Pride Dedication - 2021

I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but it’s pride month. As if every big corporation’s sudden flamboyance in showing off their pro-gay status wasn’t an effective enough indicator of the time. In its simplest sense, pride month occurs in the United States to commemorate the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, one of the major turning points in the LGBTQ+ rights movement. One of my favorite impacts from those riots was the paradigm shift it caused in the American populace: Where the general public began to see the LGBTQ+ community as a minority group, rather than a mental illness. A deeper purpose behind pride month is to recognize the impact of LGBTQ+ people throughout the history of the world. It’s a time of reverence. There’s the purpose and idea, and then… comes the execution. That’s a whole different world it seems. The same idea can be translated an infinite number of ways through the various individuals that interpret it. Methods of celebrating pride month include, but are not limited to, extravagant parades of sequin leather skin and rainbows down a street near you, companies showing off their high budget pride campaign, and extremely packed gay bars. Honestly, I’ve personally never understood how to celebrate pride month in my own way. I am very proud to be who I am, and don’t hide my sexuality at all, believe me, but what does pride month even mean to me? Aren’t I one of the people who’s supposed to be the most into it? What do I want to do for it? Numerous answers are thrown at me by queer and straight people alike, yet I always find myself not wanting to take personal ownership of any of their responses. My friend Dante would tell me it’s because I’m an Aquarius, because I “like to go against the grain.” Not a big astrology person, but I’ll definitely agree on that one, I’m endlessly stubborn sometimes. I don’t want someone else to tell me how to be proud. I want it to be internally driven, from a core idea that is meaningful to me. So, I decided to explore what pride means to me the best way I know how: through a rabbit hole of self-analysis and sentimentality. As a result, I’ve come to figure out pride month always means something different to me. I celebrate pride month through a dedication, like an author introduces their book. Both, in and of themselves, are celebrations of the individual’s word and truth, and acknowledge that the words may not have been there to celebrate if not for those it inevitably found itself dedicated to. This is what I wanted to write about, this is my dedication for Pride 2021.

For context, pride month had not been an aspect of my life to lean into until 2020 when I moved to Manhattan. I’ve been out of the closet for 6 years, yet June never provided real opportunities for me to embrace the celebration it inherently had. I’d head back from college for summer vacation to a home in the middle of the woods, and couldn’t exactly take a car somewhere to go do pride things. After all, it was my parent’s car. Anxiety would keep me rooted in place. Surely the pride group wouldn’t want me there anyway, right? I definitely wasn’t cute enough, or fit enough, or woke enough, or even confident enough to be there. Maybe pride month wasn’t meant for me, yet supposedly everyone was out there celebrating the community that I was a part of. I never knew how to feel. I moved to New York with that as a major reason, living somewhere I can lean into everything I’ve been missing in my life as a queer man. Unfortunately, covid kept me from experiencing my first true metropolitan pride celebration, and this year proved to be similar. No parade!! Granted, this past year I’ve been gifted with a wonderful group of queer friends that have shown me my seat at the table, reminding me that I always belonged. We’ve gone to new gay bars and danced for hours, but was it still MY celebration, or flavor, of pride? 

I proudly identify as a book gay. You know, the kind of guy who wears a cute little outfit to a coffee shop, who crosses his legs and tilts his head slightly to the right while reading his ever changing book. Personally, it’s in reading and writing that I feel most myself. Books have been how I make more sense of myself and the world around me, they’re safe and supportive. 2 years ago was when it all began, I was at a turning point: just graduated college but knew I had a lot more to learn about myself. I got a recommendation from a gay podcast to read The Velvet Rage by Alan Downs, which is essentially an exploration of gay shame written by a very experienced gay psychotherapist. When I tell you it understood me, that would be an understatement. The most seen I had ever felt as a queer person hadn’t been from the queer people I’d met up until that point, it was by a stack of thin paper pages between a pink cover. The book wasn’t afraid to talk about tough topics and was filled with respect, empathy, and love. I remembered this, and decided the best way I could personally celebrate pride month was to read a bunch of queer books! I already had a bunch in my queue, and more from recommendations, so why not push them up and make a month out of it? My form of celebrating pride was to take in the words of those who expressed their own through writing. What insight could I find?

