What Pride Means to Me—And Why I Don’t Celebrate It.
Every June, our calendars fill with rainbows. Cities light up in celebration, parades take over the streets, and PRIDE becomes a buzzword on banners, brands, and hashtags. For many in the LGBTQ+ community, Pride Month is a time to honor the history of our struggle, to be visible, and to feel free.
But I’ll be honest—I haven't been feeling very proud lately.
As a transgender woman, I carry that title with both grace and responsibility. I’m proud of the woman I’ve become, the journey I’ve walked, and the love my family continues to give me. But what I’ve seen during Pride in recent years has made it harder for me to feel connected to the movement that was built on bravery, dignity, and equality.
Pride was never meant to be an X-rated spectacle. It wasn’t built on shock value. It was built on people like Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, and countless others who fought for our right to exist and to be treated equally—not to be fetishized or turned into a punchline.
When I scroll through social media and see people marching half-naked, engaging in sexually explicit behavior, or demanding acceptance through provocation rather than conversation—I feel sadness, not pride. This isn't the legacy those before us fought to leave. We’re more than bodies on display.
We’re people—human beings with stories, struggles, and dreams.
I’ve even found myself facing judgment or assumptions simply because I’m trans. Sometimes I feel like I have to apologize for who I am—not because I’m ashamed, but because of how others "like" me have behaved. That’s a heavy weight to carry.
I don't demand others see the world the way I do. I don’t lash out when someone misgenders me. I exist, peacefully. I live my truth and let my actions speak. I use the men’s restroom—not because it feels right, but because it's part of my reality. And I’m okay with that. Because life isn’t about making everyone else uncomfortable for the sake of our own comfort. It's about mutual respect.
Pride, to me, is being proud of who I am—even in quiet moments. It's loving myself in a world that doesn’t always understand me. It's making the people who came before me proud—not embarrassed. That’s why I no longer attend Pride events. Because what once was sacred now feels sensationalized.
But even if I don't celebrate the way others do, that doesn’t make me any less proud.
I am proud of my journey.
I am proud of my resilience.
I am proud of the woman I’ve become.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to bring the pride back to Pride.
-Love Always, Elle
"Pride is not about being louder—it's about being true. It's about living with dignity, not demanding attention. And above all, it's about love—for ourselves, and for the journey that got us here."
— Unknown
