Pride Isn’t Just a Celebration—It's a Stand

Written By Cailyn Burke

By CJ Smith Cailyn Burke

If someone asked, “Why do we still need Pride parades? Isn’t being gay normal now?” — how would you respond? 

We’ve both heard questions like this. And while they’re often well-meaning, they conflate visibility with equality—and confuse the history of protest with today’s celebratory parades. It’s important to note that the queer and trans community is far broader than “being gay,” and the progress made over the past few decades deserves recognition. But that celebration cannot erase today’s reality: in many parts of the world, queer and trans identities are still criminalized— even punishable by death. This global truth shapes local attitudes, rippling through communities and forcing many queer young people to choose between safety and authenticity. 

According to The Trevor Project’s 2023 National Survey, only 38% of LGBTQ+ youth said their home was affirming, and nearly 1 in 3 trans and nonbinary youth reported being afraid to ask for support around their identity. In Maine, the 2023 Integrated Youth Health Survey found that 65% of LGBTQ+ youth reported persistent feelings of sadness. 

Even here in Maine, multiple anti-trans bills have been introduced in our state legislature. Their very existence sends a message: that trans people—especially trans youth—are up for debate. That trans rights, health, and very existence can be questioned, as if they are optional. For young people who already face limited rights, the impact is especially profound. 

These realities are reinforced through harmful legislation, silence in classrooms, and jokes that tell young people their identities are something to be ashamed of. But it doesn’t have to stay that way—change starts with us. 

Celebration matters. Each year we commemorate Pride in June to honor the Stonewall riots. In 1969, queer and trans people, many of them Black and brown, responded to NYC police crackdown on LGBTQ+ spaces and risked their lives in the process. Their bravery in the face of oppression set the stage for our celebrations today. Their demands for dignity, safety, and a right to exist are the foundation of Pride.  

Fifty-six years later, their demands remain unmet. We march to change that. 

We march for the dignity and freedom of queer and trans people—across the country and around the world. Our struggles are connected. If it’s punishable by death to be queer or trans anywhere, we are not free anywhere. When bodily autonomy is denied to a young person in Ohio, it threatens young people here in Maine, too. 

We march to remember those who came before us—those lost to the AIDS crisis, to violence, and to systemic silence. We remember those who still cannot live fully as themselves. 

And yes—we also march to celebrate. 
June 26th marks 10 years since marriage equality was legalized in the U.S., and 22 years since the Supreme Court decriminalized homosexuality. We celebrate the youth who stand proudly in their identities, and we uplift Indigenous queer and trans siblings leading the way in decolonization and liberation. 

Growing up in rural Maine, we saw little queer representation. What we did see was often harmful—queer and trans characters used as punchlines or portrayed as shameful. That’s changed. Just this morning, we talked about a new show featuring joyful, thriving queer teens. That’s something to celebrate. But visibility for some doesn’t mean equal rights and safety for all. 

Whether you are a kid from rural Maine, someone living in a country where being you puts your life at risk, or a trans kid who has been denied care in the US- our visibility, our protest, our celebration, our remembrance and our PRIDE- matters. 

Whether it’s seeing a flag in a classroom window, a sign in a small-town shop, or a video on TikTok of a pride march- this might be the first time a young person sees themselves affirmed in public. Visibility creates possibility. And possibility creates choice. 

 bell hooks- a prominent black queer writer – defined oppression as the “lack of choices” and queer as “ being about the self that is at odds with everything around it and that has to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live.” 

Maybe one day we won’t need Pride. But until then, marching today creates more choices for tomorrow. Real structural and cultural change will allow queer and trans people not only to survive—but to thrive. 

We’re not there yet. 

So, this year, if someone asks why we march—respond with care and conviction. 
Say: we grieve, we fight, we celebrate, and we remember. We march for those who can’t. 
We march and expand our understanding of queer liberation to be global, intergenerational, and intersectional. 

We send this message to every LGBTQ+ person: You matter—not just in June, but every single day. You are worth celebrating. And you are worth fighting for. 

 

Sources: 

  • hooks, b. (2000). Feminist theory: From margin to center (2nd ed.). South End Press. (Original work published 1984) 

Cailyn Burke
Next

Introducing Peer Navigator: A Near Peer Mentorship Program for Maine Youth!