I was too young to fully understand the gravity of it all, but I remember people whispering about Princess Diana shaking a sick man’s hand without gloves. I remember how shocking that was to many. I remember how loving it actually was to so many more.
I remember my Gram making quilts. Years of quilts. Row after row of tiny stitches, each one sewn with grief and love. Some for people she loved, some for people she’d never even met. And then one day, she had to make a quilt for someone she loved deeply. Jay.
When I turned 21, my family followed our tradition and took me to Darcelle’s for the full drag show to welcome me into adulthood. But that night wouldn’t be about me.
Darcelle spotted my Gram sitting beside me. She paused the show. Broke character. Came down from the stage, hugged my grandmother, and thanked her. Thanked her for her service. For her love. For showing up in a time when too many people looked away.
One of Darcelle’s eyelashes slipped a little from the tears. And that’s when I really understood what my Gram had done.
She hadn’t just made quilts.
She had helped restore dignity to people whose families and government had abandoned them.
That is the legacy I’m honored to carry.
So you can imagine how it feels now, hearing members of the LGBTQ+ community mocking older gay men in leather at Pride. Or rolling their eyes at drag queens. Or treating queer elders like relics instead of revolutionaries.
Those are the ones who fought for your right to exist out loud.
They didn’t get brand deals or parade floats.
They got hospital beds. Police batons. Silence. Shame. And still, they showed up. They fought. For you. For all of us.
So no, we don’t make fun of the old men in leather.
We don’t look down on the queens.
We thank them. We protect them. We carry their names forward.
They fought with their sweat, their tears, and their blood. For you. For us. For the freedom to live in truth.
And we keep fighting, because the threat didn’t end with marriage equality.
Today, queer and trans people are:
• Being criminalized for seeking healthcare
• Targeted by state surveillance
• Banned from books, bathrooms, and sports
• Attacked in churches, schools, and legislatures
• Losing their lives to hate crimes that barely make the news
This Pride, let’s promise to show up louder.
Speak up. Push back. Donate. Protect. Vote.
Don’t just wave a rainbow, be the shield.
If you’re celebrating Pride this year, find a way to honor the elders. Invite them in. Make space. Ask about their stories.
Because we’re dancing on the front lines they held.
Pride isn’t a party.
It’s a promise.
And if you see someone mocking the very people who built this movement, speak up.
Because the fight for dignity didn’t end at Stonewall. It continues in how we show up for each other today.
And always remember:
Stonewall was a fucking riot.
