A few weekends ago, I went up to Illinois for my cousin's wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony, and when my now cousin-in-law walked down the aisle, I'll admit it -- I got teary.
A year ago this last Sunday, same-sex marriage was legalized in the United States. Finally, across this whole country, LGBTQ+ people can marry whoever they love. This is a huge deal. Everyone getting married, ever, should have a wedding as beautiful as my cousin's was, whatever way they define that. I am happy. I am overjoyed for my people.
That day last year I was getting highlights in my hair, and my hairdresser and I talked about how excited we were that our friends who were waiting to get married could finally do so.
But, a year out, how much has really changed?
The marriage fight is mostly over, in the U.S. at least. It's not over in Northern Ireland or Australia, and those are just English speaking countries. We even still have the occasional Kim Davis, thinking that their "religious beliefs" (read: bigotry) mean they can deny people marriage licenses.
We still experience employment discrimination. It is perfectly legal to discriminate against LGB people in the workplace in 29 states, and against trans* people in 33 states. The fact that I can legally be fired in most of this country, either if I ever get a girlfriend (God willing), or if my employer finds out I'm not cisgender... this is disturbing. Luckily, I work on a college campus where there are rules in place against that kind of discrimination. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they are always enforced, and many LGBTQ+ people aren't so lucky.
Then we have North Carolina, banning people from using the bathrooms they feel comfortable using. We have Indiana, saying that religion is a perfectly good reason to discriminate. We have trans day of remembrance. And finally, we have Pulse.
As Jay Yoder expertly writes: "Here’s what I want you to know today. We are dying, and you are killing us."
This Pride month has been one of immense celebration for me. I went to Pride. I kissed a girl. I came out as agenderfluid. I will always remember that celebration, because that is what Pride is all about. But there is also great pain.
This is a good time to acknowledge that the LGBTQ+ rights movement started with a riot at a gay bar. The circumstances were different, but out of tragedy, we will come out united. We don't have a choice.
Back to weddings -- my cousin's wedding proved something to me. Even when times seem dark, celebration is key. Celebration is needed. Without it, without those happy times, the world would have nowhere to go. My devotion to activism would kill me. We must hold on to the good. We must hold on to what holds us together:
Pride.
