I can't think of a witty name for this post.

*I wrote this about two years ago and posted it on facebook. I was doing a little upkeep by deleting some old posts and things, then I saw this. I couldn't bring myself to delete it, so here it is.*

So, Monday we had our usual P.R.I.D.E. meeting. We had the usual logistic part, it was boring as hell but we decided on our shirts (TOTAL fabulousniscosity, now toning down the gay), but then once we got the recreational part things got a little bit more interesting. We talked about pride itself. Not the organization, but the feeling. This obviously got me thinking a little bit. I actually had a lot to say on the topic at the time but just wasn’t comfortable saying it (not to say that I’m not comfortable with the group, I just wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to say exactly).

The premise for the discussion was whether we should feel pride for being homosexual(or anything else, really) or not. For me, the answer is a resounding, ambiguous yes.

To me, pride in general is important. It’s very important that a person feel pride in their work, pride in their life, and pride in themselves. This being said, I think that people feel pride no matter what, even in useless circumstances, such as patriotism. To me, patriotism is pointless. I would feel proud of my country regardless of where I was born. I would be proud to be Canadian if I was from Canada, proud to be Mexican if I was from Mexico, and proud to be Finnish if I was from Finland. For this reason alone I am not a patriot.

So, you may ask, what is the difference of pride in one’s sexuality? One does not choose their sexuality, so following the logic already laid down, wouldn’t one would be just as proud to be of another sexuality? I see a very valid argument there, but to me there is a very bold difference; I’ve never been persecuted or hated or anything of the sort for being an American or straight. Everyday I have to think about all of these people who will hate me for being who I am. I have to worry what my father will say when I tell him. I have to worry that once my brother finds out that I will never again see my niece or nephew just because of two douche bags that made him hate gay people. I have to worry about what the most important people in my life will feel when they find out that I’m man-fucking fag. I have to worry that my family and friends will desert me for not fitting their image of whom I am. After all of this what will I have left? Pride.

To me, pride is a last resort. Pride is what keeps me going. Pride is what keeps me from crying myself to sleep at night. Pride is what keeps me alive. I know that when everyone else fails me, when there is no one there, I know that I will have pride. Pride is love, tolerance, acceptance, and peace. To me, pride is everything.

I don’t have to carry a giant rainbow in my pocket to feel pride. I don’t have to where chains or shiny underwear in public. I don’t even have to have hot, wild, exhibitionist gay sex. People get it. People understand. I know that I don’t have to prove it to you. I know that I have my pride to keep my shame at bay. I just know that I have my pride.