parade

Writer Olivia Sheed attended WorldPride Amsterdam just a week after Berlin Pride where a van drove into the crowd and hit several people

It had been a long day, but a good day. I was about to go to bed after a busy day celebrating Newcastle Pride, when I saw the news alert about the attack at Berlin Pride.

Just hours ago, I’d marched with my partner in my city and felt the joy the day brought with it. That joy was shattered when I heard the news that one person had died and 29 more were injured in a car ramming attack and subsequent stabbings.

I couldn’t quite believe it when I first read it, the terror the attendees must have felt, a day of celebration ruined by a cowardly act of violence, how to reconcile with what this could mean for Pride celebrations in years to come. Would they be scaled back to allow for increased security? Would people feel afraid to attend them in future? Would I feel fear the next time I went to Pride?

I asked myself these questions ahead of my upcoming visit to Amsterdam, where one week on from Berlin Pride, I’d be sitting along the canals of a major European city for World Pride and the famous canal parade. The Dutch city was chosen by Pride organisers to host this year’s WorldPride, as it marks 25 years since it hosted the world’s first legally recognised same-sex marriage.

However, given what had just happened in Berlin, I was aware that police and security in the city would be on high alert for another attack happening so soon after the last. This was corroborated by Mayor Femke Halsema, who said Amsterdam would take unspecified extra measures following the Berlin attack.

Despite the concerns I had, the opportunity to cover such a large event, with hundreds of thousands of people flocking to the city for the WorldPride celebration throughout July and August, was one I was so excited about. I still felt a giddy anticipation as I made my way there, but I felt a cloud hanging over me as I made my way through the streets of Amsterdam, despite the assurances of additional security.

However, if there was tension among other World Pride attendees, they didn’t let themselves show it. In the lead-up to the canal parade, people went about their lives in the city. Some partied, some enjoyed the quiet canal living can afford, and some just did their best to make the weeks of World Pride the best they could.

There was a special kind of atmosphere in the city that was different from other times I’d visited. Pride flags adorned every street you walked down, with the entire city lit in rainbow colours to welcome people from across the globe for one of the world’s largest Pride celebrations.

The flags were outside (and inside) businesses, apartments, public buildings – everywhere you looked you’d struggle to avoid a shock of rainbow. 50 major buildings arranged to light up in rainbow colours at night to literally light up the city once the sun set.

As Reform councils across the UK fight as hard as they can to get Pride flags off of public buildings, including the house of the first modern lesbian Anne Lister in West Yorkshire, it was dizzying in the best of ways seeing so many up in the streets. Each one felt like a welcome, a statement of defiance, and a call to celebrate all at once.

This continued to the day of the canal parade, where the increased security was met with open arms by participants. Police boats would make their way up and down the canals as the clock ticked down to the first floats reaching our viewing area, patrolling but still waving to the crowd as they settled into their respective seats.

Then, as the first floats began to make their way down our stretch of canal, I felt the weight that had been on my shoulders for the days leading up to the event ease. I had been so worried about something bad happening that I’d forgotten what being at Pride was meant to be.

Pride started as a protest, and for many, it still is. In a world where many people keep telling us that we can be queer if we don’t shove it in their face, where some don’t like queer people because we’re perceived as “different”, to a few who believe our existence should be met with violence, simply dancing in the sunshine is a protest in itself.

And that’s what people did. An estimated 300,000 people danced on the banks of Amsterdam’s famous canals, embraced their partner, and smiled with their friends. A week on from yet another dark day in queer history was met with a bright determination that the attempts to silence would only embolden.

Throughout the day, I could barely remember a time when I wasn’t smiling. The sun was shining, people were celebrating, we felt seen, we felt joy. When people ask what Pride is about, that to me is it. We felt joy, and we were unashamed to feel it.

Just a week after an attack that made waves through the whole LGBTQI+ community, I felt honoured to see how determined people were to show pride, show that we’ve always been here, and always will be.

