I’ve Got Southern-Fried Queer Pride
A Prism and Pen prompt response.
I can remember chugging down a glass of lemonade like it was liquid gold. It was another summer at mawmaw’s house and the heat outside had already forced a retreat. “You’re letting my good air out Joe, it’s either out or in,” the adults would say, giving me a loving ultimatum.
Ice clinked inside the old glass as I heeded their warning, throwing myself towards the other side of the door. Breathing in and looking up, I could see pine trees shaking in the wind. In the distance church bells rang, signaling the start of the afternoon.
Life and time felt endless back in those days.
I closed my eyes and pictured what I’d find myself doing. Before I knew anything, I had the knowledge of freedom. In this small town in the Deep South, the world may have seemed small on paper, but my imagination let it be so much more.
“In or out,” wasn’t the language of the closet, no, it was something simple. It was the language of adventure.
Pride through Southern Eyes
When you hear the word “Pride” what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Do you picture a place like New York City in June, awash with an endless amount of colors and smiling faces? Does your mind wander to the…
