When June arrives, every gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer (insert the other letters here) person is expected to grab a flag and head to Pride. If you don't, the alphabet mob will be out for you -- mostly thrashing you on social media for not supporting "the community."
While I appreciate the spirit of Pride and the progress it represents, I also believe it's perfectly OK to be assigned to one of the letters and opt-out of the festivities.
For some, Pride is a lifeline, a vibrant affirmation of their existence in a world that often tries to silence them. It's a space for community, for visibility and for unapologetic joy. I understand and respect that. But the truth is, Pride doesn't resonate with everyone and that's perfectly valid.
It's reasonable that coming to terms with being gay isn't a singular, celebratory explosion, but rather a quiet unfolding; where you find acceptance and comfort within yourself in a close circle of friends and family. "Pride" is often a more personal, introspective experience.
Perhaps my aversion to the large-scale celebrations stems from a discomfort with performative activism. Don't get me wrong, visibility is crucial, but I worry that sometimes the genuine message gets lost in the corporate sponsorships and the pressure to conform to a certain image of what it means to be part of the alphabet.
Moreover, the sheer sensory overload of Pride – the crowds, the noise, the constant stimulation – can be overwhelming for individuals who are more introverted. It's not about shame or internalized homophobia; it's simply about knowing yourself and understanding what environments you thrive in.
Ultimately, being gay is not a monolith. It's a diverse community with varying levels of comfort, expression and engagement. To suggest that participation in Pride is a mandatory requirement for being a "good" member of "the community" -- which, let's be honest, now just means "anything not straight" -- is not only inaccurate but also potentially damaging.
So, this June, some people in "the community" are supporting "the community" in their own way, perhaps through quieter acts of advocacy or simply by living their authentic life with confidence and self-acceptance. I believe in the spirit of Pride, but I also believe in the right to choose how we celebrate – or don't celebrate – our identities. And that's perfectly OK.