• Olivia attended WorldPride Amsterdam 2026 with Booking.com and stayed at the Hotel Jakarta Amsterdam.
• Through its Travel Proud programme, Booking.com is helping make inclusive stays easier to find. Travellers can identify LGBTQ+ welcoming stays through the rainbow suitcase badge or ‘Travel Proud (LGBTQ+ friendly)’ filter on Booking.com.

America 250” is no “Spirit of ‘76.”

For those of us who remember the bicentennial, the semiquincentennial is a complete and utter dud. Many fine festivities will take place on and around July 4, but compared with the years-long nationwide celebration that marked this country’s 200th anniversary, 250 feels like a nonevent.

Perhaps it was inevitable. Semiquincentennial (meaning half of a 500-year anniversary) certainly doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily as bicentennial and our current president isn’t making it any catchier. Mostly because he seems to think 250 is the new 80 (the birthday President Trump recently marked with his UFC Freedom 250 cage match on the White House lawn).

As many have noted, Trump’s method of honoring this country’s birthday involves making it all about him by demolishing parts of the White House (to install a new bunker-like ballroom), attempting to set up a $1.8-billion slush fund for pardoned Jan. 6 rioters, seeking to build a triumphal arch that a majority of Americans oppose and trying to slap his name and/or image on any surface he can think of (including a proposed $250 bill). No wonder so many artists have dropped out of the concert series planned for the Great American State Fair in Washington, D.C.

To be fair, the federal government’s involvement in bicentennial planning also got bogged down with political and personal hubris. The national commission, originally created by President Lyndon B. Johnson, was reformed under President Richard Nixon. Plagued by criticism and scandal, it was eventually dissolved by Congress and replaced by a new commission that decided to mostly fund community celebrations.

There was much hand-wringing over missed opportunities at the time, but for more than a year, state and local governments staged reenactments, parades and patriotic events all over the country while the commercial sector star-spangled the crap out of everything: T-shirts, bell-bottoms and bathing suits; curtains, bedspreads and throw rugs; dishware, glassware and Tupperware.

The Declaration of Independence appeared on highball glasses, tea towels and collectible plates. Beginning in 1974, CBS ran mini-history lessons called “Bicentennial Minutes,” which were then sent up on shows as diverse as “Hee Haw” and “Maude.” George Washington and other Founding Fathers graced Pez dispensers, coasters and the cover of Mad Magazine. There was a bicentennial Barbie and a colonial Campbell’s Soup doll. McDonald’s sold red, white and blue milkshakes, Burger King offered a flag-bedecked series of glass tumblers, Disney characters wore tricorn hats for a line of park merchandise.

Some called it the “buy-centennial” but for a kid who daily rocked Stars and Stripes sneakers, and, thanks to a year’s worth of American-history-themed “Schoolhouse Rock!,” could, and would, sing the preamble to the Constitution or the anthem “No More Kings” at the drop of a hat, it was great fun.

Now, of course, “No More Kings” is an anti-Trump protest theme, and the right has so co-opted patriotism that wearing a flag-emblazoned T-shirt can feel somehow partisan. American history itself has become a bone of contention, with the left accusing the right of whitewashing this country’s inarguable sins — Native American displacement, slavery, gender inequality and racist policies — while the right insists that the left is obsessed with undermining our nation’s power and legacy by “woke”-shaming it.

The only thing each end of our divided political spectrum can agree on is that democracy is under mortal threat from the other.

That’s one good reason to feel less than festive, and there are plenty of others, including increased political violence, the war in Iran, tariffs, surging gas prices, civil rights rollbacks, Immigration and Customs Enforcement tactics, artificial intelligence’s threat to jobs, the resurgence of measles, the rising cost of just about everything and the fact that some critics are claiming that Steven Spielberg’s “Disclosure Day” is less full of wonder than “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”

But things weren’t so great heading into the bicentennial either. I was 12 at the time, born nine months after Alabama Gov. George Wallace gave his infamous “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever” speech and less than two months before President Kennedy was assassinated. I hadn’t been alive a year when civil rights activists James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner were murdered in Mississippi by members of the Ku Klux Klan and hadn’t turned 5 when the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and then-Sen. Robert F. Kennedy were also assassinated.

