Finding community one garden party, movie night, and bowl of cereal at a time.
My last two articles have both been "Guides," which is ironic because I once guided an entire holiday parade down a dark alley and right into a dead end (true story for another time). As such my husband says he only trusts me to guide him to the best breakfast cereals (Lucky Charms is objectively the gayest cereal), to build tiny Hobbit holes, or to host an elite-tier Halloween celebration.
Yet here I am again with another guide.
After some reflection, though, I do feel somewhat semi-qualified on this topic. And if that isn't the highest form of confidence available to a Midwesterner, I don't know what is.
This is my guide to Pride- or, more specifically, to building and celebrating community, because after years of organizing parades, galas, garden parties, and movie nights, I’ve come to believe that community is Pride’s greatest gift.
Let me start by sharing that, as a gay man, I struggled for years with the concept of Pride.
And this was even after serving on the organizing committee for our local Pride celebration for two years. One year, I even led the effort to create a family-friendly area complete with dozens of carnival games and prizes. I was basically a slightly anxious gay camp counselor with a clipboard and a vision.
I think part of my discomfort came from my religious upbringing, which instilled in me a healthy suspicion of the word pride. Pride goes before the fall, they say.
Before coming out, I struggled to answer the question: What exactly am I proud of?
And somewhere in wrestling with that question, I found an answer that changed… and perhaps even saved… my life.
During some very dark moments in my early closeted years, finding my first tiny molecule of pride in myself as a gay man helped me keep going. It wasn't loud or dramatic. It wasn't a parade or a rainbow flag.
It was simply the quiet realization that maybe there wasn't something fundamentally wrong with me.
That perhaps I was worthy of love, friendship, joy, and a future.
That tiny molecule grew.
Over time, I became proud of my resilience and determination. Proud of the countless LGBTQ+ people who came before me and made my life possible through their courage and sacrifice. Proud of our community's remarkable ability to survive, to thrive, and to continue contributing beauty, compassion, creativity, and hope to the world- even when the world hasn't always returned the favor.
Today, I'm proud of my community. I'm proud of my queer friends. I'm proud of the life my husband and I have built together. And I can hold that pride while still humbly acknowledging that I have so much more to learn, so much room to grow, and more than enough opportunities to accidentally say something awkward at a dinner party.
Pride, for me, has become a celebration of resilience, friendship, and queer culture.
It is a reminder that none of us were ever meant to walk through this life alone. That who we are is not something to apologize for. And that sometimes the smallest spark of self-acceptance can illuminate a path toward a life filled with love, belonging, and joy.
Over the last decade, my husband and I have found our own ways to celebrate those things. My husband and a friend founded an annual Rainbow Run to bring people together to run or walk along Spokane's beautiful Centennial Trail. We host an annual Pride Garden Party for friends and colleagues from wildly different walks of life. We organize Pride movie nights featuring queer classics like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Love, Simon.
Pride has become less about a single parade and more about creating spaces over the course of this month where people can show up fully as themselves and be reminded that they belong.
So, in the spirit of someone who has made plenty of mistakes and learned a few things along the way, here's my guide to a stellar Pride.
1. Do remember where and who we’ve come from.
Just as a strong house needs a solid foundation, communities need stories.
Recognizing those who came before us matters. The activists, artists, musicians, writers, and everyday people who made life a little safer, freer, and more joyful for the rest of us deserve to be remembered.
During Pride Month, I intentionally dive into queer books, movies, and music—and invite friends, gay and straight, along for the journey.
This month, I'm reading Homosexuality in History by Colin Spencer. This book traces the diverse roles of homosexuality in society from a historical perspective demonstrating that we’ve always been here and have contributed significantly to society through music, theater, art, science, leadership, service, and more.
My playlists include Brandi Carlile, Frank Ocean, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Elton John, and the Indigo Girls.
In fact, I'm listening to "Closer to Fine" by the Indigo Girls as I write this article, which feels appropriate because, if Pride teaches us anything, it's that none of us have it all figured out—and we're all just trying to get a little closer to fine.
2. Do host gay movie nights.
There are some truly terrific queer films worthy of gathering a few friends together, creating the perfect cuddle puddle (see my previous article for detailed cuddle puddle specifications), and celebrating love, resilience, and fabulous outfit choices.
