Visible & Unapologetic: Lesbian Voices, Film and the Power of Storytelling
“It always seems impossible until it’s done.” – Nelson Mandela
There is something powerful about being seen.
Not just acknowledged in passing, not reduced to a checkbox or a moment in a calendar, but truly seen in your fullness. Your identity, your story, your lived experience. For many of us in the LGBTQ+ community, and especially for those of us who are queer people of colour, that kind of visibility is not guaranteed. It is something we have had to fight for, protect and create for ourselves.
As a proud lesbian, I have often reflected on how easily lesbian voices can be overlooked, even within our own communities. We are part of the acronym, part of the movement, yet our stories are not always centred. Lesbian Visibility Week is a reminder, but for me, visibility is not something that should come around once a year. It is something we must build, nurture and sustain every single day.
My work with UK Black Pride has grounded that belief even further. As a Trustee, I have seen firsthand the importance of creating spaces where Black and queer people can exist fully and unapologetically. Spaces where joy, resistance, culture and care come together. UK Black Pride has never just been about celebration. It has always been about survival, about community, and about rewriting narratives that have excluded us for far too long.
That same commitment to storytelling and representation is what led me to my work on 1946: The Mistranslation That Shifted Culture. Being part of that film as an Associate Producer was more than a professional milestone. It was deeply personal. The film unpacks how a single mistranslation helped shape decades of harm and exclusion towards LGBTQ+ people, particularly in faith spaces. It reminded me just how powerful language, storytelling and narrative can be in shaping the world around us.
And that is where my friendship and creative collaboration with Rocky began.
Sharon “Rocky” Roggio is not just an incredible filmmaker, she is someone who leads with honesty, courage and integrity. Through her work as Director of 1946, she has created space for conversations that many people have been afraid to have. Conversations about identity, faith, belonging and what it means to exist in spaces that have not always affirmed you.
What I value most about Rocky is her authenticity. There is no performance. No dilution. Just truth. And that is what makes storytelling so powerful. It allows people to see themselves reflected. It builds empathy. It challenges assumptions. It opens doors that once felt firmly closed.
Through the 1946 Culture Shift Tour Podcast, we have continued those conversations together, speaking with activists, creatives and community leaders who are pushing boundaries and shifting culture in their own ways. What has become clear through all of this is that storytelling is not just creative expression. It is a form of resistance. It is a tool for change.
Film, in particular, has the ability to reach people in ways that policy and debate often cannot. It invites people to feel, to question, to reflect. It humanises experiences that are too often politicised or misunderstood. And for lesbian and queer women, whose stories have historically been underrepresented, it creates space to be visible, audible and valued.
This is why spaces that centre lesbian voices matter.
Not because we are seeking separation, but because we are seeking balance. Because when our stories are told fully and authentically, it strengthens the entire community. It reminds us that visibility is not about competition. It is about inclusion. It is about ensuring that no part of our collective identity is left behind.
In both my professional work within EDI and my activism, I am constantly reminded that representation alone is not enough. It must be backed by intention, by action and by sustained commitment. It must create pathways, not just moments. It must empower, not just acknowledge.
Despite the challenges, I see extraordinary courage every day. Young queer people stepping into their power, whilst queer elders guiding with their wisdom.
I see that hope in the next generation of queer creatives who are telling their stories without apology. I see it in grassroots organisations like UK Black Pride who continue to hold communities together despite limited resources. I see it in collaborations, in friendships, and in the quiet but powerful act of people choosing to live authentically.
Visibility is not just about being seen. It is about being valued.
And when we tell our stories, when we create, when we speak, when we show up as our full selves, we do more than exist. We shift culture. We build connection. We create change.
Visible. Unapologetic. Always.
Josie Peres