Two policemen stopped during the Manchester Pride parade this year, and locked lips in a passionate kiss in front of thousands of spectators. The crowd erupted into cheers as the couple embraced on Deansgate.

The heartwarming moment echoed the London Pride parade in June, when a Met policeman proposed to his officer boyfriend during the event, hitting headlines all over the world.

It's a staggering contrast to events which took place just 30 years ago.

In December 1986, as Manchester’s gay community was still battling to expose the prejudice it faced at the hands of brutal police raids, Chief Constable James Anderton goes down in history for his callous words.

Speaking about AIDS victims, the policeman describes gay people as ‘swirling about in a human cesspit of their own making. ’

Despite widespread outrage, he keeps his post.

Pride that year - or as it was known then, Manchester Gay Pride - was a reaction to this hostile climate, and a powerful statement from the LGBT community.

The exact origins of Manchester Pride are disputed, but some point to a small August bank holiday event held in the Village in 1985, known as the Manchester Gay Pub and Club Olympics, which featured tug-of-war and egg-and-spoon races – adjudicated by drag queens.

Flash forward to 2016, and while the event remains, it's almost unrecognisable. So what's changed, and what does Pride mean to Manchester now?

"I hope it doesn't get too corporate"

Firstly, the festival is bigger. MUCH bigger. The parade, which wound its way through the city centre on Saturday, was the biggest its ever been in 2016, says Manchester Pride boss Mark Fletcher.

Featuring some of the festival's biggest sponsors, community groups and local stars, it's one of the festival highlights for many. But others aren't so happy about the extended version this year.

"I left the parade early," says one man I spoke to, who wished to stay anonymous. "It was too busy. Last year I left on the Saturday too, it was just too much. I hope it doesn't get too corporate."

(Image: Joel Goodman)

Some disaffected members of the LGBT community have turned their backs on Manchester Pride, and have even set up their own festivals to address what they think are its core issues.

Political Pride launched in August in Manchester in 2015, with an aim to take Pride back to its roots.

It drew more than 300 visitors to its inaugural city centre event, and hosted a full weekend of workshops, talks protests and social events - although it's unclear whether they'll be running a second.

According to the Political Pride website , the main gripes with Manchester Pride are that it 'doesn't look at structural inequality,' it doesn't feel inclusive, and 'it doesn't want to change the world or get rid of the norms.'

This frustration was echoed in the protest at the 2016 parade, where activists protesting over the treatment of trans inmates in prison lay down in the city’s streets in an attempt to block GMP’s float from entering the Pride parade .

Jess Bradley, who took part in the protest, said: “We have taken action in solidarity with trans and queer prisoners and against the building of a new US-style prison in Manchester.

“We call upon the government to implement a nationwide ban on prison expansion and an urgent review into the conditions within prisons for LGBTQ prisoners”.

Manchester No Prisons voiced their support of the protest, writing on their Facebook page shortly after the event: "Corporate Pride continues to block out any forms of political resistance at the events, erasing the origins and reasons behind Pride in the first place.

"Pride is about fighting against police brutality, against the growing prison industrial complex, which marginalises queer and trans people significantly and about reminding people of the struggles we still have to continue dealing with."

Is Canal Street still the LGBT community hub?

The location of Pride - Manchester's Gay Village - remains the same as its 1985 predecessor, although some believe that the area has changed so much it no longer reflects the wider LGBT community.

The 'Gay Village' - a stretch of restaurants, bars and clubs on Canal Street - with its late openings and cheap drinks deals, quickly became a go-to place for hen-parties, students and anyone on a late night out in the city centre. The transformation from safe haven to mass party street prompted some people to question its relevance in the LGBT community.

"Do I think it's still relevant? Absolutely." says Fletcher. "It's as relevant as the Curry Mile; it's as relevant as Chinatown.

"It's a part of Manchester's heritage and it's enabled us to get to where we are today."

(Image: Mark Fletcher, CEO of Manchester Pride)

But some members of the gay community have abandoned Manchester's Gay Village.

"I've heard people say The Village isn't what it used to be," says a drag queen who has travelled up from Bristol to celebrate Manchester Pride.

"Some people have been saying they should move the festival. But I think if they did that, it would kill the Gay Village. This is where it all started, this is the heart of it.”

Pride needs to connect to the rest of the city rather than cannibalise all of its spend for four days though. Fringe events like The Unabombers' Come As Your Are open parties at the Reguge in the Palace Hotel are another step in the right direction.

Our Bristol visitor raises another point about the vigil - a talking point among many at Manchester Pride this year. The candlelit vigil is at the heart of Manchester Pride: Sackville Gardens is lit by flickering lights as people gather and remember those lost to the HIV virus and join together to fight the epidemic and the stigma.

"The vigil used to be on the Sunday, but it was moved to the Monday," he explains. "A lot of people come up for the weekend who now can't make it."

"I came out in the 80s, and I have lost many friends to AIDS who I would want to pay tribute to at the vigil. I'd like to see that on the Saturday or the Sunday, so more people could go."

(Image: Joel Goodman)

"A safe zone to be yourself"

So how do the next generation feel about Canal Street? Uzoechi Emenike, professionally known as MNEK , is a Grammy Award-nominated British singer performing at Pride.

"I'm 21 and it has changed." he says in an interview with local media.

"We're in a better place than people 20 or 30 years a go were. People our age feel like there's a lot more of a safe zone to be yourself.

"There's so many mediums to show that's OK, but there weren't those mediums there a few years ago. There's things like this and it's fun and it's safer."

It's a view that many young people hold, leading some people fear that this could spell the end for the Gay Village. But what about people in smaller, rural areas?

Another Pride visitor, who wished to remain anonymous, said of moving to a more accepting city from smaller towns: “I'm from Bolton originally, but I've lived here 23 years. I remember coming here 23 years ago and looking at a map and seeing a 'gay' area."

He was shocked. "Bolton was still very suppressed at the time."

(Image: Joel Goodman)

"...to be proud of who you are, to step out and feel proud"

Overall, there's an overwhelming feeling among people that Manchester Pride still has a cogent place in campaigning for LGBT rights and celebrating the LGBT community.

"The intrinsic objectives of pride are still there - we celebrate LGBT life and campaign for LGBT equalities," says Fletcher.

"And for those on the peripheries, we aim to break down barriers and make clear that people are just people."

In short, he continues, Pride means "to be able to be proud of who you are, to step out and feel proud."

"The benefit is that we still have a Pride celebration today, despite how far we have come over the past few years is phenomenal – the freedoms and the rights that the LGBT have been granted.

"But there's still a long way to go on our own doorstep to free the city of hate crime and endorse further acceptance."

Fletcher is right. Public reaction to the kissing policemen was largely positive - but there was still plenty of vitriol. As tolerant a city as we think we are, historical hangovers remain. Intolerance persists.

Pride may grow - and it surely must. But when the floats have gone and the ticker tape blows away, it falls on us as a city to keep the spirit of tolerance going.