I felt compelled to put my thoughts in writing as to why celebrating Pride Month is so vitally important. Answering such a question, with all of the emotions, memories, and personal experiences it entails, feels like a steep hill to climb. But I'll try.
When I stop and think about why Pride Month matters, my mind goes back to 1993, when I came out. I was 19 years old and it was a very lonely time. There were no social media groups, no visible networks of support, and very few places where you could safely be yourself. You had to learn which bars, coffee shops, bookstores, and community spaces were safe. At that time, Harvard Square in Cambridge and the Glad Day Bookstore (RIP) on Boylston Street in Boston were two places I would visit often, to grab my copy of Bay Windows. Thank you, Bay Windows, because finding community at that time often felt like trying to find buried treasure.
I think about that 19-year-old who was still figuring out who she was and wondering if there was a safe place for her in the world.
I think about Matthew Shepard. I remember seeing the news coverage of his murder and feeling terrified. He was only a few years older than I was. Like so many queer people, he had gone looking for connection and community. Even the spaces that were supposed to be safe weren't always safe. I think about Brandon Teena. Killed by people he knew. I remember the fear, grief, and anger those stories created for so many of us who were simply trying to live authentically. People who were just trying to live. How can you be killed for being who you are? My young brain couldn’t comprehend that much hate.
The AIDS crisis may have been coming to an “end” in the United States, but the hatred, discrimination, and violence directed at LGBTQ+ people and those living with HIV/AIDS certainly did not. Homophobia affected people that weren’t even queer. I remember Ryan White. I remember hearing people say awful, untrue statements about queer people right in front of me, not knowing I was one of the people they were talking about. In some ways, I was grateful to know what they truly believed.
I remember marching in my first Pride parade in Boston in 1994. I felt powerful and BRAVE. I felt connected to MY community around me. My pride drowned out the people yelling hateful things from the crowd.
Those memories are why Pride Month isn't simply important.
Pride Month is necessary.
It is a political statement. It is a statement about humanity. It is a declaration that queer people deserve to exist openly, safely, and joyfully. Nobody has the right to devalue someone and steal their joy. It is a commitment to one another, a promise that we will not allow hatred, ignorance, or fear to dictate how we live or whom we love.
But Pride is also so much more than resistance.
This past weekend, I again had the privilege of being a part of the Boston Pride Parade. I found myself surrounded by cheering, a sea of faces, and colorful flags waving proudly in the air as the float I was on passed by. In one powerful moment, it felt as if time had slowed down and I was struck by the hope I saw in all of the young faces in the crowd. I realized something very important; I am an elder queer. If I didn’t have the support of my community, I may not have made it to this level.
In another memorable moment, I made eye contact with a mother wearing a shirt that read, "I'm proud of my trans child." I pointed to her shirt and applauded. She smiled back at me and, in that brief exchange, we shared something powerful.
I didn't know her. She didn't know me.
But she was part of my community.
That moment reminded me that community itself is an act of resistance. Community is rebellion against isolation. Community is strength built through love.
Pride Month is about letting the sun hit your face, feeling its warmth, and allowing yourself to shine without apology. It's about finding joy after generations of struggle and within the current vitriolic environment. It's about gaining exposure to the many identities, experiences, and stories within the LGBTQ+ community and celebrating all of them together.
Most importantly, Pride is about continuing the work of building a world where no one has to fight simply to exist, to live, to love, or to be. Where our government, local and federal, stop proposing bills that target the LGBTQ+ community. Over 850 anti-LGBTQ+ bills were proposed nationally last year and according to the ACLU, they are tracking 530 anti-LGBTQ+ bills this year. 9 of those are bills challenging marriage equality. Since 2024, New Hampshire legislators have proposed almost 60 anti-trans laws (27 this year alone). The NH House continues to volley different versions of the Charlie Kirk Act, now the “devisive concepts” bill around. This bill will directly impact the teaching workforce in the state. As of this month, the Gay and Trans panic defense is still legal in 30 US states. The Trevor Project’s 2025 “Survey on Mental Health of LGBTQ+ Young People,” found that 36% of the over 16,000 youth surveyed, seriously contemplated suicide.
It’s time our government leaders took responsibility for the harm and violence that these bills and laws cause.
Until that day comes, Pride will remain necessary. And even when it does, Pride will still be worth celebrating.
Jennifer LeBlanc (she/her)
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Thoughtful perspectives from our community
Community Voices is where Nashua residents share their views on local issues, and community concerns. We welcome opinion submissions that are civil, fact-based, and relevant to our city. Submissions are subject to editing and must include the author's name and local connection. Join the conversation at news@nashuaindependent.com.
