Latest news with #Stonewall
The Age
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
‘It's a scary climate': America's LGBTQ community begins the fightback
Walking into a bar run by the Mafia in Greenwich Village was an entree into a world Mark Segal scarcely knew existed before moving to New York more than five decades ago. But for an 18-year-old 'boy next door' from Philadelphia, stepping behind the red curtains and into the Stonewall Inn felt like he'd found a place he could be himself. The year was 1969, a time when homosexuality was officially considered a psychiatric disorder, gay people were banned from federal government jobs, and their lives were often scarred by harassment, beatings and arrests. 'When you entered Stonewall, an illegal bar that served watered-down drinks, we didn't care about all that,' Segal recalls. 'What we cared about was we could be ourselves. It was the only place you could hold hands or dance together. It was like being home.' That sense of safety and belonging was shattered on June 28, 1969, just six weeks after Segal moved to New York. He remembers dancing to The 5th Dimension's Let the Sunshine In before police burst in. Raids on illegal bars were common, but Segal soon realised this was different: 'They barged through the doors. They started smashing up the bar, throwing people up against the wall, throwing bottles of liquor at people. It was the most violent thing I'd ever seen in my life, and I was scared.' Outside the bar he joined a crowd of Stonewall regulars – trans people, gay men and lesbians, street kids – as they began throwing stones, drink cans and anything else they could find at officers, who retreated inside. As police reinforcements arrived and began hauling people into vans, a friend handed Segal a piece of chalk, instructing him to write 'Tomorrow night Stonewall' on the footpaths. Days of protests followed, igniting a movement that would lead to radical changes in the treatment of LGBTQ people. 'I became an activist,' says Segal. 'I knew at that moment that's what I'd be doing for the rest of my life.' Last year, he returned to Stonewall for the 55th anniversary of the riots and the opening of a centre that tells the story of that pivotal night. After a star-studded ceremony featuring Elton John, the then-US president Joe Biden invited Segal, the centre's curator, and his husband to the Oval Office, in what Segal describes as an 'amazing turnaround'. He adds, 'That night, I was frightened and afraid of being arrested and now I'm here, being hugged by the president of the United States on the exact spot where I used to dance.' How the world keeps turning. A year after Segal celebrated with one president, another president is leading what Amnesty International describes as a 'huge step backwards' for equality that sends a dangerous message to the rest of the world. In the days after US President Donald Trump was sworn back into office, he came out swinging the wrecking ball at hard-won protections that the LGBTQ community has gained, from the rights of transgender troops to serve in the military to gender-affirming medical treatment. Loading Activists say his actions and rhetoric are stoking a growing climate of hostility. But with Pride month celebrations in full swing, they're adamant they will not be forced back into the shadows. In New York, where rainbow flags are fluttering from light poles, people will gather under the theme 'Rise Up: Pride in Protest' for the annual march on June 29. First held a year after the Stonewall riots, the event has inspired incarnations around the globe, from Sydney to Istanbul and Taipei. But 55 years later, advocates say there's no shortage of reasons to protest in Trump's America. 'NYC's Pride March has grown into a powerful global symbol of queer resilience, advocacy and unity, and that show of strength and unity is more important now than ever,' says the march's spokesperson, Kevin Kilbride. 'History has taught us that when we're being targeted and erased, our community shows up big to make it clear: we're here, we're queer and we're not going anywhere.' President Trump fired the opening salvo in his war on diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) on inauguration day on January 20, vowing to 'end the government policy of trying to socially engineer race and gender into every aspect of public and private life'. He declared: 'As of today, it will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders, male and female.' And with that, his renewed efforts to wind back the clock on how America's LGBTQ community is treated got under way. Trump signed an executive order that states the government will only recognise two sexes – male or female – rather than the gender people identify with. The policy contradicts a widely held view among academic and medical communities, including the American Medical Association, that sex and gender should not be interpreted through this binary lens. It was the first of a raft of orders directing government agencies to make changes advocates say amount to discrimination against transgender and nonbinary people, from the workplace to schools and healthcare. Federal prisons and detention centres would be required to house people based on their sex assigned at birth. Other orders aim to stop gender-affirming treatment for anyone under the age of 19, and to prevent transgender women and girls from competing in women's sports, particularly in schools. 