You've Got Pride: A Playlist

The stories below are all fictional but come from a place of observation, love, and acceptance. I hope the songs manage to dance as they sway their ways into your thoughts, and maybe the stories you find here will make you feel a little less alone.

Happy Pride Month, and let's all try and be kind to each other—and ourselves—today and every day, okay?

"I Want To Come Over" - Melissa Etheridge

You are the other woman in a way you had never quite imagined yourself before.

You watch as her husband leaves off on his business trip, and you smooth your skirt right before making the trek over to the house that you've come to know well these past weeks. There's no invitation, but you are coming to know her like clockwork: she would have called, and you would have arrived like a ghost to haunt her.

You're the secret she would never, ever tell—but you tell yourself that's all right. Or, at least, it's all right for now.

When she answers the door, a come-hither look in her eyes, it is the easiest thing to do to talk with anything but words.

Her mouth whispers promises and hopes and someday's against yours, and you tell yourself it's enough to let you get by.

But then you go home, a stranger again, acting like you'd just visited for a nightcap before going back home to your own waiting brood.

Years from now, you'll be able to say the words that define you, body and soul, but for now you're just wading in the pool of telling yourself it's okay to be a secret in the back closet.

It's okay. You won't always have to be a secret even unto yourself.

“Heather” - Conan Gray

She's got his gaze locked again, and you're quietly steaming in the background. Always the best friend, never the potential lover to see with new eyes.

You're a boy in love, and it hurts to see the guy you're pining for look past you to the girl of his dreams.

And she is a dream, in a sense (not that you'd know): she has the big eyes to get lost in, the soft hair to delve and drown hands into, the smile curved like Cupid's bow to shoot an arrow straight to his chest.

If you had Cupid's bow and arrow, he'd be yours this hour.

But you laugh and shake your head as he makes the fool of himself.

That's okay. You'll wait.

Maybe soon another boy will catch your eye.

"Don't Beat the Girl Out of My Boy" - Anna Calvi

He's doing that thing again, his little quirk, where he winds and winds an overlong curl around his finger. You know he does it when he's anxious, when there's something that's eating away at him but he just can't bring himself to voice the words that would set him free.

But you put your hand on his, freeing the aching curl, and draw your joined hands down until you're looking straight at him.

"James," you say, your voice falling soft, "you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

And then he looks at you with those too-blue eyes—the eyes that you've loved for a good few years—and you're worried then that this is the end. You imagine the words that he wants to break up, and already your heart's beginning to tear itself to pieces in your chest.

It would be so easy to let things go, to laugh it off and play the game, but you know he needs this. Whatever this is. Even if it means a goodbye on your part.

"James," you say, "just tell me."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath that you imagine shakes him down to his bones. "There's always been something," he starts—but then he stops, looks away, his gaze far off.

But then he starts again, "There's always been something about me that's different."

Then he looks at you again, and the ache in his blue eyes makes you ache too. The pain there is real. And suddenly you're not just worrying about a break-up.

"Becca," he says, "I'm not who you think I am. Not who anyone thinks I am."

You take a breath. A moment. Then you ask, quiet, "Then what are you?"

Another breath. Another moment filled with infinity.

"I'm a girl," he says, "not a guy. Never a guy."

And it's in that moment that you realize something.

This is an ending.

But not for your relationship—that's such a small thing in the scheme of this world.

No. This is an ending for James.

But also a beginning for the her that will push through all expectations and grievances.

Someday. Not now.

But this is the start.

“we fell in love in october” - girl in red

"I like you so much."

The words to your best friend Diane are whispers feather-light, but she does not react by pulling away as you both sit on the school rooftop.

No, she leans in and, her lips so close to yours that you feel the warmth of her breath, says, "I like you too, Maria."

Then it only seems natural for her to claim your mouth with hers. You feel like something has taken flight from the way your stomach flips in somersaults.

It's first love, the scamper of puppy infatuation, but it makes you feel light.

You don't think of what your Mom would think with all her church friends.

You don't think of what your Dad would say to all his golf buddies or the coworkers he sees everyday.

No, it is all about Diane in this moment.

Tomorrow, when this feeling starts to ebb, maybe then you will panic. Maybe then you will pretend Diane was just a phase, not a marker of things to come.

But today you are blissful in the truth that this wonderful girl likes you back.

And that feels like the best thing in the world.

"Room With a View" - Imperial Teen

You are eighteen when you get kicked out of your house.

Your dad's mouth is a sneer as he throws out the suitcase you just haphazardly packed while your mother cried. His expression is so far from last summer when you both grinned over double-scoop ice cream he treated you to for getting a 29 on your ACT.

"You're no daughter of mine," he says. And then he slams the door while you're left alone on the lawn.

All you can do is pick up the scattered remnants of the suitcase while you fight back the urge to cry. No. No. No. You won't give your parents that satisfaction. Crying would make it seem like you feel guilty and ashamed.

No, you have nothing to apologize for. If they knew better, they would come back out here and apologize to you.

You have twenty dollars in your pocket, no cell phone (they took that away), and no idea how to navigate the world now.

But you'll learn. You have to. That's just the way it is.

The scholarship for college gives you hope, but finding your own ground in the meantime is the hardest thing you've ever done. You take the basement couch in your cousin's new house; she says you can stay as long as you want, her eyes soft with hurt. It's only by her good grace that you're not a statistic looking to pavement for a pillow at night.

