Marsha P. Johnson, a prominent activist of the 1969 Stonewall Riots, once said, “No Pride for some of us without liberation for all of us.”
If a movement is not conscious of this truth, it will not be successful. Human identities and lived experiences are so layered and complex that we cannot ignore any single piece of ourselves (like our race, ethnicity, sexuality, gender identity, disability status, socioeconomic status, etc.) when celebrating another part of ourselves.
Pride Month in itself is layered and complex. For many, it’s a celebration of who we are as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/ questioning, intersex, asexual and two-spirit (LGBTQIA2+) people, a display of self-love and love for our community when many of us have been made to feel shame. For others, it’s a reminder of the Stonewall Riots and the legacy of advocates who have fought and continue to fight for equal opportunities and protections, especially when the current political climate is so hostile to LGBTQIA2+ people, particularly trans and gender-expansive people.
What often feels absent is a holistic approach to identity, centering our unique lived experiences through an intersectional lens.
Intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in the 1980s, is “a metaphor for understanding the ways that multiple forms of inequality or disadvantage sometimes compound themselves and create obstacles that often are not understood among conventional ways of thinking.” It is important to know that Crenshaw came up with this term to specifically highlight what black women experience in relation to their marginalized identities, experiencing both racism and misogyny, but now the term is widely used to describe many intersections of social identities experiencing oppression or marginalization.
People attending Pride events aren’t just LGBTQIA2+. We are latina/e/o, we are indigenous, we are black, we are Asian, we are autistic, we have differing levels of ability, and we come from different places and have different perspectives and histories. We are a diverse community, and often many of us feel forgotten and left behind, like the confetti on the street after the parade.
While we have created different social boxes in which to categorize others and ourselves, it’s difficult to untangle these historically complex identities because forms of oppression support and uphold each other.
For example, modern-day homo/ trans/biphobia are direct results of colonization and white supremacy. European colonizers stole Turtle Island (now more commonly known as North America) and attempted genocide of indigenous peoples. But before that, many indigenous communities, who have been stewards of this land for thousands of years, revered and celebrated more than two genders. European colonization tried to eliminate indigenous cultures through the weaponization of Christianity on the basis that indigenous people were “savages” (the exact word used in the Constitution) who needed “salvation” through European “civilization.” That “civilization” included the binary concept of gender that is still weaponized today. This tool of white supremacy doesn’t just oppress those with Indigenous ancestry, but all of us, because it forces us into a binary way of existing.
We will continue to take up space … as our full and authentic selves … – Keeley Griego
Another example is that trans and gender-expansive people of color are the most likely to experience violence in their lifetimes. According to the Human Rights Campaign’s 2024 “The Epidemic of Violence Against the Transgender & Gender-Expansive Community in the U.S.,” 84% of trans and gender-expansive victims of fatal violence were people of color, 61% of them being black trans women. This is no coincidence. Systemic racism, compounded with transphobia and misogyny, is deadly – yet it often goes unmentioned among the Pride celebrations and parties, as well as in larger conversations about violence perpetuated against black people.
There is still so much work to be done in our struggle for equal rights and protections, especially when politicians demonize queer people, particularly trans and gender-expansive people, and rely on fearmongering to divide people in the pursuit of personal gain and power. Even more so, there is so much work that we must do within our own community to ensure that everyone feels they have access to life-saving communal spaces, resources, and allyship from those in the community who have more privilege.
Actionable places to start: Ensure that communal events and resources are accessible, meaning folks can participate in their wheelchairs, and people who are deaf or don’t speak English have access to translation services. We need not just solidarity from white allies, but action when communities of color are experiencing police brutality and threats of deportation. We need everyone to speak out against dangerous myths about autistic people. We need white leaders to learn to sit in discomfort. And we need everyone to understand that equity is not a box to be checked, but a lifelong pursuit.
The homo/trans/biphobic rhetoric and threats to our freedoms are nothing new; our path has been one of resistance. As our struggles continue, we must remember that we are stronger together and that what we seek is liberation – not just from homo/trans/biphobia, but systemic racism and ableism, white supremacy and poverty, and the teeth of colonization that still sink into this sacred land.
We will continue to take up space, not just as queer people, but as our full and authentic selves in black and brown skin, with walking aids and wheelchairs, speaking Spanish or our own first language, and signing in ASL. We are a complex and beautiful community of people who want to be loved and accepted, but just like everyone else, we have to work to dismantle the systems of oppression that hold us down.
