Pride As A Virtue

First off: explaining the subtitle, so as not to be hunted down by people who actually speak French... "Legibeti-quoi" is the phonetic garble of LGBT, followed by the French 'quoi', representing the often-left-out QIA+ part of the acronym.

There's a nod and a wink to the actual French phrase "Je ne sais quoi": literally 'I don't know what that means', colloquially an indefinable but attractive quality. Also, a sly nudge to those who use Q as in Questioning.

Pride is often described as one of the seven deadly sins, particularly when used by conservatives trying to use extremist religious takes as a winning argument against The Gays Corrupting Our Youth. (please insert eyeroll here)

In excess, anything can be made a Sin. In moderation, even the Classic Seven can be virtuous.

Nowadays, Pride is often linked to the LGBTQ+ Rights Movement. Our right to exist, and to be treated as equal, both socially and under the law. Our right to be ourselves, and celebrate who we are. Our right to love, and live, as we choose.

To me, Pride is Courage. The courage to stand up and say "This is Me, this is who I am."

Pride is Honesty. The metaphorical "Closet" exists because not everyone is ready to admit to who they are, and that's ok. Sometimes we need to live in Narnia for a bit in order to return to our own world as the best version of ourselves.

(And if you need to burst out of the closet with a Baby Gay Song and a shower of confetti, that's ok too. Just clean it up afterward and avoid getting glitter on anyone else without their consent.)

Pride is Love. Love for yourself and love for others, whether or not they're they same as you.

Pride is Truth. The truth of who you are and who you will become. The truth that we exist, have always existed, and will not vanish just because certain parties disagree with our existance.

Pride is Community. Everyone individual, be they friend or stranger, united in efforts to make the future better, so no one else has to suffer like we did in the past.

I grew up without words for what and who I was.

Asexual was something covered briefly in biology and classification, something that occasionally happened in nature when traditional reproduction wasn't always an option. My complete lack of interest in sex was brushed off as "Oh, honey, you'll find the right man someday..." or sneers of prudishness and claims of lying if I didn't find the celebrity d'jour attractive.

A boyfriend was something I'd been socialised to want, and as the weird, bullied kid for most of my school career, I equated 'boyfriend' with 'person who is nice to you and spends lots of time together', which was an appealing prospect, since my one friend and I didn't have many classes together and my twin and my lifelong bestie both attended different schools.

Finding the Society of Creative Anachronism was a transformative experience. Comprised of unashamed history geeks, people who never outgrew their love of dressing up, and people with varying levels of enthusiasm and skill with antique weapons and crafts, it probably doesn't surprise people to learn that the SCA also skews heavily toward Neuro-Spicy and non-Straight.

Surrounded by people who were open about those aspects of themselves allowed me to take a closer look at myself, in a way that my desperate attempts to fit into and be accepted by everyday society hadn't allowed me to before.

As it turns out, all I needed to be comfortable in my own skin was a hint of acceptance.

I've marched at Pride a few times now.

I probably won't participate in the actual marches again, because it's a sensory hellscape for me, but I'll show support in other ways, like helping with the costumes or the float like I did last year.

Marching in the Pride Parade means a lot of "hurry up and wait", with very little shade or seating available (unless you're part of Disability Pride and have a mobility device that doubles as seating); long, long lines for the portaloos, and roughly six to eight hours of waiting aroudn before you actually get to march. All surrounded by blaring music and shouting crowds.

The four times I've marched, I could barely leave my room the next day, and the sensory headache lasted for days.

I'm proud of the person I've become, and of the growth I've achieved, but there are other ways for me to show that.