Bizarre Love Triangle (lgbtq+)

5 MARCHING

June is Pride Month.

Suddenly, people are interested in you. No, not in you. In your sexuality or gender identity, in making a profit of it. Selling you rainbows on every corner.

Suddenly, everyone was super nice. All I thought was: I didn't see you step up for us when Brad was making a homophobic joke, Emily.

Nearly 8 in 10 LGBTQ students experience verbal harassment in school.

68 percent of LGBTQ youth say they hear negative messages about being LGBTQ from elected leaders.

Two in three LGBTQ teens say they've heard family members make negative comments about LGBTQ people.

Suddenly, everyone thinks Pride is a party. It is not. The only thing we are celebrating is having survived another year.

One in three LGBTQ people experiences suicidal thoughts.

13 percent of LGBTQ people have attempted suicide in the last year.

2016 was the deadliest year on record for the LGBTQ community. Anti-LGBTQ homicides nearly doubled in 2017.

Pride is not a party. It is a protest.

Pride comes with mixed feelings.

For me, Pride is about feeling confident. I never had the feeling I had to hide – and I never did. We all know how that ended. With the backlash from my friends and family when I first came out, I wasn't that confident anymore. My first Pride changed that feeling.

I went with my then-girlfriend, Monserrat.

I think it was the first time we were ever holding hands in public. And Monse turned to me and said: "I have never felt this save in my whole life."

We were living in Texas, a prominently red state. We both came from ultra-conservative families. Her parents didn't like the fact that she was dating a girl. My parents didn't like the fact that I was dating a girl. My dad didn't like the fact that my girlfriend was not born in the US.

But Pride changed that feeling of not being save. Of not being able to be true to ourselves. At least for a couple of hours and then all the magic suddenly was gone.

It went all kinds of wrong between us. After three months of making out in the school bathroom stalls, not holding hands in public and one time bringing her home for dinner only to have my father leave the table, we ended our relationship.

After that, I didn't want anything more than moving as far away from Texas as possible. And I did, as soon as I graduated.

It has been two years since the last time I went to Pride and I was thrilled to go this year. Elia and I went together.

At some point, we were about to lose each other, and she grabbed my hand. She maneuvered us out of the crowd, and I thought she would let go of my hand, but she didn't. She didn't for the next half hour, and I didn't encourage it. It felt good. And it felt weird, but not weird enough to cover up the good.

We held hands during Pride.