"The Light That Still Shines" (Text & Image Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
A lamp post rises skyward, holding both light and history. Draped below it, a flag—vivid in its colors, unapologetic in its presence—flutters against a summer sky. It is not just fabric. It is not merely decoration. It is a declaration.
Each June, Pride Month arrives not as a novelty, but as a necessary reminder: we are here. We have always been here. And we are not going away.
To live authentically in this world—especially in the face of hatred, erasure, and misunderstanding—is an act of courage. Pride is more than parades and festivities. It is a deep affirmation of self. It is the ability to stand tall in your own skin and say: This is who I am. I am enough.
To accept oneself is to step into the fullness of being human. Not a curated version for safety or approval, but the whole, radiant truth. That kind of self-acceptance radiates outward, inviting others to do the same. And when people live openly and truthfully, the world changes—one life at a time.
The journey to this moment has been long and layered. The shadows of Stonewall still flicker across our collective memory. The aching grief of the AIDS epidemic remains etched in hearts and histories. We have marched. We have danced. We have buried friends. We have married. We have held hands in joy and in protest. We have come out—to families, to communities, to ourselves. Through tears and celebration, we have witnessed the arc of history bend—however slowly—toward justice and love.
In the early days, the gathering places were often hidden, controlled, coded. Twin City gin joints lit by neon but marked by fear. Then came the open arms and bright streets of San Francisco—its rainbow crosswalks and painted murals a kind of sanctuary. And now, for many, a quieter chapter: a peaceful life in the woods, where reflection grows like wildflowers and gratitude arrives with the morning sun.
We remember because we must. Not only for ourselves, but for the generations still to come. Young people just learning the language of love and identity need to know: you are not alone. You are beautiful. You are worthy. Your truth is not a burden—it is your brilliance.
Yes, there are voices that still seek to silence, laws that try to erase, forces that thrive on fear. But against them stand countless lives, lived openly and honestly, shining like the light atop that streetlamp. We are not going backward. We are not hiding. And we are never going away.
Dr. Wayne Dyer once said, “An attitude of gratitude allows us to adopt the radical humility that’s very persuasive in helping others connect with the Spirit that unites us all.” In that spirit, Pride becomes more than a celebration—it becomes a sacred honoring. Of all who came before. Of all who are still here. Of all who are yet to bloom.
To live in gratitude is to remember: even in struggle, there is beauty. Even in silence, a song. Even in the darkest hour, a light still shines.
And so we raise our flags—bold, brilliant, brave. Not just for ourselves. But for the promise of a world where everyone can be exactly who they are: fully human, wholly seen, deeply loved.
"I am human, and nothing human can be alien to me." ~Maya Angelou
~Wylddane
© 2025 Wylddane Productions, LLC
Each June, Pride Month arrives not as a novelty, but as a necessary reminder: we are here. We have always been here. And we are not going away.
To live authentically in this world—especially in the face of hatred, erasure, and misunderstanding—is an act of courage. Pride is more than parades and festivities. It is a deep affirmation of self. It is the ability to stand tall in your own skin and say: This is who I am. I am enough.
To accept oneself is to step into the fullness of being human. Not a curated version for safety or approval, but the whole, radiant truth. That kind of self-acceptance radiates outward, inviting others to do the same. And when people live openly and truthfully, the world changes—one life at a time.
The journey to this moment has been long and layered. The shadows of Stonewall still flicker across our collective memory. The aching grief of the AIDS epidemic remains etched in hearts and histories. We have marched. We have danced. We have buried friends. We have married. We have held hands in joy and in protest. We have come out—to families, to communities, to ourselves. Through tears and celebration, we have witnessed the arc of history bend—however slowly—toward justice and love.
In the early days, the gathering places were often hidden, controlled, coded. Twin City gin joints lit by neon but marked by fear. Then came the open arms and bright streets of San Francisco—its rainbow crosswalks and painted murals a kind of sanctuary. And now, for many, a quieter chapter: a peaceful life in the woods, where reflection grows like wildflowers and gratitude arrives with the morning sun.
We remember because we must. Not only for ourselves, but for the generations still to come. Young people just learning the language of love and identity need to know: you are not alone. You are beautiful. You are worthy. Your truth is not a burden—it is your brilliance.
Yes, there are voices that still seek to silence, laws that try to erase, forces that thrive on fear. But against them stand countless lives, lived openly and honestly, shining like the light atop that streetlamp. We are not going backward. We are not hiding. And we are never going away.
Dr. Wayne Dyer once said, “An attitude of gratitude allows us to adopt the radical humility that’s very persuasive in helping others connect with the Spirit that unites us all.” In that spirit, Pride becomes more than a celebration—it becomes a sacred honoring. Of all who came before. Of all who are still here. Of all who are yet to bloom.
To live in gratitude is to remember: even in struggle, there is beauty. Even in silence, a song. Even in the darkest hour, a light still shines.
And so we raise our flags—bold, brilliant, brave. Not just for ourselves. But for the promise of a world where everyone can be exactly who they are: fully human, wholly seen, deeply loved.
"I am human, and nothing human can be alien to me." ~Maya Angelou
~Wylddane
© 2025 Wylddane Productions, LLC
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