 For many queer, trans, and gender-diverse people, Pride is not just a celebration, it’s a reclamation.
Pride didn’t begin with parades or flags, but instead as a form of resistance. The first Pride was a riot, a collective response to police violence at Stonewall, where queer and trans people fought back against a world that tried to erase them. They weren’t just demanding rights; they were asserting their right to exist in joy, in safety, and in their own bodies. That act of defiance lives on in us. We live in a world that often makes it unsafe to be fully ourselves; to love openly, to dress as we please, to walk down the street without fear. In that context, Pride is not a frivolous event. It is an embodied act of survival. It is protest, community, joy, and a reminder of the freedom we and those before us have fought for. Lineage, Trauma, and Healing For some of us, the idea of “lineage” can feel distant, or even painful. Maybe you come from a family where queerness wasn’t accepted. Maybe you carry ancestral trauma, or you're part of a lineage shaped by silence, disordered eating, and shame. When trauma runs deep in families, especially when it’s tied to bodies, food, and identity, the idea of looking back can be overwhelming. And yet, lineage doesn’t only mean blood. It also means legacy, the people who came before us and created space when there was none. The queer elders, the trans ancestors, the people who fought, resisted, and imagined freer worlds. We walk in their footsteps and I believe it is important that we remember this during pride. There is a lineage of healing, too. As someone learning to do this work, personally and professionally, I’m guided by others who’ve walked this path before me. Their teachings, their tenderness, their courage — they reach across time like a warm hand to a warm hand. In Buddhism, this concept of "warm hand to warm hand" honors the passing of wisdom from one person to the next. Pride, in its own way, is part of that transmission. A reminder that we’re never doing this alone. Embodied Pride Is Still Resistance Earlier today, I went to a small Pride march in my town. It reminded me of something essential: Pride has always been rooted in activism. Even when it’s joyful, even when it’s quiet. Even when it's just showing up, in your body, in your truth, in a space that once felt unsafe - that is the resistance and embodiment of pride. And embodiment isn’t just about visibility. It’s about feeling pride in your skin, in your body, even if you’re still learning how to be there. It’s about honoring the very thing that allows you to feel delight, sensuality, intimacy, and connection. In a world that is constantly telling us our bodies are wrong, simply feeling the aliveness of our bodies is truly revolutionary! Joy Is a Radical Act I want to remind you right now that you are completely deserving of joy. You deserve to feel good in your body. Not because it looks a certain way, not because it “passes,” but because you are alive, and your body is yours. And if joy feels far away right now? That’s okay. There’s no right way to “do” Pride. You don’t have to show up at a parade. You don’t need glitter or flags or speeches. You just need to remember that you are part of something bigger — a network of care, of resistance, of becoming. The anger we face? The backlash, the hate, the systemic violence? That’s because our power is real. Our ability to imagine different ways of living, loving, and relating to our bodies threatens the structures that try to control us. Don’t forget how powerful you are. If You’re Reading This… Whether Pride feels expansive, painful, confusing, or sacred to you — you are welcome here. This is a reminder that you are not alone. You are part of a long, rich, comlex lineage of people who refused to disappear. Who carved out space for themselves — and now, for you. So this Pride, I hope you find small pockets of joy. I hope you feel your body as a place you can return to, even if only for a moment. I hope you remember that taking up space — as your full, beautiful self — is enough. And I hope you hold onto this truth: You come from a legacy of survivors, dreamers, and healers. And you — exactly as you are — carry that legacy forward. |