TL;DR: Feelings are hard, but things do actually get better.
Hello again, America.
Don't worry, I'm not going to document my thoughts every day of the impending Trump presidency (although that would be an interesting/healthy way to process everything) because that honestly sounds like too much work. Laziness is winning out on that one.
Instead, I want to talk about how I feel on this Thursday, November 10, 2016:
I feel better.
Believe me, I'm just as shocked as you. I did not expect to feel as okay as I do as quickly as I did. I'm going to try to explain my process, and hopefully that can help some of you feel better, too.
First off, let me explain that I have no desire to invalidate your feelings. If you are still hurting, still scared, still angry, I get that. I felt it. I still feel it. But it's not clouding my every thought now. It's not echoing through the already crowded chambers of my mind, shouting and screaming over every other thought and emotion like it was Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. It has become quiet and manageable, and it now informs (instead of dictates) a lot of what I think about Mr. President-elect.
It took me most of the day Wednesday to get there. And, if I'm being 100% truthful, a good chunk of it is because I got enough sleep last night. It's amazing what seven solid hours of sleep will do for you when you've been running on fumes and sadness/anxiety for two days. Seriously.
Wednesday proved to me that the universe may actually be a relatively benevolent thing because many good things happened. Here's a short list:
1) I saw some of my best friends. We hugged out our sorrow and sadness. We hissed out our anger and unclenched our jaws.
2) I talked to my dad. Dad is a hopeless optimist and helped me see that all is, in fact, not lost. He told me he how he voted and how this election was different for him (which touched me more than I let on during the phone call). He talked me through some of the anxiety and anger. He pointed out that while we don't yet know what Trump will do (because he was beyond unspecific during the campaign), that could also work out in our favor. Honestly, just being able to speak it to someone with no filters was a YUGE help (I joke to keep from crying).
3) I watched Hillary's concession speech. Then I watched President Obama's remarks. I may or may not have cried a little.
4) I ate lunch at Chipotle.
5) I talked to my mom. Mom is slightly less optimistic than Dad, but only just. Mom is good a pointing out where I'm not being fair with someone. On top of that, she gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. She passed that on to me, and I'm kind of grateful for it. It has helped me move on.
That was my process. I understand that not everyone can fulfill those same steps and that those same steps will not work for everyone. But, it has helped me, and I'm not that different from most other people.
I was so impressed by Hillary's words. She had every reason to rage. She had been ahead in all the polls. She had campaigned hard to help Democrats down ballot in places where Democrats don't usually win. She had won the popular vote! More people voted for her than for Mr. Trump! However, she didn't rage. She didn't get angry. She didn't rile up her supporters. Instead, she told us she was sorry she didn't win. She told us how honored she was to represent us. She spoke to little girls, who might have been doubting their worth in a country that elected Donald Trump after what he said about women. She told them they have a future.
She told us that she had congratulated Mr. Trump on his victory and that she had offered to help him in any way she could. She said she would work with him and his team to help move the country forward.
Guys, she set an example.
President Obama followed up on that. He mentioned that wanted to work with Mr. Trump. He mentioned that we are all Americans before we are our parties.
I'm striving to follow their example, and it's helping me. I want to work to make this country better, and right now that means working with the other side. I mean, it's always meant that, but now that I'm in a minority party it's especially true.
We can make it through this, team. Obama campaigned on hope. Hillary campaigned on hope. Don't give up on it just because she lost. Cling to it all the harder now, because hope is what will carry us through.
This does not mean, by any measure, that I excuse Mr. Trump for the things he has said and done. Hillary said he deserves a shot at being a good leader and he does. He won a majority of votes from the Electoral College. That's how the Constitution set things up, and I uphold that document. He deserves a shot to make up for his mistakes. But I will be watching. And if he slips up, I will use all the power and authority I have to make him pay for it. I will protest the actions I find unconscionable. I will rage against more bigotry and hate. And I will shout loudly and proudly from any rooftops that we as Americans are better than that.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
November 2016
TL;DR: ...
I honestly don't know what to say. There are so many thoughts running through my head right now, and all of them stem from the election last night. Here's a list, in no particular order.
1) All the swears. Literally all of them.
2) How the hell did this happen?? Nobody had Donald Trump pegged as the next president of the United States. Nobody. Except maybe those alt right websites? Wtf did they see that expert pollsters and political scientists couldn't???
3) More swears.
