In June of 2017 the theme for the NYC Pride March was “We Are Proud.”
The Orange Menace was six months into his (first) term as President of the United States, and the totality of the damage he would do was not yet known. Eight years later, with the full-scale of the horror still emerging, the organizers of NYC Pride have gone with a decidedly more forceful theme, “Rise Up: Pride in Protest.”
The origins of Pride have always been rooted in protest, but over the years that history faded in the background as Pride marches across the country became riddled with corporate sponsors and cis/straight “allies” joining their queer friends for a rainbow-themed day (and night) of partying.
Attending Pride marches became trendy and “safe,” with several organizations working with queer youth marching in parades across the country, queer parents pushing strollers as they marched down the streets of New York, San Francisco, Columbus, Atlanta, etc. Pride was still a celebration of queer culture and joy, but the messaging over the last 20 years had shifted.
Pride celebrations were infused with an explicit and implicit message: we’re just like the rest of you.
The first five months of 2025 have stripped away that sentiment in the broader American culture with the full force and might of a billionaire-backed would-be king. Marginalized communities across a broad spectrum are being targeted with legislation, threats of (and actual) violence, deportation, hate speech, and the destruction of multiple social institutions designed to protect the most vulnerable among us. The concept of safety has been stripped from nearly everyone living in the United States who is not a cis, straight, allistic, US-born, wealthy, non-disabled, Christian, “American.” Those living at the crossroads of multiple intersectional identities have been left with little solid ground to hold on to.
Many in the LGBTQ+ community have been struggling with understanding how to navigate through this time, unprecedented in most of our lifetimes and experiences. People are advised to lean into hope, an ethereal concept that can feel impossible to grasp when many paths toward the future have been seemingly excised from existence.
How do we hold onto hope when we can’t see a future for ourselves?
The reality is, it’s only in the last 30 or so years that queer folks have gained the privilege of thinking about our futures in a hopeful way. For trans and non-binary folks, that time is significantly shorter. Prior to the late 90’s, queer people existed on TV only as objects of ridicule and rejection. It would be another 10 years until we gained the basic right to marriage by certain states, and another 10 years after that for it to be granted by the federal government. As queer folks, we have always lived on the margins of safety. Your race, class, gender presentation, geographic location, religious affiliation, etc would help determine how thick or thin that margin would be.
This Pride season, many will feel emboldened to march in parades, cheer from the sidelines, attend parties or protests, fly rainbow flags, or engage in other public displays of being Out, Loud and Proud. And this has always been true. Others will feel too vulnerable, too scared, too lonely or isolated to declare publicly their membership in the LGBTQ+ community, and this has also always been true. While it is a beautiful and brave thing to live your queer life out-loud, it is also a beautiful and brave thing to live your queer life quietly and privately. Your existence is resistance, and sometimes that is enough.
For those who choose to rise up and protest this Pride season, do so with the force of generations who came before you.
Use their strength to fuel your fire of resistance, and use their resilience to fuel your joy. For those who don’t, remember that those same queer ancestors are there for you as well. They may guide you quietly or loudly, but they are there if you choose to listen. You can find them in books, in music, in documentaries, and in the stories embedded in the streets. Find your own way to listen, and to be heard. Even if you stay quiet, do not hide in the shadows of shame.
The iconic Audre Lorde taught us that “revolution is not a one-time event.” Rise Up. Resist. And remember that Pride is Protest.
Toward liberation & joy,
Nicole Davis, LCSW, SEP, SIFI
Clinical Director at The Gender & Sexuality Therapy Center