My Own Private Queer Pride Happened in a South Carolina Target
Days of hope and connection, despite no Pride merch
I’m not naive. The city of Greenville, SC, is a popular destination for tourists these days and people are moving here like we’re Paris or the sunny Greek isles. In our downtown area specifically, people seem to feel free to be their true selves, holding hands and openly kissing whoever they want no matter the gender or the race.
Still, we’re still a very red area within a very red state.
In my neighborhood there are many rainbow flags, including at our house. There are also, however, upside down American flags and at least one “An Appeal to Heaven” flag. I want to ask the distress-laden people who live in very fine, not simply modest, houses why they feel so distressed? But I’m not knocking on any doors to ask — like the person from the “Trump team” did to me a few weeks back. Nor do I want to approach the house with the car proclaiming “South Carolina is Trump country.”
Being reminded of that reality is not healthy for my psyche, my soul, or my relationship with anything.
So no, I’m not naive and yes, I do dread what’s coming, hoping I’m wrong but trying to be clear-eyed.
