The Complicated Courage of Showing Up

Every June, I find myself holding my breath just a little.

Pride Month arrives—bright, loud, colorful—and with it, the usual flood of corporate logos, rainbow flags, and social media posts. And yet, underneath the celebration, I feel something heavier. A quiet question that many LGBTQ+ people know all too well:

Is it safe to be fully seen right now?

In 2025, this question feels sharper. Around us, legislation threatens basic rights for marginalized communities. Politicians debate our existence as if we are issues rather than human beings. The news cycles are exhausting. The public discourse is often cruel. And even in spaces that proclaim “inclusion,” there’s still the risk of being the only one in the room. Of being tokenized or even fetishized based on intersectional racial identities. Of wondering how much of yourself you can bring to your workplace, your community, your daily life.

The Weight We Carry Quietly

I won’t pretend this year has been easy. My immediate family sagely advised me late last year to make sure Ian and I had "everything in order" both financially and legally because there was so much uncertainty around what these next four years might bring for same-sex couples.

We had received the blessing of our families and friends on our relationship some 9 years ago and had a domestic partnership in NYC. But we quietly got married at City Hall on March 4, 2025. We were inundated with positive messages from friends and relatives. Some how this act that for us was a simple reflection of what we already were living became a shining beacon of hope that all of us can indeed live our lives boldly and positively in the midst of extremely distressing times.

But the emotional toll is still real. Many of us carry an invisible weight—the constant calculation of how much to share, how visible to be, when to speak up, when to protect our own well-being.

Sometimes I’m tired of being resilient. Sometimes I’m tired of navigating systems that were not built with us in mind. And yet, somehow, we keep showing up.

Because showing up matters. You gotta show up, one of my personal mantras of many, many years is so very prescient now.

What Pride Means for Me in 2025

For me, Pride isn’t just parades, parties, and celebration—though I treasure those moments of joy with friends. It’s a deeply personal act of courage. An insistence that my identity is valid, even when governments, politicians, and religious bigots try to tell me otherwise. It’s a way of honoring those who came before, many who risked far more—and a way of holding space for those still finding their voice.

In these divisive times, I’ve learned a few things that help me stay grounded:

Find Your Tribe

There is nothing more healing than spaces where you don’t have to explain yourself. Where you are seen, understood, and affirmed. My community—my “tribe” of friends and family—have carried me when I couldn’t carry myself.

Rest Is a Must

There is power in saying: “I need help” or “I need a break.”

I don’t have to engage in every debate. I don’t have to educate every person. I do not have to interact with people who are not in the trenches with me doing the harder work of authentic living with integrity. Protecting my peace allows me to show up fully when it truly matters.

Allyship Is Action

I’ve seen the difference between performative support and real allyship. True allies listen, advocate, and take on the labor of dismantling harmful belief systems both in public and in private—without centering themselves in the process.

Hope Is a Daily Discipline

Some days, hope feels fragile. But I’ve learned that hope isn’t passive. It’s something we choose, something we build, something we sustain together. Because without hope, why even move forward?

Authenticity Opens Doors

Over the last 10 years, I have had multiple relatives and friends from the past covertly find me online, asking me to help them come out to their family members and friends. Most of these were church folks. Some of these were college-aged, and others were adults with children. For some it meant risking close relationships or deconstructing toxic beliefs in favor of ones that serve them better.

For me, the price to live my truth was dear and difficult but also so very worth it. If I had not shown up publicly and authentically, I could not have been there for these precious souls. Living life proudly and out loud creates space and grace for others to heal, grow, and develop.

Pride Is a Promise

Pride Month is many things—a celebration, a protest, a reminder. But for me, most of all, it’s a promise:

That I will not disappear.

That I have value.

That I will continue to take up space.

That I have nothing to be ashamed of.

That joy, even in heavy times, is worth protecting.

That life is always worth celebrating.

That we are still here. And we are not going anywhere.

So, this Pride Month if you’re feeling the weight too, know you’re not alone. You don’t have to be loud to be proud. You don’t have to carry it all. Just showing up—in whatever way feels right—is powerful.

Happy Pride 2025. You belong. You always have.