'Bathrooms bans' have been called for on federal properties, which would require people to use the bathroom that matches their sex assigned at birth. Many of these orders are being challenged in the courts, but some have already taken effect. The US military announced in February it would no longer allow transgender people to enlist, reinstating a ban Trump introduced during his first term. Reports emerged in early May that the Pentagon would immediately begin moving service members who openly identify as transgender out of the military. Transgender references have been removed from government websites, and the name of a gay rights activist stripped from a navy ship. Many see Trump's actions as building on what he started in his first term, which activists say gave others the green light to ramp up efforts to roll back LGBTQ rights. More than 125 laws relating to the LGBTQ community were passed at the state level in 2023 and 2024, with most targeting transgender people, according to the Human Rights Campaign (HRC), the country's largest LGBTQ rights organisation. Books featuring gay and trans characters have been pulled from school libraries and state politicians have tried to introduce measures to roll back same-sex marriage rights. The HRC has recorded more cases of violence and killings of transgender people and other LGBTQ community members in recent years. 'You see politicians and people in positions of authority trying to marginalise and speak ill of trans people,' says HRC spokesperson Laurel Powell. 'That makes us less accepted in society, which makes us more vulnerable to harassment, which ends up creating more instances of violence.' Activists say Trump's latest orders are fuelling division. 'It serves no other purpose than to hurt our communities and our families and try to spread the message that we can be treated differently than all other Americans,' Powell says. 'Even if many of these orders are blocked in court, they send a message … that LGBTQ-plus people are under attack from the White House, from the president.' Ciora Thomas sees the impact of this climate of hostility every day in Pittsburgh, where she runs a non-profit organisation, Sisters PGH, providing housing and support services for the transgender community. Her centre is helping an influx of trans people from Republican-controlled states who say they decided to move after experiencing harassment and struggling to access gender-affirming care. (This remains available in Thomas' state of Pennsylvania.) 'In the south it's really bad, particularly for black and brown trans folks,' she says. 'We've been calling it a trans migration.' Thomas, who was a homeless teenage sex worker before becoming an activist and starting her non-profit, says the Trump administration's actions are creating anger and fear. 'They decided to use us as scapegoats for hatred.' Now 36, Thomas worries most about the impact on young trans people. 'It's terrifying, but I want them to know they have a community out here that will fight hard for them … We have the collective tools to survive even the darkest days.' As preparations crank up for Pride marches across the US, the administration's treatment of LGBTQ people also appears to be infiltrating boardrooms, influencing how companies spend sponsorship dollars. Organisers of marches around the country have reported that they are struggling for funding. Loading In New York, home to the country's largest march, a quarter of its corporate partners have 'scaled back, pulled or reallocated sponsorship dollars this year, leaving us with a roughly $US750,000 budget shortfall', spokesperson Kevin Kilbride tells Good Weekend. He says while many companies have cited economic considerations, 'others have expressed concern about potential blowback from the current administration for publicly supporting Pride and other DEI initiatives'. Kilbride says the parade, which last year saw 75,000 people march in front of 2.5 million spectators, comes at a pivotal moment. 'It's a scary climate, but it reaffirms the importance of this year's theme: Pride began as a protest, and it remains a protest today.' On a recent Sunday morning, I walked over a rainbow pedestrian crossing in Greenwich Village and headed inside the place where the spirit of Pride was born. Tourists filtered through the Stonewall National Monument Visitor Centre, where the words and photographs of those who were there that night in 1969 are on display. Alongside their stories is a quote from former president Barack Obama: 'From this place and time, building on the work of many before, the nation started the march – not yet finished – toward securing equality and respect for LGBT people'. Today, that finish line may seem further away, but Mark Segal remains hopeful. Now 74, he's been there through crucial moments in the struggle for equality, from the first Pride march to the devastation of the AIDS epidemic – when he struggled to find an undertaker who would take his friend's body – and to the joyous moment he married his partner after the legalisation of same-sex marriage. While today is like a 'back to the future' moment for Segal, he's not totally surprised. 'Every time we make a little progress, there is a backlash. Why I'm optimistic is, at the end of each one of these backlashes, we are stronger as a community.' And, he adds, 'This time we're not fighting alone.'
