I Am No Longer Ashamed.
People hold balloon letters reading "Love Wins" in front of the White House lit in the colors of a rainbow in Washington on June 26, 2015. (Source)
I’m not someone who would normally like rainbows. As the child of a quintessential Southern woman, I simply cannot endorse the juxtaposition of so many colors next to one another. I would never don so many uncomplimentary hues at once, and as someone with a boxy body, most certainly would not wear them in stripe form. However, every June, I throw caution to the wind, and along with millions of other people, allow my world to be littered with rainbows in honor of Pride Month.
Pride Month reminds the world of the work that has been done to further the rights of LGBTQ people. Countless organizations and companies commonly release advertisements highlighting their acceptance of the LGBTQ community, thousands of Americans overlay their profile photos with rainbows, and millions flock to cities across the globe for Pride fests. The focus is so often on how far we have come since the 1969 Stonewall Riots in New York City. In 1969, New York City Police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay club, arresting several patrons and employees present. Tired of police targeting gay nightclubs, community members over the next six days began protesting, ultimately leading to “violent” clashes with police outside of the bar. To many, the Stonewall Riots were known as a “tipping point” of the Gay Liberation Movement. In the years following 1969, people across the US began hosting events commemorating Stonewall’s significance. As the decades have passed, festivities have grown into month long celebrations across the world.
This kind of celebration is important. America has come a long way with respect to LGBTQ rights. It was not that long ago that men and women who were publicly open about their queerness were exposing themselves to the possibility of being fined, jailed, and in many cases, killed. The US Supreme Court did not decriminalize “homosexual conduct” until 2003. I would like to think that our country has moved forward in many respects from this time.
Unfortunately, we as a country still have a long way to go. In 27 states across the US, there are no laws that protect LGBTQ people against discrimination. North Carolina made national headlines in 2016 for its controversial passage of HB2, which, among other things, required transgender people to use the bathroom that aligned with their gender assignment at birth. Furthermore, in this year alone, over two-dozen states have introduced legislation disenfranchising transgender people. In March, Idaho’s state legislature passed legislation barring transgender women from participating on sports teams that do not align with their gender at birth, as well as prohititng transgender people from changing their gender identity on their birth certificates.
Beyond policy, LGBTQ people in America do not feel safe or respected. A majority of LGBTQ youth have heard elected officials preach hate regarding their sexual orientation, and say that the community they live in is not accepting of LGBTQ people. In the workplace, almost half of LGBTQ people are closeted, and a majority of LGBTQ workers report hearing jokes about non-heterosexual orientation from their coworkers.
This policy and rhetoric is extremely harmful to LGBTQ youth. Growing up in rural western North Carolina, I was immersed in a largely heteronormative environment. Being straight was the only option, and no one was allowed to deviate, lest they wanted to be ostracized from their entire community. I remember when I first realized I was attracted to men, the first emotions I felt were shame, anger, and resentment. I was a good kid. I did well in school and was nice to my peers. I said my prayers and went to church every Sunday. I was doing everything I could to be normal. Why wasn’t I able to like girls like other boys did?
PRIDE — these five letters never once entered my mind. And to be completely honest, it would take almost a decade for them to. It wasn’t until I came to college that I developed the courage to be honest with those around me about who I was without feeling self-hatred. One day, I hope that young children will figure out who they love on their own terms and feel indifference. One day, I hope that coming out will not be necessary. One day, I hope that Pride Month will become obsolete. However, that simply is not the America, or world, we live in today.
Until young children across America and the world can come to terms with their sexuality and not feel shame, or worse, hate, Pride Month is vital. Until transgender youth can play team sports in high school without facing shame or judgement, Pride Month is vital. Until LGBTQ youth everywhere can openly be who they are without fear of being kicked out of their home, shunned from the families and lives that they know, Pride Month is vital. The work of so many activists — not just in June, but every day of the year — have helped myself and so many others learn to love the things about themselves that they cannot change. Setting aside time to celebrate and highlight these advancements and achievements is not just important, but necessary.
There are many things about myself that I am proud of. I am proud to be an American. I am proud to be a Southerner, and a North Carolinian. I am proud to be from Clyde, the son of a public educator and a mill worker, and the descendant of hard working mountain folk. And I am immensely proud to be a Tar Heel. This June though, I am especially proud to be a gay man.
All month, you can expect to find me repping uncomplimentary and unbecoming rainbow clothing (whilst social distancing, of course). Full of pride, no longer ashamed.
For anyone questioning or struggling with their sexuality or gender expression, I encourage you to consult The Trevor Project, the It Gets Better Project, and GLAAD. To any parents struggling with their child’s sexual orientation or gender expression, PFLAG has a variety of resources and support to help.