Pride Feels Different This Year
By Theo Tran
It’s generally well-recognized that Pride month found its roots in the Stonewall Riots of June 1969. This understanding that Pride is rooted in a sense of resistance has been something that feels particularly crucial this year. As we enter the (roughly) fourth month of the second Trump presidency, attacks on the rights of LGBTQ+ people both in the United States and around the world have grown rampant. A Gallup poll on May 29 of this year revealed something disheartening — that support for marriage equality in the United States is experiencing its lowest rate of support amongst Republican voters.
With this in mind, I’ve felt as though there is a sense of invigoration within this year’s Pride celebrations. There is an intensified feeling of resistance to be had. As our nation’s political landscape seems to be rapidly sliding back to the same culture of discrimination and abuse against queer people that the Stonewall Rioters experienced in 1969, queer Americans are matching every step. For every step that the Trump administration and its supporters have taken to eviscerate the presence of queer people in public life, queer people have met them with even more force. It’s as if to say, if we’re to suffer the same kind of discrimination as the first celebrators of Pride did in 1969, then we will embrace the same degree of solidarity, strength, and resistance as they did, too.
Now, more than ever before, Pride is not simply defined by a celebration of queer identities, but is defined by its unifying nature against hate. However, I would be the first to admit there is also a growing, and justified, sense of fear this Pride month. Having witnessed the hundreds, if not thousands of constitutional violations charged by the Trump administration, I am not eager to believe that MAGA Republicans will not put up anything less than a hateful backlash toward every rainbow within their field of vision. There is intensifying worry that the current administration is taking steps toward creating a truly dangerous surveillance state — where associating with the “wrong” people, liking the “wrong” posts on social media, and being caught in the “wrong” protests could lead to simply unpredictable, unlawful, and generally cruel reactions.
This fear, though, is not unprecedented. Our community and dozens of other marginalized communities have borne the persecution of regimes around the world for any number of reasons. It’s precisely that history that ought to encourage us to push forward. It is undoubtedly mortifying to know the potential repercussions you might face for being yourself. But, in my view, it’s more mortifying to think that such repercussions could be imposed without a fight.
As the Trump administration has taken on severe policies to curb corporate DEI programs, dozens of large companies like Target have massively scaled back their involvement in LGBTQ+ activism. Corporations that have long been financial sponsors of Pride celebrations around the country have withdrawn their support, fearing potential backlash by government officials. Pride organizers around the country have since voiced their concerns over being able to organize the same joyful, elaborate celebrations they’ve had before. Thus, Pride celebrations this year likely won’t be nearly as smooth-sailing and picture-perfect as they have been for the last handful of years. Street parades will almost certainly be lacking the usual corporate floats — think local bank branches handing out stickers of their logo printed in a shitty rainbow, a lack of banners strewn about stating “PRIDE 2025! (Sponsored by — )”. This year, Pride is not sponsored by the big banks or retailers — it is sponsored by the need for justice. What lacks in commercial sponsors will be appropriately filled by a sense of resistance.
Pride is finding its footing this year in its decades-long origins in protest. It is not simply a parade, but a march for equality. This doesn’t mean the mood has to be more somber, though. In fact, it shouldn’t be. Having mentioned it dozens of times at this point, I’m all for the belief that queer joy is resistance. Hate moves to kill joy, and there is nothing a MAGA
Republican would hate to see more than a queer person living their life to the absolute fullest — not hindered by fear-mongering homophobia.
This is also a moment to encourage discussion. There are some times where discussion feels virtually impossible (i.e. talking to your Fox News enthusiast uncle), but in an increasingly polarizing political climate, it’s important to understand the unmatched value of a genuine learning moment. I am an optimist — even as I read headlines everyday that make it seem as though the world is folding in on itself, I believe that the vast majority of people, Americans, are capable of avoiding the hateful rhetoric at hand. Now, it’s not your responsibility to defend your own existence by any means. But more often than not, potential allies have genuine questions that ought to be met with care, as opposed to belittlement. Though sometimes it’s used as a deliberately shitty excuse, there truly are some people out there who do not know better. Though it’s not our responsibility to defend our own existence, it is our responsibility, as individuals and as a community, to meet those who are unsure with respect.
I am reminded of Matthew Shepard’s story, as a boy who went to school in an ever-conservative, traditional political climate in 1990s Wyoming. Even then, decades ago, those who knew him were capable of caring, capable of recognizing humanity. Those who knew Matthew before his death recognized that he was certainly different from those around him, but he always held a quiet sense of joy and dignity.
Enormous swaths of people who supported Trump nearly a decade ago in the 2016 election, including his own former vice president Mike Pence, have made the effort to denounce the inhumanity that Trump propels. Thousands of former Trump voters have pulled away from
him, and though they may share certain beliefs (say about defense or diplomatic policy), understanding that no political policy should come at the expense of any minority.
Recognizing this, I believe it’s important to not immediately assume the absolute worst about any person who has supported Trump before. As idealistic as it might seem, it is more often than not that all that is needed is some empathy. It’s easy for those further left on the political spectrum to belittle those in deep red states, to say “they got what they voted for,” when in reality, hundreds of thousands of these voters have truly been ignored for years by both sides of the aisle. It is absolutely crucial that we recognize even voters on “the other side” as people, too, as the vast majority of them are working with what they are presented. Belittlement only serves to fuel polarization. Working to grow someone’s understanding through meaningful discussion, then, could not be more important in a time like this.
I’m reminded of my mother constantly telling me stories of how she would take hours to talk to her own father through political issues of his time, explaining to him the grievances of women, of queer people, and so on. And it made a difference in how he treated the people in his life. Because at heart, he was no less human, and caring, than the next person.
I believe we owe it to Matthew and every person like him, then, to be good ambassadors of the queer community — not by dressing a certain way or speaking in a certain tone, but simply by being good people. By giving people a chance to be better (even if you have to shove them in the right direction).
About the Author
Theo Tran is a high school senior from Denver, Colorado. He is a first-generation Vietnamese American, and identifies as both transgender and gay. Theo is deeply passionate about history and the social sciences, which has fueled his participation in grassroots organizing at the local level. Theo joined Matthew’s Place after designing stage lights for his school’s production of The Laramie Project, where like so many, he resonated profoundly with Matthew’s story and the foundation’s mission: to erase hate. He plans to become a teacher in the future, and has experience in political organizing. You can reach out to Theo at tkpr.tran@gmail.com for any questions, comments, or just to have a chat!