Sydney Morning Herald
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘It's a scary climate': America's LGBTQ community begins the fightback
Walking into a bar run by the Mafia in Greenwich Village was an entree into a world Mark Segal scarcely knew existed before moving to New York more than five decades ago. But for an 18-year-old 'boy next door' from Philadelphia, stepping behind the red curtains and into the Stonewall Inn felt like he'd found a place he could be himself. The year was 1969, a time when homosexuality was officially considered a psychiatric disorder, gay people were banned from federal government jobs, and their lives were often scarred by harassment, beatings and arrests. 'When you entered Stonewall, an illegal bar that served watered-down drinks, we didn't care about all that,' Segal recalls. 'What we cared about was we could be ourselves. It was the only place you could hold hands or dance together. It was like being home.' That sense of safety and belonging was shattered on June 28, 1969, just six weeks after Segal moved to New York. He remembers dancing to The 5th Dimension's Let the Sunshine In before police burst in. Raids on illegal bars were common, but Segal soon realised this was different: 'They barged through the doors. They started smashing up the bar, throwing people up against the wall, throwing bottles of liquor at people. It was the most violent thing I'd ever seen in my life, and I was scared.' Outside the bar he joined a crowd of Stonewall regulars – trans people, gay men and lesbians, street kids – as they began throwing stones, drink cans and anything else they could find at officers, who retreated inside. As police reinforcements arrived and began hauling people into vans, a friend handed Segal a piece of chalk, instructing him to write 'Tomorrow night Stonewall' on the footpaths. Days of protests followed, igniting a movement that would lead to radical changes in the treatment of LGBTQ people. 'I became an activist,' says Segal. 'I knew at that moment that's what I'd be doing for the rest of my life.' Last year, he returned to Stonewall for the 55th anniversary of the riots and the opening of a centre that tells the story of that pivotal night. After a star-studded ceremony featuring Elton John, the then-US president Joe Biden invited Segal, the centre's curator, and his husband to the Oval Office, in what Segal describes as an 'amazing turnaround'. He adds, 'That night, I was frightened and afraid of being arrested and now I'm here, being hugged by the president of the United States on the exact spot where I used to dance.' How the world keeps turning. A year after Segal celebrated with one president, another president is leading what Amnesty International describes as a 'huge step backwards' for equality that sends a dangerous message to the rest of the world. In the days after US President Donald Trump was sworn back into office, he came out swinging the wrecking ball at hard-won protections that the LGBTQ community has gained, from the rights of transgender troops to serve in the military to gender-affirming medical treatment. Loading Activists say his actions and rhetoric are stoking a growing climate of hostility. But with Pride month celebrations in full swing, they're adamant they will not be forced back into the shadows. In New York, where rainbow flags are fluttering from light poles, people will gather under the theme 'Rise Up: Pride in Protest' for the annual march on June 29. First held a year after the Stonewall riots, the event has inspired incarnations around the globe, from Sydney to Istanbul and Taipei. But 55 years later, advocates say there's no shortage of reasons to protest in Trump's America. 'NYC's Pride March has grown into a powerful global symbol of queer resilience, advocacy and unity, and that show of strength and unity is more important now than ever,' says the march's spokesperson, Kevin Kilbride. 'History has taught us that when we're being targeted and erased, our community shows up big to make it clear: we're here, we're queer and we're not going anywhere.' President Trump fired the opening salvo in his war on diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) on inauguration day on January 20, vowing to 'end the government policy of trying to socially engineer race and gender into every aspect of public and private life'. He declared: 'As of today, it will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders, male and female.' And with that, his renewed efforts to wind back the clock on how America's LGBTQ community is treated got under way. Trump signed an executive order that states the government will only recognise two sexes – male or female – rather than the gender people identify with. The policy contradicts a widely held view among academic and medical communities, including the American Medical Association, that sex and gender should not be interpreted through this binary lens. It was the first of a raft of orders directing government agencies to make changes advocates say amount to discrimination against transgender and nonbinary people, from the workplace to schools and healthcare. Federal prisons and detention centres would be required to house people based on their sex assigned at birth. Other orders aim to stop gender-affirming treatment for anyone under the age of 19, and to prevent transgender women and girls from competing in women's sports, particularly in schools. 