A question someone asked me recently stopped me in my tracks.
Should we be celebrating Pride when so many LGBTQ+ people still face discrimination, rejection, violence, and political attacks?
It’s a fair question.
After all, Pride Month can sometimes look like a giant party. There are parades, rainbow merchandise, festivals, concerts, and celebrations taking place all over the world. If someone only sees those things, they might wonder whether Pride has become disconnected from the very real struggles LGBTQ+ people continue to face.
But perhaps that’s because Pride has never been just one thing.
For some people, Pride is a celebration. It’s the joy of living authentically. It’s the relief of no longer hiding. It’s the gratitude that comes from finding community and belonging after years of feeling alone.
For others, Pride is something much more complicated. It is a reminder of loved ones lost to AIDS. It is a reminder of family rejection, discrimination, bullying, and the long fight for equal rights. It is a reminder that progress is never guaranteed.
That question stayed with me, and it inspired this Mama Bear Minute
One of the things I’ve come to appreciate about Pride is that celebration and protest are not opposites.
In fact, throughout history, marginalized communities have often used joy itself as an act of resistance.
When people are told they should be ashamed, choosing joy becomes an act of courage.
When people are told to hide, choosing visibility becomes an act of courage.
When people are told they don’t belong, gathering together in community becomes an act of courage.
That’s why Pride can be a celebration and a protest at the same time.
It’s a celebration of lives, relationships, families, and identities that deserve to be celebrated.
And it’s a protest against the systems, attitudes, and policies that continue to deny some people their dignity, safety, and equality.
As the founder of Real Mama Bears, I’ve had the privilege of meeting thousands of LGBTQ+ people and their families. I’ve heard stories of heartbreak and rejection, but I’ve also witnessed extraordinary resilience, love, and hope.
Pride makes room for all of it.
The grief.
The joy.
The progress.
The work that still remains.
So should we be celebrating Pride?
I believe we should.
Not because the work is finished.
But because it isn’t.
And because every person deserves the chance to live authentically, safely, and with dignity.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
What does Pride mean to you?
