06/03/2026
If you're struggling to summon the levels of Q***r Joy that can sometimes feel mandatory and expected each June, you're not alone.
I know the Joy is always there- in myself, in my family, in my friends and community, in our beautiful, messy existences, in forms big and small.
The first time wearing that piece of clothing that felt off limits before, even though you knew it was right. A silly but supportive cat meme. Knowing g**s are eating garlic bread in a park together, somewhere, probably. A poem that perfectly captures a feeling you thought no one else had. Seeing someone make it to the cottage, and seeing that fill others with Joy.
The Joy hasn't gone anywhere.
But this year, many of us are witnessing and experiencing hate like never before, at least not in our own lifetimes.
I know the hate is always there- in ourselves, in our families, in our friends and communities, in our ugly, painful existences, in forms big and small.
The unoriginal slurs that don't surprise but still cut deep when they find the right spot. The derogatory meme. Knowing someone is being forced into conversion therapy (by someone claiming to love them), somewhere, definitely. Any comments section that perfectly captures just how far we still haven't come. Seeing people codify genocide, and seeing that encourage others to hate.
The hate hasn't gone anywhere.
The hate is just more out in the open now, revealed and revered, like it's a badge of honor to dishonor fellow beings.
I spent an unreasonable amount of time yesterday, June 1, trying to find the image, the meme, the article, that felt right for the start of Pride month. Nothing came close. Then a particular comment on a pride post (wishing all the homophobes and transphobes an uncomfortable month) had me done with FB for the day.
The comment was from a mom who 'doesn't have a problem with it' and says she has a gay son but says 'we feel the discomfort every day' from having it 'shoved in our faces daily. There isn't a single show on TV anymore that doesn't have g**s on it somewhere.'
I wanted to scream at that mom, shake some sense in to her. Tell her, grow, please, and don't lose your son. Tell her if she stays like this, she's going to lose him, one way or another. Tell her that asking someone to exist out of sight is asking them not to exist. Tell her that her son needs to see himself in all those TV shows and they need to have happy endings. But battles for wisdom and empathy are seldom won in comments sections.
It's at times like these when we have to embrace all of what Pride is- not just Joy, and not just rejecting shame, but resistance, endurance, and accepting that we're working forward for future generations. As the past generations worked for us.
We have always existed, and we will always exist, and if you are feeling your Joy dimmed, then fight like hell with us to get it back.
How you fight will look different for everyone: coming out; staying in because you know it's the best choice, for now; running for office; running a bath; reading a book that heals some wounds; writing that book for yourself, knowing someone else needs it too; going out to protest the wrongs being done; staying home because the rest of the world is too much today; walking in a Pride Parade; watching the Parade instead because it's your first one and you want to just bask in it; helping someone make the decision to keep fighting; making that decision yourself.
Instead of a meme or a well-crafted graphic, I'm going to share a link to I'm From Driftwood: The LGBTQIA+ Story Archive, and the story that inspired the site's creation.
Find a story that fills you with Joy, or share your own. Because one of the best sources of Q***r Joy is seeing LGBTQIA+ folks being and loving themselves, just living their lives.
And since we have always existed, and we will always exist, as exhausting as the hate can be, our well of Joy is inexhaustible.
Letter From Founder & Executive Director
