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pride month

Identity

A message to my fellow Christians: I hope you're having a super uncomfortable Pride month

I know from painful, hard-earned experience what discomfort can do to change minds.

Nobody should live in fear.

This post was originally published on Substack. You can find it here.

I was a small town, conservative girl when my husband and I relocated to Orlando, Florida. I spent my time going from work to the barn, work to the barn, crying as I brushed my horse's mane.

"I'll never make friends in this town,” I sobbed over the phone with my mom one night.

The next day at work, I met Matt.

He had a brilliant smile and a southern drawl and he sounded like home. He loved horses, too, having spent years doing rodeo. Our friendship was instant and easy.

He visited the barn and taught me how to lasso. I picked up his favorite latte on the way to work. And on our lunch breaks, he would gush all about the love of his life, Jesse. I assumed Jesse was a girl, but that assumption turned out to be wrong. When we all met for lunch one day, I couldn't conceal my shock.

"Oh my GOSH, Matt! You're gay?"


"Um, DUH." He laughed. “Did the cowboy hat throw you off?”

I then remembered he had recently pointed out a bar a few blocks from my house. He mentioned that it was a fun place to go, and I replied that one day we should….but I hadn’t noticed the rainbow details.

"MK, your gay-dar isn't malfunctioning. It's completely nonexistent."

Matt and Jesse told me funny stories about drag contests and bouncers who wore shorty shorts. They insisted I would love Thursday night karaokes, but I assured them it wasn't my scene.

I blushed and giggled a little at the idea. It sounded fun, if not a bit scandalous.

Two people smiling together wearing Pride gear

Pride is not just some party.

Mary Katherine Backstrom

A week or so after that hilarious lunch date, I was driving home from a friend’s house, when I witnessed a young lady get struck by a car. I swerved to the side of the road and jumped out of my vehicle, screaming.

In an instant, people poured out of the bar to assist in the emergency. I barely registered that they were dressed flamboyantly. Their make up didn't strike me as strange. In that moment, we were all scared human beings. Their hearts were racing just like mine.

A drag queen cradled the woman’s head in his hands as I called the police.

“Don’t move, baby girl,” he comforted the woman. “Don’t mess up these pretty braids.”

It was a fraction of a moment that felt like forever. I can still hear her crying for Momma. Thankfully, the club was a block from the hospital. The ambulance arrived in an instant.

When the lights and sirens finally faded, my adrenaline couldn’t handle silence. It was like every one of us had been shaken like soft drinks, and in that moment, we had all cracked open. There were hugs and prayers exchanged between strangers. I remember someone humming a hymn.

Then slowly, one by one, the crowd dispersed. We had to go back to our lives. But not before exchanging a couple of phone numbers, promising to disperse any updates.

I called my friends, Matt and Jesse. I knew the gay community was a close one and I wondered if they had heard any news.

Matt asked around, but didn’t hear much.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We will know more tomorrow.”

I decided to stay up until then.

The next morning, we all went to breakfast with the drag queens who had started a text thread for updates. We bonded over hash browns and our collective trauma—and after coffee, just some regular life stories.

The woman, we learned, was in critical condition. Two broken legs and a fractured spine. James, who had cradled her head so gently, had probably saved her life. Turns out, he had done so with great intention because not only was he a drag queen, but once a month he returned to his rural hometown to serve as a medic for the volunteer fire department.

A hero. An absolute gem of a human.

Two years later, those same gentle heroes were working their jobs at Pulse when a hate-crazed terrorist made his way through the doors with a semi-automatic rifle. When he first started shooting, some patrons kept dancing.

They thought it was part of the music.

That detail never fails wreck my heart.

They kept dancing.

They just wanted to dance.

I’ll never forget the pit in my stomach as I stared at my phone through the night. Praying each name in that years-long text thread was sleeping at home in their beds. After four sleepless nights, we received confirmation—two of the group had been working. Both had escaped and survived the massacre.

But it wasn’t a happy ending.

An act of hate forever changed their lives, and they were deeply, irreversibly altered. One turned to drugs and the other disappeared. I pray he is still alive, somewhere.

But, yes. They survived. Thank God, I should say.

In an act of terror that killed 49 and hurt scores more, they were the lucky ones.

But when I think of that word...”lucky”.

God, it honestly pisses me off.

That’s how low the bar is, y’all. That’s where we are as a society.

Our gay friends are sometimes just lucky to survive.

How can this be who we are?

If you talk to the LGBTQ community, and I mean really get to know them, you will hear a whole lot of heart breaking versions of what they consider to be “lucky.”

Their parents didn’t disown them. They are lucky.

They haven’t been physically assaulted. Lucky.

They survived a terrorist attack.

Lucky.

