As we roll into June, Pride feels different to me this year.
In the chaos of the last six months, since the new administration took office and began attacking the most marginalized and vulnerable communities, things have started to unravel. One company in particular (mind you, I say this with full salt) used to stand ten toes down for inclusivity, equity, and belonging. Their shelves were stocked with BIPOC-owned brands, hair products, Black History Month campaigns, and entire collections dedicated to Pride. And then, suddenly: “Nah. Just kidding. But thanks for your money!”
To be honest, I wasn’t surprised. And it keeps happening. I’ve grown used to performative allyship. Folks showing up when it’s easy, when there’s no risk, when it makes them look good. But when things get hard, when push comes to shove, they vanish. Hiding in plain sight for their own safety.
The thing is: I can’t hide.
I’ve never been able to. Or at least, not well.
My parents had conversations with me about race and racism before I even started kindergarten. I watched Roots in third grade and when I asked my parents why, I remember my Dad saying, “so you can understand where you came from.”. They taught me how to behave, reminded me to respect authority, and always stay aware of my surroundings, all under the unspoken but constant reminder: “Remember what you look like.”
I’ve never been able to hide the parts of me that others seem to hate. That includes my sexuality.
I’ve known since grade school that I was different. I remember the first time I heard the word lesbian – I was in the fourth grade. A classmate said, “Tashawna, are you a lesbian? You look like a boy, so you must like girls.” Looking back now, it feels like kids trying to make sense of the world, grasping at definitions. But in the moment, it was meant to tease, to other me, to mark me as different. And I already felt different. One of the few Brown kids in a sea of white classmates. I didn’t want to stand out. I just wanted to play tetherball. So I said what I thought would make it all go away: “No, ew!”
Fast forward to this year: My mom sent a bunch of old pictures while spring cleaning our childhood home. One of them was my sixth-grade school photo. I posted it on Instagram with the caption:
“me in 6th grade denying the lesbian allegations.” (See picture for reference)
My wife and I laughed. We agreed: I’ve never really been able to hide. Even when I desperately wanted to blend in, I’ve always been queer, just like I’ve always been biracial.
I’ve never had the privilege of choosing when I get to disappear for safety. My identities have always been political – debated, weaponized, or used as someone’s “growth opportunity.” The number of friends who have said, “I used to be homophobic, but then I met you and you changed me!” Like I was their diversity milestone. It used to make me laugh: “I thought we were just friends. I didn’t sign up to be your reformation arc.” But apparently, I was changing people just by existing. If that’s not a superpower, I don’t know what is.
And honestly, it does feel almost superhuman to be a queer, non-binary, person of color right now.
I can be out here living my best life, full of joy, full of love, and still, someone somewhere is thinking about how wrong it is for me to exist so freely. They take away their support, pull down their rainbow displays, walk back everything they said was “so important” to them.
And they say, “Yeah, this’ll show them.”
And yet. Two of my favorite words pushed together.
And yet, I’m still queer.
And yet, I’m still Black.
And yet, I’m still Samoan.
And yet, I’m still non-binary.
And yet, I’m still full of joy, full of love.
And yet, I’m still free.
Like I said: Pride feels different this year. But I’m still proud – every day of every month of every year. I’m still here, still laughing and loving and living rent-free in the haters’ heads, like I have been for the last 33 years.
A non-exhaustive list of things I’ll be doing this Pride**:
- Go to dinner with my wife and play card games
- Hold hands with said wife at the grocery store
- Watch WNBA games
- Hang out with our friends at our favorite bar
- Read sapphic books
- Watch To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995)
- Exist
**also known as things I do on any given day
In honor of one of my favorite movies of all time (please see above) I leave you with these wise words from Ms. Vida Boheme, portrayed by the incredible Patrick Swayze. Let these words guide you through the month of June and beyond:
“I want you to believe in yourself, imagine good things, and moisturize – I cannot stress this enough.”
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