"Living in Full Color" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
"To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true."
~Bayard Rustin
This morning, the wee cottage is still wrapped in the quiet embrace of dawn.
A strong cup of coffee rests beside me in my beloved Leona mug, its warmth rising with the fragrant promise of a new day. A small pool of light from the desk lamp spills across these pages while Caroline Shaw's and the Swallow drifts gently through the room. Outside, another June morning is awakening. Inside, I find myself thinking about courage.
Today is Pride Sunday.
For many, it will be remembered through rainbow flags fluttering in summer breezes, joyful parades winding through city streets, laughter shared among friends, and strangers becoming family. Those celebrations matter. Joy matters. Laughter matters.
But Pride has always been more than a celebration.
Pride is remembrance.
Pride is gratitude.
Pride is resilience.
And Pride is hope.
Every rainbow carried through a city street is also carried upon the shoulders of those who walked before us—people whose names history remembers and countless others whose names have been lost but whose courage remains woven into the fabric of our lives.
The story most people know begins with Stonewall in June of 1969, when ordinary people finally decided that enough was enough. Among them were remarkable souls like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, whose courage helped ignite a movement that continues to shape our world.
Yet here in Wisconsin, our own history tells another story that deserves to be remembered.
Eight years before Stonewall, patrons of Milwaukee's Black Nite tavern refused to surrender their humanity.
When hatred came through the door, they stood together. Josie Carter and dozens of others defended one another—not because they sought a fight, but because they believed they had the right simply to exist in peace.
That quiet act of collective courage echoed far beyond one tavern.
It whispered to frightened young people hiding pieces of themselves:
You are not alone.
Those words still matter.
Perhaps they matter now more than ever.
We live during a time when hard-won rights can feel uncertain. Public debates often speak about LGBTQ+ people instead of listening to us. Some voices seek to erase our stories, narrow our freedoms, or convince us that authenticity is somehow dangerous.
History teaches something very different.
The truth has never disappeared because someone tried to silence it.
Love has never ceased because someone tried to outlaw it.
Human dignity has never vanished because someone refused to recognize it.
Throughout history, every generation has been asked a question:
Will you live in fear...or will you live in truth?
Bayard Rustin, one of the great architects of the American civil rights movement, answered that question with extraordinary clarity:
"To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true."
The truth is beautifully simple.
Some of us are gay.
Some are lesbian.
Some are bisexual.
Some are transgender.
Some are queer.
Some are nonbinary.
Some are still searching for words that fit.
Each life possesses the same immeasurable worth.
No government grants that dignity.
No court creates it.
No majority vote can erase it.
It belongs to every human being simply because they are human.
If you are young and reading these words today—perhaps quietly, perhaps wondering whether there is a place for you in this world—I hope you hear this above every other voice.
There is nothing wrong with you.
There never was.
The world is infinitely larger than the walls that may surround you today.
There are people you have not yet met who will become your family.
Friends who will celebrate your victories.
Neighbors who will welcome you.
Communities where your laughter will be ordinary and your love will never need apology.
Hold on.
Your story is still unfolding.
As for those of us who have traveled a little farther down life's road, perhaps Pride asks something different.
It asks us to become the people we once needed.
To stand beside those who feel alone.
To protect those whose voices are still trembling.
To widen the circle until no one stands outside it.
Because liberation has never belonged to only some of us.
Justice that leaves anyone behind is unfinished.
Belonging that excludes another heart is incomplete.
Pride reminds us that the fullest freedom is one we build together.
As I finish this second cup of coffee, Caroline Shaw's music continues to fill these humble rooms, and the first light of morning has begun to soften the darkness outside my window.
The day has only just begun.
So has the work.
Not the work of hatred, but of hope.
Not the work of vengeance, but of courage.
Not the work of becoming someone else, but of living honestly as the people we already are.
That is what Pride has always been.
To stand in the light without apology.
To tell the truth about who we are.
To leave the door a little wider open for those who come after us.
And perhaps that is a lesson for every one of us, regardless of who we love or how we identify.
For every human heart longs for the same simple blessing:
To be seen.
To be welcomed.
To be loved.
To belong.
May we build a world where no one has to earn those gifts simply by being themselves.
Happy Pride.
Stand tall.
Stand together.
And never let anyone convince you that living truthfully is anything less than a beautiful act of hope.