'Bathrooms bans' have been called for on federal properties, which would require people to use the bathroom that matches their sex assigned at birth. Many of these orders are being challenged in the courts, but some have already taken effect. The US military announced in February it would no longer allow transgender people to enlist, reinstating a ban Trump introduced during his first term. Reports emerged in early May that the Pentagon would immediately begin moving service members who openly identify as transgender out of the military. Transgender references have been removed from government websites, and the name of a gay rights activist stripped from a navy ship. Many see Trump's actions as building on what he started in his first term, which activists say gave others the green light to ramp up efforts to roll back LGBTQ rights. More than 125 laws relating to the LGBTQ community were passed at the state level in 2023 and 2024, with most targeting transgender people, according to the Human Rights Campaign (HRC), the country's largest LGBTQ rights organisation. Books featuring gay and trans characters have been pulled from school libraries and state politicians have tried to introduce measures to roll back same-sex marriage rights. The HRC has recorded more cases of violence and killings of transgender people and other LGBTQ community members in recent years. 'You see politicians and people in positions of authority trying to marginalise and speak ill of trans people,' says HRC spokesperson Laurel Powell. 'That makes us less accepted in society, which makes us more vulnerable to harassment, which ends up creating more instances of violence.' Activists say Trump's latest orders are fuelling division. 'It serves no other purpose than to hurt our communities and our families and try to spread the message that we can be treated differently than all other Americans,' Powell says. 'Even if many of these orders are blocked in court, they send a message … that LGBTQ-plus people are under attack from the White House, from the president.' Ciora Thomas sees the impact of this climate of hostility every day in Pittsburgh, where she runs a non-profit organisation, Sisters PGH, providing housing and support services for the transgender community. Her centre is helping an influx of trans people from Republican-controlled states who say they decided to move after experiencing harassment and struggling to access gender-affirming care. (This remains available in Thomas' state of Pennsylvania.) 'In the south it's really bad, particularly for black and brown trans folks,' she says. 'We've been calling it a trans migration.' Thomas, who was a homeless teenage sex worker before becoming an activist and starting her non-profit, says the Trump administration's actions are creating anger and fear. 'They decided to use us as scapegoats for hatred.' Now 36, Thomas worries most about the impact on young trans people. 'It's terrifying, but I want them to know they have a community out here that will fight hard for them … We have the collective tools to survive even the darkest days.' As preparations crank up for Pride marches across the US, the administration's treatment of LGBTQ people also appears to be infiltrating boardrooms, influencing how companies spend sponsorship dollars. Organisers of marches around the country have reported that they are struggling for funding. Loading In New York, home to the country's largest march, a quarter of its corporate partners have 'scaled back, pulled or reallocated sponsorship dollars this year, leaving us with a roughly $US750,000 budget shortfall', spokesperson Kevin Kilbride tells Good Weekend. He says while many companies have cited economic considerations, 'others have expressed concern about potential blowback from the current administration for publicly supporting Pride and other DEI initiatives'. Kilbride says the parade, which last year saw 75,000 people march in front of 2.5 million spectators, comes at a pivotal moment. 