community to march proudly through the streets of our cities, to claim our identity in a world that criminalized our sexuality, demanded our shame, expected us to hide in the dark. Pride parades are and have been a way for the L.G.B.T.Q. Our experiences mirror those of millions of other queer people who have needed, at some point in their lives, to find their people. I knew, deep in my bones, that I was among my people. There were pamphlets about marriage equality and activists giving fiery speeches. My first Pride parade, in Omaha, was a modest one - but there were rainbow flags everywhere and beautiful queer people of every stripe. I didn’t know how to ask a girl out on a date or where to get the right haircut. I didn’t know many people, and I certainly didn’t know other queer people. But after a misadventure in Arizona, I found myself in Lincoln, Neb., my home state. It was a relatively unremarkable experience. I came out as a lesbian when I was 19 and would, in later years, identify as bisexual.
community, and allies, celebrating our right to be.
She is wearing a T-shirt that says, “Yep, I’m Gay.” Around her are hundreds of people from the L.G.B.T.Q. There is a picture of her on Christopher Street, beaming. Her first Pride parade in New York City was also the first time, she told me early in our courtship, that she was able to understand what it feels like to be proud. My wife, Debbie, came out as a lesbian when she was 50 years old.
