What Pride Taught Me This Year

Every year, I think I know what to expect. The rainbow flags. The old friends. The familiar ache of missing those we’ve lost. The joy in the streets. The exhaustion that hits after the glitter settles.

But Pride always surprises me.

This year, I felt more. More tenderness. More grief. More awe. More urgency.

I saw teenagers who had come out just weeks before, trembling in their first parade. I saw older couples holding hands with a kind of quiet defiance, as if to say, we made it through. I heard from trans friends who were too scared to attend in person. I saw signs that said protect queer kids. And I saw people who were angry, and tired, and still somehow choosing to show up.

Pride taught me that courage doesn’t always look like a protest chant. Sometimes it looks like someone bringing their whole self to brunch for the first time. Or finally wearing the clothes they’ve always wanted. Or posting a selfie that says, I’m here.

It reminded me that not everyone feels safe celebrating. That joy is a privilege. That we cannot assume everyone who’s quiet is apathetic. Sometimes they are surviving. Sometimes they are healing. Sometimes they are watching, waiting to see if it’s safe.

This June, I remembered how important it is to tell the truth about our history. Not just the polished parts. But the mess and the risk and the fire that started it all. We don’t need Pride to be sanitized. We need it to be real.

I also felt how deep the hunger is for connection that isn’t performative. So many people I spoke to didn’t just want sex tips or flag-waving slogans. They wanted intimacy. Belonging. Language for what they’re feeling. Tools for how to show up in their bodies with more truth and less fear. That hunger is holy. And it tells me that my work, after all these years, still matters.

What hurt this Pride was seeing how easy it is for systems to co-opt what was once radical. Seeing rainbow logos on companies that fund anti-trans politicians. Watching activists get shoved to the back so influencers could take center stage. Feeling how fast a movement can be flattened when its history isn’t held with care.

But even that hurt reminded me what we have to protect.

We are the keepers of sacred stories. We are the ones who remember. Who kiss in public even when it’s risky. Who raise queer children. Who sit with each other in grief. Who share condoms and water bottles and affirming words. We are the ones who say, over and over, that love is never wrong.

This Pride taught me that even though the world feels heavy, we are still rising.

So as July begins and the flags are packed away, I want to say this clearly.

I will still be here. Teaching. Listening. Holding space. Offering truth. Not just during Pride season. Every season.

Because queerness is not a theme. It is a life. And it is worthy of celebration every damn day.

With love,
Nina