When news broke that Manchester Pride was entering voluntary liquidation, it sent shockwaves through the LGBTQ+ community – one of the UK’s largest Pride festivals, suddenly gone. But for those of us working behind the scenes, the warning signs had been there for weeks.
As Creative Producer of the Candlelit Vigil – the emotional finale of the Big Weekend – I sensed trouble as early as September, when confusing emails about late payments to creatives began arriving, followed by silence.
Eventually, whispers from inside Pride confirmed the board had taken financial control. An insider, bound by a non-disclosure agreement, quietly advised me to protect my rights and interests. That’s when I called my union and prepared the 35 creatives I’d contracted for the worst.
The fallout has been severe. LGBTQ+ freelance creatives and producers are owed tens of thousands of pounds, and the emotional toll is immense. Some producers, having already paid their artists out of pocket, now face the closure of their own companies. Drag performers – still reeling from the Klub Kids fiasco earlier this year – have reached out in distress, questioning whether their art is respected at all. Confidence in the creative sector has plummeted. Without creative freelancers, there is no Pride. While Equity, the performers’ union, is making a group claim, many others – programmers, designers, PR consultants, security, and stage crews – are left in limbo. One insider estimates unpaid debts could exceed £500,000.
Financial troubles at Manchester Pride aren’t new. Public accounts showed a deficit in 2024, and 2024’s were never filed. Reports suggest leadership was banking on a high-stakes EuroPride 2026 bid to save the event, but the gamble failed, leaving hundreds of livelihoods at risk.
Now, as trust in large-scale Pride events erodes, some call for a return to grassroots, community-led celebrations. That’s a conversation worth having. But Manchester Pride’s scale and economic impact can’t be rebuilt on volunteer energy alone. The real question is where the money comes from, who it serves, and how we ensure LGBTQ+ creatives are paid fairly. As other producers and I begin to mobilise a fundraiser to support those hardest hit, one thing is clear: the creatives who make Pride possible must not be left behind.
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