'It's a scary climate, but it reaffirms the importance of this year's theme: Pride began as a protest, and it remains a protest today.' On a recent Sunday morning, I walked over a rainbow pedestrian crossing in Greenwich Village and headed inside the place where the spirit of Pride was born. Tourists filtered through the Stonewall National Monument Visitor Centre, where the words and photographs of those who were there that night in 1969 are on display. Alongside their stories is a quote from former president Barack Obama: 'From this place and time, building on the work of many before, the nation started the march – not yet finished – toward securing equality and respect for LGBT people'. Today, that finish line may seem further away, but Mark Segal remains hopeful. Now 74, he's been there through crucial moments in the struggle for equality, from the first Pride march to the devastation of the AIDS epidemic – when he struggled to find an undertaker who would take his friend's body – and to the joyous moment he married his partner after the legalisation of same-sex marriage. While today is like a 'back to the future' moment for Segal, he's not totally surprised. 'Every time we make a little progress, there is a backlash. Why I'm optimistic is, at the end of each one of these backlashes, we are stronger as a community.' And, he adds, 'This time we're not fighting alone.'
Telegraph
a day ago
- Telegraph
Gender-critical lawyer banned from vets denies abusing staff
A gender-critical lawyer has denied accusations of harassing staff at a veterinary practice from which she was banned. Allison Bailey, a retired criminal defence barrister, is suing Palmerston Veterinary Group's surgery in Walthamstow, east London, after she was 'expelled' from the practice for allegedly showing 'rude' behaviour towards staff. But Ms Bailey denies the allegation, claiming the real reason she was banned in January 2023 was because of her gender-critical beliefs. The barrister was previously involved in a high-profile dispute with her chambers and Stonewall, the LGBT rights group, over claims that she was discriminated against as she believes that being female is an 'immutable biological fact'. During her campaign, JK Rowling praised her as 'a heroine to me and innumerable other feminists'. Ms Bailey says her gender-critical views were opposed by Dr Liz Munro, a former staff member at the veterinary practice. Now the surgery is fighting Ms Bailey's claim, saying the reason she was told not to return was because of its 'zero tolerance policy' on abusive behaviour towards staff. While Ms Bailey insists she had a positive relationship with the practice, which treated her two dogs Poppy and Jonty for 13 years, it is claimed the client shouted at a practitioner when she was told that one of her pets was overweight. The court heard two recordings of phone calls between Ms Bailey and vet staff during which there was no obvious argument or conflict. In the witness box, the claimant refuted the allegations that she had been abusive towards members of staff. Ms Bailey also denied claims by the practice that one of its vets, Neil Hampson, had warned a receptionist that she could be 'very intimidating and quite scary'. She rejected suggestions of 'an incident where you lost your temper and shouted at him for saying that your dog was overweight'. 'Absolutely not,' she told the judge. 'Neither of my dogs could be described as overweight. I've never shouted or screamed at anyone in [the] veterinary practice.' She claimed that the vets had been extremely supportive in the run-up to her dog Poppy being put down in 2020, after which they even sent her a condolence card. Gus Baker, representing the veterinary surgery, told the judge: 'In this case, the claimant alleges that she was deregistered as a patient from the defendant's veterinary practice... because of her gender-critical beliefs. This is denied. 'It is surprising the allegation has ever been made in circumstances in which there is no documentary evidence to support the assertion the claimant makes.' Akua Reindorf KC, Ms Bailey's barrister, criticised the veterinary practice for failing to call key witnesses to give evidence, adding that no other clients had been expelled from the practice under the same circumstances. Ms Bailey's lawyers said there were 'a handful of times' where the claimant felt the practice's services were not up to standard, but these issues were then 'resolved to her satisfaction'. In a previous hearing, it was revealed that Ms Bailey was banned following an incident in January 2023 when she went to the practice to order worming and flea treatment for Jonty. Ms Bailey is alleged to have become 'very angry' when the medication she wanted wasn't available, asking the receptionist 'what she was going to do about it'. Ms Bailey was deregistered as a client on January 28, which was followed by a letter asking her to 'seek the services of another veterinary practice'.
