By: Andrew Nail, LSW
With the world in a near-constant state of chaos, tragedy, and senseless violence, it’s more important than ever to take a moment and acknowledge the significance of Pride. Pride is especially important in times like these, where human rights are still being denied, and some people still think “tolerance” is something you only need to think about when going out for drinks. And yes, I was using air quotes in the title of this post.
For those unfamiliar, Pride began as a riot, a response to violent police raids on the few public spaces where LGBTQ+ people could exist openly (but not safely). These raids weren’t about enforcing laws; they were about control and erasure. Pride emerged when people began to fight back against the idea that their existence was criminal. They were tired of feeling powerless for existing and for having preferences that are not a choice.
This post isn’t a history lesson, though. It’s about why Pride matters now. I want to speak from personal experience about the impact on individuals and the broader community. In 2024, after more than a decade of living in a city where I thought I’d found safety, I encountered harassment that escalated into threats and stalking. Despite seeking help from law enforcement in Chicago, I was met with disbelief, condescension, and victim-blaming—just for being gay. The officer dismissed my situation, layered in irrelevant assumptions, and changed the narrative entirely after learning about my sexuality. I had to plead multiple times for him to take a report. He scolded me for so-called “lifestyle” choices (irrelevant to my story) and suggested I hide who I am for my own safety. This wasn’t some remote, conservative town. This was Chicago – home to one of the largest LGBTQ+ communities in the country. And yet, I was left feeling powerless and unprotected, carrying around pepper spray in my pocket and hoping that I didn’t have to find out if my time spent at the gym would be more worthwhile than I thought to make any quick escape.
Eventually, I was granted a temporary legal agreement, not even a full restraining order. The legal process was grueling, invasive, and emotionally draining. All I wanted was to feel safe and be left alone. What I got instead was a crash course in how inaccessible, expensive, and indifferent the justice system can be – especially if you’re part of the LGBTQ+ community, or any other minority community for that matter.
My story isn’t unique. Across minority communities, and even in so-called “progressive” cities, people are still fighting just to exist. Between 2016 and 2020, hate crimes increased by 32%, with a significant portion targeting LGBTQ+ individuals. And let’s not even start on the erasure of trans and non-binary people. Trans individuals, in particular, face disproportionate violence, discrimination, and legal challenges simply for living as their authentic selves. Their rights are under constant attack, and their visibility is crucial now more than ever, inaccurately attributed to imaginary mental illnesses rather than the scientific data we possess (that the government is currently hiding, making access to factual information feel like a game of “Where’s Waldo”).
The current political climate has only made things worse. Inclusion programs are being dismantled, anti-LGBTQ+ and violent rhetoric is gaining traction, and basic protections are under attack. This goes from the highest in political (and tyrannical) power down to the smallest of communities. This isn’t about special rights; it’s about equal rights, and being able to have legal systems to prevent and hold offenders accountable. It’s about being able to live without fear. It’s about taking back the power to exist with the same rights and expectations as others. Not more, equal. Equal rights and protection don’t take away from others, this isn’t pie. Though honestly, if it were pie, we’d just want the same-sized slice.
Pride is about visibility. It’s about showing that we’re still here, that we matter, and that we’re not going anywhere. When lawmakers chip away at protections, when people equate drag queens with predators, when leaders and law enforcement fail their primary duty to protect their people, it becomes more important than ever to take up space and show that we exist and that these issues are still very real and currently happening.
So yes, Pride is still political. We didn’t make it that way. In the words of Billy Joel and more recently, Patrick Stump from Fall Out Boy, “We didn’t start the fire. No we didn’t light it, but we tried to fight it.” And we still do. Bringing visibility to it is still necessary. From the biggest cities to the smallest towns, it’s a fight to have the legal right to exist, to love who we love, and to live without being made powerless by those in power. So let’s come together, celebrate, and give them hell, legally and respectfully. Engage in peaceful protests against human rights violations! Contact your local lawmakers. Use your platform to help others, rather than tear them down. Show understanding that who we choose to love and be loved by (consensually) is our private business, not the government’s business, and doesn’t change how you live your life, unless you choose to live it without love. Happy Pride month!