~Wylddane
~Bayard Rustin
This morning, the wee cottage is still wrapped in the quiet embrace of dawn.
A strong cup of coffee rests beside me in my beloved Leona mug, its warmth rising with the fragrant promise of a new day. A small pool of light from the desk lamp spills across these pages while Caroline Shaw's and the Swallow drifts gently through the room. Outside, another June morning is awakening. Inside, I find myself thinking about courage.
Today is Pride Sunday.
For many, it will be remembered through rainbow flags fluttering in summer breezes, joyful parades winding through city streets, laughter shared among friends, and strangers becoming family. Those celebrations matter. Joy matters. Laughter matters.
But Pride has always been more than a celebration.
Pride is remembrance.
Pride is gratitude.
Pride is resilience.
And Pride is hope.
Every rainbow carried through a city street is also carried upon the shoulders of those who walked before us—people whose names history remembers and countless others whose names have been lost but whose courage remains woven into the fabric of our lives.
The story most people know begins with Stonewall in June of 1969, when ordinary people finally decided that enough was enough. Among them were remarkable souls like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, whose courage helped ignite a movement that continues to shape our world.
Yet here in Wisconsin, our own history tells another story that deserves to be remembered.
Eight years before Stonewall, patrons of Milwaukee's Black Nite tavern refused to surrender their humanity.
When hatred came through the door, they stood together. Josie Carter and dozens of others defended one another—not because they sought a fight, but because they believed they had the right simply to exist in peace.
That quiet act of collective courage echoed far beyond one tavern.
It whispered to frightened young people hiding pieces of themselves:
You are not alone.
Those words still matter.
Perhaps they matter now more than ever.
We live during a time when hard-won rights can feel uncertain. Public debates often speak about LGBTQ+ people instead of listening to us. Some voices seek to erase our stories, narrow our freedoms, or convince us that authenticity is somehow dangerous.
History teaches something very different.
The truth has never disappeared because someone tried to silence it.
Love has never ceased because someone tried to outlaw it.
Human dignity has never vanished because someone refused to recognize it.
Throughout history, every generation has been asked a question:
Will you live in fear...or will you live in truth?
Bayard Rustin, one of the great architects of the American civil rights movement, answered that question with extraordinary clarity:
"To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true."
The truth is beautifully simple.
Some of us are gay.
Some are lesbian.
Some are bisexual.
Some are transgender.
Some are queer.
Some are nonbinary.
Some are still searching for words that fit.
Each life possesses the same immeasurable worth.
No government grants that dignity.
No court creates it.
No majority vote can erase it.
It belongs to every human being simply because they are human.
If you are young and reading these words today—perhaps quietly, perhaps wondering whether there is a place for you in this world—I hope you hear this above every other voice.
There is nothing wrong with you.
There never was.
The world is infinitely larger than the walls that may surround you today.
There are people you have not yet met who will become your family.
Friends who will celebrate your victories.
Neighbors who will welcome you.
Communities where your laughter will be ordinary and your love will never need apology.
Hold on.
Your story is still unfolding.
As for those of us who have traveled a little farther down life's road, perhaps Pride asks something different.
It asks us to become the people we once needed.
To stand beside those who feel alone.
To protect those whose voices are still trembling.
To widen the circle until no one stands outside it.
Because liberation has never belonged to only some of us.
Justice that leaves anyone behind is unfinished.
Belonging that excludes another heart is incomplete.
Pride reminds us that the fullest freedom is one we build together.
As I finish this second cup of coffee, Caroline Shaw's music continues to fill these humble rooms, and the first light of morning has begun to soften the darkness outside my window.
The day has only just begun.
So has the work.
Not the work of hatred, but of hope.
Not the work of vengeance, but of courage.
Not the work of becoming someone else, but of living honestly as the people we already are.
That is what Pride has always been.
To stand in the light without apology.
To tell the truth about who we are.
To leave the door a little wider open for those who come after us.
And perhaps that is a lesson for every one of us, regardless of who we love or how we identify.
For every human heart longs for the same simple blessing:
To be seen.
To be welcomed.
To be loved.
To belong.
May we build a world where no one has to earn those gifts simply by being themselves.
Happy Pride.
Stand tall.
Stand together.
And never let anyone convince you that living truthfully is anything less than a beautiful act of hope.
~Wylddane
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