Note: Please see the bottom of this article for a full list of wonderful queer literature I read this month.

With that, I found my dedication. A specific book series I will focus on here is surprisingly not even a regular book. Rather, it’s a graphic novel series titled Heartstopper by Alice Osman. Don’t get me wrong, each queer book I read this month was worth analyzing, but for the sake of my specific takeaway for 2021 pride, this is the one I want to hone in on. Essentially, this series follows high schooler boyfriends Nick and Charlie as they navigate understanding relationships, each other, and most of all, themselves. They have a kind, peaceful, supportive and loving relationship, a stark contrast to the commonly pessimistic view on dating in queer culture. I remember finishing the only 3 available volumes within 2 days time (a personal best, if I do say so myself). I was captivated. It was a story about a healthy, supportive, and loving relationship between two men, and it was completely new to me! As someone who was in the closet for the vast majority of his childhood and adolescent years (7 to 17), the story caused me to reflect on what could have been different in my journey if a story like this had been available to me earlier on. I read Heartstopper when I was 24, what would have changed if I had instead read it at 13? Personally, I don’t live by regrets and “what-if’s”, but I would be lying if I said these thoughts didn’t cross my mind while reading the books. Growing up I was never able to picture a future for myself as a gay man or what a relationship with another man could even look like. I would despair during my younger years only able to imagine a future filled with lies, heartache, and rejection. Regardless, at 24 I took a step back and felt an immense gratitude for these books having been created, because it means that there’s a 13 year old closeted kid out there who could stumble upon this book in a library and see a life for themselves, one filled with support, acceptance, laughter and love. It’s beautiful representation, and I think that’s absolutely wonderful.

With that said, I’m going to be taking my analysis of the series in a different direction. Following Nick and Charlie’s journey, they’re confronted with many of the countless issues that could affect a queer person’s life: fear of rejection, actual rejection, bullying, homophobia, ostracization, tokenezation, and so forth. However, none of those were my major takeaway. Through all the negativity, the people who doubted them, made fun of them, or even rejected them, were the people that supported them. These were the friends, family members, and fellow queer people that showed up. They were Charlie’s best friend Tao, who stood by Charlie’s side when he was bullied by the school after he was outed. They were Nick’s mother, who sat across from him at their kitchen table and held his hand with a smile after he came out to her. They were Charlie’s sister Tori, who lovingly looked at him and said “nicely done” when she realized that he and Nick were more than friends. They were Tara and Darcy, a lesbian couple who embraced Nick and Charlie with open arms. They were the teachers, who supported their students and simply listened. I could go on and on about this, but the main point is that regardless of the b.s., these two men were surrounded by love, acceptance, and support, not just from each other but from their allies as well. There were plenty of conversations between these characters that brought a tear to my eye, because it reminded me of one of the greatest things I found after coming out: the simple acceptance gifted to me by the people who never thought I was less of a human after learning I was gay. This simple, quiet, and peaceful, and loving acceptance became a symbol for my own sense of pride. To quote Alan Downs on the concept of acceptance, “In this moment, all you need to be is you. Only in this space will you find lasting contentment.” This became the core of my 2021 pride dedication.

Now, I know I’m expanding on the definition of an lgbtq+ ally a bit, but hear me out. Starting with.. What does being an “ally” mean? Dictionary speaking, an ally is a person, group, or nation associated or united with another in a common purpose. In a modern context, ‘Straight Ally’ normally refers to non queer people who support their queer counterparts’ equal civil rights, gender equality and LGBT social movements, regardless of their differences. In my mind, I basically combine those two ideas to include everyone, regardless of whether someone’s in or out of the lgbtq+ community. To me, an ally is anyone who provides the simple acceptance which became a primary reason I can sit here and write this article. So for my 2021 pride dedication, I want to properly thank my allies.