Daily Mail
a day ago
- Politics
- Daily Mail
JILLIAN MICHAELS: Why I, a gay woman, can't celebrate Pride Month now that it's been hijacked by leather daddies, drag shows and corporate stunts
I've never been 'proud' to be gay. Despite being openly gay, happily married, a parent, a public figure. The truth is, I'm proud of my accomplishments. The things I fought for. My career. My family. My grit. Not the things I am by default. Being gay isn't a merit badge — it's a fact of my existence. And that's why I've always had a complicated relationship with Pride Month. When I was a teenager in the '90s, being gay meant living with shame, not pride. It meant keeping your truth under wraps to avoid being bullied, rejected, or worse. Back then, gay rights weren't just limited, they were almost nonexistent. We couldn't marry. We couldn't adopt. Most of the country still associated us with AIDS. You were a punchline at best, a pervert at worst. Being gay wasn't cool — it was dangerous. So yes, I understand how Pride started. I understand why it mattered. The original Pride wasn't a party, it was a protest. It grew out of the Stonewall Uprising in 1969, when brave gay men and women finally said, 'Enough.' They fought back against brutality, against invisibility, against erasure. Pride parades became a vehicle for visibility, a way to commemorate those lost to hatred, disease, and silence. It was defiance in the face of rejection. It was necessary. Being gay isn't a merit badge — it's a fact of my existence. And that's why I've always had a complicated relationship with Pride Month. The original Pride wasn't a party, it was a protest. I'm all for sexual liberation, but not on a sidewalk in broad daylight with families in the crowd. But that was then. This is now. Today, gay people can marry. Adopt. Run for office. We have legal protections and public support that would have been unthinkable when I came out. Many LGBTQ individuals are not just tolerated, they are embraced, celebrated, and platformed. In some circles, they are practically untouchable. And still, Pride Month has ballooned into a 30-day spectacle that now feels less about unity and more about domination — cultural, corporate, and political. Let's be honest. This isn't 1992 anymore. We're not fighting for survival. We're fighting for relevance — and it shows. Pride Month today has become a lightning rod, not because gay people are asking to be treated equally, but because the month has become synonymous with shock value, sexual exhibitionism, and corporate hypocrisy. We've all seen the footage. Leather daddies in assless chaps simulating sex acts in public. Drag queens twerking in thongs in front of children. Parades that look more like adult fetish conventions than civil rights celebrations. I'm all for sexual liberation, but not on a sidewalk in broad daylight with families in the crowd. Keep your kink — straight or gay — in private where it belongs. We're told Pride is about 'inclusion,' but increasingly it feels like a middle finger to anyone who doesn't co-sign every fringe performance or ideology. If you so much as raise an eyebrow at what's happening on your city's main street, you're labeled a bigot, even if you're gay yourself. You don't have to be a conservative Christian mom to think that maybe the Pride movement has lost the plot. What's worse, Pride has become corporatized to hell. Every June, major brands roll out rainbow flags like seasonal decor. You can't walk through a Target without being bombarded by LGBTQ-themed merch — not just for adults, but now for toddlers and babies, too. Meanwhile, some of these same companies have no problem doing business in countries where homosexuality is punishable by death. It's not activism. It's marketing – and it's insulting. We're told Pride is about 'inclusion,' but increasingly it feels like a middle finger to anyone who doesn't co-sign every fringe performance or ideology. Parades look more like adult fetish conventions than civil rights celebrations. Every June, major brands roll out rainbow flags like seasonal decor. You can't walk through a Target without being bombarded by LGBTQ-themed merch. Even the most well-intentioned people, those who once marched beside us for equal rights, are starting to feel alienated. I don't