Stories empower, and they extend generations. They provide a base for community and allow for a shared experience among people of wildly different backgrounds. From the ancient Band of Thebes to the modern-day LGBTQIA+ activists, queer history exists and it empowers everyone in the queer community to be themselves. Pride is a celebration of this. The story of Pride provides visibility and positive representation of an otherwise demonized community. It shows the strength to resist, to be resilient, and to simply exist.

Pride. A movement of resistance.

The first parade took place in 1970 to commemorate a powerful moment in history that had taken place only the year before. On June 28, 1969, New York law enforcement entered the Stonewall Inn to perform a violent raid against its patrons — most of whom were queer and trans people of color. The crime? Simply existing. And, though this brutality had become a regular occurrence against the queer community, the people chose this moment to fight back. Marsha P. Johnson, a trans woman of color, is credited with being the first to resist, and her act of bravery led to a riot that lasted until July 3, 1969. And, further, she sparked a movement that is still going strong today.

Pride. A movement of resilience.

June 5, 1981: the CDC published a report on five young men who had Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia (PCP) plus a plethora of other “unusual infections,” stemming from a depletion of their immune systems. Not even one year later and after hundreds of deaths, the New York Times published “the first mention of the term ‘GRID’ (Gay-Related Immune Deficiency).” It wasn’t until September 17, 1985 that Ronald Reagan publicly mentioned AIDS, calling it a “top priority.” (www.hiv.gov)

During this time — the duration of which took place within my parents’ lifetimes — it was grassroots, small-scale, community-based efforts that saved lives. For four years, the federal government took little to no effort in assisting those who were dying of HIV/AIDS. And the perpetuation of misinformation — including the discriminatory naming of the disease as being “Gay Related” — led to a still continuing misconception that “gay” and “HIV” were synonymous. Despite this. Despite a near systemic elimination of an entire generation of the LGBTQIA+ community, the people were resilient. They continued the fight.

Pride. A movement of existence.

When people ask me today, “why do you write?” I mention this history. I mention that, for me and countless others, Pride extends past the month of June.

I write because, even though the Supreme Court has deemed them unconstitutional, several states (including Michigan) have sodomy laws on their books which have been used by law enforcement to unjustly arrest and detain people they assume to be gay. I write, because I have faced resentment and hate beyond imagination. I have watched people in my own hometown call queer people perverse and predatory. I have watched the criminalization of students. I have watched students as they struggle to tell family who they really are. I have watched members of the LGBTQIA+ community — young and old — contemplate, and even follow through with, suicide. I write to save lives.

I write for my students. I write to educate. I write to continue a history of resistance and resilience.

Mitchel Dipzinski is an arts-based advocate in the Northeast Michigan area. His art and advocacy work center on the experiences and lives of minority bodies, with a focus on his life as a gay man. For more information about his work, visit mitcheldipzinski.com.