Sure, it was that now-wistfully remembered time when kids went out in the morning and played, mostly unmonitored, until nightfall (with the inevitable trips to the doctor for stitches and tetanus shots for those wounds too obvious to hide from parents). But by the time the bicentennial rolled around, my life had played out against the backdrop of civil unrest and the Vietnam War, both spilling from our black-and-white television almost nightly.

I was 9 when Wallace, then a presidential candidate, was shot and 10 when I learned what OPEC and gas siphoning meant as my family spent hours in an un-air-conditioned car, inching toward the gas pump after the 1973 “Yom Kippur” Arab-Israeli War resulted in oil shortages.

That same year, Vice President Spiro Agnew resigned from office, pleading “no contest” to charges of tax evasion but avoiding prosecution for charges of bribery and criminal conspiracy, and Nixon appointed House Minority Leader Gerald Ford (R-Mich.) to Agnew’s place. In 1974, Nixon, faced with impeachment for his part in the Watergate scandal, became the first president in U.S. history to resign.

The bicentennial’s tall ships festivals, fife and drum parades and Old Glory consumer fest occurred in a country reeling from more than a decade of history-changing assassinations, civil unrest, economic anxiety and high-level political corruption (not to mention a collective fear of the ocean brought on by the 1975 release of Spielberg’s “Jaws”). Democracy was celebrated under Ford, the first, and thus far only, president to come to office through the provisions of the 25th Amendment rather than a national election.

A president who, after being regularly and ruthlessly lampooned by comedian Chevy Chase on the nascent “Saturday Night Live,” reacted by becoming friends with Chase instead of, you know, forcing the network to fire him.

If the bicentennial roiled with some of the same tensions Americans feel today, it did benefit from a cultural cohesion that no longer exists. The year 1976 saw the founding of Apple and the introduction of VHS tapes, but the national audience was still very much a reality. Back then, you couldn’t escape the songs of the summer — “Silly Love Songs” (Wings), “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” (Elton John and Kiki Dee) and “Afternoon Delight” (Starland Vocal Band) — any more than you could miss those “Bicentennial Minutes.” We all listened to the radio, watched TV, went to the movies and bought books, and our preferences revealed the country’s desire for both comfort and change.

On the bestseller lists, Agatha Christie’s final Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple books marked the end of an era, toggling in the No. 1 spot with the political turbulence of Gore Vidal’s “1876” and Leon Uris’ “Trinity.” “Rocky” beat “All the President’s Men,” “Taxi Driver,” “Network,” “Marathon Man” and “The Omen” at the box office and, later, in the best picture Oscar race.

On television, Americans sought the nostalgic comfort food of “Happy Days,” “The Waltons” and “Little House on the Prairie” amid the more pointed social comedies of “All in the Family,” “The Jeffersons” and “MASH,” all of which had nightly averages of 20 million or more viewers.

In today’s cultural landscape, defined by social media bubbles, streaming services and Spotify libraries, the gap between mass audience and cultural significance is much wider than it was 50 years ago (“The Super Mario Galaxy Movie” may be the highest-grossing movie of the year, but it’s hard to imagine it winning best picture) and mass audience has become a relative term for pretty much everything that is not the Super Bowl.

Even so, we too find ourselves rooting for the little guy (“Project Hail Mary”) and reaching into the past for inspiration (a new “Little House on the Prairie” debuts next week on Netflix) even as we contemplate the future of tech (“The Six Billion Dollar Man” has become every computer genius who can leap a firewall).

