Today I had a discussion with someone about respect and equal rights, etc. The question inevitably got asked about what the point of pride really is, and why it’s valuable. To this person I say: I really appreciate you asking and trying to learn. That helps a lot. So thanks.
In Answer
Here’s the thing: sometimes when a group who has power and privilege sees someone else also get power, it doesn’t feel like equality so much as a threat. When the status quo is that you are stronger and they are weaker, being the same strength often feels like you’ve lost something.
Balance of power just works like that, sadly.
It happens when a black person celebrates being black. Some white people get all “Why do you have to push race in our faces all the time?” Or “why do you get a black entertainment channel? Isn’t that racist?”
It happens when women advocate for bodily autonomy or equal pay. Men (some) get all “you just want special treatment for doing less work” or “why do you have to go and pull the gender card”.
None of those reactions are logical, but they feel that way to the folks who have a changing power dynamic and who have never had to worry about declaring who they are.
White people don't need to celebrate being white because they’ve never had to be scared due to their skin color. They’ve never had to worry that a cop will just shoot them unreasonably. They’ve never had laws that label them as literally less than a whole human.
We don’t need a white entertainment channel because all of the channels are already places where white people have plenty of air time and voice.
That’s what privilege means. That no matter what hardships you’ve ever had to face and how many difficulties you’ve existed with in your life, at least your skin color wasn’t one of them. It didn’t add to it in any way.
Same with feminism. Many men are good. But many others are used to a power imbalance. They’ve never had to advocate for equal pay or draw attention to their gender because they already have all the rights and the attention.
Hearing someone say aloud that their gender is affecting their workplace feels weird to a lot of men because they have never had that happen and can’t really compute it. I have talked personally with men who sincerely don’t understand why women are uncomfortable with men nearby in dark or isolated situations.
Feminism (the real kind, not extremism) has never been about crushing men or being better than them or taking away their rights. It’s about just getting the same treatment.
But that power change feels super weird. Resultantly, men resist it, and then women have to be loud about it in order to be heard. Men are used to talking over us. To silencing us. To having more power and control in any given situation than we do.
And when we’re loud about something that men have never had to be loud about, a lot of men take it as “shoving it in their faces” or “trying to take what is rightfully a man’s”. Especially if they’re used to women being silenced. Any noise at all is different, when silence is the status quo.
It’s all about that shifting power.
The Same Thing is True With the LGBT+ Community
Straight/cis people don’t have to announce their sexuality or have talks with people about it because they are already the default. You are assumed straight/cis until proven otherwise.
It has never been considered shameful or illegal to be straight. It has never been life-threatening to be straight. No one has ever been beaten in the street or shot up in a pub because of being not gay.
If you’re straight, you’ve never had to figure out a way to tell your parents that you enjoy hereto relationships. And if you did, they wouldn’t disown you about it, or send you to a camp to fix what is “broken”. They might not even think twice or remember you said anything.
You don’t have to make it a point to announce your straightness because the world is already geared for you. You already have all the rights and privileges and power that comes with it.
Whatever else is hard in your life, at least that’s not one of the things making it harder.
But queer folks have had all of those things done to them over the years. There were times in the not-at-all distant past where you could be arrested or possibly even killed just for being gay (or trans or gender fluid, or whichever thing), let alone participating in any kind of related activity. Up until 2003, sodomy laws were still on the books in 14 states. I was already 18 years old by then.
And despite legal protections that are slowly but surely beginning to be enacted, it’s still not entirely safe. Clubs are still being shot up. People are still being beaten in the streets. There are still court cases that have gone all the way up to the Supreme Court about people being fired just for being gay, and not for anything they said or did. And those plaintiffs aren’t sure the Supreme Court will help them, either.
In this, the year 2019, a time when we have the technology to put robots on mars and take up close and personal pictures of Pluto and Charon, we still have people dying because they aren’t straight.
Pride is Giving a Voice to the Voiceless
Feminism is giving a voice to women who have spent most of human history labeled as second class citizens.
Black Lives Matter, calls for POC voices, and many other movements are about giving a voice to cultures and groups who have spent a lot of human history labeled as savages or monkeys or ⅗ of a human.
And Pride is about giving a voice to people who have spent most of human history being beaten, tortured, or killed because of something, much like race, over which they had no control.
Announcing sexuality isn’t about trying to be better than someone else. It’s about saying “I don’t have to hide who I am, anymore.”
Having a celebratory parade isn’t trying to say “neener neener, you don’t get one” to straight people. It’s trying to say “We have momentum. We have a voice. And we still have a long way to go. Please listen.”
Pride isn’t “we want to hurt and degrade all straight people. Pride is “We are here. We exist. And we need you to see us.”
Pride is a symbol to all the little queer sweeties around the world that they are not alone. That they do not have to be ashamed or think of themselves as broken. That there are people on their side who are trying to make the world safer for them.
Pride is a sign of hope that things will get better.
Once again: any noise at all sounds loud when silence is the status quo.
Whether you mean to or not, telling people who have finally found their voice that they’re being too loud is only reinforcing the old power dynamic. The one that killed LGBT+ people, or kept them hidden and silent. It is saying, in essence, “you don’t have the right to state who you are.”
Straight people saying “I don’t have to announce my sexuality, so neither should you” have never had to hide it in the first place. Nearly every movie, book, graphic novel, comic strip, or song has heterosexual romance in it, to some degree or another. It HAS been announced, and it is loud.
As with feminism and anti-racism, sometimes folks have to get equally loud to get heard at all. Pride is an attempt to get a seat at the table. And if it takes rainbows and glitter to do it, so let it be written. So let it be done.
Conclusion
So I hope that answered the question in long form. Here’s the short version: Pride isn't here to act better than someone else or get special treatment or rub anything in anyone’s face. It’s here to provide a community and a symbol for a lot of people who need a voice, some safety, and a little bit of hope.
Taking that away by “reclaiming the rainbow” or telling us we’re not allowed to use certain symbols, or by simply refusing to see your own privilege, is tantamount to telling us that we aren’t worthy of a voice and to go back into hiding.
And that sums up what Pride is:
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