Thank you, Jane. Thank you for giving me a hug in my car when I came out to you outside an ice cream store. Thank you for inspiring me after swim practice to come out to my parents, and for giving me a shoulder (and massive floor cushion) to cry on the night I did it. Thank you for growing with me and being a constant motivation to keep moving forward.

Thank you, Peter, my oldest friend. Thank you for knowing me since 1st grade and telling me you were happy for me after I came out. Thank you for considering me family. Thank you for standing up for me when I was bullied in middle school. Thank you for the secret handshakes, and all of our history.

Thank you, Rhys. Thank you for introducing me to Rupaul’s Drag Race. Thank you (and Robin!!) for giving me a place to stay in the gap between the school day and swim practice when I couldn’t face the stress, anxiety and arguments waiting for me at home. Thank you for your genuineness and love, before and after I came out. Thank you for the Nashua pride shirt you mailed to me last week.

Thank you, Meghan. Thank you for being the greatest gift our hometown ever gave me. Thank you for yours and your family’s acceptance. Thank you for letting me pet your sweet sweet pup Mario whenever I felt down. Thank you for taking me to yoga, and endlessly supporting me in my gay growth.

Thank you, Layne. Thank you for making me feel safe enough to become the first person I admitted my homosexual attraction to. Thank you for telling me there was nothing wrong with me. Thank you for holding my secret with you, and supporting me with love and understanding as I figured out how to approach the rest of my life with this. Thank you for the time you spent in my life.

Thank you to my high school swim team. Thank you to Jack and the boys for not treating me differently after my ‘news’ came out to the school. Thank you for being the first group of guys I felt unconditionally safe with. Thank you for giving me my team nickname “Royal’s” when naming each other based on Lorde’s album, because I was obviously the ruler of the team. Thank you for seeing me, laughing with me, and cheering for me louder than any other team when I dove.

Thank you to my high school volleyball team. Thank you Kyle, Brandon, Ryan, and Tyler, who went from being the group I was most scared to learn of my sexuality to being some of my greatest supporters. Thank you for becoming my inspiration to join Theta Chi in college because of how welcome you made me feel. Thank you for asking me all of your burning questions during the JV games with respect and interest. Thank you for telling me you’d beat up anyone who ever tried to make me feel less than. Thank you for changing my view of how my authentic self could be welcomed by other men.

Thank you Anna, my sister. Thank you for listening to me in our attic, and holding me with so much love when I admitted how scared I was of telling our parents. Thank you for your empathy. Thank you for standing by my side during the toughest conversations I’ve had. Thank you for reminding me that I’m never alone. Thank you for becoming my best friend. Thank you for your desire to learn more about lgbtq+ issues, and supporting me with the endless fervor in your heart.

Thank you to everyone who surprised me at Friendly’s on my 18th birthday, which had been one of the lowest days of my life. Thank you Emily Horlick for putting that together. Thank you all for showing up for me when I felt so lost. Thank you for one of my most treasured memories.

Thank you to Mollie and Ken, the campus ministry heads at my high school. Thank you for inviting me to tell my story at the junior retreat as a senior leader, a place I thought would completely exclude me for going against “traditional faith.” Thank you for giving me an opportunity I thought I’d never have at Catholic school: a platform to be myself.

Thank you, Kristina. Thanks for being one of my first true friends at Virginia Tech. Thank you for always seeing me as Jon, from the moment you met me. Thank you for introducing me to the good good and Korean bbq. Thank you for seeing me have a complete breakdown (Carolina Cup) and loving me anyway. Thank you for all of the laughter.

Thank you Jake, my big brother in Theta Chi. Thank you for being the realest conversation I had at my informal rush event. Thank you for becoming my top reason for joining. Thank you for taking me, the gay pledge, under your wing and helping me understand that I truly belonged. Thank you for all the trips to taco bell before exec meetings. Thank you for all of the big sisters you brought into my life (hey Emilie, Kara and Kelly).

Thank you Jon, my little brother in Theta Chi. Thank you for wanting me to be your big brother. Thank you for helping me be social chair, brainstorming all of my party ideas and always reminding me to make it fabulous. Thank you for always telling it to me straight (pun intended) and treating me as an equal. Thank you for all of our drives in your little white car, talking about love and life endlessly as we sped down 81.

