The Message Behind Pride

It's pride weekend in St. Pete, and the evidence is everywhere. Driving around the streets of Downtown St. Petersburg, Florida to find a place to park, you can spot plenty of LGBQT+ flags waving from various restaurants, hotels, and businesses alike, announcing the coming wave of supporters sporting their representative gear.

The celebration runs smoothly with little problem in the crowds, and the EMTs are always on the lookout for any overheated (or over-drunk) attendees in need of any medical assistance. The St. Pete Pride Parade is the largest pride celebration in the Tampa Bay area and the execution is amazing.

This is the first year I've been lucky enough to attend any sort of LGBQT+ community event, and my luck is ever so high for it to be the St. Pete Pride Parade. It was a beautiful event that I could thoroughly enjoy in the short time I was able to attend, and the ideas and messages running through my head while I looked all around me—especially at my girlfriend—really hit home.

Savoring the Firsts and Lasts

"Our first and last steps have the same rhythm." - Andre Maurois

This was an event of many firsts. First kisses, first dates, maybe even first coming-out experiences. First-timers getting a feel of themselves in the community, first-time supporters of the movement from the 'outside,' and for some, it was the first time they were able to leave an environment of hatred and fear of who they really are.

While some may have had their firsts, others had what could possibly be their lasts. On a light note, it could be last time one may see "God-loving" protestors in the midst of pride support. A darker tone to follow, it could be the very last community experience one has. Older couples who know not when one may leave the other to attend the next parade alone. People struggling with diseases that could take away their earthly experiences at any time. Members serving in various ways for the nation's well-being while taking all the heat on themselves for who they are.

It may be a lot to be thinking about while watching a bunch of people walk around in rainbow colors from head to toe throwing colored beads at crowds, but it gives a sense of humanization. These are real people celebrating real life and situations and centuries-long struggles that could finally be coming to an end. If that isn't something for the history books, then the point of history class is just lost.

All We Need Is Love (and Rights)

"There's nothing wrong with you. There's a lot wrong with the world you live in." - Chris Colfer

I come from a family of mixed signals, so to speak. My father is a religious man with little tolerance for the LGBQT+ movement and community. He tends to make jokes about them when he's in a good mood, and metaphorically spits on them in a bad one.

However, he also is very protective of his daughters (myself and my younger sister of 10 years) in a way that makes it seem like he hopes no boys ever even look at us. He would rather choose our husbands for us, which makes me want to gag and possibly bury myself under blankets until I suffocate under their comfort.

On the other side, my mother is a very liberal, supportive person. She was the first to realize I may not be straight, and the first to tell me that it was perfectly okay not to want a future with a picked-out husband and a house in the suburbs with some kids and a dog—or whatever.

When I came to terms with myself and had my first girlfriend—and no, I hadn't had any boyfriends before that—in the eighth grade, she never let me believe I was alone. So when my father starts to be a homophobic asshole, she's usually there with a hand on the shoulder to keep me grounded.

If it weren't for my mother's support, I surely would have left home one way or another a long time ago. Looking around at the people in the crowds, you can see full families happily flaunting their support, and it can make one feel jealous of their supportive environment.

But there are millions, maybe billions in our history, who never had and will never have such support. They feel alone in our world where hatred for the "abnormal" was evidently everpresent. The secrets and lies, the fear and suffering many had to go through because of their non-heterosexual "disease."

Many could never handle it and instead chose to face the God that apparently despises them face-to-face. Many continue to suffer in fear of said God and in hopes of happiness to be found.

It's a good time to think about those who simply aren't as lucky, and hope they can receive a message that the community is here. We exist, and we fight for a future 1960's America only dreamed of: love, happiness, equality, and peace worldwide.

Not Just a Celebration

"The beauty of standing up for your rights is others see you standing and stand up as well." -Cassandra Duffy

I like to think of the LGBQT+ as a civil rights movement continued. The fight didn't end with women's suffrage, it didn't end with the Jim Crow Laws repeal, and it probably won't end with LGBQT+ rights worldwide. There is still discrimination and hatred worldwide, for non-heterosexuals, for people of color, women, diseased, disabled, practices of minor (or no) religions...

Any strays from the society's idealized "normal" has some sort of stigma that we try to fight against, and this fight must continue on until we are heard, our humanity is recognized, and hatred is abolished. We lay the ground for generations to come, just as others have done before us here and now.

The thought of this warms my entire body with the hope that one day I can come home and be myself, and that's all I will ever need to be.