4) I'm scared. As an out and proud gay man, I am unsure of my place in a Donald Trump America. Marriage equality may not be overturned with his first Supreme Court pick (God bless you, Chief Justice Roberts), but what if he gets more than one? What if they decide to revisit that decision and then decide the Court was wrong? What will that do to me? What will that do to my gay friends who are married to people they love? What about my gay friends who are thinking about marriage? This will surely put some unnecessary pressure on them to make a decision.
5) I'm scared for my friends. I'm scared for my best friend, Madelyn, who relies on Obamacare for affordable healthcare. What happens to her when the Republican government gets all sworn in and they finally have the majorities they need to repeal it? I have yet to hear a solid replacement plan.
What is going to happen to my HR director, a Pakistani Muslim? Will she be deported, even though she is here legally? Will she be forced onto some sort of registry? Will she be unable to find peace at a mosque because they'll all be under surveillance?
6) Still more swears.
7) I'm tired. My frenzied brain only slept for about three hours last night, and that was only because I took some Benadryl to help it.
8) I'm conflicted. On the one hand, the political scientist in me is, at once, pleased and confused. It's pleased that so many Americans exercised their right to vote. It's pleased that that became the motto of the last week of the campaign: go vote! Make your voice heard! It's pleased that Hillary Clinton has not immediately called for a civil war. It's pleased that President Obama has called Donald Trump to congratulate him on his victory and is ready (grudgingly, yes, but ultimately ready) to hand over power peacefully. American democracy can withstand this, early indications suggest.
My inner political scientist is confused because all normal political signs said Clinton would easily win. It's confused because it doesn't know what to think anymore. Everything I studied about politics for five years suggested this couldn't happen. And yet...
9) I'm sad. To me, this campaign wasn't about Democrats vs. Republicans. To me, this campaign was about love and human decency. I really believed in what Hillary Clinton said: that this was an election about what kind of country we are and want to be. I really believed that America was a country that welcomed immigrants. I believed it was a country that protected its weakest and most vulnerable. I believed it was a country that protected freedom and personal liberties.
What does electing Donald Trump say about all of that? This man campaigned on building a wall to keep out Mexicans and stopping the flow of refugees (REFUGEES) because they *might* be harboring terrorists. He openly mocked a disabled reporter. He viciously attacked a Muslim gold-star family. He picked a violently anti-LGBT running mate. He talked about sexual assault like it was a joke.
What does that say about us as Americans? To me, it looks and feels an awful lot like everyone who voted for him doesn't care about those things. On one hand, I know that's not the case, but on the other, I can't know for certain. Is this what we truly value as a country? The kind of people who can do and say the things he did?
10) I want and don't want to be mad. It's a complicated feeling.
11) ...f*ck...
I honestly don't know what to say. There are so many thoughts running through my head right now, and all of them stem from the election last night. Here's a list, in no particular order.
1) All the swears. Literally all of them.
2) How the hell did this happen?? Nobody had Donald Trump pegged as the next president of the United States. Nobody. Except maybe those alt right websites? Wtf did they see that expert pollsters and political scientists couldn't???
3) More swears.
4) I'm scared. As an out and proud gay man, I am unsure of my place in a Donald Trump America. Marriage equality may not be overturned with his first Supreme Court pick (God bless you, Chief Justice Roberts), but what if he gets more than one? What if they decide to revisit that decision and then decide the Court was wrong? What will that do to me? What will that do to my gay friends who are married to people they love? What about my gay friends who are thinking about marriage? This will surely put some unnecessary pressure on them to make a decision.
5) I'm scared for my friends. I'm scared for my best friend, Madelyn, who relies on Obamacare for affordable healthcare. What happens to her when the Republican government gets all sworn in and they finally have the majorities they need to repeal it? I have yet to hear a solid replacement plan.
What is going to happen to my HR director, a Pakistani Muslim? Will she be deported, even though she is here legally? Will she be forced onto some sort of registry? Will she be unable to find peace at a mosque because they'll all be under surveillance?
6) Still more swears.
7) I'm tired. My frenzied brain only slept for about three hours last night, and that was only because I took some Benadryl to help it.