Some films haven't aged quite as gracefully as we'd like, but here's my list of excellent group-viewing options: Moonlight; Fire Island, But I'm a Cheerleader, Bottoms, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, To Wong Foo, and Latter Days to add to those I mentioned earlier.
Bonus points if someone dramatically quotes the movie afterward.
Double bonus points if snacks are themed. We had strawberry pie and fruity cocktails while watching To Wong Foo, and honestly, Patrick Swayze would have expected nothing less.
3. Do attend multiple Pride celebrations if possible and don't stay home.
For me, this is partly about celebration and partly about survival.
It's much harder to ignore, dismiss, oppress, or harm people you've actually met.
Visibility matters.
My husband and I visit multiple Pride celebrations every year- both in our hometown of Spokane and in smaller communities throughout Idaho, Montana, and Canada.
Each one has its own flavor.
Some are giant festivals. Others are held in small parks with folding chairs and volunteers who look mildly overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of 300 people wearing rainbow suspenders.
All of them matter.
Every Pride says: We're here. We belong. And we're not alone.
4. Do put out a Pride flag.
For all the same reasons one should attend Pride: be visible.
A Pride flag is a small thing, but small things matter.
To some people, it says, "I'm proudly queer."
To others, it says, "You're safe here."
And for a teenager quietly wondering if they'll ever be accepted, it can say, "Your future might be brighter than you think."
Also, if your HOA sends strongly worded letters about your seasonal inflatable dragon but says nothing about your Pride flag, I consider that progress.
5. Don't hold grudges. During Pride Month, call a truce.
Pride Month is an excellent time to release old resentments.
Forgive the ex.
Forgive the ex's ex.
Forgive the friend who forgot to Venmo you for brunch in 2019.
I'm not suggesting we tolerate harmful behavior or abandon healthy boundaries.
I am suggesting that community requires grace.
There are only so many of us, and life is too short to spend it maintaining spreadsheets of interpersonal grievances.
Especially right now.
During Pride Month, call a truce. If you run into that ex, former friend, or that one-night stand who got on one too many of your nerves, let it go and just show them kindness.
The LGBTQ+ community has always been strongest when we've chosen compassion over division.
6. Do actively connect with other queer people.
Take a walk with the lesbian in your life.
Grab coffee with a bisexual friend.
Invite your trans neighbor to join your game night.
Golf with a gay… just not me. I only enjoy driving the golf cart.
The point is this: don't just text people. Don't just "like" their vacation photos or quietly Facebook stalk them.
Reach out.
Schedule in-person interactions.
The truth is that queer people have always survived by finding one another, caring for one another, and building community where none existed before.
Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is simply show up for each other.
7. Do work on yourself.
Boy, do I have a lot of work to do. Just ask my husband. In fact, don't ask him. He has enough material for an entire sequel to this article.
I'm impatient. I can be quick to judge. I don't trust easily. I sometimes assume I know the ending of a story before I've taken the time to hear the whole thing. These are all things I need to keep working on.
Pride isn't just about celebrating who we are. It's also about becoming who we want to be. That’s hard work. That’s also holy work.
Now more than ever, I need to show up as my best self for my husband, my family, my friends, and my community. Not my perfect self—because that person doesn't exist—but my most thoughtful, compassionate, courageous self.
During Pride Month, take some time to work on you.
Read the book. Go to therapy. Take the walk. Apologize when you need to. Learn something new. Practice patience. Extend grace. Become a little more curious and a little less certain.
Growth is an act of hope.
The beautiful thing about Pride is that it celebrates authenticity, not perfection. We don't honor the polished versions of ourselves. We honor the brave ones—the people willing to learn, evolve, heal, and keep showing up.
So celebrate who you are.
And don't be afraid to become even better.
8. Do support and appreciate your LGBTQ+ leaders.
Being a leader is hard. Being an LGBTQ+ leader can be especially so.
Leadership often means stepping into the spotlight knowing that criticism will inevitably follow. It means showing up to difficult conversations, carrying other people's hopes and frustrations, and continuing to move forward even when you're exhausted. Most leaders I know are fueled by equal parts passion, stubbornness, and caffeine.
During Pride Month, take a moment not just to say thank you, but to do something tangible to support an LGBTQ+ leader in your life.
Write the note. Buy the coffee. Volunteer for the event. Show up. Actions speak louder than words.
