From Pride to Alienation

Ostracization and cultural degeneracy within the modern LGBTQ movement

Photo by Anete Lusina

It wasn’t always this cool to be “queer” in the USA. 

I grew up being deeply closeted about my lesbian attractions, afraid of being ostracized and judged by my schoolmates. 

My childhood and adolescence was spent living in liberal, gay-friendly towns in the U.S., with a 2-year interlude in a very strict boarding high school in rural Nigeria. 

My family is from various parts of the African and Latin-American diaspora, so I was brought up on a mix of culturally conservative and liberal values. 

In comparison to the religious trauma some 2^nd generation American kids have faced, my upbringing was fairly liberal. But I still carried a ton of internalized homophobia and shame around my attractions to girls, and I began working through that by myself at a young age. 

So, when I came across the concept of “Gay Pride” as a teenager, it naturally resonated with me. 

Pride was a bold expression to the world that we’re proud to be who we are—that despite the homophobia, violence, and humiliation we face in broader society for our homosexual attractions and gender nonconformity—we will not be buried in shame or relegated to the shadows. 

Pride parades were originally designed to be spaces where same-sex attracted people could celebrate who we are, and it was one of the few times when we did so out in public. 

Pride represented courage. 

For young teens like me who could not attend those parades, Pride could still be found in the subtle signaling of a rainbow bracelet, or the deep breath you take before coming out to your family and friends. It could be found in the warm embrace of a community who share your unique struggle. 

In those days, there were higher stakes associated with being “out” in America. So, many people who chose to live “out and proud” had often made a major, and likely difficult, life decision. Pride was a way to celebrate ourselves in community with others like us—even if it was just for a day. Pride was necessary. 

However, as I began to witness Pride celebrations up-close as an adult, I have noticed that it has deeply strayed from its original morals: 

Pride no longer supports Lesbian, Gay, or Bisexual people. 

Every major organization and institution that once championed rights for same-sex attracted individuals, has changed and muddled their language to rebrand us as “Queer”. We are all haphazardly dumped into an “LGBTQIA+” category, as if that acronym represents a single unified identity, community, and experience. 

For a little history, the term “Queer” used to be a homophobic slur, often shouted by perpetrators of hate crimes and harassment. In the 1990s and early 2000s, LGB people attempted to reclaim and popularize the word as an umbrella term for same-sex attracted people. 

But today, the word Queer has been appropriated by mainstream (heterosexual) culture to mean absolutely everything and nothing. When someone says they’re Queer, you can never be sure if they mean that they’re into BDSM, Polyamory, Kink, or whether they’re just good ol’ bisexual. 

There are loads of heterosexual couples who call themselves Queer simply because they practice a different flavor of straightness in their marriage. 

Queer is the new-age hipster version of being a special snowflake. 

Not only does Queer have oppressive roots—but associating same-sex attracted people with a word that indicates an alternative lifestyle choice (rather than an innate sexual orientation) is replicating old-school homophobia. 

The deeper reason why Pride does not celebrate same-sex attraction is because LGBT culture has embraced Queer Ideology—not only as a label—but as a dogmatic political view. 

Queer Ideology asserts that one’s identity determines one’s gender, rather than biological sex. Therefore, same-sex attraction is moot, because a man can easily identify as a woman and also identify as a lesbian, if he is exclusively attracted to women. 

So if you happen to be an actual lesbian who is exclusively attracted to females (and not men who identify as lesbians), you can expect to be bullied for it by the “LGBT” community for not being inclusive. 

And if you dare attend a Pride Parade and let this fact be known through a sign or banner? 

Expect violence. 

As a woman who openly critiques gender ideology in my creative work, I have to say that I do not feel safe or welcome at Pride. 

My feelings about Pride reflect my deep alienation from LGBT culture as a whole, as its heavy emphasis on queer theory, kink, and overall dysfunctional behavior have nothing to do with being same-sex attracted. 

The deranged political climate masked in clownery, coupled with aggressive substance and alcohol abuse at most Pride events, cultivates a degenerate atmosphere that I want no part of. 

The truth is that most Pride-goers are trying too hard to celebrate and fight against something that isn’t real. 

In the U.S., most major corporations, institutions, and mainstream media outlets support the idea of “LGBTQ” because it’s profitable, or because they’re afraid of being cancelled. 

So there is nothing radical about Pride anymore. There is nothing to push back against, other than the degeneracy it has become. 

It’s such a shame that young people who grow up struggling with their sexuality in the way that I did, only have “Queer Pride” to look to as their most accessible beacon of hope. 

Many lesbian, gay, and bisexual people are still suffering in shame and isolation for being who we are. There is even less visibility for actual LGB and gender nonconforming people these days, since we’re only celebrated when we rebrand ourselves as queer, non-binary, or trans. 

We are being sold an antidote to our problems that doesn’t work in the long run, and we have got to stop drinking the Kool-Aid before it swallows us whole. 

Today, I see a new wave of consciousness forming. Some LGB folks are taking our power back, and creating our own spaces and organizations that reflect the original intention of Pride—where we can commune, embrace our natural selves, choose mental health, and radically push back against oppressive paradigms that don’t serve us. I’m proud to be part of that generation. 

I may not wear the rainbow flag or go to the parades. But like those who paved the way for me, I’m part of a movement of people just like me who have gathered immense courage to be “out and proud” about who we are and what we believe in, despite the resistance we face in broader society.  

That is my Pride.

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