Pr*de

It is officially summer in New York City! The schools are out, which I know because there is both an influx and a drop off in the number of terrifying teen hordes around my neighborhood. Some are free from academia with the city at their feet and the others are off to what I imagine to be Camp Walden for Girls. I find myself in the air fryer that is Manhattan in July and reminiscing for the gorgeous month that is June. June is still completely summer, but the children are still trapped inside, the overall temperatures are closer to 80 than one million, and the A/C  unit has last summer’s gunk still stuck in it. June is also the holy, sacred month that houses Pride. I’m talking Gay Pride! The month where we little gays get to be a little bit like royalty, and by that, I mean we can make eye contact with each other on the side walk and whisper, “Happy Pride,” and hold hands in public while our rainbow flags pop up in select shop windows.

Pride Month is the most delightful time for so many reasons. It is a time to reflect on how far we have come, revisiting the history of the LGBTQ community, the riots, the drag queens, the casualties, the superstars. The establishments old and new that have provided a safe haven for my community: protection from the outside world, support for those who have none, a playground for safe flirting, and most importantly, a backdrop for shenanigans and poppers. Choosing to be authentically yourself can be very spooky scary and that is what this month is all about: celebrating the bravery it took to watch “Stick It,” and allow yourself to think, “hmm…I think maybe I would like to be in that bath tub as well…” 

Most June’s consist of a very bus, bus, another bus mentality, leaning into some kind of scarcity mindset that we only have a few short weeks to squeeze in every ounce of gay behavior before the flags come down! Pride often means smelling like four different kinds of smoke while squatting over a well-worn porta potty, taking one of those drunken deep breaths through your mouth, and when you wipe, there’s glitter on the toilet paper. Pride is watching a drag queen in broad daylight, death drop under a disco ball and tattered rainbow flags. Pride is taking up space and feeling one-hundred percent empowered to do so. It is the time where you can really dance and literally nobody is watching! 

This past June was very much all of the things mentioned above, with a little bit of an extra sauciness. The gayest thing that could possibly happen, happened and that is I married the absolute love of my life who is in fact a woman! We had the most magical time celebrating with our friends and family, professing our love and dancing the night away in Queens. This union is a milestone that brings an immense amount of pride to my heart. To get to that altar, she and I both had to exercise a level of that aforementioned bravery; we allowed ourselves to prioritize our own happiness and settle for nothing less. At times this journey can be trying or long - the lyrics of Celine Dion come to mind, “Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide. This fever for you was just burning me up inside. I drove all night to get to you.” I was driving! I knew something amazing lied ahead and I was 100% right. I’m not necessarily saying that our marriage is more special than straight people’s marriages, but like in some ways it really is! 

I digress, my point is that my now wife and I, joined our lives during Pride Month, making a very serious and reverent commitment to one another. With all this being said, and then some, this June presented the highest level of outward disapproval of our relationship that I have ever experienced. I say that well knowing that many folks experience anything from disapproval to outright hate, every day for who they are, and I am one of the lucky few who has by and large, been left alone. We had a stretch where four out of six days, some passerby felt the need to pipe up and say a little something disparaging. For some reason when an old man says, “Meet a good man and have babies,” to my literal wife and I, it feels incredibly archaic and ridiculous, but also, like a gut punch. When a man driving a truck shouts out, “Hey ladies!” while we hold hands through a crosswalk, it almost feels surreal, because, you’ve got to be kidding me? When a man on a park bench mutters, “Find Jesus,” during our evening stroll, I am still mostly shocked by the hubris. When a stranger at a bar self identifies as a “redneck,” and then offers a “cheers to homosexuals” as a genuine compliment, I honestly am at a loss for words. These are modern times, am I wrong? Maybe I am! 

I am not certain what has made this particular Pride season different from those in recent history, but I have to imagine it can be summarized by some version of top-down behavior. Our general society and the zeitgeist of today are filled with hatred. Hatred for marginalized communities, hatred for there being differences among us, hatred of any level of tolerance, and a special hatred of any level of support. Cruelty is having a little bit of a moment right now! And no shade to Cruelty, she can be funny when deployed properly and by a drag queen, but largely, she is the enemy of peace and happiness. Cruelty has become a popular girl and with her rise, the acceptance of  regression. I don’t mean to pretend that things have ever been completely peaceful or that a country of 350 million people has ever been in complete agreement over, nearly, anything, but I do mean to say there has been a major drop in Empathy. Our girl Empathy has been banished to the loser lunch table and we really need to bring her back into the conversation!

This Pride season was still a time of euphoria and love and celebration. We still danced hard and drank a little too much juice and jumped in fountains and marched through the streets. I still found myself in porta potties littered with buzz balls and glitter. Drag queens still slayed under disco balls and tattered flags. However, the reckless abandon was a little less reckless. The desire to dance like nobody was watching was challenged by perception and the air of here’s an inch, don’t get any ideas about taking a mile, loomed a little too near. 

I implore everybody, including myself to aim for a higher level of Empathy this next calendar year. Empathy is cool! She’s hot and getting hotter! By next June, I wish for all queer people to feel reckless abandon. I wish for all members of my community to walk down the street completely unclenched. I wish for my wife and I to be celebrated, or at the very least ignored. I wish for a rise in the sentiment that we are all on the same team. I wish for a rise in support and empowerment, and a return of love. To quote Celine one more time (mostly because I have a hankering to see Titanique, now on Broadway, so she’s on the brain), “Sometimes I am frightened, but I’m ready to learn of the power of love.” Happy Pride, Gay!