I am so deeply over this shit.

Nobody, nobody should live in fear. Nobody should feel lucky that they’ve avoided physical abuse, or emotional abuse, or my Lord, mass murder.

Six short years after the Pulse shooting, what is it going to take?

Look how broken America is. Look what this hate has cost us.

And look at the religious mouthpieces for hate who are becoming more and more emboldened.

Just last week, I posted a meme celebrating the beginning of Pride. It said:

Wishing all the homophobes a SUPER uncomfortable month!

I post it every year and I usually laugh my butt off. It’s too easy to predict all the comments. It’s the same old crap, different mouths, every year.

“Well, that’s not very Christlike.”

“I don't hate anyone! I hate the sin, but I don’t hate the sinner.”

“Ohhhhhh, well who is intolerant now?”

This year, I am truly done laughing. I used to abide this shit, but to be honest, I really can’t do it, anymore. I’ve read and I’ve lived through enough horrible history to understand this terrible truth: Polite hate is the most dangerous kind of hate. It loads the gun, then just backs away quietly.

Christians, please, open your eyes. It’s two thousand and freaking twenty four. I know that you know exactly how this works. You don’t get a pass for good manners.

I won’t let you hide behind pat platitudes when your beliefs give motive to terrorists.

You don’t get to say “it’s the sin that I hate” when that mantra makes bullets for terrorists.

And yah, I guess you could call me intolerant. Smack that sticker on my forehead, I don’t care. For years, I have tolerated far too much from the bigoted backrow Baptists. But the paradox of tolerance states that if a society's practice of tolerance is inclusive of the intolerant…in the end, intolerance will win the day.

And that’s exactly how people die dancing.

So yah, not only do I wish the homophobes reading an incredibly uncomfortable month—I hope this discomfort convicts your soul, and makes you question EVERYTHING. I hope the itch in your spirit spreads to places you can’t bend over to scratch.

I hope enough people walk away from your screeching that you are left alone with your hate. And I hope that hate makes you sick to your stomach when you realize the harm it has caused.

Being gay is not a sin. And Pride is not some party.

It’s a courageous protest that weak minded fearful bigots just can’t comprehend.

It’s authenticity in the face of oppression. Vulnerability in the face of violence.

Pride is the spirit of millions of people who have chosen to dance in the crosshairs.

Growing up in the church, I was frequently told that there are evil forces at work. That these forces were fighting against God’s will, and causing harm to His people. Now, I can see that the threat was true, but it was coming from inside the house.

There are evil, hateful forces at work right now…against the LGBTQ community. Some of those forces look like Saints when they’re hiding behind stained glass.

It’s gonna take a force, equal and opposite in power and passion, to turn the church around. So, if you’re a Christian who has been fence-sitting this issue, it’s time to get off the damn fence.

This June, I beg you to look past the prejudice and the preaching you’ve had crammed down your throat your whole life. Look past your anger, and your pastor’s fear. Look at these beautiful humans. Trying with all their hearts to claim the dignity and love and safety that they, as humans, deserve.

This?

THIS is what you are scared of?

These are the forces of evil?

If that’s what you think then, my friend, you’ve been brainwashed.

I get it. I was brainwashed, too.

But all along, I deep down in my heart, I knew there was something amiss. I couldn’t quite rationalize what I knew of God’s love with the hate I saw coming from church.

For twenty years, I was too afraid to challenge my faith. I thought that it might fall apart.

But that is EXACTLY why I wish all the homophobes a SUPER uncomfortable month. Because I know from painful, hard-earned experience what discomfort can do to change minds.

So, instead of doubling down on your hateful theology…I ask you, non-affirming Christians, in the name of our faith. In the name of God’s love.

Will you please put your weapons down?

Will you consider the lesson that I learned on the street in front of Pulse so many years ago?

Will you feel the heartbeats of your fellow humans, and for once SEE YOURSELF IN THEM?

I beg you to try.

I beg you to grow.

It’s already been far too late.

You can follow Mary Katherine Backstrom on Facebook, Instagram and TikTok.

Identity

Harry Styles stops in the middle of concert to help a fan come out

Fans have been using his shows to come out since 2018.

Harry Styles makes his concerts safe spaces to come out.

Coming out can be an emotionally fraught process. Even when you're secure in your queerness, there's still a sense of fear and hesitation. Because it's so emotional, people sometimes choose an unconventional way to do it. That includes coming out in an unlikely place … like a Harry Styles concert. Yes, this has happened more than once.

Most recently, a fan of Styles used the singer's help to come out as gay during the Love On Tour 2022 stop at London's Wembley Stadium.


In a clip posted to Twitter, Styles picks up a cardboard sign that had been thrown onto the stage.