8) I'm conflicted. On the one hand, the political scientist in me is, at once, pleased and confused. It's pleased that so many Americans exercised their right to vote. It's pleased that that became the motto of the last week of the campaign: go vote! Make your voice heard! It's pleased that Hillary Clinton has not immediately called for a civil war. It's pleased that President Obama has called Donald Trump to congratulate him on his victory and is ready (grudgingly, yes, but ultimately ready) to hand over power peacefully. American democracy can withstand this, early indications suggest.
My inner political scientist is confused because all normal political signs said Clinton would easily win. It's confused because it doesn't know what to think anymore. Everything I studied about politics for five years suggested this couldn't happen. And yet...
9) I'm sad. To me, this campaign wasn't about Democrats vs. Republicans. To me, this campaign was about love and human decency. I really believed in what Hillary Clinton said: that this was an election about what kind of country we are and want to be. I really believed that America was a country that welcomed immigrants. I believed it was a country that protected its weakest and most vulnerable. I believed it was a country that protected freedom and personal liberties.
What does electing Donald Trump say about all of that? This man campaigned on building a wall to keep out Mexicans and stopping the flow of refugees (REFUGEES) because they *might* be harboring terrorists. He openly mocked a disabled reporter. He viciously attacked a Muslim gold-star family. He picked a violently anti-LGBT running mate. He talked about sexual assault like it was a joke.
What does that say about us as Americans? To me, it looks and feels an awful lot like everyone who voted for him doesn't care about those things. On one hand, I know that's not the case, but on the other, I can't know for certain. Is this what we truly value as a country? The kind of people who can do and say the things he did?
10) I want and don't want to be mad. It's a complicated feeling.
11) ...f*ck...
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
National Coming Out Day
In case you haven't seen, today is National Coming Out Day. It's easy to miss something like that, since every day of the calendar has something attached to it. I think today is also an international day for girls. The UN webpage says today is World Mental Health Day, so there's a third thing to add to your calendar.
All of these things are important, which is why people have assigned a day to them. It's a good way to draw attention to the cause du jour. It provides us with another reason, beyond all of the people affected by whatever the cause is, to talk about a problem and try to work towards solutions.
I want to talk about National Coming Out Day because that is the cause that affects me the most today. I don't want you to think that I think coming out is more important that girls and mental health; it's just that I am not a girl, and I don't think I have too many mental health problems in my life right now. So, coming out is the more applicable soap box, as it were.
I'm glad that we have established a day for coming out. I've already said that I think it's important, but the real reason I'm glad is because of the world I see this day trying to create. It's a dream, a vision of a reality that isn't quite here yet, but towards which we are working. It's a hope: a faith in a world not yet seen, but which could one day be true.
This day was created to celebrate coming out. It was created to celebrate difference and diversity. Ultimately, I think, it was created to celebrate truth. It's the truth about who we are as people, what our lives are like, and how we are choosing to live now. It's the truth that we are exactly who we are supposed to be, that we are no longer going to hide in shadows and lies, half-truths and deflections.
It is, quite simply, truth.
From my own experience, I am far happier now that I have come out. It was a difficult decision for me, though. When I got to the point of personally accepting that I was gay (took me a good long while), I knew I wanted to come out, but I wasn't sure of how that would be viewed by friends and family at large. I knew my closest friends and immediate family would still love me, but I had no idea how anybody else would react. Eventually, spurred on by the then-recent Supreme Court decision on marriage equality, I just thought, "To hell with it." As soon as I published the blog post detailing everything, I texted one of my best friends and asked him to play video games with me as a distraction because I was super anxious about it all (note: the gaming DID NOT help my anxiety).
But then the messages and comments started pouring in: everybody loved it. Not only did they love the post, they loved me. As a person. An individual.
As Luke.
Since then, I've been much happier. I no longer hide who I am. If I want to mention how cute that guy is walking down the street, I do so. If I want to talk about how LGBT discrimination is alive and well, and how much that bothers me, I do so. If I want to talk about how much I actually like Hillary Clinton, not just because she's not an orange manatee (thank you, Stephen Colbert), I do so. I realize that at least one of those things doesn't relate to The Gay, but coming out as gay taught me that I don't really need to hide any aspect of my life. So, I don't.
National Coming Out Day, I think, has as its ultimate goal the creation of a society where coming out is not necessary. It is a goal of a society where I don't need to write a blog post and publish it to Facebook to explain to people why I am suddenly going to seem and be a different person to them. That society is one that celebrates people for who they are: people. Human beings with real dreams, desires, and passions. Real people who care about real things. Real people who are accepted and included, even if they are in a differing minority.
