My First Pride Story

Was in 1988, I marched with the small group of people. I was so excited, I thought they had a march every year. I remember people wearing paper bags on their head. I recall being so happy and carefree. I saw an elderly couple standing on the side of the parade route with a sign which stated, ” We love our gay son.” I cried when i saw that sign. I knew then the work ahead of us had to continue. If not me, then someone else, as we were losing brothers and sisters to AIDS. I am eternally grateful for that experience and the many marches after. I encourage youth and allies alike to join the march as it might mean the world to one person struggling with their identity. For all who were there, here’s a memory, for those who weren’t, a piece of what you missed. Happy Pride Everyone ! Muah !