Why?

I was banishing the pride flag that hung proudly from within my closet during the month of June when there was a rapping on the door. This loud thudding repeatedly asked; Why?

Why do you need a whole month?

Why must you have a parade?

Why don’t we get a parade?

As I stared at the empty spot left by my lowered flag, I entertained their question. Why do we need pride? If not because of the institutional marginalization or the history of blatant discrimination that has managed to trickle into the current day, then why?

The first response that came to mind wasn’t the obvious one. Rather, it was the reason I felt the need to hang my flag from within my closet, even if only I could see it.

It’s because of the little things. Those small comments and gestures.

They’re not outright homophobic, but still carry the sentiment.

They’re subtle enough for others to miss, but you always manage to catch them.

They’re small enough to get under your skin, but big enough to hurt like hell.

It’s when people imply queerness is some dirty, explicit, “adults only” topic. To them, queer is synonymous for sex but never crushes, expression, or love. They complain about kids being “too young” to know about queerness, let alone understand that they themselves are queer. Yet, they never question it when a kid reaffirms they’re straight or cisgender.

It’s when peeople debate about our rights. They publish fun little articles like Should gay people be in the military? Or be allowed to marry? Or able to adopt? They act as if whether we get the same rights as them, or even have the right to exist, is just a fun debate topic and not a battle that we’ve been fighting for ages.

It’s when people question if we exist at all. They ask if we choose to be this way or are merely pretending. They pick and choose to aknowledge the identities that they understand. All of it is an attempt to imply that what happens to us as a result of how we identify ourselves is our own fault.

It’s all these little shoves that accumulate into a push. It forces us deeper into the closet until we’re backed into a corner with no clear path to come out.

Standing on the outside knocking on a closet door they don’t even know exists, they’ll never even know the half of it.

They’ll never know the burden placed on queer people who have to continuously come out to everyone we meet because it’s assumed we are straight or cisgender.

They’ll never know the sinking feeling we get when someone talks about queer people. We wait to see if someone we trust is going to say something homophobic. We mentally prepare to erect a barrier if they do. From then on, we harbor a seed of distrust that grows with every ignorant comment they continue to make.

They’ll never know the mad dash to hide our rainbow flags and tear down our pictures from last year’s pride before family weekend at college. It’s a race against time to hide a part of ourselves from those we can’t be sure would love us otherwise.

They’ll never know the little struggles we deal with on the daily that accumulate over time and pile up like a heavy snow. They’ll never comprehend the comments that are thought to be shared among fellow straights; the names, like “he-she”, or “sus boy”; the laughs these names get; the grimaces and groans when someone passes by with a rainbow flag; the disgust in a child’s voice when they use the word “gay”; the way the term is thrown around like an insult; the constant denial that these issues exist; the denial that we even exist in the first place.

Most of all, they’ll never know the liberating feeling of being surrounded by others who understand you and what you’re going through. They’ll never comprehend the affirmations and advice from those who share your struggles; the positive vibes that radiates from people who are proud to be themselves; the same pride it engenders in you; the feeling of lowering the walls you’ve built to protect yourself; the exhilarating freedom that comes with inconsequently being 100% yourself.

They can’t truly comprehend how all this negativity mixed with affirmations and support accumulate to form our unique experience. Instead of putting the effort into gaining an understanding, or at least respecting the fact that they lack one, they knock. They knock, and knock, and knock on our closet doors with their comments and jabs and questions and actions.

Despite the constant knocking, being queer isn’t some sort of wretched curse. Being queer means being part of a vibrant community with a rich and colorful history we’ve come to celebrate. When the knocking on the door gets too loud, the louder voices that express their pride in our community help drown them out. These cheers, chants, and shouts cover us like a blanket keeping us warm from the accumulating snow. They seem to express exactly what we need to hear; you’re not alone, you’re perfect just the way you are, you’re allowed to be proud of that.

These affirmations and feeling of security they create in those of us locked in closets that you can’t see is precisely the reason why we need pride, and why we should all proudly hang our flags back up.

Even after June.

Even if only we can see them.