Pride is the word I’m looking for
My daughter and the most joyous day of the year
I took my daughter to pride in Portsmouth this past Saturday (the wife, sadly, was out of town, otherwise she would’ve been with us in her rainbow best!). This is the second or third year we’ve gone. And it is undoubtedly one of my favorite days of the year.1
Ostensibly, we go to support my daughter‘s bestie, as she does wheelies in her rainbow-spoked wheelchair in the parade. But I think we also go because it is one of the most joyous days one can possibly experience.
And I treasure the fact that my daughter gets to experience all kinds of people that she would never otherwise get to see: drag queens, drag kings, women with facial hair, men with fabulous makeup and jewelry and dresses. And since she herself is unusual – a 12 year-old nonverbal preteen in a wheelchair – everyone there showers her with love. And swag! We always leave with countless flags, bags, friendship bracelets, pinwheels, stickers, stickers, stickers, and anything else you can imagine.
Our daughter loves music (it’s one of her superpowers!) and the festival is wall-to-wall music. She and her bestie sit in the front row at the concert stage jamming out to drag performances, community choirs, and local bands that blow the roof off the place, if there were a roof.
She always seems to leave with something new. This year she got fabulous rainbow extensions braided into her hair, no small feet because she can be a wiggler, particularly when it comes to combing and styling her mop.
But the thing I hope she takes away from this experience is for a community that, now more than ever, has a target on its back, a community that has every right to be angry and sad and despondent… it displayed nothing but love and joy and hope that tomorrow will be better.
As a Jewish American, I know something about what it is to feel the world‘s eyes on your back as you make your way through it. But not like this. I can pass. I can hide in plain sight. When my wife and I walk down the street holding hands, no one says a word. When my cousin and her wife do the same, there is no guarantee someone won’t say or do something terrible, emboldened by a president and a party that has essentially said that behavior is acceptable and encouraged.
But I hope days like pride demonstrate to my daughter that no matter how different she is, love and joy and music and fabulous hair and acceptance will always be there for her.
Organized by regular Every Day, Luv guest Billie Butler !