In that spirit, I'd like to recognize a few LGBTQ+ leaders and role models I greatly appreciate:
- Matthew Danielson, Executive Director of Spokane Pride, has been a source of inspiration in my life and for many others as he has compassionately and determinedly brought our community together.
- Jac Archer, longtime advocate, Co-Executive Director at SCAR, and law student, has shown me and so many others what courage looks like during challenging times through their unwavering commitment to justice.
- Councilman Zack Zappone has been a thoughtful leader and a fierce champion for the City of Spokane.
- Judge Mary Yu, Washington State's first openly gay Supreme Court justice, has been a trailblazer whose example has helped illuminate the path for generations of LGBTQ+ people who followed.
The truth is that none of these leaders arrived where they are alone. Behind every visible leader is a community of people who encouraged them, supported them, challenged them, and occasionally reminded them to eat lunch.
If we want courageous leaders tomorrow, we have to support courageous leaders today.
And perhaps that's one more thing Pride teaches us: none of us thrive on our own. We rise by showing up for one another
9.Don't judge Pride or your queer community.
Before I came out in college, I was one of the harshest critics of Pride and my fellow gay men.
It embarrasses me to admit that now, but I think it's important to say out loud.
For me, criticism became a way of creating distance. If I convinced myself that those people were "too much," "too loud," or "not like me," then maybe I wouldn't have to confront the truth about myself. It was a way of hiding—both from others and from who I really was.
It was also harmful.
To my community.
And to me.
Here's what I've learned: communities are messy. Pride events are messy. Human beings are messy. No Pride celebration will perfectly reflect every queer person's preferences, politics, personality, or taste in music. Thank goodness for that.
The beautiful thing about Pride isn't that everyone shows up in the same way. It's that we show up at all.
There are already too many people eager to criticize, diminish, or tear down LGBTQ+ people right now. They don't need our help.
So if you're tempted to criticize your local Pride celebration, pause and ask yourself a different question:
How can I help make it even better?
Volunteer. Donate. Join the planning committee. Start the event you wish existed.
Offer encouragement to the exhausted organizers who are probably running on iced coffee, adrenaline, and approximately four hours of sleep.
Courage doesn't always look like marching in a parade.
Sometimes it looks like choosing curiosity over judgment.
Sometimes it looks like extending grace.
And sometimes it means recognizing that the very things that once made us uncomfortable are the same things that helped someone else finally feel brave enough to show up exactly as they are.
10. Have fun.
Yes, I'm ending on something so simple and obvious. But sometimes the most brilliant advice is also the most straightforward.
Have fun.
This is a month to celebrate. To remember why this long, complicated, difficult, painful, occasionally ridiculous trek through life is worth it in the first place.
Fun is how we win.
Years ago, I had an intensely homophobic man begrudgingly admit to me that, while he didn't agree with me or understand anything about my life, he was jealous of how much fun I was having. I’ve had this experience multiple times in my life.
And in that moment, I realized something. I had already won. Not because I had changed his mind. Not because I had convinced him of anything. But because I had built a life filled with friendship, purpose, authenticity, and joy. A life he could recognize as beautiful, even if he couldn't yet understand it.
Pride has never just been about surviving. It has always been about living. About refusing to let fear have the final word. About insisting that joy belongs to us, too. So, this Pride Month, have some fun.
Be gloriously, unapologetically alive.
Eat the Lucky Charms (marshmallows first is a plus!).
Whatever joy looks like for you, embrace it.
Because joy is contagious.
And sometimes the most revolutionary thing we can do is create lives so full of love, laughter, and meaning that others can't help but wonder how they, too, might find their way there.
HAVE. SOME. FUN.
So there you have it: eight "do's" and two "don'ts." An even 10! Not because I have Pride all figured out, but because these are the things that have helped me find joy, friendship, and belonging along the way.
Pride isn't about perfection.
It's about resilience.
It's about joy in spite of hardship.
It's about friendship, laughter, dancing terribly to songs everyone somehow knows the choreography to, and creating spaces where people can exhale and say, "I think I can be myself here."
And if all else fails, start with cereal.
Invite someone over for a bowl of Lucky Charms, put on the Indigo Girls, have them help you hang your Pride flag, and remind each other that none of us are meant to do this life alone.
Happy Pride.