blame them. They didn't fight for this so that kids could be exposed to sexually explicit performances at public libraries or pride parades that make Mardi Gras look modest. They fought for fairness and dignity. We say Pride is about belonging, but today it often looks more like tribalism, where every dissenting voice, even from within the community, is vilified. And ironically, it's made Pride more divisive than ever. Instead of inviting people in, we're pushing them out. Instead of celebrating how far we've come, we're flaunting how little we care about what anyone thinks, even if it undermines our own cause. And all of this is happening at a time when we're supposed to be united. Let's put this into perspective. We honor our fallen soldiers for one day: Memorial Day. Meanwhile, Pride gets a month — filled with parades, corporate takeovers, and media coverage wall-to-wall. This year half the country raged that celebrating our army's 250 birthday and honoring wounded warriors and gold star families was authoritarian. But nobody batted an eye at rainbow flags flying from government buildings for all of June. This isn't equality. It's imbalance – and imbalance breeds resentment. Maybe it's time for a reset. What if Pride wasn't 30 days of identity politics, but one powerful day of shared humanity? A day of gratitude for how far we've come, and a reminder to lead with empathy, not ego. A celebration not of sexual orientation, but of freedom. A day where we invite everyone — gay, straight, confused, whatever — to come together not in protest, but in unity. Because here's what most people don't realize: We're not that different. We all love our families. We want health, peace, safety, and a shot at a decent life. That's not gay or straight. That's human. So let's stop building walls out of rainbows and start building bridges. Real pride doesn't need a stage, a sponsor, or a spotlight. It doesn't demand applause. It is lived — quietly, confidently, unapologetically. Every single day.
Express Tribune
a day ago
- Express Tribune
JK Rowling's barrister friend sues vet clinic after being banned
Retired criminal defence barrister Allison Bailey is suing a veterinary practice for £25,000, alleging she was banned due to her gender-critical beliefs. Bailey, a friend of author JK Rowling,has filed a discrimination claim against Linnaeus Veterinary Ltd after she was deregistered from its Palmerston Veterinary Group in Walthamstow in January 2023. Bailey asserts the ban violated her rights under the Equality Act 2010, which protects belief-based characteristics, and claims the decision was influenced by a former employee's disapproval of her views. However, the practice contends she was removed due to repeated instances of rude and aggressive behaviour toward staff ratrher any prejudice on her views which seem to be aligned with Rowling. The dispute centres on an incident where Bailey reportedly became angry when informed the practice lacked flea and worming medication for her dog. Staff allege she reacted confrontationally, with internal emails describing her as 'absolutely vile' and 'intimidating.' One staff member said she was the rudest client they had ever encountered. Bailey denies ever shouting or losing her temper and insists she maintained a respectful relationship with the clinic over 13 years and 120 visits. She said she had even received a condolence card and flower seeds from the practice following the death of her dog, Poppy. In court, Bailey's legal team, led by Akua Reindorf KC, argued that the evidence against her was sparse and unreliable. They highlighted the lack of documentation or formal warnings from staff and criticised the clinic for not presenting key witnesses. Bailey's lawyers insist the burden of proof lies with the clinic to demonstrate that the decision was not discriminatory. Defence barrister Gus Baker rejected claims of discrimination, stating that the ban stemmed from how Bailey was perceived during stressful situations and not from her beliefs. He said the decision was triggered by a pattern of behaviour that violated the practice's zero-tolerance policy. The hearing, which follows Bailey's previous legal battle against LGBTQ+ charity Stonewall and her co-founding of the LGB Alliance, continues in court this week.
