The most jarring fact about New York’s Pride March this year was how perfectly it blended into the surrounding ambience and structures of a hyper-commercialised American megalopolis. There were plenty of freaky sights, to be sure. But from my vantage point – I parked myself at the swanky bar of the Roger Hotel at the corner of Madison and 31st to observe the festivities – the march appeared remarkably... domesticated. This is a painful reality to the most woke among the LGBTQ activists, who detest corporate-friendly “rainbow capitalism”. But I’m afraid the more corporate-friendly side of the movement has the better part of this argument. Pride’s demands for radical sexual autonomy are perfectly attuned to the cultural aims of large corporations and the liberal-technocratic order. Yes, there were the young men roller-skating about in mankinis that left little to the imagination; the Latin drag queens waving regally at their subjects from the backs of convertibles; the young woman dressed as a kind of blasphemous anti-pope, with a plunging neckline on her “cassock” and the word “ABORTION” on her mitre; and so on.