The Why of Things
I thought it might be important to start with the reasons why I want to do a pride reading month. To start in the middle, for the beginning would take too long. I currently live on an old (relative to American standards, the home I live in was built in 1851) property. Stone house, with a rotting corn crib, and bank barn in desperate need of a refresh.
I love the land I live on. From the stacked ponds, one stocked, one overflowing with koi, to the areas of planned orchids, gardens, and chicken roving grounds. From the meandering path back to Norwegian woodpiles, and a concrete bound fire pit large enough to burn several tree's worth of wood and fodder. I love the hills we just planted wildflower patches upon, and the acres of wood my step-father has been clearing paths through for us to explore and discover. I especially love the acre or so of fenced in pasture, a stream partially on the surface running straight down the middle providing sustenance and play for our goats (currently a small pod of two bottle babies, soon to hopefully be doubled).
What I don't love is those who occupy the land around. The appearance of acceptance and docility is presented to me only because of the privilege of my birth. Tall, white, I present as one who should be accepted into their “clan.” I am not, and my choice in flags flown lets them know this fact.
I am bisexual, though married to a woman, so in many ways I fight my identity and most often consider myself an ally, and not a part of the community as I probably should. Ignoring this hangup of my own creation, I found myself constantly wondering how...good or reliable of an ally I truly was to the community writ large. Was I just supporting when convenient or safe for myself?
The guilt I felt realizing that I'd only publicly broadcast my support and love for the LGBTQIA+ community during times where I knew the majority were already on our side grew. I fly this flag, and others before it, because I know how uncomfortable in makes my neighbors. I also know the danger it puts me, and my wife, in every day it flies. Reading for pride month entails this same sense of defiance. I bring my books with me to small cafes in Fairfield, a small town whose identity is centered around Pippin Fest, a celebration of the yearly apple harvest.
It's a small contribution, I know, and it pales in comparison to the very real dangers people I love and care deeply about face every day, but I'm trying. If you happen to live near Gettysburg, PA know that there's a place that loves and accepts you, no matter what. Plus, the goats are really cute, and love everyone as well.
