my fourth first pride

 i've been to pride parades and marches before. but the one i have tickets for next weekend feels so incredibly different from all the ones i've been to before. my fourth pride feels like how i think my first was supposed to, in a perfect world.

the first pride march i was a part of happened at my high school in 2021. it was the first one that our school had ever had, and it was organized by a trans guy named finnley who would transfer schools just weeks later. finnley and i crossed paths again two years later, when a friend of rome's invited him to a little get-together at rome's apartment on a night that i happened to be staying there. the march itself was met with a collective tantrum by the rednecks of the school, who took it as an opportunity to complain about there "not being a month for veterans" and pick fights with the kids who were bold enough to be open about their joy in having any pride celebration at our school. 

"ally" stickers were handed out all day, but i carefully avoided wearing one, not confirming or denying my queerness. at this point, i was still only out to my closest friends. but i was well-known around the school for a variety of reasons, so i was extremely cautious about being outed. this was my only concession to authenticity, and i only did so knowing it was plausibly deniable- if anyone got in my face about it, i could just say my sticker had fallen off.

when the march started, just a few laps around the exterior of the school, i carefully slipped into the middle of the pack, trying to remain invisible to the camera-toting reporter on one side and the crowd of rednecks who'd gathered out front to watch with sour expressions. i found a perfectly place to stand just behind my friend gunnar and his friend luca, both of whom were well over a foot taller than me and allowed me to remain unseen by anyone in front of us. 

this proved to be a good call. the march made the local paper, along with a photo, and in it you can see gunnar and luca walking side by side, but i'm completely hidden from view behind them. i was still too well-known from cross-country and climbing and theatre to risk outing myself much further, and my parents still have no idea i was in that march.

the aforementioned photo. gunnar is the one on the extreme left in the gray shirt with pinkish hair wearing a mask; luca is next to him with the mask and long hair.

the second one i went to was when i first came to burlington. even with sixty miles separating me from my hometown, i was still cautious about being visible. at least a half-dozen people from my high school had gone to the same college as myself, and i wasn't taking chances on being outed because i stood too close to the edge of a crowd or ended up in a photo. this was still a major step up from that first march, though- this one was filled with joy and excitement, not the apprehension and uncertainty of that first one in high school, when we had had no idea how much blowback to expect or how much we were risking. this time, i was able to enjoy it. and this was a "real" march, one for an entire city, not just one 600-person high school in buttfuck nowhere. this one had floats and a parade route and vendors and sponsors and so many people. this one felt more like a real first pride, where i could actually appreciate what had brought us all here and what we were honoring, not worry about staying out of sight or hiding behind taller friends. but i was still walking on eggshells to some extent, still planning out how i'd maintain some plausible deniability if i did end up in a photo or if someone from my hometown happened to see me. that said, it was the first time pride had felt like a celebration instead of walking through a minefield.

a photo i took waiting for the parade to start.

my third first pride was in rutland last june. one of my employers asked me to work at it, helping build a stage and circuit lights. still, i was leaning heavily on the plausible deniability of "hey, i'm just working here", since rutland is just one town away from where i grew up and i was still running a very real risk of being recognized. and indeed i was- it turned out my boss had hired someone i knew from high school to work that call as well. we'd done theatre together, but i hadn't seen him since he graduated two or maybe even three years before i did. but we recognized each other and had no reason not to get along, and it was good to catch up. i knew his partner was queer, so when the conversation turned to joking about dodging the draft, i had no problem making a joke about "wonder if they'll turn down a non-binary person."

"i thought you were transmasc?" he asked, puzzled. apparently he'd thought that since high school.

i got a good laugh out of that, and these days i continue to get a good laugh about it, because he ended up being pretty much correct. 

after the stage was built and the lights were working as they should, i had free rein to go wander up and down the streets of rutland, talking with vendors and at one point stopping by the booth belonging to the new performing arts 4-h club. i was in 4-h for thirteen years, and the club's leaders recognized me before i recognized them, even with my buzzed hair and the fact that we hadn't seen each other in years. i stopped by the table for vtsunity, castleton's equivalent to the prism center, and said hi to the people there, who immediately asked me if rome was also there (they weren't). rome and i are just notoriously a package deal, so it was a fair question to ask. 

after a man was detained for harassing the drag performers, my boss asked me to "stand by the ramp and just make sure the performers are okay." most of the performers would've towered over me even without their platforms and heels, but i did my best to stand there and look as imposing as a 5'4" dude wearing all black in june can look. still, i wasn't able to fully enjoy this- even being there when i wasn't working was a huge risk, because rutland is the go-to place for people from all the neighboring towns to go shop and i was right in the heart of downtown. but still, i had a grand time. a vendor gave me a handful of free pins, so i took some for rome and adia, my best friend from high school. i ran into gunnar and his bandmates as we were dismantling the stage, which wasn't quite a full-circle moment but felt close to it. it was still progress- my closest brush with complete enjoyment of pride. the need to hide and censor myself was still there, but it had faded to a dull, nagging fear, no longer the vivid, almost overwhelming anxiety i'd felt years ago on the asphalt outside my high school.

the only photo i have from rutland pride.

this upcoming one feels so wildly different from my three previous "first" prides. it's lake placid's winter pride fest, far away from my hometown where i can be at least 98 percent sure i won't be recognized. it was my mother's idea- she sent me the link the day after i told her i'd been using they/he pronouns and preferred those. this is the first time i've had nothing to do but get excited for it. 

the anticipation is such a great feeling. i've sat in front of the mirror on my door trying out face paint ideas. i've wandered around spencer's in search of a cool shirt or flag to wear for it. i'm excited to be able to celebrate without looking over my shoulder. i have a trans flag that someone gave me at a protest in waitsfield and i've debated whether i want to leave it on its makeshift flagpole or take it off and wear it like a cape. i've stared into my closet and wondered what i should wear. i just got a new binder, one that's skin-toned and not a full-length tank like my older one, so i can entertain the idea of wearing a cropped shirt, even though my mother probably won't be overjoyed about that.

part of the winter pride itinerary is a free ski day. the prospect of skiing with other queer people, a state away from the nagging fear of being recognized and outed, is so incredibly thrilling. finally, i can just enjoy the planning for it weeks in advance, the raiding my closet for the perfect outfit, the excitement of looking at the agenda and wondering what it'll bring. 

finally, this feels like how i think a first pride is supposed to feel. but maybe there's nothing wrong with only just now fully experiencing the joy of pride. maybe it's a good thing, not a sign that i've missed out. it's a sign that i've grown and changed and evolved. every time i've gone to pride, i've been at a very different place in my ongoing journey. i've held onto the bisexual label since that first pride, but my 2021-era she/her (but fine with any pronouns) long-haired tomboyish self is a far cry from my 2023-era she/they self who would buzz off that long hair just days later. and my 2023 self is a far cry from my 2024 they/them self becoming more comfortable in my queerness and still sporting the buzz cut that eased the dysphoria my long hair hand brought. and even my june 2024 self would be absolutely shocked at where my life has led me to end up today. i'd love to go back and tell them about where we are today.

i think they’d be counting down the days to my fourth first pride just as i am now.