Manchester’s glittering festival has fallen – the creatives who built it must not be forgotten.
By Nathaniel J Hall, Creative Producer of the Candlelit Vigil
When news broke last week that Manchester Pride was going into voluntary
liquidation, it hit the LGBTQ+ community like a thunderclap. The headlines were shocking
enough — one of the UK’s biggest Pride festivals, gone. But for those of us working behind
the scenes, the warning signs had been flashing for weeks.
As Creative Producer of the Candlelit Vigil — the beating heart and emotional finale of the
Big Weekend — I’d already begun to sense trouble. Confusing emails about late payments
to creatives started arriving in September. Then came the silence.
Eventually, whispers reached me from inside Pride itself: the board had taken financial
control of the organisation. Another insider, bound by a non-disclosure agreement, quietly
told me to “do what you need to do to protect your rights and interests.”
That’s when I called my union — and braced the 35 creatives I’d contracted for impact.
The Fallout
The news has been devastating. LGBTQ+ freelance creatives and producers are owed
tens of thousands of pounds, and the emotional toll has been even greater. Some
producers, having already paid their artists out of pocket, are now staring down the closure
of their own companies.
Drag performers — already reeling from the Klub Kids fiasco earlier this year — have been
messaging me in tears, wondering if there’s any respect left for them or their art form.
Confidence in the creative sector has hit rock bottom.
I cannot stress this enough: without creative freelancers, there is no Pride.
Equity, the performers’ union, has stepped in to make a group claim — but what about the
rest of the creative workforce? The programmers and producers? The photographers,
designers, PR consultants, security teams, and stage builders? What about the staff who’ve
now been made redundant? One insider told me the total unpaid debts could be over
£500,000.
The Bigger Picture
Financial troubles at Manchester Pride aren’t new. Public accounts showed a deficit going
into 2024, and 2024’s were never filed. Reports in Mancunian online newspaper The Mill
suggest leadership was banking on a high-stakes EuroPride 2026 bid to turn things
around. If true, the gamble didn’t pay off, and hundreds of livelihoods were left hanging in
the balance.
Now, as queerphobes swarm online comment sections and community trust in large-scale
Pride events sinks even lower, we find ourselves at a crossroads. Manchester Pride was
more than a weekend — it was a symbol of queer joy, resilience, and solidarity. To lose it in
this way feels like a gut punch.
What Comes Next?
In the aftermath, some are calling for a return to grassroots Pride — smaller, community-
led events that prioritise inclusion and access. And that’s a conversation worth having.
But let’s not forget: Manchester Pride has become a victim of its own success. Tens of
thousands of tickets sold. Hundreds of thousands flooding the city. A local economic impact
of up to £104.8 million (according to the Board’s statement). You can’t rebuild that on
volunteer energy alone.
Money itself isn’t the villain here. I’m a producer — I know exactly what it costs to make the magic happen. The real question is where that money comes from, and who it serves.
Who should be sponsoring our stages? How do we balance big-name headliners with
emerging queer talent? And what does an affordable ticket really look like in a cost-of-living
crisis?
One thing I know for certain. Ensuring the LGBTQ+ creative freelancers that make Pride
magic get paid properly should be at the heart of every Pride up and down the country.
From the Ashes
As we process the loss of one of the UK’s most iconic Pride celebrations, it’s clear we’ve
got some soul-searching to do. But one thing is non-negotiable:
The creatives who make Pride magic cannot be left behind.
Myself and other Producers are mobilising to raise funds for those impacted by the loss of
Manchester Pride. Because if we rebuild Pride without acknowledging the essential
contribution of the creatives that make it, I’m not sure that’s a Pride I can be very proud
about.