It's a society of happiness.
If I can misappropriate a Mormon scripture, I will. So, I'm going to: "Men are that they might have joy." I ponder on this phrase a lot. It's snuck into a larger discourse on sin and happiness, and I think it gets kind of glossed over. It suggests that our whole reason for being, our very reason for existence, is so we can experience joy. It's so we can be happy.
Coming out made me demonstrably happier. Living true to myself made me demonstrably happier. I cannot think anything bad or evil that makes people happier like this has done to me. And the society, the world that I want to create is one where everyone is happy being who they are. Where everyone is safe and loved while being who they are. And National Coming Out Day helps to further that goal.
All of these things are important, which is why people have assigned a day to them. It's a good way to draw attention to the cause du jour. It provides us with another reason, beyond all of the people affected by whatever the cause is, to talk about a problem and try to work towards solutions.
I want to talk about National Coming Out Day because that is the cause that affects me the most today. I don't want you to think that I think coming out is more important that girls and mental health; it's just that I am not a girl, and I don't think I have too many mental health problems in my life right now. So, coming out is the more applicable soap box, as it were.
I'm glad that we have established a day for coming out. I've already said that I think it's important, but the real reason I'm glad is because of the world I see this day trying to create. It's a dream, a vision of a reality that isn't quite here yet, but towards which we are working. It's a hope: a faith in a world not yet seen, but which could one day be true.
This day was created to celebrate coming out. It was created to celebrate difference and diversity. Ultimately, I think, it was created to celebrate truth. It's the truth about who we are as people, what our lives are like, and how we are choosing to live now. It's the truth that we are exactly who we are supposed to be, that we are no longer going to hide in shadows and lies, half-truths and deflections.
It is, quite simply, truth.
From my own experience, I am far happier now that I have come out. It was a difficult decision for me, though. When I got to the point of personally accepting that I was gay (took me a good long while), I knew I wanted to come out, but I wasn't sure of how that would be viewed by friends and family at large. I knew my closest friends and immediate family would still love me, but I had no idea how anybody else would react. Eventually, spurred on by the then-recent Supreme Court decision on marriage equality, I just thought, "To hell with it." As soon as I published the blog post detailing everything, I texted one of my best friends and asked him to play video games with me as a distraction because I was super anxious about it all (note: the gaming DID NOT help my anxiety).
But then the messages and comments started pouring in: everybody loved it. Not only did they love the post, they loved me. As a person. An individual.
As Luke.
Since then, I've been much happier. I no longer hide who I am. If I want to mention how cute that guy is walking down the street, I do so. If I want to talk about how LGBT discrimination is alive and well, and how much that bothers me, I do so. If I want to talk about how much I actually like Hillary Clinton, not just because she's not an orange manatee (thank you, Stephen Colbert), I do so. I realize that at least one of those things doesn't relate to The Gay, but coming out as gay taught me that I don't really need to hide any aspect of my life. So, I don't.
National Coming Out Day, I think, has as its ultimate goal the creation of a society where coming out is not necessary. It is a goal of a society where I don't need to write a blog post and publish it to Facebook to explain to people why I am suddenly going to seem and be a different person to them. That society is one that celebrates people for who they are: people. Human beings with real dreams, desires, and passions. Real people who care about real things. Real people who are accepted and included, even if they are in a differing minority.
It's a society of happiness.
If I can misappropriate a Mormon scripture, I will. So, I'm going to: "Men are that they might have joy." I ponder on this phrase a lot. It's snuck into a larger discourse on sin and happiness, and I think it gets kind of glossed over. It suggests that our whole reason for being, our very reason for existence, is so we can experience joy. It's so we can be happy.
Coming out made me demonstrably happier. Living true to myself made me demonstrably happier. I cannot think anything bad or evil that makes people happier like this has done to me. And the society, the world that I want to create is one where everyone is happy being who they are. Where everyone is safe and loved while being who they are. And National Coming Out Day helps to further that goal.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
A Swell of Pride
TL;DR: Pride was and is great and wonderful and necessary and everything I could have ever hoped for.
Hello, world!
I've been meaning to write this post for a few days now. It's about my first Pride weekend as an open and honest me. I'm sorry that it took two weeks to write, but I'm also not really that sorry. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It's a really slow day at work, so I can write it now. I hope it makes sense, and I hope that I can adequately convey my thoughts and feelings to those of you who may not understand why that weekend (June 11-12) was so great.
