Pride Month: For Us, Not for Show

Pride Month is here again, and with the political climate being what it is, I honestly believe Pride is more important now than ever. But I also think it’s time we stop worrying about putting on a show for the mainstream. Pride shouldn’t be about proving we’re “worthy,” or “just like them,” or making ourselves palatable for a TV audience or a corporate sponsor. Pride, at its core, is a protest—a riot if that’s what it takes. It’s about feeding our own souls and the collective soul of our community.

Let me tell you a story. My first Pride event was in January 1994, at Sydney’s Gay Mardi Gras. This was during the height of ACT UP activism and the era of Larry Kramer. Sydney was electric—events everywhere, all week long. At the time, I was splitting my life between Provincetown and Miami, both gay meccas in their own right, and because of that, in Sydney, I ran into lots of friends from the States. Which just made the whole week feel like so much more, so much more connected to my community.

The parade itself was massive. It seemed endless—groups promoting AIDS awareness, fighting for LGBT teen suicide prevention, gay families marching with their kids, committed partners advocating for marriage equality (years before it was even on the table in the US). We were out there expressing joy, shouting that we exist, that we are everywhere.

Of course, there were also the big, flashy floats—hot guys tossing beads, topless Dykes on Bikes (yes they are joyously everywhere!) and, yes, a giant 20-foot penis being ridden by a crew of guys in chaps and cowboy hats. The Drag Queens! Drag Queens were everywhere! The sidewalks were packed, the media was taking up every great vantage point. That night, or maybe the next morning, I watched the local news coverage. Sydney is a progressive city, but the “unbiased” broadcast only showed the most sensational moments: the topless bikers, the giant penis float, played over and over. All the important stuff—the activism, the families, the real stories—was left out. The audience at the parade got the whole picture, but what the rest of the city saw was a stereotype, edited for shock value.

That experience changed how I see Pride parades. I haven’t cared for them since. No matter what we try to present, the cameras will always find the “sound bite” that fits their narrative. Our joy, our freedom, our laughter, our sexual liberation—all of it gets twisted into something to inflame those who refuse to open their minds. It fuels their fire, not ours.

So this year, I say: fuck all the hate, and fuck all the haters. Pride is for us. Joy is resistance. Living authentically—loving who you want, being who you are, having great, uninhibited sex, laughing too loud, dancing too hard, showing up as your real self—is a protest in itself. We don’t need to justify ourselves to anyone. We don’t need to tone it down or make it “acceptable.”

Pride isn’t a performance for the mainstream. It’s a celebration, a protest, and a promise to ourselves and each other that we will not be erased or quieted down. Take Pride back to its roots. Make it feed your soul. Make it feed our collective soul. Be loud. Be joyful. Be you.

Happy Pride.

-Tommy