Everything Sucks: A Personal Response To The State Of LGBTQ+ Affairs

Everything sucks, but have hope! Keep fighting the good fight, and happy Pride Month.

Me getting my Pride on, even if I can't go to Pride.

Around this time last year I was deliriously sick, but that didn't matter; everything was perfect. Though I could barely hold my eyes open on the morning of June 27, I forced myself awake long enough to read the headlines blaring brightly from my phone-- "The Supreme Court has ruled in favor of marriage equality!" Love wins. I fell back to sleep with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face. The next day, I dragged myself to San Francisco Pride, weakly supporting myself on my father's arm the whole way just to lay eyes on what felt like a historic celebration. When Jim Obergefell rode by in the parade, I stood up on my chair to catch a glimpse at the lead plaintiff in the case that legalized same-sex marriage across the United States. Overlooking the sea of balloons and rainbows and hands raised in celebration, I felt as though my heart would overflow with the news. Love wins. Love wins. Love wins!

Today, everything sucks. At least, it feels that way. I left my bubble of acceptance and diversity and moved to a place where words like "faggot," "queer," and "tranny" are used to put people down, where many still feel as if the safest place to be is in the closet. News came of HB2 in North Carolina, of the Protecting Freedom of Conscience from Government Discrimination Act in Mississippi, both instances of hate and intolerance being masked under the guise of protection. And then, on June 13, I once again woke up to headlines blaring-- "Orlando Gunman Attacks Gay Nightclub, Leaving 50 Dead."

50.

50.

50 heartbeats silenced. 50 souls erased. Countless lives altered through a senseless act of hatred and violence. That morning, I read the New York Times with rapt attention, scrolled through CNN and BBC with the somber reverence of a funeral march. The heartbreak ran deep, and it still does.

But despite the endless stream of injustices, everything does not suck, because there is hope. Hope in the passion of student activists working tirelessly to make campus a safer place for queer students. Hope in the outrage of citizens across the country who are speaking out against unjust legislation. And, while nothing will ever make up for the lives stolen in Orlando, hope in refusing to forget, in speaking their names, and in coming together in the fight to ensure that nothing like this will ever happen again.

Seeing as this day kicks off the next celebration of Pride in San Francisco, it is necessary to honor how the first Pride came about. It arose out of the efforts of courageous LGBTQ+ activists, the majority of whom were trans women of color, who faced violence and brutality to fight for their rights. While the recent blows to progress make it easy to lose hope, it is important to remember our roots in struggle. To take part in that struggle is to inherently have hope, for why would anyone give themselves to the fight without believing in their heart that we have the power to make change? So go, go to Pride and remember the sacrifices of those who went before you. Or, if like me you cannot attend this year, give yourself in other ways. Give yourself through your donations and your time, through your words and passions. Give yourself in any way you can to the fight. Happy Pride Month to you all, and remember, hope starts with you.