Why International Lesbian Day Still Matters: Visibility Is Not the Same as Equality8 October – International Lesbian Day

Every year, when International Lesbian Day comes around, someone inevitably asks why we still need days like this. Surely, in 2026, we've achieved equality? We can marry, live openly, raise families and enjoy legal protections that previous generations could only have dreamed of.

So why do we still need a day dedicated to lesbians?

Because equality written into legislation is not the same as equality experienced in everyday life. And because, despite decades of progress, lesbian women are still too often overlooked, stereotyped, marginalised or simply invisible.

As an older lesbian, I've witnessed extraordinary changes during my lifetime. I've also lived long enough to know that progress isn't inevitable, and it certainly isn't irreversible.

We were always here, even when society pretended otherwise

Lesbians didn't suddenly appear when society became more accepting. We've always existed. What changed was our ability to live openly.

For generations, women's relationships were dismissed as close friendships, their contributions erased from history and their sexuality treated as something shameful or unspeakable.

Many women lived entire lives without being able to acknowledge publicly the person they loved. Others risked careers, families, friendships and personal safety simply by being themselves.

Growing up, positive lesbian role models were hardly abundant. We rarely saw ourselves represented in books, television, politics or public life. And when we did, the portrayal was often tragic, sensationalised or deeply stereotypical.

Those of us who lived through Section 28 and the battles for equality remember what it felt like to be treated as something society needed protecting from rather than as people entitled to dignity and respect.

The rights we enjoy today weren't handed to us out of generosity. They were fought for, often at considerable personal cost, by women who refused to accept invisibility.

We owe them more than a passing acknowledgement.

The uncomfortable truth about equality

Yes, we've made enormous progress. The repeal of Section 28, civil partnerships, equal marriage and protections under the Equality Act transformed countless lives.

But laws don't automatically change attitudes.

Homophobia hasn't disappeared. It has simply changed its language, its platforms and sometimes its confidence.

We still encounter assumptions about our relationships, inappropriate questions about our sexuality and environments where heterosexuality is treated as the default.

And online, we're seeing increasingly comfortable expressions of hostility towards LGBTQ+ people, including lesbians.

Some of the rhetoric feels disturbingly familiar to those of us who remember earlier battles for equality.

Perhaps that's what concerns me most. Not simply that prejudice continues to exist, but that some people increasingly feel emboldened to express it without embarrassment.

We should never confuse progress with permanence.

Growing older shouldn't mean becoming invisible again

One area that receives far too little attention is the experience of older lesbians.

We have a generation of women who fought for recognition and acceptance, built communities, challenged discrimination and helped create the freedoms younger generations now enjoy.

Yet as we age, we risk becoming invisible all over again.

Our experiences are frequently absent from conversations about housing, health, social care, bereavement and loneliness.

Imagine spending decades fighting for the right to live openly, only to fear that entering residential care might mean having to hide your sexuality again.

Imagine having to explain repeatedly that the woman you shared your life with was your wife, not your friend, sister or companion.

As a lesbian widow, this is particularly close to my heart.

When you lose the woman you love, you don't just lose a partner. You lose the person who shared your history, understood your experiences and witnessed the life you built together.

And when society fails to recognise those relationships fully, it can compound an already profound sense of loss.

Our relationships matter. Our grief matters. Our histories matter.

We shouldn't have to fight for visibility when we're young and then fight all over again to remain visible as we grow older.

There is no single way to be a lesbian

Another reason days like International Lesbian Day matter is that they offer an opportunity to celebrate the extraordinary diversity within our own community.

We are not a homogeneous group.

We're young, middle-aged and older. We're working class, middle class, disabled, Black, Asian, white, religious, non-religious, mothers, grandmothers, carers, widows and women who have chosen entirely different paths.

We're butch, femme, androgynous and everything in between.

Our communities also include trans lesbians and non-binary people who identify with lesbian experiences and spaces.

And our experiences of discrimination are shaped by more than sexuality alone.

A disabled lesbian may encounter barriers that a non-disabled lesbian never considers. A Black lesbian may experience racism alongside homophobia. An older lesbian may face ageism that compounds her exclusion.

These aren't competing identities or distractions from some supposedly more important struggle.

They're the realities of people's lives.

Recognising that complexity doesn't divide us. It helps us understand why equality must be about more than treating everyone as though they have identical experiences.

