Pride Parades Are a Christian Act—And Needed as Much Today as in 1969

Members of Queens’ first Pride parade in 1993

In 1969, LGBTQ+ folks fought against a police raid at New York’s Stonewall Inn–one of the first times that the community outwardly “said no more” to constant police discrimination and harassment. Since then, Pride events honor the Stonewall Riots and remember the courageous actions of those who stood up against injustice.

Unfortunately, despite the amazing advocacy that occurred at Stonewall, society continues to make LGBTQ+ people “feel trapped or ashamed,”opines writer Jim McDermott in a recent essay for the National Catholic Reporter.

Detailing his recent experience at Pride in Queens, New York, McDermott enjoyed the LGBTQ+ marching bands, community groups, and performers. He was also struck by the connection between Pride and Catholicism:

“Most LGBTQ people have lived with a sense of shame about themselves as debilitating as any illness. Like Lazarus or Jesus, we’ve known what it is to exist in a tomb, in some cases for most of our lives, and then to have the stone miraculously rolled away and to be invited to walk into the light.

“Pride parades are in part an expression of the gratitude we feel to have been brought from that death into life. We have been given something we never knew was possible, and like the man born blind after he’s healed by Jesus, we can’t help but run out into the streets and give thanks.”

McDermott, a former Jesuit priest, has experienced this gratitude and celebration personally. Pride is not only for LGBTQ+ who are out, but for those “who still feel trapped or ashamed, who don’t know that there is the possibility of so much more for them.” He shared of his own journey:

“I can remember the first time I went to a Pride parade: It was in Manhattan, a huge production of float after massive float pumping out the beats. I was very nervous about going; what if someone I knew saw me there? They might realize I was gay. Even though I had been out to many friends for a long time, still the idea of being known was frightening.

“And yet in retrospect all I remember from that day was the joy pouring off of the people dancing on the floats. It was so palpable you could just about see it radiating from them like the waves of heat that shimmer on the pavement in summer.”

Queens Pride is hosted by drag queen Candy Samples, along with queer community leader Marcus Woollen. Samples is a well-known HIV/AIDS activist who has fundraised tens of thousands of dollars at New York’s AIDS Walks. For McDermott, Samples is the epitome of a Catholic saint:

“She and others at Pride parades may not fit some people’s expectations of the appearance of a saint. Then again, John the Baptist wandered around in animal skins eating locusts and Joan of Arc dressed in men’s clothes. Being a saint is all about a willingness to take the leap of being who God calls you to be, regardless of how anyone else perceives it. And we look to our saints and celebrate them — often through exactly the same kinds of parties and parades we see at Pride — because their example and encouragement helps us to do the same.”

McDermott encourages Pride celebrations today precisely because the struggle for equality that erupted at Stonewall remains today. Opponents “seem to be threatened by our existence” as LGBTQ+ people, and so, he writes:

“The parades, which began a year after Stonewall, have always been partially about political advocacy for our rights. At a time when transgender people and drag queens find their rights being abridged — and when some states and churches are attempting to erase us from public discourse entirely — the need for this kind of visibility is enormous.”

As Pride events continue to be threatened by anti-LGBTQ+ activists, McDermott believes that just like Jesus “insisted that no one should ever hide our lights under a bushel basket,” we must let the LGBTQ+ community “shine” during Pride Month—and beyond.

—Sarah Cassidy (she/her), New Ways Ministry, June 20, 2024