I was very excited for Pride. Like, unnecessarily and bizarrely excited. I realize that members of the LGBT+ community tend to get excited for Pride and that it's totally natural to be excited for it. For me, the excitement was unexpected. Before I came out to the world, I wasn't ever excited for Pride. I had opportunities to go to Pride weekend celebrations in Utah, but I never chose to go. There are plenty of reasons that I won't go into. Suffice it to say that I just didn't go.
I should have gone.
Pride is wonderful. It's bright, loud, flashy, glittery, dance-y, musically fun. By the time the parade rolled around to where me and my friends were standing, I was already happy I had decided to attend. I had acquired a little Pride flag from some bank on the corner, and I happily waved it at other people who were happily waving at me.
The parade started with a lesbian motorcycle gang (which is apparently a thing). They were loud, constantly revving their engines. Large choppers aren't my favorite vehicles mankind has developed, but I was happy to see that the people riding them were just as happy as me, if not more. Following them were members of the DC Metro Police who identified with some letter of the LGBT+ community. I had an easier time relating to them because they looked more like me (more so than the motorcyclists). To me, they seemed more normal, which is everything I've tried to be since forever.
The rest of the parade is kind of a blur to me, but I almost cried when the LGBT+ affirming churches started showing up. The first church was a Baptist church, and almost every person was holding a sign that said some form of "God loves you." On top of that being a message I think the world just needs, that hits me on a very deep, personal level. It's something that I think the LDS Church needs a lot of work on. Sure, we say it in church all the time, but the feeling isn't always there. I was grateful to see a small contingent of Mormons marching along with the rest of the parade. They stopped in front of me for a moment, so I asked one of them for a hug (she obliged!). It was tender.
Other than almost crying, my emotional state expressed itself like this for the rest of the parade:
Hello, world!
I've been meaning to write this post for a few days now. It's about my first Pride weekend as an open and honest me. I'm sorry that it took two weeks to write, but I'm also not really that sorry. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It's a really slow day at work, so I can write it now. I hope it makes sense, and I hope that I can adequately convey my thoughts and feelings to those of you who may not understand why that weekend (June 11-12) was so great.
I was very excited for Pride. Like, unnecessarily and bizarrely excited. I realize that members of the LGBT+ community tend to get excited for Pride and that it's totally natural to be excited for it. For me, the excitement was unexpected. Before I came out to the world, I wasn't ever excited for Pride. I had opportunities to go to Pride weekend celebrations in Utah, but I never chose to go. There are plenty of reasons that I won't go into. Suffice it to say that I just didn't go.
I should have gone.
Pride is wonderful. It's bright, loud, flashy, glittery, dance-y, musically fun. By the time the parade rolled around to where me and my friends were standing, I was already happy I had decided to attend. I had acquired a little Pride flag from some bank on the corner, and I happily waved it at other people who were happily waving at me.
The parade started with a lesbian motorcycle gang (which is apparently a thing). They were loud, constantly revving their engines. Large choppers aren't my favorite vehicles mankind has developed, but I was happy to see that the people riding them were just as happy as me, if not more. Following them were members of the DC Metro Police who identified with some letter of the LGBT+ community. I had an easier time relating to them because they looked more like me (more so than the motorcyclists). To me, they seemed more normal, which is everything I've tried to be since forever.
The rest of the parade is kind of a blur to me, but I almost cried when the LGBT+ affirming churches started showing up. The first church was a Baptist church, and almost every person was holding a sign that said some form of "God loves you." On top of that being a message I think the world just needs, that hits me on a very deep, personal level. It's something that I think the LDS Church needs a lot of work on. Sure, we say it in church all the time, but the feeling isn't always there. I was grateful to see a small contingent of Mormons marching along with the rest of the parade. They stopped in front of me for a moment, so I asked one of them for a hug (she obliged!). It was tender.
Other than almost crying, my emotional state expressed itself like this for the rest of the parade:
Yes, that is the same photo that I just made my profile pic on Facebook. My roommate took it. I had no idea it was happening, and I'm glad I didn't because I really like how it turned out. That picture represents exactly how Pride made me feel.
It made me happy.
