Pride month: inclusive urbanism

For Pride this year, we are taking an urban perspective. The team has been talking about neighbourhoods that have become safe spaces and centres for LGBTQIA+ communities – how and why they came about, their evolution and importance today. And, as we’re DG Cities, the role technology might play in making them even safer, greener and more enjoyable, and the importance of an inclusive approach to the development of all cities and tech.

Pedestrian crossing in Trafalgar Square, London/Geograph

In cities around the world, gay districts serve as safe spaces; beacons of recognition, solidarity, and celebration for LGBTQIA+ communities. In some places, they might take the form of a green space, a couple of venues or a small stretch of a high street, in others it can be an entire neighbourhood.

Canal STreet, Manchester - view of outside seating for bars in Gay Village

One of the most famous of these in the UK is Manchester’s Gay Village, which is focused around Canal Street, a row of redbrick former mills and warehouses by the Rochdale Canal. The area has evolved over the past century, from one industry to another – from a centre of the cloth trade, to decline, and then re-emergence as a destination for nightlife. This process began in the 1980s and early ‘90s, with a handful of pubs and bars, such as The Rembrandt. Manto, another early venue, was developed in an old warehouse, its glass frontage then a radical expression of transparency and pride. Thanks to the affordability of these post-industrial spaces, and with hard work, community activism and support from the city council, a critical mass of bars and clubs emerged to cement the area’s growth.

Today, Canal Street contributes to the city in many different ways – socially, culturally, and in attracting talent, businesses, and investment. There is also a direct economic gain in drawing in visitors – Manchester Pride’s report suggests that the event regularly generates in excess of £30 million in accommodation, dining, transportation, shopping, and other related expenses. Then there is job creation in the hospitality and entertainment sector, and significant revenue generation for charities.

Canal Street isn’t alone. Similar quarters have grown in cities across the world, from New York’s East Village to Chueca in Madrid. Many of these places have their roots in historical contexts, often originating in marginalised neighbourhoods, cruising spots or areas with available, affordable space. These districts create vital space for free expression, without fear of discrimination, and for community building, activism and support.

Pride parade photograph in London showing people holding up Amnesty International signs reading LOVE IS A HUMAN RIGHT

The problem with success

However, the popularity of well-established quarters like Manchester’s Gay Village, London’s Old Compton Street, Brighton’s Kemptown and Birmingham’s Hurst Street can create its own problems. Like artists’ studios, the gay village can popularise and then catalyse the gentrification of an area. As these neighbourhoods are more cared for and become the place to go for a night out, development follows – and the luxury residential and late-night economies aren’t always compatible.

Mike Wolf, writer of one piece in a series on the history of Canal Street, warned of some of the risks associated with popularity, such as the power wielded by brewery chains, where independent businesses had previously thrived. But ultimately, as he put it: “We didn't need planning policy to protect our queer heritage. It is unstoppable.” Still, protecting these spaces is vital in preserving the legacy, culture, and identity they represent. This doesn’t just mean safeguarding the physical spaces, but ensuring anti-discrimination policies, and promoting LGBTQIA+ visibility and representation in planning decisions.

Photograph taken from a cosy bar looking through a window at a sign outside that reads Our Gay Village

Homophobia, biphobia and transphobia haven’t gone away, and Walking and Cycling Index data shows that LGBTQ+ people feel less safe in their neighbourhoods. Still, there is a view that younger generations don’t express the same need for these dedicated spaces or support as those who came out in a more hostile era, particularly pre-1967. According to Stonewall’s 2018 report, a third of LGBT people (35%) say they never attend LGBT-specific venues or events. And while some said Pride was a highlight of the year, others surveyed resent being pigeonholed: “I don't understand why there is the use of the word community. It does not and has not ever felt like being in a community.”

With this in mind, is the purpose of LGBTQIA+ neighbourhoods changing? They are still seen primarily as a hub for nightlife, because that is how many evolved, but anyone programming, designing or shaping the city should have the aim of making every place, every public space, building and venue as safe and welcoming as the local ‘gay village’. Most importantly, inclusion can’t be designed ‘for’ but ‘with’ – it demands meaningful engagement, representation in development, and consideration of needs beyond bars and stereotypes: social spaces, retail, bookshops, for example, galleries, community venues, nurseries and supported living facilities.

Does technology have a role?

As an innovation agency, we are interested in some of the possible roles of emerging tech, and examples: apps that narrate local gay history walks, such as WYQS in West Yorkshire, digital art installations, the use of street furniture and wayfinding to increase visibility, as with Trafalgar Square’s traffic lights. There have been Pride transport takeovers, such as Amsterdam’s rainbow EV chargers and Avanti’s Pride train, and we have looked at ensuring diverse voices can be heard in the development of future mobility, like self-driving cars. Because these neighbourhoods are a focus for community and celebration, they can also be a focus for hate crime. Here, along with the potential uses of smart lighting and IoT cameras in crime prevention and evidence gathering, charity Stonewall has developed an app, Zoteria, to make reporting incidents more straightforward. Important to note that while we are looking at the role of technology to create safer spaces in the UK, some organisations around the world seek to use such devices to enforce discriminatory laws.

Then there is the role of data, the backbone of much of this new technology, which is guiding decision-making at a local and national level. For too long though, this data has excluded lesbian, gay, bi and trans people. For the first time, the 2021 census included an optional question on sexual orientation, opening up opportunities for more inclusive places and services. But in the context of big data, bias in the development of AI systems is a growing concern. As these systems are created by humans, the responses can inadvertently reflect prejudices in the information used to train them. This can result in biased outcomes that disproportionately affect specific communities. To address this, it is crucial to ensure diverse representation and inclusion at every stage in the process: the development of ethical guidelines that explicitly address issues of discrimination, supported by engagement, analysis of the data sets, and evaluation of the impact of AI systems on communities. And when it comes to the commercialisation of new technology or mobility services, to build trust, we need to see diversity represented in its promotion.

So this year, instead of turning our logo rainbow again, we want to continue this discussion, to celebrate our team, enjoy Pride month and reaffirm our commitment to inclusivity in all of our projects. And rather than end this on a pitch, we’ll recommend instead a couple of books we like for further reading: an award-winning compendium of Queer Spaces by Adam Nathanial Furman and Joshua Mardell, published last year, which looks at everything from the Museum of Transology to the use of raves in Brazil as a means to occupy and explore the city, and The Gentrification of the Mind, Sarah Schulman’s memoir of displacement in New York’s Lower East Side.