You know you're far more fortunate than so many out there.

You work your way up at a new part-time job far away from your parents' neighborhood. You squirrel away money for the coming years. And you try not to be charmed by the flirty coworker who's been locking eyes with you again and again.

There'll be time for love and romance later. For now, you need to ground yourself. You try to tell yourself it's not punishment, but you still cast longing looks by way of the girl who's starting to creep into your heart.

But soon enough it's fall semester and you're moving your scant belongings to the dorm room you'll call home. Your roommate introduces themselves as Bae, with a shock of short curly blue hair, and tells you in no uncertain terms that they are nonbinary, thank you very much.

You are so startled at first that you almost laugh, but then you shake your head and the feeling dissipates. You hope to have some of Bae's courage someday.

"It's nice to have a room with a view," you say.

A room to call your own in times of trouble.

"Walking in the Sun" - Teddy Geiger

Can they tell?

It's a worry you mull over as you sip your latte outside. Your hair is finally getting longer, far from the short cut you donned for years, and you wear the right clothes to make your form appear more feminine, less intrusive, less seemingly alien.

Only a few people know the truth. Everyone else you've fooled—or so you tell yourself.

But this is a new city to roam, a place to call your own, away from all the strife back home.

You still have hope your mother will one day return your call. Not today, maybe, but tomorrow, perhaps.

You look up at the sky so blue that it nearly hurts your eyes.

It's nice to be out in the sun.

"Never Been In Love" - Will Jay

You are sixteen, and you can't make odds or ends of the way your friends lavish their attention on girls.

Sure, girls look nice from afar, but you can't imagine ever kissing one. You've seen the magazines and the naughty videos your friends share, but nothing ever seems to make you spark.

The way your friends' eyes light up when they talk to their crushes—you wonder if that same look will ever be mirrored in your own eyes.

"Love"—it's an elusive, mysterious thing, as is everything that comes with it.

And when they ask, "Hey, who do you have the hots for?"—your blush is always enough to make them laugh and back off with their teasing.

They don't know the truth.

Maybe in a few years you might feel differently, but for now? You don't think you'll ever fall in love or in lust.

But maybe that's okay.

"Perish the Thought" - Cait Brennan

The lights in the club are like a neon haze as you strut your way through the crowds.

Your diva wig is perfumed with Chanel No. 5—a gift from one of your many admirers—and your pink sequin dress leaves little to the imagination. But you like it that way.

You air-kiss your friends and rivals alike—no one remembers a queen who can't be fair and just—and it's your realm to strike a pose whichever way you like.

You can't imagine nightmares ever touching this sphere.

That is, until the police crash into the scape, until slurs start raining down from their lips, and everyone runs like scared rabbits for their hovels to hide.

You don't want to be a rabbit. You're a lioness, fierce and proud, and you hate them for making you feel lesser.

It'll be years before the scars fade, and by then it'll be a new world indeed.

"Walls Could Talk" - Halsey

"Don't you think you're getting a bit too old to be playing kissing games?"

Your ex's jealousy is apparent while he watches you with her—the girl who replaced him, the girl who was always a call away when he stamped your heart to pieces beneath his heel. He probably always knew you would go to her after he left for the last time, but he didn't expect you to be so happy, like a light's illuminating you from within.

You never looked that way with him.

But you draw up your smile, near a smirk, as you cast your gaze his way. You want to show he's beneath you even though you feel sick every time you're in the same room as him. He made you want to deny everything you were just to stay in his good graces.

But no more.

"And here I thought you liked a little girl-on-girl action," you say, bold and bright, as she nestles into your side and gives you that smile you love.

You hate being his show, but you just get a glare in return right before he stalks off back to the bar.

And you breathe a little sigh of relief to yourself for standing up to his charade.

"You don't have to prove anything to him," she says, voice soft, just for you.

"I know," you say, "but I'm done hiding."

And you hope that will now forever be your honest-to-goodness truth.

"If I Had You" - Adam Lambert

The walk home is quiet as he follows behind you after you part with your friends. It's dusk, the time for all manner of mischief, but you just pocket your hands in your jacket because you can feel the sweat building.

He's right there, yet he feels a world away.

You want so much just to reach back and take his hand. But you're afraid.

So, so afraid.

It is he who breaks the silence: "Mike, slow down a bit. You got somewhere to be?"

You want to lie and say you've got an essay due—but who would believe you? You've always been the procrastinator extraordinaire. No one's going to think you're suddenly turning a studious leaf.

You look back, and his eyes draw you in like that moth to the flame.

"Mike?" he says, a question in his voice. All you want to do is draw near and catch his mouth against yours in the dark.

But you squeeze your hands tight in your pockets and turn away.

"Nothing," you say. "Just want to get back home."

It's so far from the truth that you even make yourself a bit sick.

But maybe someday you'll be able to mouth the words aloud: "I like you. I think I might love you. Please be my boyfriend."

For now, those words are left only to dreams—and maybe not this boy in this moment, but a future one you'll meet.

You'll get there, I know it.

Because it's about loving and accepting yourself first and foremost at the end of the day, isn't it?

That's what you need to aim for.

You need to have pride in yourself.

You've got this.

You've got pride.

~~~

Thank you for reading, and here is the link to a YouTube playlist of all the above songs. For the Spotify playlist, follow this link right here.

May your Pride Month be full of all the colors of the rainbow!