There are many ways to explain pride flags. Some people give historical facts. Some give community context. I prefer to explain it the same way I explain IKEA instructions. With passion and the sense that if I take my eyes off the tiny diagram for even one second, everything goes sideways. Just yesterday afternoon I was building two chairs, I blinked and now one of them is wonky. 

Pride flags are not just colours. They are the visual equivalent of pointing at yourself and yelling I exist. They are also the perfect excuse to own something bright enough to guide aircraft.

As a lesbian artist, a queer artist, and someone who has willingly spent an entire afternoon rearranging pencils into rainbow order, I love how pride flags have become a key part of lesbian and LGBTQ art. They are both serious and playful and also say yes I do want a print on my wall that makes guests ask follow up questions.

Before we get to the modern flags, we should probably drag ourselves back to where it all began.

The original rainbow flag was a fever dream of hope and dye buckets

The year was 1978. America was busy being America. Disco was alive, hair was enormous, and queer liberation needed a symbol strong enough to rally behind without causing a copyright issue.

Enter Gilbert Baker, vexillographer, drag queen (Busty Ross), and general creative talent. Harvey Milk asked him to design a symbol for the LGBTQ community. Gilbert responded by creating the original eight stripe rainbow flag, which honestly looked like a technicolour stairway to heaven.

It included: 

• Hot pink for sex

• Red for life

• Orange for healing

• Yellow for sunlight

• Green for nature

• Turquoise for magic

• Indigo for serenity

• Violet for spirit

Hot pink got removed because the fabric was too difficult to obtain. Turquoise and indigo got merged into royal blue because sewing machines were fighting for their lives. The result was the six stripe rainbow we know today.Imagine making something so iconic that people argue about Pantone codes forty years later. That my friend is queer history.

The pink triangle had a much darker origin

Before the rainbow existed, the LGBTQ community was often forced to use another symbol. The pink triangle. And no, it was not cute, t was not camp, it was not a quirky geometric choice. It started as a mark used by the Nazis to identify and persecute gay men. It was used in concentration camps. It was brutality disguised as graphic design.

Decades later, LGBTQ activists reclaimed the pink triangle. They flipped the meaning and used it as a symbol of resistance and remembrance. A reminder of queer resilience and a reminder that our history contains pain as much as pride. There is something fascinating about how the community moved from a symbol of persecution to a symbol of pride. The pink triangle reminds us of struggle, the rainbow reminds us of joy. Together, they tell the story of queer history. Pain and celebration, grief and creativity.

As a sapphic artist, I always feel a weight when I reference the pink triangle. It is a symbol that demands context and a symbol that asks us not to forget.

Pride flags multiply like bunnies

After the original rainbow established itself as the Beyoncé of flags, every identity group started designing their own. Lesbian people created multiple versions over the years, which is very on brand for a community that loves a discussion panel.

Bi people got a flag that looks like it was made by someone trying to blend sunset and ocean at the same time. Trans people got a gentle pastel flag that has carried many of us through gender crises and asexual folks got a flag that looks perfect for power dressing.

Each flag says something, carries a history and each flag is a tiny billboard that tells your story and yes, all these flags make an appearance in my art print.

Lesbian art and sapphic art have their own visual language

When you look at lesbian art and sapphic art, you start to notice patterns; there are warm tones and sunset gradients. The lesbian flag went through several redesigns over the years. The lipstick lesbian flag? Now mostly retired but still iconic in a retro sort of way. The modern orange gradient? A favourite for many lesbian artists because it captures warmth, community, and the vibe of a cosy kitchen where everyone brings hummous.

As a sapphic artist, I lean into these palettes. They immediately, for me anyway, signal identity and belonging. They say yes this is a lesbian space or at the very least a sapphic leaning one. They tell stories to the people I'm trying to reach without having to say words.

Queer art needs Pride flags more than ever

There is something powerful about seeing your identity reflected back at you in colour. In a world that still argues about queer existence like it's still up for debate, Queer art uses pride flags to carve out safety.

Flags give young LGBTQ people a sense of self and can help older LGBTQ people feel acknowledged instead of erased. They help confused straight people understand that gender and sexuality have more than two settings.

For LGBTQ artists, pride flags become shorthand. A single stripe pattern can communicate history, activism, and an entire spectrum of lived experience. This is why pride flags appear constantly in paintings, murals, stickers, illustrations, digital art, sculptures, textile pieces, and whatever medium the gays invent next. Probably embroidery, Queer people love embroidery.

There is science behind why we love pride flags so much. Colours trigger emotional responses. Red feels bold, yellow feels joyful, blue feels calm, pink feels feminine (at least to me), purple feels mysterious and green feels like nature. I rely on this psychology as visual language is powerful, especially when words fail or when explaining your identity to someone feels like herding cats with a laser pointer.

Why people buy Pride flag prints

People love pride flag artwork for many reasons.

Identity affirmation

Sometimes you want to look at your wall and think yes that is me and also yes my wall has taste.

Conversation starter

People who visit your home may ask questions. Possibly one, possibly seventeen, either way it's your chance to bring them into your world and tell them the history and the stories which brought you to this point. 

Support queer creators

Buying from a small LGBTQ artist or queer artist keeps independent creators going, caffeinated, and able to help keep our community visible. 

Aesthetic joy

Pride flags look incredible. They are colourful, bold, and deeply resistant to being ignored.

Educational purpose

Even if someone does not understand all the flags, seeing them every day familiarises them. It builds awareness quietly and gently.

Why Pride flags matter

• Because people still need to know they are not alone.
• Because visibility still saves lives.
• Because history deserves to be remembered.
• Because the pink triangle should never be forgotten
• Because colour connects us when the world tries to divide us.

Pride flags do something extraordinary. They help us find each other, they help us feel less alone and they help us signal safety. I sell my artwork at market stalls across the north west of England and always have a rainbow flag waving from my canopy. I want people to know I'm a safe space and that I am intended for them. Pride flags help us stand out or blend in depending on our needs that day.

I see pride flags as living, breathing symbols that expand as our identities expand. We as a community shift and adapt and sometimes argue, but ultimately we move together towards acceptance.

Because people still need to know they are not alone.

Because visibility still saves lives.

Because history deserves to be remembered.

Because the pink triangle should never be forgotten

Because colour connects us when the world tries to divide us.

If you want a visual reminder of the full spectrum of queer identities, you can find my Pride Flags art print here:

https://www.caffersart.co.uk/products/lgbtq-pride-flags-art-print