Member-only story
I’m Not Just Like You
But do I want to be?
The first time I went to Pride, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I was 17, had just starting figuring out that kissing girls was a lot more fun than kissing boys, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, The L Word pride episode had come out the year before, so I guess I knew that pride was a place where queer people could celebrate being queer and that there may be a drag queen, if I was lucky. But I also knew that Nashville was not LA, and that it was far more dangerous to be out in the South than on the coasts. So I told my parents I was going to see my grandparents, and I told my grandparents I was going to see a friend. Instead of doing either of those things, I went to a park, where I saw some rainbow balloons, a couple of queer couples lounging on the grass, a singer-songwriter on a stage, and a modest festival with some small business booths and representatives from the few queer-friendly churches in the area. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t flashy. But rarely have I felt more of a sense of belonging. Here were people who were like me, but living openly, with Pride.
This year I went to Pride, and while I still experienced that sense of belonging, I also felt pushed to the side. Literally. While the “Equality Walk” has traditionally been something that was…
