The first in a series of blog posts, Kate takes us through their stories of Brighton, what the city has meant to them, and how we should look back at our shared past.

You know how it is. You’re a 21 year old baby dyke flirting your way through a night at Venus Rising at the Fridge in Brixton London on Wednesday March 7^th 1990. (I’m an autistic archivist, I like to be precise). You meet woman called Alex. You end up back at hers, in erm.., Godalming. You wake up the next morning, the springtime sun is shining so you jump into their car and head down the A23 to this place by the seaside called Brighton. You quickly fall in love, with the city not the lass, as the seaside air begins working its salty magic. The first day of thirty-four years, a lifetime in Brighton, in the city I’m so proud to call home.

As DJ, as campaigner, as partner, as writer, I’ve made Brighton my perfect fit. For love, laughter, dancing and deviance, tears and treats. It’s been the place where I fell for the deck life that is DJing, where house music became my obsession, where disco delivered the dancefloor bliss and where clubbers and DJs become my glittering family. It’s where I’ve studied, worked, crashed and played. It’s seen me march against Section 28, ACT UP, fight for safer sex provision for lesbians, be part of beginnings of our city’s Pride movement, rail against Putin’s persecution of LGBTQI+ Russia, campaign for better mental health services, celebrate the different, become a proud-as auntie, exhibit those special interests, help nurture the wonder that is Brighton Pride though 30 years of words and (disco) deeds, lift others through the pages of GScene, DJ Magazine, Diva and Gay Times, study our queer nightlife heritage, demand equality in nightlife, find my tribe, discover my identity, unravel my neurodivergent thinking, create my family and never (knowingly) kiss a Tory.