June marks Pride month- at least it does here in Massachusetts. My social media is flooded with the juxtaposition of rainbows of joy in one square followed by highlights of other states decreeing other celebrations aimed to erase queer and trans experiences. To a degree, this has always happened, but lately, I’ve been having conversation after conversation reflecting on the same theme… this year, “pride” feels different.
I came out a bit later than some (and earlier than others) in my mid-twenties. The rainbows of June were, and are, a balm to my soul. A moment where I can see myself in a fuller form; recognized, valued, and celebrated. Sometimes, the “rainbow capitalism” can feel a bit overwhelming, and if I’m being honest, insincere.
When companies and sports teams transform their logos into rainbows, I experience a mix of emotions. First awe and excitement – I’m old enough that this wasn’t always true in my life, and I don’t lose sight of the power of visibility. But after that initial wave of joy, questions arise – does this company actually support queer and trans people? Employees? Policies? Marriages and making it possible to grow families? Transitioning? Are they willing to create policies that are risky to them for the sake of centering and supporting those left in the margins?
I think those questions are valid. And I know that list is nowhere near exhaustive. But this year, when I’m seeing companies uplift Pride, it feels different. The backlash against the queer community is higher than it has been in most recent years. And the vitriol towards the trans community is chilling. Centering queer, and especially trans, people this month is riskier than it has been in recent years. And I fear this is only the start. I am so grateful to companies still willing to take a stand and say this matters. You matter. We stand by you.
Our vision here at REACH is a world where individuals and communities are free from domestic violence, empowered to live with safety, dignity, and hope. Our work is not just about responding to violence, but about transforming the conditions that allow it to exist. This vision is for all survivors, embodying each and every one of the intersectional identities they hold.
But it is difficult to envision communities where people are empowered to live with safety, dignity, and hope when relationships like mine are rarely uplifted. And yet this year, this Pride, it seems like everyone is talking about one LGBTQ+ relationship where consent and boundaries are depicted with skilled beauty and simplicity. You know what I’m talking about… it’s Heated Rivalry.
Just as the rainbows in the grocery stores and logos of businesses and sports teams’ matter, so does the representation of queer love and especially queer joy. (Minor spoiler alert…) Heated Rivalry is not without pain- but its authenticity of struggle isn’t left in the trauma of the experience. The show’s ability to portray not just a depiction of a healthy relationship beyond the heterosexual confines, but create a script for the power of community acceptance and accountability is just… well… beautiful.
Is it the first? No… but its …let’s say risqué depictions… are reaching people who haven’t had the chance to see themselves in love stories in substantial numbers. And that matters.
It matters when we can see depictions of joyful and loving relationships. And I hope we can sustain conversations that while we’re working towards a world where all individuals experience equitable and sustainable relationships, rates of abuse within the lesbian and gay relationships are similar to those amongst heterosexual relationships. And rates of abuse towards bisexual and transgender people are even higher. Sometimes it feels risky to recognize that this issue impacts my community, too. We’re fighting to be seen, to have our stories of joy finally depicted, but with that, so too need to be stories of pain and survival.
REACH’s door is open to every survivor of abuse. We pride ourselves that we were among the first non-culturally specific organizations to provide shelter to survivors who identified as transgender or as men. And we’re grateful for the leadership of organizations like The Network/La Red, who so skillfully provide culturally specific support to survivors who are part of the queer, trans, polyamorous, or kink communities.
Rainbows matter. Especially now. But to truly impact change and create the safety that they promise, we need to continue showing up. In stories, in policies, and in our day-to-day connections. Today, I feel the joy and gratitude of this place and this community.
Happy Pride!