Thank you Nick Payne. Thank you for matching my drama and theatrics. Thank you for being one of the most welcome brothers of Theta Chi from the moment I got your hangout. Thank you for becoming a ride or die and moving to New York to chase your dreams just like me. Thank you for your willingness to explore emotions with me. Thank you for being one of the most inclusive and kind people I’ve ever met.

Thank you Avery and Ethan (or should I say, Amanda Westbrook and Anita Drank?). Thank you for taking me to my first gay bar. Thank you for teaching me so much about what it means to be myself. Thank you for inviting me to your drag pageants, and glowing with pride and joy when you take the stage. Thank you for being a safe space, and for every kiki and laugh I had the pleasure of experiencing. Thank you for being my first role models in our community.

Thank you, Klaudia. Thank you for becoming my friend at our Santander internship. Thank you for being my #1 supporter to chase what I want, resulting in some of the best weekends of my life visiting a special someone in NYC years ago. Thank you for being my Jersey queen.

Thank you, Anna Sadowski. Thank you for having me as your bridesman. Thank you for breaking convention. Thank you for your endless love and all of our deep conversations.

Thank you Nick Gentile. Thank you for becoming one of my best friends for life. Thank you for your fearlessness that’s always inspired me. Thank you for your passion to grow as a gay man side by side with me, regardless of how differently we go about it. Thank you for reading books about gay shame with me.

Thank you, Melanie. Thank you for becoming my friend 5 minutes after meeting me. Thank you for analyzing faith and sexuality with me. Thank you for growing and inspiring me to grow more. Thank you for all of the nights spent laughing on your old sectional with Sweet Brown. Thank you for introducing me to your wonderful girlfriend. Thank you for walking slower with me on the sidewalk to take in the present moment in its entirety.

Thank you, all of my brothers in VT’s Theta Chi. Thank you for being the fraternity that not only welcomed me, but celebrated me. Thank you for voting me to be one of your leaders, and embracing all of my aesthetic changes to the parties at the Ranch. Thank you for showing up to my pregames. Thank you for all of your friendships. Thank you for looking up to me. Thank you for working with me and changing the place into something we were all proud of. Thank you for everything.

Thank you, Keara. Thank you for going with me to my first Unity event at work when I was too anxious to go on my own. Thank you for always encouraging me to challenge myself and meet people. Thank you for being my work wife. Thank you for sitting at the Jericho office’s holiday party with me 2 hours after it ended to share stories.

Thank you, Sarah. Thank you for your genuine excitement for me to embrace the queer culture of the city. Thank you for always encouraging me to put myself out there. Thank you for being a fabulous wing woman. Thank you for going dancing with me.

Thank you, Fern and Carly. My jushes. Thank you for the wonderful group we created, with unconditional love and acceptance (and lots of buffoonery) at the core. Thank you for all the days we sat in my Tech Terrace apartment, and yelling “HEYY JUSH!!!” every time we see each other. 

Thank you, Emily V. Thank you for visiting me in NYC for my first pride, and proudly supporting me as we navigated an unfamiliar world together. Thank you for waving rainbow flags with me and dancing down Broadway. Thank you for embracing the celebration with me.

Thank you Jack, Dante, Mike, Isaac and Alexander. Thank you for giving me a gay community in the city. Thank you for taking me to my first NYC gay bars. Thank you for teaching me everything you know, and sitting with me to analyze our experiences and answer my questions. Thank you for becoming a group of guys I treasure. Thank you for being my friends.

Now, this was only the tip of the thank you iceberg. Unless you want to be here for a few hours, I had to cut the list short somewhere, but I believe the point of my dedication has been made. This is for every single person that showed up for me, and any other lgbtq+ community member in one way or another. This is for you all. I am so, so grateful for all allies. I dedicate my pride this year to you, because I wouldn’t have made it here to write this reflection without you. I will never forget what you’ve done for me and my community.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for treating me like a human, even after learning the fact about me that I grew up thinking would destroy everything. Thank you for proving me wrong.

Optimistically,

Jon