Pride Is Not About Agreement. It's About Understanding.

Communities don't become stronger by pretending differences don't exist. They become stronger by learning to see the people behind them.

As Pride Month comes to a close, I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened over the past thirty days.

There have been victories worth celebrating. There have also been painful setbacks. I see those setbacks as more than political losses. I see them as signs of something deeper—a gradual erosion of respect within our communities.

That’s why I think Pride matters.

The same is true of Juneteenth and every event that celebrates communities that have historically lived on the margins of American life. These aren’t simply celebrations of identity. They’re opportunities for the rest of us to understand our neighbors a little better.

Understanding is the beginning of respect.

I know the broad outlines of the history of Pride. I know about Stonewall. I know who Harvey Milk was. But most of what I understand about the LGBTQIA+ community didn’t come from history books.

It came from friendship.

As an author, especially in the science fiction community, many of my friends are LGBTQIA+. Those friendships have given me something far more valuable than information. They’ve given me perspective.

And perspective changes the way you see the world.

I’m only going to make this about myself long enough to explain why I connect with this movement.

I’m half Black and half White. My skin is light enough that people often don’t realize I’m Black. Every so often someone says something anti-Black around me because they assume they’re in safe company.

It’s an odd experience.

You suddenly realize you’re listening to someone reveal a side of themselves they never intended you to see.

Eventually I started telling people I’m half Black earlier in conversations. Not because I owe anyone that information, but because I’d rather give them the opportunity to reconsider than spend my time confronting them after the fact.

That experience made me realize something.

Many LGBTQIA+ people probably experience this far more often than I ever will.

Race is usually visible.

Sexual orientation isn’t.

Gender identity often isn’t.

Someone can stand in a room listening to jokes, stereotypes, or casual contempt while everyone around them assumes no one present could possibly be affected.

The people speaking aren’t always trying to hurt anyone.

Sometimes they genuinely believe there isn’t anyone there to hurt.

But words don’t stop having consequences simply because the speaker doesn’t see them.

That’s one of the reasons Pride exists.

Not because everyone needs to agree about everything.

Because people need opportunities to encounter each other as human beings instead of abstractions.

It’s remarkably easy to form opinions about a group you’ve never actually spent time with.

It’s much harder once you’ve shared a conversation.

Once you’ve laughed together.

Once you’ve watched people celebrate with their families.

Once you’ve replaced a label with a person.

That’s what Pride offers.

It gives people permission to step into a community they may know almost nothing about.

For some people, that’s the first step.

And first steps matter.

If you’ve never had meaningful relationships with people whose lives differ from your own, walking into an unfamiliar community can feel intimidating. You worry about saying the wrong thing. You wonder whether you’ll fit in. Sometimes it’s easier to stay away.

Pride lowers that barrier.

It creates a space where curiosity is welcomed and humanity is visible.

I’ve heard people dismiss Pride as performative. I’ve heard people ask why it has to be so public.

I think those criticisms miss the point.

Visibility isn’t the goal.

Understanding is.

Visibility is simply the mechanism.

You cannot understand people you’ve never encountered.

You cannot appreciate the diversity within a community if you’ve reduced everyone in it to a single label.

The LGBTQIA+ community is not one personality, one ideology, one worldview, or one life experience. It’s as diverse as every other community in America.

The same is true of Black Americans.

Latino Americans.

Women.

Veterans.

Christians.

Atheists.

Every large group becomes a caricature when viewed from a distance.

Only proximity restores complexity.

That’s why these celebrations matter.

Not because they’re asking anyone to become something they’re not.

Not because they’re asking for unquestioning agreement.

They’re asking something much smaller, and much more important.

Come meet your neighbors.

Because they’re already here.

Every city.

Every town.

Every workplace.

Every school.

Every neighborhood.

Pride doesn’t create LGBTQIA+ communities.

It reminds us they’ve always been part of ours.

The strongest communities aren’t built by pretending our differences don’t exist.

They’re built by understanding them.

Understanding becomes respect.

Respect becomes trust.

Trust becomes community.

And community is ultimately what determines whether a pluralistic society succeeds.

So Happy Pride to everyone who celebrates.

And if you’ve never celebrated before, maybe next year simply show up.

You don’t have to have all the answers.

Sometimes understanding begins with nothing more than being willing to meet someone you’ve never really seen before.

Note: AI was used to help reformat my narrative in the form of a blog post.