As I’m writing this announcement for the Grand Opening of the Qstack Directory and sorting through Pride pictures to include, tears are running down my face—of happiness, a little sorrow, and a lot of pride, all mixed up together over the community of love and inclusion we have built and are still building today. There’s still so much work to do.
To borrow a quote from Annette Marquis’s guest post “Happy Pride!” below, I say to each and every one of you ~
“I am so proud of you.” Full stop.
How many of us have never heard these unequivocal words spoken to us? Too many.
How many people today still live in fear that their relationships, their jobs, and their lives are in jeopardy if they declare themselves gay, lesbian, bisexual, trans, queer, intersex, non-binary, pansexual, queer, questioning, two-spirit, androgynous, asexual, aromantic, demisexual, polyamorous, or even an ally?
Far, far too many.
It is one of the profoundest acts of courage I know to stand up and speak the full truth about your identity. At the same time, my heart aches for the people who continue to fear for their safety, lives, and livelihoods, and who must continue to remain hidden in the face of unspeakable violence and hatred. And just weeks ago, I received an email from the U.S. Department of State, a worldwide security alert over an increased potential for terrorist attacks during Pride celebrations this year.
(To all celebrants during Pride Month: Be careful out there! And HAVE FUN!)
But on to happier thoughts.
For Pride Month, we will have weekly guest posts from Qstack members
, , , and .We are launching the Qstack Chat as a Message Board and Forum for all subscribers—announce wins, special events, and book launches; post Pride pictures from your local celebrations; ask for advice; find others with special interests; post links to websites of interest; trade recipes and pet pics—make it whatever you want it to be. Qstack subscribers can start their own threads.
There’s also a new Discussion section for more targeted topics—the first thread is to find collaborators for Substack and outside projects.
And we are actively thinking of ways to make the Qstack community as dynamic as possible, with interviews, collaborations, hosted discussions, Office Hours* and maybe *gulp* a podcast.
Lay your ideas on us—this is YOUR community and platform.
*For Pride Month, I’ll be hanging out in Chat and Comments for an hour after each regular Qstack post.
Qstack Directory
The Directory is up and running—there are two ways to access it:
The Directory post pinned on the Qstack home page,
and the 🏳️🌈Qstack Directory🏳️🌈 button at the top of the home page.
Announcements
- has an article on Buddhist Door Global called “Kalyana-mittata – On Being a Good Friend.”
We’ve decided to open up special announcements to ALL Qstack subscribers!
Got a book launch coming up? A speaking engagement? A link to a featured interview, or the publication of a story or article outside of Substack? Want to announce a Special Offer for paid subscriptions to your own Substack?
ALL subscribers can now submit these for inclusion in the Announcements section of Qstack posts.
DM or email mrtroyford at substack dot com
Without further ado ~
Happy Pride! 🏳️🌈🎊🎉🥳🎉🎊🏳️🌈
AND
Welcome to Qstack! ❤️🍊💛💚💙💜
And THANK YOU for being here. ~ MTF
Happy Pride!
By
ofIt’s June 1979. I’m standing at the corner of Beacon and Park Streets in downtown Boston. The sun illuminates the crowd gathered on the sidewalk in front of the Boston Common. The air around me is electric, cracking with a mixture of expectation and anxiety at this public claiming of our right to be who we are.
As I hear the roar of motorcycles, I know it won’t be long before it’s here. The New England Lesbian and Gay Pride Parade is almost upon us. It’s my first Pride.
Pride had its start on June 28, 1970, the one-year anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising, the time when the gay community had had enough and reacted to a police raid at the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, New York. Today’s parade evolved from that.
Guided expertly by Dykes on Bikes, the motorcycles round the corner in front of the Massachusetts State House. Tears snake their way down my face and onto the sidewalk where I stand. I am overwhelmed with pride, pride I’ve never felt before, pride that rises through that sidewalk, through my feet, my legs, my torso, and fills my head. Pride that heals my heart and emboldens my spirit.
And then, I see them. I see them walking alone, in pairs, in groups. And once I see them, I can’t stop seeing them. Disembodied people—legs, arms, bodies, but no faces. Brown paper sacks cover their heads, with only eye slits to guide them along the route. Impossible for anyone to identify. Invisible in plain sight.
My tears of delight turn to anguish, now staining the sidewalk beneath me.
They know that those who expose their affiliation with this nascent community of lovers may lose their jobs, their homes, and even their families in the days that follow.
Ten years earlier, the people at Stonewall had had enough. These faceless marchers have had enough too. They want to show everyone what it means to be forced to become invisible in order to love who they love, in order to be who they are.
In one of the few letters I ever received from my mother, she wrote, “I’m so proud of you...” If I had stopped reading there, I would have her pride to carry with me throughout my life even during those times when I wasn’t so proud of myself. But I didn’t stop reading there because she hadn’t stopped writing there. Instead, she continued, “…except for your lifestyle.”
What does it mean to put an exception on your pride? Doesn’t it negate the whole concept? Isn’t it like saying, “You’re so pretty, if only you would lose some weight?”
***
Flash forward to June 2013, thirty-four years after my first Pride march. I’m in Boston again. The sun is shining as brightly as it did at my first parade. The Dykes on Bikes are back, joined by gay and transgender folx. The paper bags are gone, composted and reborn as Montessori children who dance their way down the street with colorful streamers and balloons. Ministers, priests, and even a bishop, adorned in rainbows and Pride flags, join with businesspeople and politicians to greet the lively crowd.
Same-sex marriage became legal in Massachusetts ten years earlier, and unbeknownst to me, a few months later, I would legally wed the woman I love in our home state of Virginia.
Pride oozes from the cracks in the street, laughter bounces off the historic buildings, and my tears once again hit the sidewalk, this time washing it clean with joy.
My mother, who died in 2002, never found a way to be proud of me without exception. Maybe if she would have lived long enough to meet my wife, attend our wedding, and experience the revolution created by people who claim the right to be proud, she might have grown to understand that pride is only pride when it’s unconditional.
I’m grateful for the LGBTQ+ community which helped me overcome the limitations my mother put on her pride. I pray that the renewed attacks on us in this time are quelled by our insuppressible quest to be proud.
Happy Pride, everyone!
BIO: Annette is a community builder, wanderer, and author of two Substack serialized memoirs, "If You Only Knew: A Memoir of Family Secrets and Their Undoing," and "Accidental Mentors: Inspirational Stories of Women Who Shaped My Life by Just Being Themselves," and one short-form memoir, "Resistance: A Memoir of Civil Disobedience in Maricopa County." In a past life, she co-authored twenty-five software books, mostly about Microsoft Office. She works for Living Legacy Project, Inc & lives with her wife Wendy in Richmond, VA, USA.
Thank you, Annette, such a beautiful piece. I am hopeful that we as a community can be proud of one another, making the hole where our parents' pride should have been proportionately smaller. Happy Pride!
This is gorgeous. Thank you, Annette, for writing so honestly.