Hi there,
It’s that time of year again. All of the corporations are doing their best to seem less evil by slapping rainbows on their products. It’s time for parades and picnics and workshops and art exhibits and special events.
In the digital world, it’s time for profile banners, rainbow filters, and messages from celebrities about diversity and inclusion. It’s time for TV specials and debut series, for “LGBTQ+ Pride Collection” sections of our favorite streaming services. A few cable networks will start showing The Birdcage, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, and To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar.
That’s right. You know it and you love it. It’s Pride Month!
For me, this month has always been bittersweet
I came out as bisexual in 10th grade, and have since realized I am pansexual. However, I ended up falling in love with and marrying a cisgender heterosexual man. We have two children. From the outside, we seem like a traditional cishet family.
This outer presentation, along with living and working in a small town, has caused me to have one foot still planted firmly in the closet, which can make attending Pride events complicated. On top of that, when we can actually go as a family, which I think is very important, I always feel like I don’t belong.
I mean, I get it
Here I am, rolling up in all of my messy-bun soccer-mom glory with a stroller and another child in tow, strapped down by a diaper bag with my husband at my side. The average Pride attendee could easily assume that we are just allies, or, on a darker note, just there to see a spectacle.
No, I am not here to prove how liberal I am. No, I am not here to stare at trans people or drag queens like they’re on objective display. I’m here because I’m queer, but I don’t feel like I belong.
But listen — I do belong
And so do you. Just because your family presents as “traditional” does not mean you don’t belong at Pride. It might feel that way, but that’s not the case. First of all, most of the people at Pride events are not looking at you and thinking malicious thoughts like, “What are THEY doing here?” Secondly, you don’t have to justify your existence to anyone, and least of all to others who are in your community and should be supporting you.
Guess what? You are queer enough for Pride.
Don’t feel bad. I have to give myself a little pep talk every year. This time, I decided to share it with you in hopes that it might help some of us feel the freedom and joy that comes with attending our local Pride events.
Yes, it’s true. Pride is for you, too. Happy Pride!
