‘We are not invisible’ – photographer Max Siegel documents London Trans+ Pride 2025 in 14 powerful images (EXCLUSIVE)

Photographer Max Siegel took to the streets of the Capital for London Trans+ Pride 2025, capturing powerful moments and portraits of attendees including actress Alex Thomas-Smith, the I Kissed a Boy cast, and members of the community and allies. Here is London Trans+ Pride through his lens.

The usual heat hits us as we descend into the Tube station, carrying placards that flutter in the humid air. Even on a Saturday in London, our pink, white and blue cardboard signs attract sideways glances. I see a man curiously reading my friend’s sign: “hot, disabled and tired of your transphobic aunt”. I watch with a protective stare, but he shrugs and boards the train.

My apprehension is by no means unfounded. Reported anti-trans hate crimes have increased by over 100% in the last 5 years, and the Supreme Court’s ruling in April that the meaning of “women” in UK law is to apply to “biological women” has only led to the most damaging and terrifying year on record for the trans+ community in the UK. We are stepping out publicly at a point of crisis, on high alert but refusing to be silenced. 

As we pour into Oxford Circus, I start to catch glimpses of other Trans Pride attendees. Amidst the flags, tutus, and “If you’re trans and you’re reading this, I love you” tees, we all share the same look of determined anticipation. I am reminded of the feeling of attending my very first London Pride, that magical moment where you see in real life technicolour that you are not alone. 

The second we step past the barriers, it is a sea of colours; pink, white and blue transgender pride flags, red, white and green for Palestine, yellow and purple for the Intersex community, and black, purple and yellow for our Non-Binary siblings. Stewards line the street, guiding those who will take their place at the front of the march in the accessibility block. 

The size and the electricity of the crowd grow, voices raise in a prolonged roar, and we’re off. One hundred thousand of us, marching down Regent Street, protest signs held aloft against the backdrop of central London. I pick out moments from the crowds with my camera: An older parent in a ‘Protect The Dolls’ tee, Yasmin Finney of Netflix’s Heartstopper, raising a fist as she glides through the crowds. Trans folks and their families, chosen or otherwise, are in step with thousands of allies. Today, we are all one voice. 

For a moment, I catch myself wishing I could bottle this feeling. Not only for a bright reminder of this allyship and community on darker days, but also to share with those who don’t see eye to eye with us. Who at best see us as deluded, and at worst, dangerous. Heartbreaking resilience, mixed with a kindness that is only found in community. For the first time in many years, I find myself feeling safe in a city crowd. I’m sure it was on someone’s sign: ‘We pose no threat to you, we just want to be ourselves.’ 

The march ends as we spill into Parliament Square and collapse onto the grass. We are united in exhaustion from heat, the exertion, and a year of misinformation and fear. The speeches echo against the walls of the Houses of Parliament, the very places where Trans people have been mocked, accused, scapegoated, and ignored by those who are supposed to keep them safe. 

We may be outside for now, but we are not invisible. We may be spoken over for now, but we will be heard. There may be fear and rage, but there is also hope and love.