08/06/2026
My opinion about Pride Month has changed as I’ve gotten older.
I’ve come to acknowledge that two people can experience the same thing very differently. I’m just one person, with my own experiences, challenges, privileges, and perspective.
When I first came out and moved to a big city, Pride was incredibly validating. Seeing hundreds of thousands of people celebrating openly made me realize I wasn’t alone. Which is, like, super important.
But even then, it wasn’t like I showed up and suddenly found a community. There wasn’t a sign that said, “Here’s your book club, here’s your weekly meetup, here’s your people.” For me, it was mostly a reminder that there were other people who had experiences similar to mine.
The older I’ve gotten, and the more Pride events I’ve attended, the more cynical I’ve become about some parts of it. It can feel like a branding opportunity for companies and a chance for people to signal their values. And even though it sounds kinda counterproductive, I think that’s partly a sign of progress.
Homosexuality, queerness, and different forms of self-expression have become normalized enough that they’re now woven into mainstream consumer culture. In some ways, that’s exactly what we wanted. We wanted acceptance. We wanted visibility. We wanted to matter in the places where society pays attention. Where the money is.
But I’ve also come to feel that the rainbow flag is often treated more like a product than a community.
When I think about community, I think about my gay sports teams. I think about my friend groups. I think about the people I actually know and spend time with. Community requires relationships. It requires in-person interactions. That’s just how humans work.
So when I hear people talk about “the gay community,” I don’t really think of a marketing campaign or a once-a-year celebration. I think of people working toward something together, sharing experiences, supporting one another, and building relationships that exist long after the parade is over.