I went to Pride at the North Pole — even Santa’s an ally
The cold bites at my toes as I try to navigate the darkness, the temperature plummeting into negative double digits as I weave through snow-dusted trees.
It’s the first night of Arctic Pride, and, according to the map, the welcome party should be right here. I’d expected some secluded bar or cozy arctic tavern, but instead I’m stood at the edge of a frozen river, with nothing but a vast expanse of white running out to the horizon.
I’m just about to give up and turn back when something suddenly charges me. A flash of white fur and teeth as the creature sets upon me. Of course, it’s not some ferocious arctic wolf, but rather a playful husky and her very apologetic owner.
‘She’s just a pup,’ she says, saving me from the onslaught of kisses. ‘Are you looking for the Pride event? It’s this way.’
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The party is hidden inside laavu, a tiny wooden hut equipped with a fire pit. It’s half covered and half exposed to the elements, with a single rainbow flag shivering in the icy wind. A small group of no more than a dozen huddle together inside as I’m offered hot cocoa and a munkii, a cardamom doughnut that’s warmed for me over the fire.
I’m told we’re waiting for the sky to put on its Pride parade, and sure enough, after an hour of sharing stories, we’re treated to the soft rainbow colours of the Northern Lights.
I’m dedicating this year to visiting Pride all over the world, and having come from the enormous party that is Sydney Mardi Gras, the Finnish town of Rovaniemi is quite the contrast.
Sitting atop the Arctic Circle, the capital of Lapland is famous for sleigh dogs and reindeer, and being the place that Santa Claus officially calls home. It just goes to show, there really are LGBT+ people everywhere. Even here, playing neighbour to Jolly Old Saint Nick.
Arctic Pride hosts a full week of events – the calendar is eclectic, full of things like salsa classes and burlesque nights, things I’d have never expected to find in the polar north.
I attend everything from a roller disco to a life drawing class where attendees are invited to illustrate a local drag artist. It’s brilliantly diverse, though after just a few days there, something unusual becomes apparent. The events are almost exclusively attended by queer women.
It’s well known within the LGBT+ community that queer events tend to be dominated by gay men – but here, at the northern edge of the world, it seems to be the opposite.
Perhaps naively, I hope this is a sign of a move towards gender equality – but after talking to locals, I learn the reason is more sinister.
‘I’ve grown up in this community surrounded almost exclusively by queer women,’ one gay man, who wishes to remain anonymous, tells Metro.
‘I agree, it’s so nice to see queer femmes holding the majority, but the reason for that is likely because men just don’t feel free to come out. There is still a lot of sexism and homophobia in these remote regions, and it traps a lot of people in the closet. These brave queer women manage to overcome that, but the same can’t be said for many of the queer men.’
It comes as a huge surprise to me. I’ve spent a lot of time in Finland and believed it to be incredibly inclusive. 82% of the country believe ‘there is nothing wrong with a sexual relationship between two people of the same sex,’ making them one of the most progressive countries in the world.
But while the country as a whole may be accepting, it seems progress has been slower in the remote polar region.
‘Our rights are still very much under threat,’ Marjo Ollila, one of the producers of Arctic Pride, says as the queer congregation marches through the city centre.
‘We have witnessed this first hand with Arctic Pride posters being systematically vandalised. It’s a reminder of the challenges we still face.’
It’s evident that a legacy of queerphobia lives on here, but instead of bending to homophobia and transphobia, the community doubles down and shows up in greater numbers. More than 1,000 people come to take part in the parade.
This visibility is crucial, and things are definitely starting to change.
Acceptance is crucial. An LGBT+ study from Booking.com found that 73% of queer travellers say increased inclusivity has made them feel more comfortable when travelling. These small gestures will keep queer people coming back to Rovaniemi.
As Europop blasts through the streets, the queer community takes over the town square in equal part protest and celebration.
There are signs calling for trans rights and Palestinian liberation, and queer joy splayed across faces as a rainbow-clad snowman dances amongst the crowd. I find it amusing that this doesn’t take place outside city hall or a government building like it might do at other Prides – rather it takes place outside Santa Claus’ city office.
I see him smiling through the window and wonder what he makes of all this. I haven’t spoken to him, after all, since I was still a closeted little kid.
Luckily, it’s easy to find the answer. After the glitter and confetti of the pride march has settled, I go to find him in his official home in Santa Claus Village. I’m struck by the thought of ‘lavender relationships,’ where gay and lesbian people marry one another to conceal their true identities, often due to societal pressures.
Who am I to suppose that this might be the case for Mr & Mrs Claus, but they do live separately in their own cottages, so make of that what you will.
Santa’s door is open 365 days a year, and running on the principle that Santa belongs to everyone, it’s free to visit. I’m escorted through winding corridors by a handsome elf, until I find him waiting patiently in his office.
‘Tolerance and equality are very important to me,’ he tells me after we take photos with my Pride flag. Asked what he thinks about hatred towards LGBT+ people around the world, he encourages everyone to try to be a little nicer and kinder, especially to those from minority groups, whether that be race, gender, or sexuality.
It wasn’t the full-throated rallying cry of defiance I’d hoped for. I’d fantasised that Santa might slam down his fist and call for QUEER RIGHTS NOW!, his belly furiously shaking like a bowl of righteous jelly.
But he is Santa Claus after all, not the face of resistance. Still, in a unique diplomatic way, his message comes across loud and clear. The LGBT+ community deserves kindness. It really is as simple as that.
It’s a vision reflected in everything Arctic Pride works to achieve. It would be easy to respond to homophobia and transphobia with rage, but instead, they respond with patience and understanding.
‘We all make mistakes, but what matters most is our willingness to learn and grow,’ Marjo Ollila concludes in her speech.
‘So let’s give everyone the opportunity and space to change for the better. Even those who tear down our posters.’