I don’t know what it was like to be an adult in 1976, but I remember my parents fretting over the grocery budget, nixing travel plans because of the price of gas and worrying about the future of a country that seemed so irreparably divided. To paraphrase the Diana Ross hit of the time, did we know where we were going to? Not at all. The bicentennial occurred during an election year, with all the partisan denunciations that entails (though when Jimmy Carter narrowly beat Ford, no one thought of contesting the results).

Even so, most Americans were still ready to party, to celebrate the 200th anniversary of a long-shot revolution that resulted in the United States of America.

So does it stink that the semiquincentennial has been such a flop? Yes, it does. But, as is written in its very singable preamble, the Constitution was written “in order to form a more perfect union.” Not “perfect,” but “more perfect.” As in better.

Even in the most troubled times, the cornerstone of our democracy is the understanding that we will always need to do better and there is a living document that allows us to do so.

And 250 years’ worth of that is definitely worth celebrating.

Instead of the usual phalanx of cars and buses, Saturday evening traffic on Wilshire Boulevard was replaced by massive balloons, mobile sculptures, gaggles of gallerists and an endless array of elaborate costumes.

The first-ever Los Angeles Art Parade, a collaboration between the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and famed gallerist Jeffrey Deitch, transformed the stretch of Wilshire known as Museum Row into a human-powered exhibition of the city’s dynamic art scene.

About 146 groups, made up of more than 1,400 participants, marched in the parade, with projects ranging from larger-than-life marionette dolls to squads of children in do-it-yourself costumes to mobile re-creations of LACMA’s most iconic art pieces.

The parade followed an all-day block party thrown by LACMA as part of its Grand Opening Weekend, celebrating the new David Geffen Galleries and the completion of the 20-year-long, $724-million campus construction project. Together, the block party and art parade attracted an estimated 60,000 attendees, who swarmed the galleries, danced to explosive DJ sets, and lined the streets to watch the eclectic procession of artists.

People dance during Flying Lotus’ DJ set at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) in Los Angeles.

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

According to LACMA Director and Chief Executive Michael Govan, the event was a long time coming and “just the beginning” of how his team plans to use the campus space, which he previously called the city’s “living room.”

“We’re not gonna close Wilshire every weekend, but it’s an example of what we can do,” Govan said. “It’s really exciting to see the building work.”

Following a crowd-drawing DJ set from electronic low-fi hip-hop artist Flying Lotus, Govan introduced L.A. County District 2 Supervisor Holly J. Mitchell. She said the event made her “proud to represent LACMA” and to be a Metro board member, referencing the recently-opened Metro D-line extension, which dropped attendees off a quick stroll from LACMA’s entrance.

“Just seeing you all at this amazing public facility does my heart good,” she said. “This is your local government at work.”

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1. Silhouettes of people watching the parade. 2. A man and woman wearing tulle over them walk in the parade. 3. The crowd at the Los Angeles County Museum of History, Science, and Art (LACMA) Block Party. (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

As the party raged on LACMA’s campus, hundreds of parade participants hurriedly prepared for their debuts in the corners of nearby streets and parking lots. One group inflated a giant disco ball, while another smeared themselves with body paint next to a line of rehearsing dancers. Elsewhere, a megaphone-wielding leader herded dozens of black cats in the style of artist Gary Baseman into some semblance of order.

Deitch originally staged the first Art Parades in New York City’s SoHo neighborhood between 2005 and 2008. While those took a more art-world-exclusive approach, Deitch said the Los Angeles version was designed with inclusion in mind. The call for parade proposals was open to “emerging and established artists and creatives of all ages and backgrounds,” according to guidelines, as long as the work was appropriate for all ages and didn’t require a motorized element.

“The New York one was much more oriented toward people in the art community. We didn’t put out this kind of open call,” Deitch explained. “This is very different in its openness and its diversity. There are some famous artists and famous choreographers, L.A. legends. But there are also mothers from the San Fernando Valley with their children. I really love that.”

