I am somewhat of a wallflower, so I went to Pride with the intention of taking photos, watching the parade, and checking out the vendors. An organizer saw me lurking near the parade setup and asked if I was walking or just hanging out. She was so genuine and friendly that I volunteered to help carry the giant flag.
I can't describe how satisfying that felt. Generally I agonize over even the smallest decisions. This, in principle, was a *big* one: joining a group of strangers, putting my (true) self out there in public, and standing up for what I believed in. But in the moment, I felt no hesitation. It was natural and simple.
While waiting for the parade to start, I had friendly conversations with the folks around me. No pressure, just camaraderie.
I snapped a few photos of myself holding the flag. Despite my general shyness, I've at least gotten into the habit of getting photographic proof that I do things sometimes. The person next to me offered to get a shot of "the full ensemble." It took a moment to realize they were referring to the outfit I was wearing. They wanted me to have a picture... Of me.
I could have cried.
One gentleman loudly protested the war in Gaza while everyone in earshot agreed with him. He was clearly agitated, but nobody raised a voice or complained. Everyone accepted his right to be there and speak his piece. People led with kindness and supported him, even as he obstinately refused that support.
When the parade finally started, more folks had lined up on the sidewalk than I'd expected. People were cheering and waving with such joy that I couldn't help but do the same. As I walked, I saw myself as part of something larger than myself, and it felt amazing.
"Happy Pride!" was the call. Obviously that refers to the event, and the celebratory time; saying "Happy Pride" in June is like saying "Happy holidays" in December. For some people it might even feel perfunctory. And that's fair. Repeated enough times, any phrase can take on retail door greeter vibes.
To me, in this moment, it felt like so much more.
In my life, I've been proud of many things: skills, creations, achievements... But rarely have I felt proud of myself as a whole. As a person. It's always been muted by shame and doubt.
Perhaps you could call it functional pride. I recognize and acknowledge the value of my contributions in the world, and that provides small doses of joy that get me by. Eventually that joy runs out. Left alone with my thoughts, I can no longer connect with that feeling. The outside world possesses my pride.
This was different. Sure, I was proud of myself for mustering the spontaneous courage and vulnerability to march in a parade. I was proud of every individual I saw genuinely and joyfully expressing themselves. In some sense, I was proud of the city and citizens of Rockford for hosting such an amazing show of diversity and support.
Welling up inside, overriding everything tangible, was a deep sense of belonging. Like I'd found my place in a world I always felt was determined to exploit and discard me. My intrinsic value, obscured for most of my life, shone brightly. Where it previously radiated outward to be absorbed by others, this time it reflected back for me to see. To feel.
I'm proud of myself. Of who I am. That pride belongs to me.
That's truly happy pride.
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