Madonna by Edvard Munch. Public Domain. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Things are scary right now
As I sit in the airport
And brood

Things are scary right now
And my brother asks
If I'd stay in that distant land
Seeking asylum
From the insanity here at home

And then I ponder the oddity of
The many meanings of asylum,
how it can mean both a place filled with lunatics
or a place where you go to escape them

But things are still scary here
Especially for the brown-skinned and the queer

The ones who don't fit into the boxes
Of your white picket fences and 1950s politics

Things are scary right now
For people like me
The ones who've been to the asylums

Already

And can't bear the idea of seeking another one

For the second year in a row, my husband Alan attended Pittsburgh Pride with me. It means so much to me to be loved so unconditionally, but also to have his unwavering support and allyship. 

Anyone who knows me knows how deeply homophobic my family was growing up. My father blamed the priest abuse scandal on gay men on the priesthood, something which facts universally disprove but which conservatives continue to tout (because when have facts gotten in the way of their favorite prejudices?). 4 years ago, during the heart of COVID, I came out publicly as bisexual. The intense emotions I experienced and responses I got to this, both in person and online, triggered my one and only, but incredibly severe, manic episode. It lasted from mid-May through the end of September and ended with me struggling through psych hospitals and rehab until I was well enough to work again. It was terrifying, for myself and many others. I lost a lot of friends I had valued very much indeed. I still miss them.

Having such a traumatic series of events follow my coming out has complicated my own relationship to my sexuality (which was already pretty complicated, because of how much internalized homophobia I carried). I only dated a handful of women before I met my incredible husband. Like many bisexuals who find themselves in a committed heterosexual relationship, I often feel raging imposter syndrome about my sexuality. Do I even qualify as queer? I ask myself from time to time, wondering if I have failed to earn my identity within this community. I don't have answers, but I deeply appreciate the friends and mentors who remind me when I doubt myself that I belong, and my sexuality is valid.

We tagged along with the Enterprise crew, the company that I work for. Say what you will (and I will join you) about how frustrating it is to have this event and this month appropriated by capitalist corporations--it's very annoying. And at the same time, it's a lovely feeling to be surrounded by your work peers, mentors, and managers at an event that champions the rights of the marginalized. 

When I texted an old friend photos of the parade, she responded "be safe and have fun." This is my 4th year attending Pride, and I always carry a little bit of terror in my heart that someone, someone with the values I was raised with, will appear at Pride with an automatic weapon and go on a killing spree. And every year when I leave Pride, I'm so relieved to have survived the event another year.

This isn't an irrational fear, and that infuriates me. Shootings have become commonplace in our country, not infrequently motivated by anti-LGBTQ prejudice. Here's to hoping for a positive outcome this year when my birthday rolls around, once again alongside a critically important election. Here's to praying fervently for more positive gun reform. And here's to working toward an ever more inclusive, peace-driven, and justice-minded America.