Artist Jordan Rountree’s rolling woodcut-sculpture called the Devil Jack in a Box with Crocodile appeared in Saturday’s Block Party and Art Parade hosted by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s (LACMA).

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

“It’s just a very open platform, so you don’t have to have an M.F.A. to express yourself as an artist,” he added.

The procession was dizzying in its variety and scale. While many projects leaned into beauty and whimsy, others took a more overtly political approach, displaying anti-ICE messages on T-shirts and signs, sporting trans pride flags, or, in the case of performance artist Amy Kaps, wearing an unraveling U.S. constitution.

Some even referenced local causes, such as the “Boo Boo Bandage Brigade for Safe Streets,” which advocated for fixing sidewalks and increasing accessibility downtown. One particularly moving display by the Pali-Altadena Collective featured participants carrying miniature models of buildings and landmarks lost in the 2025 fires.

Chicana artist Nao Bustamante and Track 16 Gallery brought “Brown Disco” to the streets, which featured a giant gold disco ball and figures from decades of L.A. queer nightlife.

The crowd at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) Art Parade.

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

“As a brown, queer person, I think that this really brought a light into our community, and now its presence [creates] an intergenerational conversation,” said Track 16 Assistant Director Steve Galindo. “The nightlife scene is how we come out as queer people, so it’s really special to be in the parade.”

For Joie Mitchell, volunteer coordinator for the Bob Baker Marionette Theater, which recently purchased its permanent Highland Park home, the parade was an opportunity to “show up for L.A. and be involved in the art history of this city.”

“Puppetry has been part of the arts for so many years,” added Daisy Hernandez, the theater’s production manager. “It’s a way that people express themselves, just like every other art form. So that’s what we’re here to do: express ourselves through puppetry.”

He’s not NBA Finals MVP Jalen Brunson.

He’s not OG Anunoby, whose last-second tip-in will forever be etched into the minds of New York sports fans.

He’s not Karl-Anthony Towns, Josh Hart, Mikal Bridges or any of the other players that helped the Knicks defeat the San Antonio Spurs in the NBA Finals for the organization’s first championship in 53 years.

But, as Tyler Kolek found himself having to clarify on Thursday, “I swear I’m on the team bro.”

That was what the backup point guard wrote on X, followed by three laughing-until-crying emojis, soon after he was stopped by two police officers who apparently did not recognize him as a Knicks player during the team’s championship parade in Lower Manhattan.

A video that has gone viral on social media shows Kolek skipping along the parade route next to a barrier meant to keep fans off that part of the street, using one hand to hold a beer and the other to slap hands with fans.

At one point, an officer stepped in front of Kolek to block his path while another gently grabbed him by the shoulders and motioned for the confused player to go back in the direction from which he came.

An unidentified man who had been accompanying Kolek quickly stepped in, and then officers allowed him to pass.

To be fair to the officers, Kolek — wearing a Knicks hat, Knicks T-shirt and gym shorts — looked like he could have been one of the estimated 2 million fans attending the parade.

And he’s not the most recognizable player on the team. Kolek has made one start in 103 game appearances during his two years with the Knicks, averaging almost 10 minutes a game. He did not make it into an NBA Finals game but played in eight postseason games this year, averaging 3.5 points and 6.6 minutes a game.

It doesn’t appear that the very brief run-in with the law dampened Kolek’s mood, based on the parade videos he posted on his Instagram. One showed his view of the massive crowds on either side of the street; another showed him throwing confetti while singing along to “New York, New York;” and another showed him standing outside the railing on a moving float while dancing and cheering.

And, yes, one showed the incident with parade security, along with the caption “I hoop bro I swear” and four laughing-until-crying emojis.

As Israel faces growing international scrutiny for its actions in Gaza and Lebanon, Al Jazeera’s Ava Warriner takes a look at the Israeli and US officials who joined the annual Israel Day parade in New York – the world’s largest gathering in support of the State of Israel.