I need, and I always carry with me my ‘Pride survival kit’. My survival kit contains a few things that help me lessen my anxiety and help prevent sensory overload; always on my person are earbuds, a battery pack, a radar key, a reusable straw and plastic cutlery.

Although I am as prepared as possible, attending Pride internationally has proved a problem for me on some occasions, when I have been left without the language skills to be able to ask for help. From clinging to a lamp post in Berlin so I didn’t get pushed through the crowd in a dazed state, to being taken to hospital in a French ambulance after a meltdown, I have had to develop a system over the last few years.

I take part in the parade, before heading back to my hotel room for food and a timeout, which might look like watching an episode of a TV show or having a shower. If I’m lucky, like I was in Madrid, I’m close to one of the stages and can watch from the window of my air conditioned room! This might not work for everyone, but it’s important that we all celebrate Pride our own way.