Love Looks Like Me

There was a time in my life when I felt like I was living in someone else’s skin. Not because I didn’t know who I was but because the world around me kept telling me that who I was simply wasn’t enough. Growing up as a queer woman in a small town, I learned early on how to hide parts of myself. I smiled when people made jokes about “tomboys” or “just friends.” I stayed quiet when classmates whispered about who was “different.” But inside, I was screaming! I was not in a good place and it was starting to affect me.

It wasn’t until my mid-twenties after years of pretending, dating men I didn’t love, and burying the truth—that I finally said it out loud: I’m a lesbian. The words felt both terrifying and freeing, like tearing off a mask I hadn’t realized I was wearing. And then came something even more powerful: acceptance.

When I finally told my closest friend, she hugged me and said, “You’re still you. And I love you.” That moment changed everything for me. For the first time, I felt seen. It wasn’t just about coming out. It was about coming home.

Pride Month became more than rainbows and parades for me. It became a celebration of survival, of self-love, of community. Marching in my first Pride parade, surrounded by people waving flags and holding hands without fear, I cried happy tears. These were my people. People who had been through pain, rejection, silence and who had chosen joy anyway.

Being accepted didn’t just change how I saw myself; it changed how I saw the world. When you spend years hiding, you start to believe that being different is “dangerous”. But when someone sees your truth and says, “You belong,” it rewires something deep inside you.

You begin to walk taller.
Speak louder.
Love deeper.

But here’s the thing: not everyone gets that acceptance (at least not yet). And that’s why we need Pride now more than ever. Because there are still kids in classrooms who feel alone. There are still adults afraid to come out at work or to their families. There are still laws trying to erase us, policies trying to shame us, voices trying to tell us we don’t deserve the same rights or love.

We can’t wait for equality, we have to fight for it! We have to be the ones who open doors instead of closing them. Who listen before we judge. Who love before we label.

Because at the heart of it all, isn’t that what we all want? To be loved? To be accepted? To live authentically and without fear?

Pride taught me that love wins…not the kind of love that hides, but the kind that dares. That shouts from the rooftops. That holds hands in public and kisses under fireworks. And it taught me that if we lead with that kind of love, we can change lives, one person, one story, one heart at a time.

So this June, and every month after, I ask you: don’t just tolerate. Celebrate! Don’t just accept. Embrace! Because someone’s survival might depend on it.