Every June, the LGBTQ+ community takes center stage as we honor Pride Month, a time to reflect on the Stonewall uprising—a pivotal moment in 1969 in New York City. Since the inaugural parade in 1970, individuals within the community and supportive allies have marched globally to celebrate progress while acknowledging the journey ahead. Despite more in-person events this year compared to last, many festivities remain virtual. I’ve come to understand that Pride is more about a mindset than just parades, yet I still yearn for more public celebrations.
For me, Pride has always been a complex experience. I feel a strong desire to fully embrace the festivities, but I also grapple with how commercialized Pride has become. While I’d love to buy every rainbow item I see in stores, I also feel the urge to reclaim the essence of Pride from its capitalist undertones. It’s a challenging dichotomy. I enjoy the accessibility of LGBTQ+ merchandise, even if it’s just a way for wealthy corporations to profit. Consider a closeted child entering a store and discovering a dedicated Pride section—how powerful that visibility can be.
Visibility is a cornerstone of Pride. The Stonewall uprising was about demanding recognition as human beings. The celebrations that followed were declarations that our humanity and dignity would not be stripped away again. There’s immense strength in seeing countless LGBTQ+ individuals proclaim, “I exist, I matter, and no one can take that from me.” I recall watching Pride parades and feeling a mix of joy and envy. For much of my life, I was only “out” to a few close friends, which left me feeling isolated. Yet, seeing others live openly during times when I couldn’t was also reassuring.
Although I recognized my queer identity around the age of 12, I spent many years concealing it. In the late 90s and early 2000s, I had never even heard the term bisexual. I knew about lesbians but didn’t understand that one could be feminine and still be attracted to women. At 17, I had my first experience with a girl, but the lack of encouragement from friends led me to remain closeted for the next decade. Watching my openly queer friends share Pride photos stirred feelings of longing within me. I wanted to participate, but fear held me back.
At 31, I finally came out as bisexual after ending a long-term relationship with my son’s father. Though I wasn’t ready to date immediately, I realized I couldn’t continue hiding my identity. Even after coming out, I didn’t attend my first Pride parade; as a single mom, finding a babysitter proved challenging. I had resolved to attend Pride in 2020, but, as we all know, that was derailed.
This year, I hoped for in-person Pride celebrations for my son’s sake. I recently fell in love and got engaged to an incredible woman, and I want him to witness families like ours in real life. Currently, he has only seen two-mom families online, and meeting others like us at a family-friendly Pride event could be a wonderful opportunity for connection.
My son is now seven and at an age where he sees having two moms as completely normal. However, there will come a time when he may encounter peers who challenge that notion, suggesting that our family structure is abnormal or something to be ashamed of. Early elementary years can be tricky for queer parents; children often absorb external opinions that conflict with the understanding we cultivate at home.
Attending a Pride parade would reinforce the lessons I’ve imparted to him about acceptance, diversity, and love. Witnessing a spectrum of gender expressions and sexual orientations in person would help him understand the richness of our community. While we can discuss Pride at home, there’s something transformative about experiencing it together.
As a queer parent and a Black woman, I invest time teaching my son about the struggles our communities face. We recently read a children’s book about the Stonewall Inn, leading to meaningful discussions about the LGBTQ+ experience. I emphasize the sacrifices made by queer elders, particularly Black and brown individuals, who fought for our rights. However, it’s equally important for him to see the joy and pride within our community. I want our family to stand proudly among others, asserting our existence and our right to love.
Pride encompasses much more than parades and rainbow attire. Despite the challenges the LGBTQ+ community continues to face, we persist in our fight for recognition and equality. I’m committed to honoring those who paved the way for my life while also celebrating who I am and who I love. I refuse to hide for others’ comfort, and yet, I find myself navigating this journey daily, parade or no parade.
If you’re interested in related topics, check out our post on home insemination and LGBTQ+ families, or learn more about third-party reproduction. For those considering pregnancy options, this resource on intrauterine insemination is excellent.
Summary:
The importance of Pride Month is deeply personal for a mother raising her son with her partner. As a queer and Black woman, she reflects on her own journey of coming to terms with her identity and the complexities of celebrating Pride amidst commercialization. She desires for her son to experience the visibility and joy of the LGBTQ+ community while navigating the challenges of societal perceptions of their family structure. Pride represents not only a celebration of identity but also a commitment to continued advocacy for equality and recognition.