Steven LaChance Blog

This is a good place to begin.

I never know how to react when someone says, “Happy Pride.”

For me, Pride isn’t about rainbows and niceties. It’s about in-your-face defiance, inner strength, and being visible—for the person who’s been beaten down so badly they’ve not just retreated to the closet but nailed the fucking door shut.

We used to call it a Pride March, not a parade. And for me, it’s still a march. We need to stop calling it a parade.

A few years ago, I marched with the queer community through the streets of Berlin. For them, it’s not about floats or confetti. It’s about walking together, shoulder to shoulder, saying: We are here. We are loud. We are proud. We remember. And we will not be silent.

It remains one of the most profound things I’ve ever done.

Because when you’re walking through streets where people like us were once rounded up, imprisoned, and murdered…

the pink triangle becomes more than a reclaimed symbol. It becomes a war cry.

And then it hits you—

This has happened everywhere. This is still happening everywhere.

Matthew Shepard wasn’t in some distant country when they crucified him on a fence in Laramie.

Harvey Milk wasn’t abroad when he was shot down.

Pulse. Club Q. These weren’t in some far-off place.

They were here. In the United States.

That’s why we march.

And then yesterday, I hear an Oklahoma white nationalist preacher—preaching—that gay people should be executed. That gay pastors should be shot in the head.

And I think:

This is why it’s not a fucking parade.

This is why we still march.