
Pride Month is a time when we honour the endless pursuit of civil rights for our community.
It’s an ode to the many LGBTQIA+ people before us who have fought, often in the face of extreme violence and hostility, for acceptance and love. It’s a loud, joyous cry of celebration and inclusion for the current community living their life.
And, it’s a time of incredible, debilitating fatigue for many. I can’t speak for all queer people, but the mental load of being a political pawn and used for profit tinges the edges of my every day.
The way I am, the way that I love, and the way I choose to live my life (with an incredible, loving, female partner) are debated daily. It’s poked at, scorned at, and prodded with so much cold, cruel hatred every day and though I try, I can’t ever escape it.
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So, when Pride Month comes and is used as an excuse, a party, or a way to make money… I feel icky.
Because, I know that by the end of June, when Pride Month is ending and the world is moving on, I’ll still be here in the rainbow-coloured fight, jarred by the silence. Like being met by eerie quietness after leaving a concert. Though I will continue to speak up long after Pride Month ends, most of the other public ‘support’ will fade away and I’ll be met with phrases like, “You are now fully accepted and equal, we just had pride month!” from some that think queer hate is just something that happens in far-right America.