Not just happy, though. It was that kind of happiness that wells up inside you and makes you full. I was giddy. I laughed. I couldn't keep that silly smile off of my face because I was just so gosh darn happy! Here were people who were proud to be who they were marching in a parade like the beautiful human creatures they are. Here were people who were proud to support those that were different marching in a parade like the beautiful human creatures they are. Here were people lining the streets and cheering for those people who were proud to be who they are.
Cheering for me.
For the first time since coming out, I felt a little something stir inside me, something I had never expected to feel: pride. I was proud of myself for making it this far in my life (I'm 27 now). I was proud of myself for cutting through the lies I'd told. I was proud of myself for being authentically me for almost a whole year.
I was proud to be gay.
Then, Sunday morning happened.
I woke up at my usual Sunday morning time (whenever the sun shines bright enough through my east-facing window -_-) and glanced down at my phone to see what time it was. Instead of the clock, I saw several CNN notifications alerting me to the Orlando shooting. I didn't really register it at first, other than letting out a sigh at another mass shooting. It didn't hit me until I went downstairs for breakfast that it was a shooting at a gay nightclub, that twenty people were dead (the death toll eventually hit 49), that it was in the middle of my Pride weekend. I stared at Twitter while eating my cereal, shocked at what had happened. My roommate, the one who took the picture above, stopped at the table on his way out the door to church. He asked if I had seen the news, to which I nodded. He muttered something about how that sucks, then asked me to please be careful at Pride that day.
I think that's when it really hit me. I was going to the Pride festival, a kind of fair that set up shop on Pennsylvania Ave. down by the Newseum and the Canadian Embassy (really close to the Capitol building, too). My roommate knew that was my plan, and wanted to make sure I would be careful in case this was something more than just an awful thing in Florida.
It was then that I realized that for all the progress the LGBT+ community has made, for marriage equality, for fighting to be heard and represented and accepted, for all the happiness that I felt at Pride, there were still people in the world who wanted to kill me. For all of that good that has happened to people like me, there are still those in the world who revile us. Who despise us. Who think we are worthy of nothing but death, and the most ignominious at that.
All that hit me as my roommate walked out the door to go to church. I spent the rest of that morning, and a good chunk of the early afternoon, on Twitter following the updates and searching for anything that might indicate I would be unsafe. As time went on, I began chatting with my friends, some of whom were very upset at what happened. We talked through anger, shock, and grief. And as we talked, my resolve to go to the festival anyway grew.
So, I went. By myself. I metroed into the District and walked into the festival. I even donated $10 to keep the festival free next year. This is what it looked like:
Lots of people, lots of tents, and lots of balloons. All in the shadow (figuratively speaking) of the nation's capital. And pretty much everyone was happy. There were several signs expressing love and solidarity for the people in Orlando, which I thought were very appropriate and nice.
I continued messaging my friends as I walked. As I said, I was by myself, so I needed someone to talk to. Pride is definitely more fun when you go with your friends. Anyway, one of my friends said he was especially proud of me for going to Pride that day because the LGBT+ community needed to show the world that we would not be intimidated. Fear and violence were not going to stop us from celebrating who we are.
I really liked that sentiment. And I'm finding that as more time passes, the more I believe it. I am gay. Nothing will change that. But I'll be damned before I let some homicidal maniac force me back into the closet because he's uncomfortable seeing two men kiss.
I used to think that I just wanted to live my life. Just live it. Why does it matter who I am attracted to? Why can't I just be Luke and also be attracted to men? I wanted to be normal, to blend in with the crowd and not cause a stir. I acknowledged my differences, but I wasn't proud of them.
Orlando has changed me. It galvanized something that the Pride parade had started the day before. It showed me that I shouldn't hide my differences. In fact, I should wear them openly. People should see that I am different. They should know it, and if it makes them uncomfortable, they should feel it. They should feel that discomfort and work through it because I am not going anywhere.
We are not going anywhere.
We will continue to make our presence known. We will continue to kiss in public. We will continue to go to nightclubs. We will continue to throw our large, loud, and obnoxious parades. We will continue being sassy and fierce and fiery and passionate. We will continue to reject your outdated view of how the world should be.
I think that's what Pride is all about. It's about being happy doing our thing. It's about being out in the world and not being ashamed. It's about visibility, for ourselves and for those that desperately need to see they are not alone. It's about changing hearts and minds. It's about living fearlessly in a world where fear is used by the weak to control the powerful. Ultimately, it's about living life to its fullest.
So today, I live with Pride.
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