Representation is about more than rainbow flags

I've spent much of my professional and community life working around equality, inclusion and challenging discrimination, and one thing has become increasingly clear to me.

Representation means very little unless it leads to meaningful participation and change.

It's relatively easy for an organisation to display a rainbow flag or publish a supportive message on International Lesbian Day.

It's considerably harder to examine whether lesbian women are genuinely included in its policies, services, leadership and decision-making.

Do healthcare providers understand the needs of lesbian women as they age?

Do housing organisations recognise the impact of homophobic harassment, isolation and the particular vulnerabilities some older LGBTQ+ residents experience?

Do bereavement services understand the experiences of same-sex partners without requiring explanations or assumptions?

Do political parties actively welcome lesbian women into decision-making, or do they simply expect us to be grateful for a sentence in an equality statement?

And when lesbians speak about their experiences, are we genuinely listened to?

Visibility without a voice is not meaningful inclusion.

These are the questions organisations should be asking themselves, not just on 8 October but throughout the year.

What message are we sending to younger lesbians?

It's tempting to believe that younger generations have moved beyond the difficulties many of us experienced.

In some respects, they have. There is greater visibility, more positive representation and more opportunities to find community.

But coming out can still be frightening.

Young lesbians continue to experience bullying, family rejection, online hostility and pressure to conform to expectations about what women should be.

For a young woman questioning her sexuality, seeing lesbians living happy, ordinary, fulfilling lives can make an enormous difference.

Not everyone wants to be an activist. Not everyone wants their sexuality to define them.

Most people simply want the freedom to love, work, raise families, build friendships and go about their lives without being judged.

And that's precisely the point.

The freedom to be unremarkable should be available to everyone.

Solidarity matters, particularly now

We cannot talk about lesbian visibility without acknowledging the wider climate surrounding LGBTQ+ rights.

Across the world, there are countries where lesbians face criminalisation, violence, persecution or severe social exclusion.

Closer to home, debates about sex, gender and identity have become increasingly polarised, sometimes creating divisions within communities that historically found strength through solidarity.

We don't all have to agree on every political or social question. But disagreement should never become an excuse to strip people of dignity or deny their humanity.

Lesbians know what it means to have our lives questioned, our identities dismissed and our rights debated by people who have little understanding of our experiences.

That history should encourage empathy and solidarity.

Equality isn't a competition. Someone else's dignity doesn't diminish mine.

And if we only defend equality when it benefits people who look, live or think exactly like us, then we haven't really understood what equality means.

But let's not forget the joy

Sometimes, in talking about discrimination and inequality, we risk overlooking something equally important.

Being a lesbian is not simply a story of struggle.

It's also a story of love, friendship, humour, resilience, creativity and community.

It's the women who built lesbian spaces when there were few places to go. The activists who marched and protested. The couples who quietly created lives together when the law offered them no recognition.

It's the friendships that sustain us, the chosen families we create, and the extraordinary strength found in communities built around shared experience.

It's also the everyday moments: holding your wife's hand, introducing your partner without hesitation, laughing with friends who understand you, or finding love again when you thought that chapter of your life might be over.

And for those of us who have loved and lost, it's about celebrating relationships that continue to shape who we are, even after the person we shared them with has gone.

There is joy in our history as well as pain, and both deserve recognition.

So, why do we still need International Lesbian Day?

Because we are not yet living in a world where lesbian women experience equality in every aspect of their lives.

Because older lesbians shouldn't become invisible.

Because younger lesbians deserve positive role models and the confidence to imagine happy futures.

Because our communities are diverse, and that diversity deserves celebration.

Because our relationships, our histories and our contributions matter.

And because rights that took generations to secure should never be taken for granted.

I don't need a special day to remind me that I'm a lesbian. I've been one every day of my life, whether society was comfortable with that or not.

But I do value a day that reminds the wider world that we exist, that we contribute, that we love, that we have fought for change and that there is still work to do.

Perhaps one day we'll live in a society where nobody questions the legitimacy of our relationships, our families or our right to belong.

Until then, I'll continue to celebrate International Lesbian Day.

Not because I want special treatment, but because I believe everyone deserves to live openly, safely and authentically.

And because the women who came before us, the women standing alongside us and the generations still to come deserve nothing less.

We were here. We are here. And we're not going anywhere.

Happy International Lesbian Day.