I didn’t go to any Pride or LGBT+ events when I was in college even though I knew I was gay at 16. I didn’t want to be hated by my friends or family. I didn’t want to be outcast in college. Without any blogs or social networks to tell me I should be scared of the consequences of coming out, I knew. Despite my fears, when I turned 21, I came out again. It took years before I would attend a Pride parade. 

One of my first was in Nashville, TN. This was before Nashville was the bachelorette capital of the world - before downtown felt big and crowded even at 6 a.m. Trucks lined the streets, washing away the stench of parties that ended just hours ago. Above their heads, the bulbs in the cowboy boot neon signs flickered.

Back then, Pride was a 6 foot fence enclosing a small perimeter at the end of Lower Broadway. Guards dressed in all black stood at each entrance with metal detectors and batons, waving rainbow covered people in. Standing next to that white pop up tent filled with rainbows was a man on an old milk crate holding a bible and a blow horn. 

As my friends and I walked toward the gate, the sound of bible verses got louder. “God hates sin,” he shouted angrily. Then, another about men lying together. As he went on hand-selecting random verses, I got mad. I spent years in church on Sunday and bible study on Wednesday. I had never even heard half of these verses before. See, these verses on homosexuality are buried in biblical books people don’t usually read next to rules most people don’t follow like wearing mixed fabrics. 

My anger built until I shouted back: “Love is the most common word in the bible. Pride is about love and so is that bible you’re holding,” I stammered as my heart raced. The look on his face told me he was just as surprised as I was.

My partner pulled me away before this man or I could say anything else. I could have put the entire event at risk. Back then, especially in Nashville, any escalation would have been my fault. He continued his hate inspired rant and I went to get a drink at the first bar I saw. I spent the rest of the day in the heat of the June sun replaying that interaction and all the witty one-liners that came to me when my heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute. 

I was not brave. I was not confident. I just couldn’t take it any more. I was watching these kids, 10, maybe 13 years old stare at this man as they walked into the parade. Even if they said nothing, I know they were internalizing the same hurtful lies I had. That God couldn’t love gay people. That somehow a love eternal wasn’t expansive enough to include me. 

Since then, Pride has taken on many meanings to me. It was the place I celebrated the legalization of gay marriage. To mourn not speaking to my family. To experience new people and learn about new genders and perspectives. To see myself again and connect with strangers who became friends. To evolve my relationship and understanding of God. To celebrate the partner I have today and the enduring fight for equality. But no matter what, Pride has always been about love.