Pride is Endurance

“Move, I’m gay”. That was my internal dialogue as I ran the Philly Broad Street Run a month ago. And, yes, it is that time of year – June is here, and major corporations were supposed to be changing their Linkedin icons to include the rainbow (except it has been raining and cloudy every single damn day), so you know that Pride Month is here. Now, of course, this month will include lots of celebrations and fun (and dancing under disco balls, obviously); my partner and I hosted a Pride Brunch at our apartment and then attended Pride Week in Provincetown with a gaggle of gays. That being said, I wanted to tap into some of the other dimensions on the trauma prism we call pride.

TLTR on my coming out story – it was a lot for family dynamics, friends thought I had a terminal illness (mental maybe), but most of all, it was beyond mentally and emotionally exhausting as I tried to do cartwheel after cartwheel to make everything right and explain everything perfectly. Which is so interesting when I reflect back on something that was so pivotal for me to being myself and proud of who I am, yet it was almost debilitating to get there. Out of breath. Nervously, profusely sweating. Scared. So clear, yet confused.

Fast forward to today, these feelings rush back with a familiar, cutting presence. Over the course of month or so, my partner and I have received numerous slurs as we merely walk around different neighborhoods in the city we now call home. Let’s see – we had the “swordfighters” comment from a man in a drive by pickup truck. Points for originality. Then we had another man with the insert curse words in combination with mentioning Brokeback Mountain. I didn’t really like that movie, but thanks for the compliment in saying I look like Jake Gyllenhaal. There’s more, including the notorious “f*****” so that’s fun. Anyway, all of these instances, brings the question – why now? And, why do people even care to go out of their way to say these things?

The why now probably is more obvious given the current climate we are living in – people are in an emboldened state to say the least. The caring part is wild in itself, too. People, mostly those in the majority, love to point out when something is different (dare I say queer) and then proceed to talk down to the different. Almost like this exclusive club and those that don’t fit their mold and look or act different than them cannot get in. Little do they know those different people ARE the club. We, queer people, bring the energy, the joy, the vibe. And queerness is for everyone, creating the space for everyone to just be themselves.

And, those people that are labeled or seen as different – actually want nothing more than to just live their lives, feel included, and supported in their authenticity. It is not our jobs to consistently educate or teach about who we are. It is not our jobs to perform and act how you think we should act. Our jobs are day after day of breathing to hold on and endure, just like the Broad Street Run. The mental strength needed mile after mile despite the physical strain. Keeping yourself focused and mind right to continue on. Some days that feeling is not as strong as I am portraying, but it is a feeling that never goes away. Despite all of the growth within and around me, those negative thoughts and instances still persist. That being said, I ran the entire 10 miles, and yes, my pace got better as I went (hehe).

On this lifelong, I stop for water. My water is my chosen family, my friends; it is hosting a Pride Brunch surrounded by love. Going on a vacation to Ptown with my North Carolina gay gaggle. Being a gay uncle in my nephews and nieces lives. Being in a RuPaul Drag Race Fantasy league with friends. These are the things that keep me going even when I do not want to. I see and feel that now more than ever this month. And, my drive to keep one foot in front of the other is to remind myself who I am and how far I have already come.

These recent experiences, both positive and negative, are checkpoints in my journey. I am forever changing and growing, but I will always be gay. Insert Hilary Duff’s quote – “when you say gay, do you know what that means?”. In general, I am a rather happy-go-lucky golden retriever type vibe – maybe more of a poodle mix because those dogs are smart, too. However, those slurs quickly found a way to dull my shine. I felt like a stain. I felt like I should just disappear. The problem is that would give those people power over me in this race we call life. So, I pick myself up and continue running. Training my mind and body for next year’s long run. This month can be so many things for many, but take it as a time to set your own pace. It is not just a celebration, but also a reminder. The scars and bruises I have only make me stronger. Let their hate drive me to be even gayer :).

-JackofAllStories