This week is the first week of Pride month, a rainbow-colored celebration of the LGBT community. It is a time for us to come together and cherish how far we have come and it is also a sobering reminder of how far we have yet to go still. But why Pride? Why not another name or some funny slogan? On June 1st one of my favorite people posted the following: “Pride is the opposite of shame. I’m so thankful I don’t have to walk in shame anymore. Happy Pride Month!” I had my answer.
Shame. If I had one word to sum up my past 30ish years of existence, it would be shame. I was raised in the church and had absorbed the anti-gay messages from the pulpit and TV during the 80’s. Being gay was a ticket straight to hell. As I struggled through my awkward puberty in the 90’s I internalized those messages, gay people needed to stop being gay and then they would be happy (Yes. I know. It’s embarrassing). I honestly thought that this other self, this female person that seemed to be rooted deep in my bones was the cause of my suffering. I needed to change, to put a stop to this. I felt like God was turning His back because I wasn’t strong enough. In the 00’s the church perpetuated the myth that orientation and gender identity could be corrected, LGBT people could be brought back the straight and narrow. For the next few decades, driven by shame, I tried to overcome the innate gender identity that was screaming at me every time I looked in the mirror. Meanwhile, the world around me told me that trans women weren’t really women (We are.). Being LGBT wasn’t something to be prideful about, it was something shameful and not talked about. I hated myself and my body and I felt even more shame because of that too! That cycle never seemed to end, heaping more and more shame upon me with each passing year. Eventually, it led to dark places. I grew scared that I might actually succeed and hurt myself.
It was a little over two years ago that I finally broke free of the chains of shame and admitted to myself that I had to change genders. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I sat on the edge of my bed clutching my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make a sound. Shame held me like a vise. I knew I had to transition. Panic welled up from inside of me trying its very best to consume me. My heart ached. My hands began to shake. It would cost me everything, absolutely everything. I had tried to make these feelings go away for over thirty years. Not once did those efforts ever succeed. Transition was the one thing I had not tried. It was the one thing that finally worked.
I wish I could tell you that those messages of shame from our culture were a thing of the past. Sadly, it seems as if every day brings about some bit of news from America, the land of the free, where LGBT people are attacked on the street for holding hands. A land where almost 60% of transgender adults have been harassed for existing and 12% confronted while trying to use a bathroom. A country of rights and laws where 12 trans women have been murdered for the crime of being trans. Every day the LGBT community receives hundreds of explicit and implicit messages, that we don’t belong, that we are not equal, that we cannot be trusted, that we are not welcome. These messages can have devastating consequences. Suicide is the leading cause of death for LGBT identified people aged 10-24 and LGBT youth are five times more likely to commit suicide. In the trans community, this number is drastic, almost 40% of us have tried to escape the shame heaped on us by taking our lives. The message is that we do not belong, and it is killing our children. This must stop.
I often look back on that first scary night that I finally stopped fighting my truth and accepted that I was transgender. As the truth settled in, I let out a sob. The tears flowed. My breath came back. The world focused anew. Each day after, I grew more confident in who I really was. As friends left (another way the world tries to shame us), new loves came beside me to share the load. Each moment, every step, along this journey has made me stronger and surprisingly it has made me happier (something I was told outright I would never be). The oppressive weight of my secret was no longer there. I found that not only was I able to smile more readily, I could laugh and share my life with others freely, no secrets, no shame, not anymore.
Why do we celebrate Pride? Because we are no longer ashamed. We are no longer bound in our prisons of guilt. At last, we are no longer in darkness and we stand in the full light of day as free men and women (and as those who do not identify as either). We celebrate Pride because it is an act of defiance, we say “Here we are! We aren’t leaving!” We celebrate because we can. Because life is too short to hate, to brief to spend hiding. Every LGBT community member that chooses to share their stories makes it easier to for the next child to come to their own understanding of themselves free of shame. Maybe we can save a life right now, by just being alive and happy and unafraid of the world to see us. We celebrate for a future where all children are loved regardless of how they identify. We dance in the streets because we refuse to be silent. All of our identities and loves can find a home here. All are welcome here. Each year the rainbow grows a bit more. It will keep on growing and growing because hate cannot win against love.