Pride often arrives with vibrant celebrations. Parades fill the streets with music, energy, and a sense of acceptance. However, in 2025, the atmosphere feels different, making it a peculiar time to celebrate Pride.
Personally, embracing my queerness publicly has been liberating. I’ve never felt more authentic. Unexpectedly falling in love with my partner has been magical. Challenges have transformed into ease, and things flow naturally. Like many women who’ve experienced significant changes, I’ve stopped trying to conform to traditional fairy tales or the roles I often portrayed on TV. There’s a powerful feeling of freedom when you stop trying to meet external expectations and listen to your own inner voice. Reaching this state of happiness, both with my partner and within myself, involved exploring different aspects of myself for four decades. So, if you’re still searching, don’t give up. It’s never too late.
Shortly after my relationship became public, my mother was surprised to find that some of her friends held more conservative views than she realized. I reminded her that it’s not unusual for a white woman in her late 70s to have friends with quietly exclusionary beliefs. She was particularly bothered by one conversation where a “friend” questioned the truth of my being gay.
My mom sensed the negativity in the woman’s tone and responded, “Oh honey, I think she’s pretty gay. And she’s happy.”
Since sharing my love story with a woman, I’ve noticed that some people will always see queer happiness as a threat. I can’t understand why anyone would want to deny more love and joy in a world already full of pain and uncertainty.
Despite the happiness my love story has brought, I struggle with the contrast between the safety and peace we’ve created at home and the reality of a world where that safety isn’t guaranteed for everyone in the LGBTQ+ community, as their rights are under attack. This is what I’m thinking about during Pride Month in 2025.
Right-wing groups are actively trying to reverse civil rights protections, dismantle anti-discrimination laws, and restrict access to life-saving care (it’s unbelievable to me that I have to type that sentence). The Trump administration is undermining support that helps save the lives of LGBTQ+ youth. The “party of family values” ignores that 40% of all unhoused youth are unhoused because they have been kicked out of their homes for being gay, or lesbian, or trans, or bisexual, or queer.
I can’t imagine loving a child conditionally, only if they become who you want them to be instead of who they are. I acknowledge the privilege I had growing up with parents who had a large, artistic community of gay friends, took me to Pride parades, and love my partner. My mom often sends me reflections on our relationship, most recently saying, “My heart is so full seeing the joy, love and comfort you bring to each other. It’s so heartwarming and so natural to you both. I love you both very much.” What my parents want, and what every parent should want, is a happy kid. It’s that simple.
However, for many in the LGBTQ+ community today, the violence starts at home and extends into the world. Queer love has always been an act of resistance, which may be forgotten as public education is being undermined. Books that reflect our love are being banned. The current administration is treating inclusion as a threat, trying to erase people by erasing the language. This harm affects everyone—gay, straight, women, men, our trans friends, and anyone who has ever been marginalized. The truth is, if some of us lose our rights, everyone is vulnerable.
I’m celebrating Pride Month this year with all my love for my identity and the LGBTQ+ community, but I also want to remember how hard-won these traditions are. We can’t take LGBTQ+ history for granted. Pride began as a protest. Being “out” was an act of defiance against police brutality and oppression. Without Stonewall and the activists of the 1960s and 1970s, we wouldn’t have Pride Month or the rights we have today. The freedoms we have today came at the cost of safety, homes, and sacrifices.
I appreciate the shirts, bumper stickers, and rainbow confetti, and I love waving the flag with pride. However, it can’t stop there. Symbols are a beginning, not the solution. We must not only display our support publicly but also take action privately. Wear the t-shirt and call your Congressional representatives weekly, demanding they stand up for equal rights protections. Remind them that your values are intersectional and our liberty is interconnected. Give what you can, donate, or volunteer your time.
I know we’re all tired and experiencing burnout from grief, division, and political chaos. This moment feels heavy. I suggest seeking out the light, being in community, and committing to showing up. Don’t just protect queer people; create space for our joy. Hold the line and show the world that we are not going backwards. I promise you, it will be some of the most joyful, life-affirming activism you’ll ever be a part of. We all need to be clear about which side of history we want to be on. I choose the side that loves love, and I hope you’ll join us. It’s nice over here, plus, we’ve got good snacks and even better playlists.
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