Pride. A word. A feeling. A family. A community.

Pride to me at age 63 is a multi-faceted jewel, rich yet rough, fragile yet tough. My Pride is a celebration of still being here, remembering the 1980s in San Francisco as a 20-something in the storm of AIDS, living one day as a caregiver, the next day as an activist, and the next day as a grief-stricken friend at a funeral. I remember far too many of those last days. 

Pride is finding a brother you thought you’d never have. Pride is rescuing a child who thought he was alone and giving him a family. Pride is following a dream and creating my family with a husband, children, grandchildren, and the richest tapestry of friends anyone could ask for. Pride is a community that honors its past and those who fought to get us where we are today.

My literal Pride of Lions is a bunch of Gay boys now in their 50s, 60s, and 70s who never thought they would live to be here, overcoming hopelessness and soul-crushing loss. Now, with Pride, we get to watch the most beautiful group of teens, 20, 30, and 40-somethings flourishing and thriving and enjoying freedoms we only dreamt of. Pride is the future, something none of us should take for granted.

Pride is the fight, for we must all keep the flame inside us burning for the battles that lay ahead. The love in each of us is important to all of us. We must display our unity to maintain our Pride. – Greg, Las Vegas

What’s your Pride story? Let us know! Send an e-mail to charles@personalstoriesproject.org to share yours!

#PrideMonth #PersonalStories