"From Ono to Wembley: help me come out," the sign reads.

"So you would like the people of Wembley to bring you out?" Styles asks, a smile on his face. You can tell he's done this before, and that he's genuinely excited to do it again.

"When this sign," he begins, but returns the sign to the fan and picks up a Pride flag.

"When this flag goes over my head, you're officially gay, my boy," he says with a proud smile on his face. Of course, the crowd begins to cheer.

Styles runs back and forth waving the flag, but hesitates before raising it over his head, joking, "still straight!" before he continues to run. Then he stops, raises the flag in the air while throwing his head back triumphantly.

"Congratulations, Mattia, you are a free man!" Styles screams as the crowd roars.

Styles then takes another minute to revel in what has just happened. It's obvious he takes his role of helping fans come out seriously. There's a level of trust and care between Styles and his fans underpinning what everyone has just witnessed.

Being in the audience of a Harry Styles concert when a fan comes out is both intimate and big. People make the choice to do it knowing their declaration will become a YouTube video or news article by the next morning, and that never seems to scare them. It seems that there's something liberating about coming out to thousands of strangers.

As a longtime Harry Styles fan, I've seen this happen in real life. During the Los Angeles dates of Love On Tour 2021, I attended two shows where fans used the concert as an opportunity to come out. Styles asked each fan if they had an item they wanted him to hold to signal their official outing. He then ran around the stage building the anticipation until the glorious moment the item was lifted over his head and the crowd erupted. It was an honor to be part of such a life-changing moment.

Styles isn't a stranger to helping his fans come out during one of his concerts. In 2018, during a tour stop in San Jose, California, Styles helped another fan come out.

"I'm going to come out to my parents because of you," says the sign Styles reads to the audience. Although the parents weren't in attendance (they were in a nearby hotel), Styles still took the opportunity to help.

"I'm going to tell Tina before you get a chance to," he said.

"Tina, she's gay!" he yells, before telling the young woman that her mom "says" that she loves her. The video has become a bit of an inside joke among fans, but proves that he has always been willing to provide a safe space for his fans.

Identity

Woman's viral thread is a moving reminder of when the first companies supported Pride

It wasn't so long ago that public support of Pride was a truly brave and life-affirming choice.

Pride has become overrun by brands, but it wasn't always the case.

Recently, I went with my family to Target, one of our favorite stores. We were only going for a couple of things, but our plans were derailed as soon as we walked in (which is often how it goes at that store). What caught our eyes this time? Target had already put up its Pride display. My partner and I excitedly searched through accessories like sunglasses and mini flags, looking specifically for items featuring the lesbian pride flag. I successfully grabbed an accessory bag plus a pair of rainbow sunglasses for my kiddo before eagerly heading over to the main display.

In recent years, the Target display for Pride has become one of my favorite parts about the month of June. As a queer woman, I like the ease of being able to get something to show my queerness while I’m also picking up household items. It’s nice to be able to buy rainbow kitchen towels that I know I will proudly use all year round. At the same time, I still feel weird about it. Because it goes beyond a T-shirt or a flag. You can’t walk down an aisle without seeing a rainbow adorn something it normally doesn’t—wine, deodorant, even hot sauce.


While it’s nice to see brands acknowledge that June is Pride month, it still feels like overkill. But a friend shared a Twitter thread with me that reminded me of something very important. While rainbow capitalism still leaves a lot to be desired, there was a time in the not so distant past that brands wouldn’t even acknowledge the LGBTQIA+ community. And while we still have a long way to go, we have to give space to that past.

Sigrid Ellis, whose Twitter bio lists her as an “editor, air traffic controller, parent, feminist, writer, queer,” tweeted:

“As an Elder Queer I want everyone during on corporate gayness to just know a smidge of history. Companies used to refuse our money. Car dealerships would turn us away. Banks would refuse us mortgages. Restaurants and grocery stores would ask us to leave.”

It’s easy to forget the time before the LGBTQIA+ community was as accepted as we are now. However, our history is a lot more recent than people remember, and there are still many queer elders who remember how different things were in the '80s and '90s, which was only 30-something years ago. Ellis is talking more specifically of that time, when Pride was far more radical and significantly less corporate. But also, a time when vocally supporting gay people would do a lot more forward-facing damage to a company than it does now.

Ellis explains that when brands sponsored Pride, it meant that they were safe. And for those who were out at a time where it was significantly less safe to be visible, that meant something. It doesn’t mean they’re perfect allies to the community—but their vocal support in spite of knowing it could affect their bottom line says a lot.

“When Subaru sponsored a float at Pride, it meant we could buy cars there with dignity.

"When Target marched at Pride, it meant my gf and I could go shopping together.

