A criticism of pride that I often hear leveled usually goes something like “If sexual orientation is something you’re born with, then why do you need a parade? There’s not a ‘Straight Pride.” I’ll even admit that there have been times when I’ve questioned the exact importance of muscle boys dancing in their underwear to celebrating a community. As many others have intimated, it isn’t about pride in an innately born trait, but rather using the very same thing that has been used to marginalize us to liberate us. Since coming out (and okay, living three blocks away), I’ve made sure to attend the Pride parade each year, because I felt it was important to show support.
But it can be hard not to feel cynical when you see the endless barrage of corporate banners and paraphernalia being trotted out, stained with the taint of rainbow capitalism. Late-comers to the cause of equality, their support is certainly based largely around tapping into a previously somewhat under-served demographic. And I, too, cringe as the politicians stroll out with their awkward waving, knowing full well that many of them could not be bothered to support marriage equality publicly until Obama blessed it as part of the democratic platform in 2012. Anyone who does not subscribe precisely to the proper political ideology can feel out of place at what ends up feeling more like a democratic national convention than a celebration of a community that is as diverse and far-ranging as any.
But the thing is, no matter what we might want, by its very nature, pride is political. I wish it weren’t. I wish it didn’t have to be, but the fact remains that despite the significant strides made in recent years, there is still work to be done that requires, demands, a political solution. LGBT youth face disproportionately high rates of homelessness. As of 2016, there were 29 states in which someone can be fired for being gay. Transgender people are four times as likely as the general population to be victims of physical violence, and the number gets worse for transgender people of color. These are a handful of the many issues that cannot be solved in a vacuum.
The most frightening part about those statistics to me is just how many people, how many of my friends, are wholly unaware of them. They cannot be solved by turning inward into our community. They require activism, marching, writing and calling our representatives (or running ourselves). As cynical as I can be about the democratic evolution on gay rights, I still remember watching that Obama interview with Robin Roberts, and as calculated as I felt it was in some ways, I knew it mattered. I also remember the 2004 election, in which a prominent robo-call attacked John Kerry for supporting gay marriage, and just as uncomfortably, John Kerry vehemently denying that was the case.
I don’t believe this has to be a matter of left versus right. I’m fully comfortable with the fact that a person can find all the above concerning while disagreeing on the proper course of action to resolve the issue. What I’m not comfortable with is ignoring the history of where we came from. It can be easy to get lost in the reassuring cocoon of our cities, to just want to live our lives as ourselves and not as a part of our communities. We have the choice to stay quiet precisely because others refused to do so. We can take that choice and shrink into our own lives, or we can use it to be even bolder, to climb on the steps laid before us and build new ones on top of those. I know where I want to be, and that’s why Pride matters.
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