"My first mortgage was from Wells Fargo bank because they would accept gay money,” Ellis wrote.

There’s a reason for the jokey stereotype about lesbians who drive Subarus. It’s because the company wasn’t afraid to stand with the LGBTQIA+ community when no other car companies would. That makes a difference when you’re making such a large purchase. And like I said, Target has been there for a while. I’ve watched the Pride section grow exponentially over the last few years, going from a few vague shirts with rainbows to having items for asexual, nonbinary and aromantic folks. They have family Pride outfits that feature same sex parents (though it would be awesome if they made shirts for the kids of those parents).

It was only 10 years ago, in June 2012, that the internet melted down when Oreo posted a photo in support of Pride. The image of the iconic cookie, posted on Facebook a year and a day after gay marriage was legalized in New York, featured six rainbow-colored layers of creme. The words over the image read “June 25 Pride.” The post was captioned “Proudly support love!” according to an article from Time. “Many commenters have denounced the company for supporting gay rights and for taking on political positions unrelated to its cookie-production mission,” the article stated. In a testament to how time moves things forward, Oreo has special Pride packaging this year.

Do we still have a long way to go before corporate Pride won’t feel like a moral dilemma? Absolutely. But if we keep pushing the needle forward with the understanding of the past, we just might get there.

Hi gay!

If you watch the comedy series “Hacks” on HBO, you probably know Megan Stalter as Kayla, the scene stealing, wackadoodle agent assistant with more fashion sense than common sense. But Stalter was making people laugh long before her television debut.

kayla hacks, meg stalter hacksGIF created by Ollivia Cooke on Tumblr 64.media.tumblr.com

The comedian is a well-known internet treasure for her hilarious “Hi Gay” video series, where she pokes fun at the sometimes tone-deaf attempts certain corporations make to appear more accepting or supportive of the LGBTQIA+ community … without practicing true allyship.

In June 2021, Stalter became a bona fide meme by playing a stiff-smiled employee of the (fake) Butter Shop "sashaying away with deals" for Pride Month for those that can “prove they’re queer.” The delightfully cringey video, which amassed 1.4 million views, is below:



The Butter Shop is back again for Pride Month 2022 and so too are the southern saleswoman’s failed attempts at courting “the gays.”


"Hi Gay! Happy Pride Month! We're back at the Butter Shop, queens, and we go goo-goo, ga-ga for gay," Stalter poorly reads from a script offscreen. She also assures audiences that “we're more lesbian than ever. We love lesbian, you queer thang."

Ceremoniously holding butter like a Statue of Liberty knockoff is a brilliant touch, I must say.

Stalter announces that the Butter Shop has brand new flavors to “slay the house down.” Personally, I’d go for the "sassy cinnamon.” But "hickory hickey from a guy," and "eat me out, amber, cheddar” are also options.

She then spews out “Hunky dory more like honky whore-y mama werk shake your thang sissy twerk doctor girl yassify that hoe,” before donning some rainbow-colored sunglasses.

This is a perfect example of how brands suddenly use rainbow colors or imagery to advertise rather than advocate, otherwise known as rainbow-washing. One of the more damaging aspects of rainbow-washing is that it often misleads people into thinking that they are helping to empower a marginalized community, when in actuality they are only helping corporations profit.

The underlying motto, as Stalter puts it, is “we think that gay people are okay. At least for the next 30 days.”

Of course, there are plenty of companies that authentically participate in allyship. The Urban List recommends checking to see if a company’s support is both measurable (having outcomes) and year-round, as well as if it addresses community issues, speaks up to impact anti-LGBTQI+ policy and legislation, and offers paid opportunities to the company's queer employees. That’s a great place to start.

Stalter has stumbled on her own brand of advocacy through her funny videos. The actress—who has been open about expressing her own bisexual identity as a previously avid churchgoer from the Midwest—understands the importance of normalizing and celebrating queer joy.

In an interview with The Advocate, she shared, “I light up when I see a gay character or a queer character. We’re so starved for it. Even though [representation] is evolving, and there is a lot more now than when I was growing up, there are some nights when I’m googling gay movies, just dying to see something where I feel represented. ”

Stalter added, “One of my favorite things about ‘Hacks’ is that there are all these queer characters and it’s just who they are. It’s not so focused on them coming out. It’s important for us to have those stories of coming out, and sad stories or triumphant stories. But it’s so important to have that representation of just, ‘oh, yeah, that’s one thing about me, but it’s not everything about me.’”

It doesn’t look like Stalter will be short of gay comedy anytime soon. The newly dubbed “Mariah Carey of Pride Month” is on Instagram, Twitter and TikTok. It’s great viewing … whether you’re a “lipstick lesbian or a butch.”